The Bachelor Pact Box Set

by Rita Herron

  For some odd reason, Reid's face materialized in her mind.

  She banished it, certain she'd thought of him only because she'd been stewing about his brother and the two men were connected.

  She did not want or need Reid Summers; she had her Sleepover, Inc., playthings to keep her satisfied anytime she had the urge... er, the need... er, the desire....

  The real thing's even better.

  Dag-nab it, his words haunted her like an incantation that hadn't worked but had been imprinted in her brain, because the words had been kind of pretty. Not that Reid was pretty, but he had been easy on the eyes, and he had great pecs and he had made her body hum with all kinds of decadent fantasies.

  Lurching upward, she knocked her head on the mirror, caught her wingspan of red feathers in the doorway, and nearly choked herself when the door banged shut and her feathers got trapped between the hinges.

  "What in the hell are you doing, Lucy?" Garrison, the stage manager, bellowed. "You're on in three."

  The music that led off her first act of the night spilled through the speakers; the hundreds of Palace guests clapped in anticipation. The manager opened the door, freed her feathers, and shoved her forward. Lucy grappled for control, steadying herself as she adjusted to the thirty pounds of feathers and fifteen extra pounds of jewelry weighing down her arms.

  Peter danced toward her, the shiny black outfit that hugged his body shimmering beneath the bright lights, and she glanced out to see Deseree wave from the front row. She'd meant to ask Peter what had happened with the talent scout and made a mental note to do so after the last number of the night.

  But for now she was on. She only hoped that the curse didn't affect her onstage, turning her into such a klutz that she fell and ruined the dance.

  Troubles or not, the show had to go on. For now, that was all that mattered.

  Not Reid Summers or her crappy life, or the fact that her feet were aching in these spiked shoes, and that maybe, just maybe, Sophie had been right when she'd said that the excitement eventually dwindled, and that Lucy might not want to dance forever.

  She held her arms high and strutted across the stage, pasting on her performer's face and diving into the music. But five minutes later, the show fell apart.

  Sassafras, the girl who'd replaced Sophie, never showed, so Lucy had to do double duty trying to fill both their parts, leaping and twirling from spot to spot so quickly that she got dizzy and nearly fell off the stage. In between acts, the manager called her to the phone.

  "It's Sassafras; she won't talk to anyone but you."

  Lucy grabbed the handset. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?"

  A wail greeted her. "You won't believe this, but I was helping Dicky into rehab tonight, and I fell and bruised my tailbone. The doctor says I can't dance the rest of the weekend." Another wail screeched over the line, this one louder and more miserable. "I'm sorry, Lucy; I know Garrison's going to fire me, but I can barely walk. I have to sit on a plastic doughnut; it's just so awful. I don't know what to do about work...."

  Lucy struggled for a way to help save Sassafras's job. After all, her friend's accident was probably a result of the curse on Lucy. Now she was bringing bad luck to everybody around her.

  They had to find her friend a replacement. But all of the other girls had their own parts, and no one else knew the routine but Sassafras and... Sophie.

  No, she couldn't phone her sister and ask her to fill in, could she?

  "Please, Lucy, I can't lose this job. I need the money; I just found out I'm pregnant...." She broke into another wail, and Lucy's heart tightened. "Dicky's promised to stay in rehab for the baby's sake, and my parents won't let me come home, and I want to finish college...." Her blabbering trailed off into a hysterical sob.

  "Don't worry, Sassy, I'll think of something. Now go home, put your feet up, ice your tushy or whatever the doctor said to do to it, and rest." She promised her she'd check on her later, then hung up and stared at the phone. Sophie had always taken care of her friends on the set, had always been the caretaker, and Sassafras had moved in with them when Sophie was still in town. She'd also taken Sophie's place at the last minute when Sophie decided to leave the act, so Sophie actually owed her.

  But her sister had her own life now, and she didn't want anyone in Savannah to know about her past. Still, Sophie could fly out for the weekend. As the second part of the Diva act, she'd be in costume, so no one would recognize her—and she could return on Monday for her own show.

  Really, she'd just have to convince Sophie to do it one last time.

  And that no one would ever know....

  * * *

  The Sophie Knows show had done a week's worth of programs devoted to motherhood, spouting the joys, triumphs, and tribulations of parenting in the modern-day world. Experts offering sage advice and women facing the daily challenges had all shared their experiences, insights, and knowledge. The series had wrapped up on Friday with a reunion show of mothers and daughters who had been estranged; the first half of the time slot had been devoted to mothers who'd given up children for adoption, the second to problem families.

  Sophie had fought tears during the entire episode and had stayed late to chat with guests backstage and compose herself before she went home. The reunion had spurred her own troubled memories of her mother and their relationship, making her question whether Lucy was right. Maybe it was time to let the past go and try to build a friendship with their mother. After all, Sophie didn't blame her mother for her actions; she'd been young, foolish, had been cast aside by her own family, desperate, destitute, and pregnant at fifteen. She'd been little more than a child herself and had been forced to grow up fast. Of course, Deseree hadn't actually grown up, but she had taken some hard knocks.

  Sophie contemplated phoning her mother all the way to her house. When she parked in the driveway, she was relieved to find it empty. Grateful for the time alone to sort through her emotions and freshen up, she gathered her purse and made her way inside. The phone was ringing when she entered.

  She read the number for the Palace on the caller ID and frowned, her pulse clamoring. Was something wrong with Lucy? She hadn't talked to her all week, and her sister never called from work.

  She grabbed the receiver. "Hello?"

  "Sophie, I'm glad I caught you before you went out."

  "What's wrong? Are you all right? Is it Deseree?"

  "No, Soph, I'm fine, and so is Mom."

  Since when had Lucy started calling Deseree Mom? "Oh, well... good. I was worried; you never call from work."

  "I know and I can't talk long, but this is an emergency."

  "What kind of an emergency?"

  "Sassafras fell and injured herself and can't dance tonight or the entire weekend. I'm trying to cover tonight, but I can't keep it up for the rest of the weekend, and the crowd will complain if we skip the double numbers—"

  "Lucy, why are you telling me this? Can't one of the other dancers fill in?"

  "No, no one else knows the steps."

  "You're kidding? When I left, I told you to get an understudy, that this might happen."

  "I know, and you were right, and we did hire this girl named Jasmine. She subbed for me last weekend, but she has the flu and can't come in until Monday. We need someone now, just for the weekend show; you know Saturday night is our biggest night of the week."

  Sophie's nails dug into her thigh as she realized the reason for Lucy's call. "You want me to come there and fill in? Lucy, you're out of your mind."

  "No... well, maybe, but you're the only one who knows the dance, and Garrison might fire Sassafras, and she needs the money—"

  "To take care of that no-account boyfriend of hers?"

  "No," Lucy said, lowering her voice to a shaky whisper. "Soph, she's pregnant, and she can't go home. She has no one to help her."

  Oh, dear heavens. Sassafras was such a sweetie, and she'd actually taken over for Sophie when she'd gotten the offer for the Sophie Knows show, dropping everyt
hing to help her. There was no question Sophie owed her. She pictured the young girl, alone, frightened, struggling with an alcoholic boyfriend, worried about her job. She'd seen the same desperate face on too many young girls in the past, one reason she'd wanted to get out of Vegas. She'd even felt desperate herself a few times.

  Was that how Deseree had felt? Pregnant and alone, desperate, with no place to turn?

  "I swear no one will find out," Lucy said. "You can come incognito to the set; we won't release your name, and with all the makeup and costumes you'll be wearing, you won't even recognize yourself."

  Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, her emotions warring in her head. But she couldn't refuse to help this girl. And Lucy was right: If she went incognito the entire way, and avoided the press, they could probably pull it off.

  "Soph, please, if you do this, I promise I'll sign up for night classes. I've been thinking about what you said about not dancing forever."

  "You have?"

  "Yes. Will you come? We could see Deseree together, too." Lucy hesitated. "Or wait, scratch that, I'm not trying to push you, Soph."

  Sophie sighed. Hadn't she been thinking about Deseree? "All right, but make Garrison swear on his life that he won't reveal my name to the public, not even to the other girls. If he does, I'll sue his pants off."

  "I promise," Lucy said. "And Sophie, thanks—I knew I could count on you."

  Sophie said good-bye, then called the airlines. If she wanted to go standby, they could get her on a plane in a couple of hours. She'd have to cancel her date with Lance tonight, sleep alone....

  She hastily threw together a suitcase; then Lance's headlights flickered in the driveway.

  How was she going to explain her sudden trip to him?

  Chapter 19

  Lance took one look into Sophie's eyes and knew something was wrong. He kissed her tenderly first, then pulled back and clasped her hands in his. "What is it? You seem upset."

  A faint flush crept onto her porcelain cheeks. "I didn't realize you could read me so well."

  "Tell me what's bothering you."

  "I... I have to cancel tonight," Sophie said, her voice filled with regret.

  His first instinct was jealousy, but they had to build a trust between them. He wanted that as much as he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. "Work?"

  She shook her head.

  "You haven't had some other long-lost acquaintance show up again, have you?" If she had, he'd have to pulverize him. He wasn't about to sleep with her, then let some other man put his grimy hands on her.

  "No, it's not a man." Sophie laid her palm against his cheek. "It's Lucy; she called, and there's an emergency with a friend of ours—"

  His mouth tightened.

  "A girlfriend," Sophie clarified quickly. "I have to go tonight, Lance. I hope you'll understand."

  "Is she hurt? In the hospital?"

  Sophie hesitated, her gaze dashing to their joined hands. "She's pregnant, and I need to take care of her." She kissed his fingertips, her lips lingering for a fraction of a second before she met his gaze. "Can we pick up where we left off when I return?"

  "Of course. How long will you be gone?"

  Sophie squeezed his fingers. "Only for the weekend. I'll be back for work Monday."

  He waited for more, but she didn't offer it, and he knew he had no right to probe. They might be sleeping together, spending most of their evenings together, but he hadn't made any declarations of love or commitment, and neither had she.

  Still, when she kissed him good-bye, he sensed she was lying to him. What secrets did Sophie have hidden in her past that she wouldn't share with him?

  Were those secrets part of the reason she had to go to Vegas?

  A half hour later Lance crawled back onto the bar stool beside his brother. "I thought you might already have met up with some chick."

  "I figured you were in bed with Sophie now."

  Lance frowned. "Yeah, well, looks like we both struck out tonight. Sophie had an emergency."

  Reid's hand froze on his glass. "Lucy?"

  Lance grabbed a handful of peanuts and crushed them in his hand, almost laughing at his brother's worried expression. Did he really care for Lucy? "No, some girlfriend of theirs, said she was pregnant. Sophie had to go help take care of her."

  "Sounds odd," Reid commented.

  "Tell me about it," Lance said. "I can't figure Sophie out. One minute she's loving and all over me; the next she's secretive."

  "Who can figure out women?" Reid asked. "I told you her sister was a complete ditz."

  "Yeah, but Sophie's not ditzy; she just won't open up and talk about her past."

  "Maybe there's nothing to tell."

  "I think she's hiding something." Lance swallowed a sip of beer to wash down the peanuts and crushed another handful. "But she can't hide it forever, and sooner or later I'm going to find out what she's keeping from me."

  * * *

  Reid stood outside the airport in Vegas, grateful he'd caught a flight as soon as he'd left Lance. He was waiting on a cab, wondering why in the hell he had come and what he hoped to accomplish. Luckily Maddie had had Lucy's address in Vegas.

  He hoped his suspicions proved wrong, that Lucy hadn't called Sophie to Vegas to get her away from his brother. He refused to let her mess up his brother's life.

  His own was another story.

  On the plane ride over, he'd fallen asleep and dreamed of Lucy's luscious lips creating havoc over his body and awoke, damn near humping the armrest of his seat. The airline attendant had glared at him as if he were a pervert, and the elderly lady sitting next to him with the bird-nest hairdo had screeched and jumped up, demanding to be moved. He'd gotten so riled, he'd knocked his beer over into his lap and soaked his jeans in an inopportune spot, so now he reeked of alcohol, which had earned him plenty of other odd looks.

  The cabbie slowed and he hopped in, giving the address. Fifteen minutes later he was arguing with the landlord of the building while her teenage daughter looked on.

  "She's not here," the woman said in a Midwestern accent, "and we don't want no drunken male hoochie-coochies bothering our tenants."

  He glanced down at his disheveled shirt and jeans and wished he'd taken the time to change after his flight. Still, he turned on the charm. "I'm a friend of Lucy's from Savannah. I just got in and wondered where she was, that's all. Come on; I've come a long way."

  The landlord's daughter fluttered acrylic nails through her orange-and-purple hair. "Lucy's at work."

  "And that would be...?"

  "You must not be such a good friend if you don't know where she works," the mother said in a nasal tone.

  "Actually, I'm more of a friend of her sister's. Lucy and I just met last week, but I got word there's some kind of emergency. I wanted to check on them while I'm in town."

  "The Palace," the teen said. "I could ride over with you, if you want."

  Reid gently declined, sensing that the teen was either looking for trouble or trying to escape her overbearing mother. As he took a cab to the hotel, he stared in awe at the glitzy lights and glamorous hotels. He'd never been to Vegas and realized he'd missed something. It was exactly as he'd pictured, the nightlife humming with excitement, the neon lights dazzling the clear, dark sky, the traffic and bustle of tourists and gamblers and showgoers charging the atmosphere.

  The Palace proved to be a huge establishment that offered extravagant nightly shows featuring something called the Diva act, with a restaurant that promised five-star dining, a casino, and a shopping mall built beneath. Something for everyone.

  Glamorous showgirls and music filled the stage as he entered. "And now for our special feature, the Virginal Princess and the Virginal Vampiress." Reid's gaze shot to the stage, his interest sparked.

  Although he'd missed nearly all of the show, the staff allowed him to watch the last two acts. He was completely mesmerized by the various stages of undress. Some dancers were topless, while others wore skim
py sequin-studded outfits that hinted at nudity, and others wore thongs and feathers, boas and huge headdresses. Every costume, set, and prop was elaborate, creating a glitzy show that captivated the audience, men and women alike.

  He remembered Lucy saying she was a hostess, but she hadn't seated him. Still, the place was so huge they had more than one, and she might not even be working tonight.

  He ordered a beer from a waitress in a tight black bustier and tipped her nicely. "Hey, sugar, do you happen to know a girl named Lucy Lane? She's strawberry blond, a hostess—"

  "Hostess?" The waitress laughed. "No, hon, she's onstage. Don't you recognize her?"

  "She's onstage?"

  The waitress winked. "Uh-huh. Her sister used to work here, but she took off for some bigger job." The waitress slid the tip into her bustier. "Must run in the family; the mom was a stripper, too."

  "Uh... really." Lucy and Sophie were strippers? His gaze shot to the stage, where a dozen beautiful women danced and paraded, all made-up and in costume. Shock filled him. Then memories rushed back—Lucy dancing at Sophie's. He slapped his forehead, feeling like an idiot. Why hadn't Lucy mentioned that she danced? And Sophie?

  Was that the secret Sophie had been keeping from Lance?

  To think he'd come here to try to keep them together, when Sophie was lying to his brother about everything.

  He squinted, trying to pick her out. Two, no, three or four blondes at least were dancing in the first row; two were wearing masks; the other's face was practically covered in feathers. Which one was she? The one in all red? The silver-clad desperado figure? The one with the purple sequins? He decided she was dressed in black in the back row and forced himself not to watch her. Then a hot redhead in all white appeared, and he moved to the edge of his seat. The Virginal Princess. She was sexy enough to make him forget Lucy... at least for a while.

  Anger started to mount inside that Lucy and Sophie had played him and his brother for fools, and he guzzled his beer, then ordered another. What should he do?