The Bachelor Pact Box Set

by Rita Herron

  Best not to tell Lance that—if Reid hadn't been so distracted by Lucy Lane he might have been able to prevent his going to jail.

  * * *

  An hour later Lance stepped into the daylight, wincing when the morning sunshine seared his blurry eyes. If he had to take sleeping pills, he'd do so tonight. He had to get some rest.

  "Man, I was worried." Reid pounded Lance's back. "I can't believe they arrested you on disorderly conduct. Sounds like the old days, bro."

  Lance huffed. "Thankfully, the Breathalyzer proved I hadn't been drinking."

  "Yeah, too bad the cop locked you up anyway."

  "He was a jerk. Said I was disturbing the peace."

  "Bad break," Reid said, steering the truck toward the duplex they rented.

  "So how did it go this morning? Did you reschedule?"

  "Not exactly." Reid's hand tightened around the steering wheel. "McDaniels was pretty peeved when you missed the meeting."

  Lance rubbed a hand over his face. "I have to talk to him."

  Reid cut his gaze over him. "You'd better clean up first. You smell like rotten potatoes."

  "My cellmate was a homeless wino." He rolled down the window to let some fresh air in and his own rancid odor escape. "So what did you tell McDaniels?"

  "That we were interested, that you had the blueprints from Chase and an outline of our plans. He needs to see our bid, though. He's not a patient man."

  "I'll contact him right after I shower and get my truck back." Reid parked in front of the duplex. Lance rented one side, his brother the other.

  "So where are you headed?"

  "To Skidaway to check on the projects."

  "Good." Lance held on to the door of the truck, hesitating before he closed it. "Thanks for coming."

  Reid grinned. "You've done it for me."

  "I know, and it won't happen again. I'm going to finish Sophie's house and be done with her."

  "She really gets to you, doesn't she?"

  Lance saw her rosy lips parting for his invasion, remembered the salty passion of her kiss. "She's dangerous. And Reid?"

  "Yeah?"

  "So is her sister. Stay away from her. When we're finished with the house, I don't want any ties left to the Lane sisters."

  * * *

  Sophie gestured toward the screen, where highlights from the first two couples' dates had already aired. Apparently couple number one, Brenda and Larry, had enjoyed Paris and had decided to continue seeing one another. Shandra and Dwayne had hit it off as well and gotten hitched in Barbados.

  At least two of the couples had experienced success.

  Music played along with the last footage of her date with Rory. He sat onstage across from her looking confident in a designer suit, his grin feeding the audience's romantic ideas of happy endings. She hadn't yet broken the news to her winning date that she had not found him winning.

  "So, Rory, do you want to give us your version of things?" Sophie's assistant, Eden, said. "Then we'll hear from our host."

  "The limo ride was great, the water sports, the beach, the tour all ranked top-notch. And the food, wine, and atmosphere, I couldn't have picked a more romantic spot if I'd chosen it myself." He threw his arm across the back of the chair. "In fact, the weekend was nearly perfect."

  "Nearly perfect?"

  He gave Sophie a conspiratorial wink. "Yeah, nearly. But we have our secrets, don't we, Sophie?"

  Sophie squirmed.

  "How could a man not have enjoyed himself with a dynamite woman like Sophie Lane on his arm? And you saw her in that string bikini...."

  The audience laughed. Nerves skittered in Sophie's stomach as Eden turned toward her. A few more minutes and the show would end. "Cancun was everything I'd imagined and more. And Rory was a fabulous date."

  "He looks pretty good in a bathing suit, too," Eden said, earning a round of applause from the crowd.

  "Yes, and in a tux." Sophie accepted his hand graciously, although she was beginning to perspire beneath the hot lights.

  "So is love in the stars for the two of you?" Eden asked.

  Rory's gaze met hers and Sophie feigned a smile. "Only the future will tell."

  His grin spread from ear to ear. "If I have my way about it, the romance has just begun."

  The audience burst into applause and Sophie laughed, playing along, desperate to escape.

  When the crowd finally died down, she gave a lead-in to Tuesday's show. "Tomorrow we'll hear from a singles service here in Savannah. So have your pens and pencils ready to learn how you can join and meet the man or woman of your dreams."

  "I Will Always Love You" wafted over the speakers, and Sophie stood, waving to the audience.

  "Sophie, I meant what I said." Rory slid his hands in his pockets. "Can we see each other soon?"

  "I... I don't know, Rory," Sophie hedged. "I'll be busy with this singles series this week, and my sister's in town—"

  "No problem, I have to go to Atlanta for a couple of weeks. I'll call you when I return and we can get together."

  Sophie nodded and let him kiss her cheek, then headed to her office to organize her thoughts for the next day's show.

  Maybe by the time Rory returned, she'd have Lance out of her system, and she'd be more open to Rory's affection.

  * * *

  If I have my way about it, the romance has just begun. You saw her in that string bikini. The weekend was nearly perfect. Dalton's comments echoed in Lance's head as he hammered at the Sheetrock that needed replacing in the kitchen wall. We have our secrets, don't we, Sophie?

  Just what the hell had he meant by that? Secrets as in that they'd had wild sex or romped naked on the beach?

  Not that he cared if the two of them saw each other again or if they'd had wild sex or romped naked on the beach. But damn it, last night the woman had kissed him like she could eat him up, then sent him away with his gut in knots and had him arrested. He didn't care. He couldn't care.

  He wouldn't care.

  It was simply that he'd spent a terrible night in jail. And his day had gone downhill, too. When he'd finally showered and met up with McDaniels, the man had been aloof and condescending. Lance had practically begged him to take his bid and the sketches of their plans for the development with him. Finally McDaniels had agreed, although he had been emphatic that he expected perfection, not some half-assed job, and that he didn't tolerate a company missing deadlines.

  Like developers could always control the weather or problems getting materials or workers who called in sick or any of the other million things that went wrong during a project.

  Lance's head throbbed like the devil, but he slammed the hammer into the drywall anyway, discovered there was no insulation, and then began to tear out the rotten wood, determined to finish this renovation in record time.

  The front door screeched open and he paused, wondering which one of the troublesome sisters had arrived. Sexy Sophie or her sex-toy sales sister, Lucy?

  Heels clicked on the hardwood floor, the scent of an exotic French perfume greeting him before he saw the owner. Sophie. He'd recognize the sultry scent anywhere.

  Jesus. He glanced up and caught sight of that black hair spiked up in disarray, and his fingers tightened around the chisel. She drove him crazy simply by walking into a room. All that porcelain skin and those big green eyes... it was enough to make him forget the hell she'd put him through the night before....

  Her cat darted from nowhere to slide against her legs, purring contentedly. The damn thing had hidden since he'd arrived.

  "I see you've been busy," she commented, spying the shattered plaster and drywall on the floor.

  She certainly wasn't acting as if she'd had him arrested; she was almost friendly. Maybe he'd been mistaken; maybe a neighbor had phoned.... "It'll be a mess for a while."

  "I know. I guess I'll have to suffer through it."

  And suffer through having you around too. He heard the unspoken message in her tone, and his anger from the night before re
turned. She really wanted to get rid of him. "I'll finish the house as soon as possible and get out of your way. I don't want you calling the cops on me again."

  "Calling the cops?" Sophie's eyes widened. "What are you talking about, Lance?"

  Was she playing innocent or lying? Or had he been wrong?

  "Your phone call that I was a stalker—don't you think having me arrested went a little too far?"

  Sophie gaped at him. "I... I... you were the pervert hanging outside the house last night?"

  He ground his jaw. "I'm not a pervert, Sophie; I only wanted to protect you."

  She dropped a bag of groceries on the counter, then began to unload the contents, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't call, Lance. I'm sorry." She angled her head up toward him. "You spent the night in jail?"

  Humiliation crawled all over him. "Forget it."

  She hesitated, started to say something, then seemed to change her mind. "Why are you still doing the renovations yourself, Lance? I thought you would just oversee things."

  So she was changing the subject. He would play along. Anything was better than this god-awful tension between them, and reminders of his humiliating night. "Sometimes I do, but like I said, my crew's finishing up at Skidaway. Besides, renovations are my forte. That's how I got started in the business."

  "I didn't know that."

  He shrugged. "Had to fix up our old house to sell it after Mom and Dad died." Plaster splintered down as he yanked at it. Why had he mentioned his folks?

  She laid out lettuce and fresh vegetables for a salad, then removed a cutting board from the cabinet. Fatigue lined her face, and her television smile had faded. Dalton had obviously worn her out over the weekend, just as she'd said. Did she have a date tonight?

  "Maddie talked about missing your folks. That must have been difficult."

  He shrugged. "I was sorry Maddie was so young. She needed Mom around."

  "Yes, girls need their mothers."

  "Sounds like you're talking from experience."

  She bit down on her lower lip. "Your brother and sister were lucky to have you."

  "I could never take my parents' place."

  "But you loved her; that's what she needed from you."

  A pang settled in his chest. He had done the best he could, but he'd still known Maddie and Reid had both hurt for their parents, and he'd felt inept at filling their shoes. "Just like you love Lucy?"

  Her shoulders lifted slightly as she arranged pasta ingredients on the counter and began to chop tomatoes. His mouth watered. He couldn't remember when he'd eaten a home-cooked meal.

  The burned toast in the jail cell this morning didn't count.

  But all this talk of his parents and family resurrected past hurts and fears. Fear that he'd let Maddie and Reid and his parents down. Fear of losing his sister and brother.

  He moved back to the plaster, anxious to end the conversation. He didn't want to know more about Sophie and her sister and the reason her green eyes looked so sad for a moment. If he didn't get to know her he wouldn't care.

  And not caring was the only way to avoid getting hurt.

  * * *

  With the temperature outside soaring and Lance finishing her back doorway, the kitchen felt stifling as Sophie stirred the spaghetti sauce on the stovetop. She had been cooking since she was tall enough to reach the countertop. It had either been that or survive on dried-up peanut butter sandwiches, since Deseree's evenings had been filled with appointments.

  Sophie hadn't understood what all those odd evening jobs were at the time. When she'd finally gotten old enough to figure out the truth, she had lived in denial, inventing elaborate stories for Lucy as to their mother's whereabouts.

  Then Lucy had grown up, too.

  Her heart tugged as she remembered the look of stolen innocence on her sister's face the morning she'd woken with an earache and tried to crawl into her mother's bed, only to be ousted by a stranger.

  Sophie had vowed then that as soon as she was old enough, she and Lucy would move out on their own. Better to be alone than with a man for the wrong reasons.

  A lesson to remember with Lance. And Rory and that singles service.

  With Sophie's dancing gigs, she and Lucy had survived on their own. But Deseree had eventually popped back into their lives with promises that she'd mended her ways and lifestyle and wanted her daughters back in her life. Trouble was, Deseree meant well. Sometimes she lasted for months, working at a menial day job. But old habits were hard to break, and Deseree was no stranger to temptation. She'd meet an old client or flake out into one of her obsessive shopping sprees, and she'd run up her credit cards, and need a quick way out of debt.

  In Vegas she could always find someone to oblige her.

  Sophie had long since stopped blaming her mother for her weaknesses. She loved her in spite of them, and she worried about her like crazy.

  Still, she prayed she didn't show up at her house while Lance was hanging around finishing the renovations. With Lucy coming, Deseree might be not be far behind. An explanation might get sticky.

  Lance buffed the wood stain on the doorway and stepped back to examine his work.

  Sophie couldn't help but admire him... er, his attention to detail.

  "It looks fabulous, Lance."

  "Thanks. I'm pleased." He turned to her with an odd look, a fine sheen of perspiration dotting his forehead. Odd how Rory looked grossly sweaty all the time, but on Lance a little moisture gave him a sexy bad-boy appearance.

  She'd been so distracted watching Lance work that the sauce bubbled over. She jumped back to attention before she set the house on fire, and turned down the burner.

  "That smells delicious."

  The wooden spoon stilled in her hand. "It's pretty simple. I've been making it for ages."

  "You enjoy cooking?"

  "It's relaxing."

  His eyebrow shot up as if he were surprised.

  "You don't see me as the domestic type?"

  A chuckle reverberated in his chest. "Maybe. Maybe not."

  "It's Lucy's favorite." Speaking of her sister, where was she?

  He crossed the room to wash his hands while she removed the pasta to drain it. They met at the sink at the same time. Steam oozed from the pot, curling around them. Or maybe the steam was oozing from her. Lance certainly made her hot.

  Damn him.

  She stepped aside, gestured for him to finish, then emptied the pasta in the strainer as he dried his hands. His gaze latched on to her, following her every movement. His stomach growled.

  Oh, good heavens. She sighed. "Lance, do you want something to eat?"

  His gaze met hers, the look in his eyes full of hunger.

  But before he could open his mouth to reply, Lucy burst through the back door, dressed in workout clothes. "Yum, Soph, smells great."

  Sophie dragged her gaze from Lance. "It's ready."

  "Good, I'm starved." Lucy grabbed a glass from the cabinet. "Besides, we need to hurry. I invited a bunch of girls over for a Sleepover party tonight."

  "A what?"

  Lucy filled the glass with sweet tea, then plopped into the chair. "A Sleepover. I gave out business cards at the club the other night. The girls will be here any second."

  Lance gathered his toolbox. "I guess I'd better get out of the way then."

  Sophie nodded and let him go. Having him around was entirely too painful. Too tempting.

  Too nice.

  She did not want to want him this way. She wanted to be over him.

  "Now," Lucy said, "let's eat; then I'll fill you in on the games we'll play at the party." Her eyes lit up with excitement. "Wait until you see the party favors."

  Sophie stared at the silver case full of goodies and grimaced. What in the world did Lucy have in mind?

  Chapter 8

  You don't see me as the domestic type?

  Hell, no, he didn't, Lance thought as he let himself inside his duplex. But he could imagine her in nothing except that damned apron and
those clunky heels. And he had envisioned dotting sauce on her body and licking it off.

  Frustrated, he strode to the refrigerator and scrounged through the measly contents. A half-wilted head of lettuce. Six-day-old pizza that had turned into a moldy brick. A soured carton of milk. An empty container of orange juice. Two beers.

  Ahh, another night of a liquid diet or takeout. That is, unless he wanted to dress up and go out. Meet women. Flirt. Maybe bring one home.

  Bachelorhood. The life he'd always wanted. The life he'd once loved.

  Dirty clothes on the floor. His favorite sports magazines roosting on his scarred coffee table in the den. His bed unmade. His bathroom free of women's stuff.

  Like the flimsy black teddy that had been draped over the shower rod in Sophie's bathroom.

  His body thrumming with desire again, he phoned the new Philly cheesesteak delivery joint around the corner, jumped in the shower to chill his libido, then dressed in a pair of running shorts. Tired from lack of sleep but rejuvenated, he scrubbed a towel through his wet hair and tossed it to the floor. Another perk of singlehood—he didn't have to worry about a wife nagging him to keep things neat.

  Grabbing a beer and the remote, he settled into his favorite rust-colored recliner. He'd watch TV while he waited on his food, then consider going out. He needed something or someone to distract him from Sophie Lane.

  Or maybe he'd simply veg out and sleep. God knew he needed to catch some z's. With Sophie's door firmly back in place, she and her loony sister were safe. McDaniels had the bids for the contract. Maddie was content at home with Chase. And Reid... well, his brother would probably be on the prowl, but at least he wouldn't be out with Lucy.

  Because she was entertaining a group of women to sell her sex toys.

  Why would women want that stuff anyway, when they could have their choice of any red-blooded male instead? He didn't understand it. Then again, women had always been the world's biggest mystery.

  He flipped the channels, grunting at the choices. Reruns of several sitcoms. A cooking show. Fishing tips. Mating patterns of some beetle. The best bathrooms in Vegas. Hmm, Chase and Maddie should be viewing it for ideas.