The Bachelor Pact Box Set

by Rita Herron

  Right, the newlyweds would certainly be glued to a show on bathrooms.

  He flipped again. A hundred and ten channels and nothing on worth watching. The doorbell rang and he dropped the remote, his mind conjuring images of Sophie's homemade spaghetti sauce instead of fast food. Sophie feeding him...

  The doorbell dinged again, and he hurled himself forward. A few minutes later he banned Sophie from his mind while he chowed down on his cardboard cheesesteak, his gaze cutting toward the shopping bag from the mall. Afraid he wouldn't sleep again, he'd stopped by the mall and bought some ridiculous relaxation tapes the salesclerk suggested and had sprung for one of those rock garden waterfall thingies that were also supposed to be therapeutic.

  Surfing the channels one more time, he sighed in relief when he discovered a sports channel. "Tonight we have an interview with Rory Dalton, one of the greatest football players to ever grace the field. We'll be hearing all about Dalton's favorite plays and his plans for the future now he's retired."

  Lance frowned at the picture of Dalton that flashed on the screen, photographs of his past seasons filling the footage. Had Dalton used his favorite plays on Sophie?

  Had they worked?

  The phone trilled, cutting into his disturbing thoughts. He checked the caller ID—Tanya Whitson—he didn't recognize the name. Assuming it was a sales pitch, he let the machine pick it up.

  "Hello, I'm calling for Lance Summers. My name is Tanya. I saw your name and number at the singles club." She hesitated, then lowered her voice to a breathy level. "I'd like to meet for a drink. If you're interested, call me at 555-2545. 'Bye."

  Lance dropped his half-eaten sandwich onto his plate. The woman had a nice voice. She sounded pleasant. And he had nothing better to do.

  But was he interested?

  * * *

  "Thanks for coming, Maddie. At least there's one sane person at this party." Not only had Lucy hung lucky charms around her place, but now a group of tittering women had gathered to examine Lucy's sexy products. And Sophie still hadn't told Lucy that she had actually had Lance arrested the night before....

  "Wow, look at all this stuff!" Maddie screeched.

  Erotic massage oils and liqueurs, edible underwear, feathers, boas, Venus Butterflies, videos, pictures, artificial body parts, vibrators, posters, penis-shaped pasta... she had never seen so many types of romantic notions, as Lucy called them, in one place at one time.

  "Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed it." Maddie plucked a tube of grape lipstick in the shape of a male sex organ (the theme, it seemed) off the display and tested the color on her lips. "I may be married, but I'm far from dead, Soph. In fact, sex has never been better."

  Tiffany, one of the guests, stole Maddie's penis-shaped drink charm from her martini with a grin. "Caught you."

  "Drat, drat, double drat," Maddie said. "I just can't seem to hold on to my male organs tonight."

  "It's because you can't stop saying the S-word." The object of the game, Sophie thought wryly, was not to say the S-word or you lost your stick. Difficult when every item on display conjured images of just that—sex.

  Something Sophie had done without lately.

  "Okay," Lucy said as she lit a boob-shaped candle. "Time for another party game."

  "Oh, heavens," Sophie said. "What next?" They'd already played Finish the Picture—essentially a picture of a man missing one important vital body part. Of course, Maddie had won with her sketch of Chase, which had every woman there anxious to meet Maddie's husband.

  "All right." Lucy waved a glittery stick that resembled a magic wand—women were supposed to use it to make their partners deliver their fantasy. "This game is to stimulate your imagination. Everyone has to take the name of their first pet and combine it with the name of the street where they grew up. That will be your porn star name."

  Several of the women squealed with delight. Sophie grimaced.

  Maddie clapped her hands. "Okay, I've got mine. My cat's name was Too Cute, and the street I grew up on was Eaton Drive."

  "Too Cute Eaton," Lucy said with a squeal.

  Lucy passed the magic wand to the next girl in the circle. "I had a German shepherd named Tootsie and I lived on Poplin Avenue." Olivia twirled her olive in her glass. "Tootsie Pop."

  The next girl snatched the wand with a mischievous grin. "Honey Lipton."

  "Honey Lips," Lucy amended, bringing a round of laughter.

  A stunning brunette lawyer joined in the fun. "Pepper Sprayberry—no, Pepper Spray."

  "That sounds dangerous," Lucy said. "But exciting."

  The magic wand continued, the game picking up speed. "Fluffy Main."

  "Sticky Waters."

  "Angel Ashton."

  "Satin Butts."

  "Furry Hornsby."

  "Hotshot Sister."

  "Blackie Humphrey—Blackie Humps."

  Sophie rolled her eyes, quickly downing the rest of her martini as the spotlight turned to her. "My cat is Jazzy."

  Lucy's eyes twinkled. "And your street was...?"

  She could not believe she was saying this; it was everything she had fought so hard not to be. "Bell."

  "Jezzy Bell. You're our winner tonight." Lucy stood and handed over the prize, a pair of red fur-covered handcuffs and a black feather boa. Lucy gestured toward the refreshment table. "While we snack, ladies, look over your brochures and place your orders."

  Sophie headed to refresh her drink while Lucy unveiled the treats—a seafood dip in bowls shaped like male body parts and a booty-shaped cake with chocolate icing. Several of the women congregated around the table, cracking jokes about their prospective orders while Maddie cornered Sophie. "Okay, what's up between you and Lance?"

  "Nothing," Sophie said. "Absolutely nothing."

  "Aren't you playing by the rules?"

  "What rules?" Lucy asked, jumping into the conversation.

  "The seven sacred rules for trapping a man," Maddie said. "Sophie's supposed to be using them on my brother."

  "I am not," Sophie said.

  "She is, too," Maddie argued. "He's a stubborn man. He doesn't know what's good for him."

  "Your other brother is eye candy," Lucy said.

  "He is, isn't he?" Mischief danced in Maddie's eyes.

  "Yes, but I'm not looking for a husband," Lucy said, "so don't worry."

  Maddie thumped her fingers on her hips, disappointment sliding across her features. "Hmm. Well, Soph, I know Lance saw the video of your date in Cancun."

  "How do you know?" Sophie asked, suddenly suspicious.

  "Because I made sure he did. Now it's time to turn to rule number three: Give him a nibble, then yank the line." Maddie tilted her head toward Lucy. "Translation: A little kissing is allowed, even a little tongue, but no heavy petting."

  Sophie chewed her lip. "Well..."

  Maddie narrowed her eyes, realization dawning. "You already did that?"

  Sophie nodded, grabbed a cherry from the table, and popped it into her mouth.

  "And how did Lance respond?"

  Did she mean how was the kiss? Incredible. Hot. Tormenting. "He ran like hell afterward."

  Lucy's eyes went buggy. "Typical male."

  "I know," Sophie said in misery. "And this one doesn't want to be caught, so there's no use wasting my time." Or putting my heart through the ringer any more.

  "Then it's time for rule number four."

  "No more games," Sophie said. "I can't take it, Maddie."

  Maddie ignored her. "Lance is still working on your house, right?"

  "Yes."

  "What's rule number four?" Lucy asked.

  Sophie frowned at her baby sister. Lucy was probably mentally memorizing them.

  "Make him swim in circles to catch the bait. Translation: Wiggle your butt and strut your stuff but don't let him touch... yet."

  "Let your boobs hang out," Lucy added.

  "She's right; show off the goodies," Maddie said.

  Lucy snapped her fingers. "And I have the perf
ect thing for you to wear. Lance won't be able to resist."

  Maddie threw an arm around Lucy's shoulder. "Hey, Soph, I like your sister."

  "You two are trouble together," Sophie said. "Trouble, trouble, trouble."

  Lucy flipped through the pamphlet and pointed to item number sixty-nine. "There, Jezzy Bell. If that doesn't entice Lance Summers, then I'll give up my business."

  Sophie winced. Both Maddie and Lucy were wrong, but maybe if she proved it to Lucy, she'd follow up on her promise and give up the business. Then at least one good thing would come out of her infatuation with Lance.

  Lucy pushed the pamphlet in her face and Sophie examined the picture. No, there was no way she'd ever wear that....

  * * *

  "Come on, Chase. We have to get Lance out of the house and back into circulation."

  Chase followed Reid next door to Lance's side of the duplex. "But what if he doesn't want to go?"

  "Then we drag him. He's letting this thing with Sophie distract him so much he's not thinking straight." Reid raised his fist and pounded on Lance's door. "I had to bail him out of the slammer the other morning."

  "What happened?"

  Reid kicked dirt from his boot as he explained, then rang the doorbell. "And he missed the meeting with McDaniels. You know how important that account is to the company."

  Chase nodded. "Why doesn't he go out with the woman? Get her out of his system?"

  "I don't know. He even warned me to stay away from her sister."

  "Her sister?"

  "Yeah, her name's Lucy. A hot strawberry blonde with a body to die for."

  Chase laughed. "And you're going to listen to him?"

  "Hell, no. She's too much fun."

  "Uh-oh, that sounds serious."

  Reid roared with laughter. "Me, serious about a woman? That'll be the day."

  Finally the door swung open. Lance had the phone in his hand and seemed surprised to see them. "What are you doing here, guys?"

  "We're kidnapping you." Reid snatched his brother's arm. "It's time you had some fun."

  * * *

  Lance had danced with so many women he felt light-headed from their mingled perfumes and names. What had his little brother told them, anyway? That he was desperate for female companionship? Had Reid and Chase paid the women to be solicitous to Lance while they shot pool in the back?

  He'd already been propositioned twice, his crotch grabbed and squeezed, and one woman had offered to give him sex in the men's room. Of course, she was already married, so she definitely wasn't looking for a commitment.

  Every man's dream.

  Or was it?

  He had struggled not to lecture the woman on honoring her wedding vows, but realized he'd sound like an old fuddy-duddy.

  Maybe he was an old fuddy-duddy. But he didn't believe in infidelity. If he ever did succumb to the dreaded M-thing, it would be because he loved a woman with all his soul, and he'd never think of deceiving her.

  Another reason not to tie the knot. How many women actually kept their wedding vows? When the tough got going, how many of them got going and kept going until they were completely out the door? And if he loved a woman so completely, what would happen to him when she left him? He knew from experience that people didn't stick around forever.

  The leggy redhead who'd dragged him away from the woman with the spidery hair and toxic perfume stepped on his toe with her stiletto heel for the third time. He glanced at the pool table and salivated, wishing for a guys' night out without women. Or even the boring night in with the tube that he'd planned earlier. A hundred and ten channels and nothing worth watching sounded damn good right now.

  She stumbled, stabbing his toe again.

  "Sorry, sugar." Long red acrylic nails tapped a suggestive dance across his back, and she cuddled closer. "You must work out."

  Oh, please. Some of their pickup lines had been worse than any man's he'd ever heard. And he'd never seen a woman down tequila shots like this redhead.

  She purred into his ear, "Are you a bodybuilder?"

  "A construction worker." He could have said 'developer,' which sounded more impressive, but he didn't particularly want to impress her. Pancake makeup coated her face, and her body felt like a bag of bones.

  She gyrated forward, sinking her nails into his arms to regain her balance. "I like a man who works with his hands."

  He nodded, twirling her toward the bar area.

  "And I love a man with a big hammer."

  He stiffened as she licked at his ear.

  "I especially like to watch him with a screwdriver."

  Lance pulled back and looked her in the eye, searching for an excuse to vanish. The only thing that came to mind was that he had to go to the bathroom.

  A few seconds later he caught up with Chase and Reid at the pool table.

  "So how's it going?" Reid asked with a grin.

  Lance scowled at him. "I've never had so many women proposition me. One girl even grabbed my balls on the dance floor."

  Reid grinned. "Great, huh?"

  "Are you kidding?" Lance rubbed a hand over the raw flesh on his arm. "I feel so cheap. All they want is to use me for sex."

  Chase gaped at him, while Reid's eyes bugged out of his head. "My God, bro, you've turned into a woman."

  * * *

  The telephone jangled just as Lucy began escorting the guests to the door. Sophie snagged it on the third ring. "Hello?"

  "Hey, Sophie, it's your mother."

  Sophie tried not to react to the word. "Hey, Deseree, what's up?"

  "I saw the show, honey; it was great! Are you going to see that young man again?"

  Sophie rolled her eyes and cleared the dishes. "I don't think so."

  "Why not? He's gorgeous and athletic and he must be smart or he wouldn't have made it so far in his career."

  All probably true. "He's not my type."

  "What is your type?"

  Big, strong, Southern macho men who were over-protective of their baby sisters and worked with their hands. Lance. "A professional."

  "A professor?"

  "No, a professional, Deseree. You know, a lawyer, doctor, maybe even a TV producer."

  "Well, I hope it works out. Did Lucy arrive all right?"

  "Yes, she's here." Sophie frowned at her sister as she danced back to the den with a red boa draped around her neck.

  "She called and told me she's going to be on your show. That's great, honey. I'd love to fly up and watch."

  Sophie dropped the plate with a clatter. "I'm sorry, Deseree, but it's too late to make arrangements."

  "Oh, darn, I thought it would be fun to be in the audience, watch my two girls together."

  Since when had Deseree gotten sentimental? "Maybe another time." Or century.

  "All right, I guess I should have thought of it sooner. Anyway, I wanted you to know I'd be watching. Can I speak to Lucy now?"

  Sophie glanced at her sister. She had her hands full of sample products, a banana-shaped toy to be exact. "Let me get her." She covered the mouthpiece with one hand. "Lucy, phone."

  Lucy grabbed the portable one and connected, then sat down at the table to tally up her orders while she talked.

  Sophie attacked the rest of the mess, unable to stand the disorder another minute. She finished cleaning the kitchen, then scrubbed the floors and emptied the trash. Adrenaline surged through her as she put the den back in order. She'd endured the chaos as long as possible.

  She had to have some control over her life. Deseree's suggested impromptu visit had reminded her just how desperately she needed it.

  Sophie had normally exercised that control in the way she dressed, in her precision with her makeup, in her living area, maintaining neatness to the point of being accused of being obsessive. It had started when she was little; it was her way of sorting through her troubles and making their low-rent apartment look less embarrassing when a friend stopped by.

  Then she had heard the names they'd called her mother an
d had withdrawn, not making friends so she wouldn't be forced to expose her secrets if they wanted to visit.

  You are past all that, Sophie. You've matured. Deseree is trying to get her act together. Lucy has grown up. And you're on your own.

  She organized the magazines on the coffee table, spreading them out in a fan pattern, then glanced up to see Lucy hang up the phone. She was toying with the feather boa again. Well, technically Lucy was grown-up. Except judging from the nightlights she'd brought, she still harbored her childhood fear of the dark.

  By the time she'd started the laundry, Lucy approached her. "I made nine hundred dollars tonight in orders. Isn't that fabulous?"

  Sophie frowned. "Yes, but I still want you to find something more reputable."

  Lucy leaned against the doorjamb between Sophie's bedroom and the hall. "You didn't have fun tonight?"

  "It's not that, but you can't have these Sleepover parties the rest of your life."

  "You're always so serious, Soph. Why can't you lighten up and have fun?"

  "I do have fun." Sophie kicked off her shoes to make a point, then couldn't stand it and set them side by side neatly. "But I also have to be responsible."

  "I'm responsible; I pay my own bills; I live on my own." Lucy looked troubled. "In fact, I'm trying to work things out with Deseree. You're the one who keeps avoiding her."

  Sophie removed her earrings and bracelet and placed them in her jewelry case. "I'm not avoiding her." I simply don't want her to show up and interfere with my life.

  "Then you'll come to Vegas for Mother's Day and have lunch with us?"

  Sophie swallowed. "Mother's Day?"

  "Yeah, it would mean a lot to Deseree."

  She doubted that. "Do we have to bring a gift?"

  Lucy reached out to squeeze Sophie's hand. "Seeing her again would be gift enough."

  Old pains surfaced, but Sophie fought against them. If Lucy was mature enough to forgive their mother, then maybe it was time she did.

  "Let me think about it, okay?"

  "Okay." Lucy hugged her. "Oh, and thanks for letting me have the party here tonight. I like your friend Maddie."

  Sophie nodded and went into her bathroom to brush her teeth. The white tiles Lance had installed beamed, the antique pedestal claw-footed bathtub the perfect addition, especially with the polished nickel faucet. She'd kept the headboard wainscoting but had Lance refinish it along with the built-in cabinetry. The only thing left to choose was paint, and Maddie would help her with those selections.