Seven Exes Are Eight Too Many

by Heather Wardell

  Seven Exes Are Eight Too Many

  Heather Wardell

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2010 Heather Wardell

  http://www.heatherwardell.com

  Also by Heather Wardell at Amazon.com:

  Go Small or Go Home

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should visit www.amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost, thank you so much to everyone who's picked up my first two books, "Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo" and "Go Small or Go Home", and especially those who took the time to drop me a note letting me know what they thought. Writing can be lonely and it's wonderful to hear from readers. (If you haven't seen those books yet, check out my web site at http://www.heatherwardell.com.)

  The cover illustration is a modified version of a graphic created by http://www.istockphoto.com/peskymonkey.

  Gwen Greene, thanks for taking the time to be my final reader before I officially declared the book complete, and a huge thanks for missing watching Glee to read it. I appreciate the sacrifice!

  Jen Dawson, Beth MacLeod, Tanya Sweeney, Jess Wilkinson: thank you for your support and encouragement.

  Holly MacLeod, the best motivational speaker on the planet, thanks once again for never letting me give up.

  And, of course, my amazing husband. There aren't enough words in a million libraries to say how much I appreciate you.

  Chapter One

  I stared at the seven men of my supposed dreams. Of my nightmares, more like, and theirs too judging by their stunned faces. The hotel ballroom's walls closed in and dizziness shuddered through me.

  The show's host said, "What's wrong, Princess?", his overdone innocence making it clear: this was no accident.

  I had to speak, had to take back some semblance of control, but knowing how many eyes and cameras studied my every move and reaction silenced me like a hand over my mouth.

  The host raised well-tended eyebrows. "Nothing to say? Let me help. Gentlemen, I'm Peter Stanley. This, of course, is Madeleine-Cora Spencer. I say 'of course' because you all know her. Know her well, in fact." He paused long enough for me to consider fleeing then added, his tone too casual, before I'd decided how to get past the camera crew, "You've all dated her."

  My exes exchanged surreptitious glances, no doubt mentally questioning my choices, as I fought to keep my face expressionless. Hearing the words from him made it all too real.

  "Now, she expected to be on the 'Find Your Prince' show, but she can't be on a dating show with her exes, can she?" Returning his focus to me, he shook his head as if sympathetic. "No, you can't. Especially not the ones you called 'flighty'... 'ridiculously jealous'... 'egotistical'..."

  With each trait he pointed to the man it described, and my horror grew with each word. 'Flighty', predictably, didn't seem bothered, but 'jealous' and 'egotistical' both looked ready to take me apart. I had to shut Peter up before he got me killed. "I did date them," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "and you knew that since I put them all on my appli--"

  "Gentlemen, Madeleine-Cora," he said over me, "you've been given various explanations for why you're here, but now it's time for the truth. You will spend the next twenty-one nights on a tropical island."

  'Flighty' said, "Cool!" but Peter ignored him and went on. "You will live together in a shelter, after you build it, and scavenge for most of your food. You'll be competing for a million dollar prize, and in time we will explain what you need to do to win. Princess, gentlemen, the game is on."

  An island. Trapped with seven men. Not just any men, but these men. So much history. And cameras hungry for the men to reveal that history, reveal my most intimate secrets. Nowhere to hide.

  My careful analysis of the real show's previous seasons to see which strategies worked, the hours I'd spent considering how to get to know my potential princes. Wasted. This bunch of frogs didn't contain my prince. I'd kissed them all, I should know.

  I'd regretted signing up for the show a hundred times over the past two months, starting seconds after I'd filled out the application online through tears of rage and humiliation. Meeting new men and letting them learn about me would be hard, I'd known that, but I'd been sure that finding a good man would be worth the pain. But this? All pain, no possible gain.

  "I'm so out of here."

  Greg, my most recent boyfriend, stormed forward and slammed to a stop facing Peter. "You told me I'd be the prince, the one choosing a woman, not this stupid thing. This isn't fair."

  When Greg had told me he loved me on our third date, I'd been more than a little surprised and nowhere near ready to return the sentiment. He hadn't seemed to mind, but the words had hung over us like a three-syllable cloud of doom, and I'd dumped him a few weeks later because I couldn't handle knowing he wanted me to hurry up and fall in love so we could get married.

  I'd almost left our pitifully short relationship off my application, but I'd been afraid he'd end up on the show with me in some horrific coincidence. Well, no coincidence, but here he was.

  Or maybe not. "I'm leaving, and you can't stop me." He headed for the ballroom's door.

  He didn't make it.

  "I don't want to stop you," Peter said, his face calm and faintly amused, and Greg paused. "Give me the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars you agreed to pay if you quit the show, and I'll drive you to the airport myself."

  "The..."

  "Surely you read the contract before you signed it?" Now addressing everyone, Peter went on. "We're allowed to change the show's concept if we see fit. If you're thinking of quitting, folks, make sure you have the money ready. Otherwise you're ours for the duration."

  Greg's defiance sputtered and died.

  Peter ran his eyes over the rest of us. "Anyone got a quarter million burning a hole in their pocket? No? Then let's go."

  And before I knew it, I was in the back of a limo with my ex-boyfriends on the way to twenty-one days of hell.

  *****

  Seven different colognes battled for supremacy, overwhelming me even more. My only consolation was the guys' silence; if they left me alone, I might be able to figure out--

  An arm slid around my shoulder. "It's been months, MC. How're you doing, baby?"

  "How do you think I'm doing, Aaron?"

  Ignoring my sarcasm as he always had, he grinned, his wavy black hair framing dark eyes sparkling with their usual mischief. "So, am I your prince?"

  I pushed his arm off me in partly mock annoyance. "Are you serious?"

  Greg said, "I can't believe you're even talking to her after what she said."

  "What, that I'm flighty?" Aaron shrugged. "I've been called worse." Refocusing on me, he said, "So how 'bout it, MC? And how'd you end up on a dating show?"

  Even my best friends didn't know the truth on that one. "I wasn't having much luck finding a man, so I thought this might work better. And trust me, it stopped being a dating show the second I saw you guys."

  Dean, sitting across from Aaron with his arms folded, said, "I never thought it was one in the first place. I was invited to be on 'Can You Sing?'."

  "And can you?"

  I said, "He can. Opera. He's amazing."

  Dean turned a blotchy red, and I registered his words. "Invited? You didn't apply?"

  He shook his head. "I got an email through my web site. Top prize was a year at a
n opera school in Vienna. I've always wanted to go there." He shrugged. "I checked the show's web site and everything, and it seemed legit so I cancelled my students and a concert and went for it."

  And here he was, nowhere near where he'd wanted to be. Sympathy flooded me, and I hoped the rest hadn't been lied to quite so dramatically.

  Fortunately, no. They'd been lied to, of course, but they'd all applied or 'been nominated by an anonymous friend or family member' for various reality shows. Once each man had explained, I said, "Well, it's not a dating show, that's for sure."

  "I don't know." Aaron ran a finger down my bare upper arm. "We're here, you're here, what else could it be?"

  I tried to hide the shivers his caress sent through me. I loved light teasing touches, and he knew it. They all knew it. "It's about the money."

  "Sure, that's part of it, but it'd be way easier to take people who actually applied for this show than to trick us into it. Bet on it, baby, our relationships with you will come into play."

  "Do you call all your women 'baby' so you don't have to remember their names?" When we dated I thought it was cute and a little sexy, but the idea of three straight weeks of it didn't exactly thrill me.

  He laughed and squeezed my arm. "Could be, baby, could be. Now, what can we learn about you by checking out your exes?"

  Before I could say, "Nothing," he said, "You like 'em tall, I see, and we're all in at least decent shape. Both things that fit in with your lovely self. Not much consensus on hair color, but a lot of brown eyes staring back at me. A couple exceptions, but that's it." He shot me a smile. "Makes sense, given your own baby browns. Anything else we have in common? Hobbies, bedroom quirks, desperate desire to drink human blood? Oops, I've said too much."

  He made a vaguely vampiric face that looked more like a rabbit, and I couldn't help laughing even though I didn't want to discuss my relationships with him. Or anyone.

  "You've had a lot of boyfriends, haven't you?" Phillip, whose dark hair and deep blue eyes made him my most attractive mistake, at least at first glance, scanned the others. His expression made it clear he didn't see why I'd have bothered with them. 'Egotistical', indeed.

  "It's not that many," I said, stung. "You seven, and then I had five more on the application. I guess they couldn't find them."

  "Or they were smart enough to say no," Greg muttered.

  Considering the missing five made me almost grateful for the current situation. Two of those guys hadn't been too bad, but somehow the show had spared me both the one who'd had his mother dump me and the one who'd looked better in my underwear than I did and took every opportunity to prove it.

  Not to mention the one who three years ago had broken my heart and shattered my trust. Far better to be stuck with these seven than to have to see Kent. I tried to convince myself I was lucky, but didn't get far.

  "Still, enough for a good basketball game. With a few subs to boot."

  Phillip's persistence annoyed me, and the focus on my private life embarrassed me, but before I could think of a reply Michael and Sam tried to change the subject at the same time. My two sweetest exes, who'd both deserved better treatment than I'd given them.

  As they attempted to sort out who should speak first, Aaron slipped his arm back around me. "I prefer individual sports to basketball. We had fun before, right? Let's pick up where we left off. And maybe win the million together?"

  I stared at him, surprised he would be so blatant in front of the other guys, but Dean leaned forward, pale skin blazing to a near-match to his hair, and spoke in a voice I'd never heard from him, cold and heavy. "Get your hands off her."

  Aaron laughed. "Sorry, buddy, I got here first."

  He clearly thought the lanky redhead was joking, but I knew better, and Dean proved it. "I'm not watching you paw her. Quit it."

  Aaron's amusement vanished, and his arm tightened around me, jerking me hard against his side. "I don't think so, Mr. 'Ridiculously jealous'. What's it to you, anyhow?"

  I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. "Guys, come on."

  "Did you cheat on me with this bastard too?" Dean pushed Aaron hard in the chest.

  Aaron released me and slammed Dean sideways to the limo's floor in one smooth motion. "If she did, I can see why."

  Showing more guts than I would have expected, Dean came up swinging and caught Aaron on the cheekbone. Aaron gave him a good one in the stomach, then the other guys stepped in, dragging Aaron and the doubled-over Dean back into their seats and holding them in place.

  Shaking with anger and shock, I said, "Dean, I told you a billion times I never cheated on you. Why can't you get it?"

  "Probably should have," Aaron said under his breath.

  I turned on him. "And you're even worse. We were great together for a few weeks, then you quit calling and now you expect me to jump on you? How stupid are you?"

  "I was just playing the game," Aaron said, rubbing his cheek. His guards cautiously released him but he stayed in his seat. "You're obviously a big part of whatever's happening here, so I figured I should get in good right from the beginning."

  "If that's your idea of getting in good, no wonder I needed to go on a dating show."

  Dean, his voice choked from Aaron's punch, said, "You never answered me. Did you cheat with this guy?"

  "I did answer-- look, I'm going to say this very slowly. With little tiny words. I did not cheat on you. Not with Aaron. Not with any of these guys. Got it?"

  I realized my mistake instantly, but too late.

  "None of these guys? So you're admitting to Craig?"

  "No!" I grabbed the skirt of my brand new hot pink dress with both hands, squeezing the life out of it instead of him. "Honestly, I want to hit you myself now."

  "You've got those little girl arms, baby," Aaron said. "Let me do it." The guys grabbed for him again but he shook them off. "I'm kidding. Sheesh."

  I punched Aaron on the thigh as hard as I could, letting my anger and frustration fuel my fist, and the pained grunt he couldn't hold back filled me with grim satisfaction. Five kickboxing classes a week, baby. Ignoring the assorted snickers, I said, "Dean, I never cheated on you. Never."

  He rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure, you and Craig were really just friends."

  Six sets of male eyes turned to him. A brief silence reigned before Aaron said, "You think she was with Craig? No way."

  "Yeah, right." Dean's confidence seemed forced now.

  "Dude, seriously." Jim flipped the blond hair I knew was bleached back from his brown eyes. "Craig? She'd have slept with Liv before Craig."

  "Hell, who wouldn't?" I didn't catch who'd spoken, too busy staring down Dean. We had broken up over Craig, true, but because Dean couldn't accept that in Craig I had a boy friend but never a boyfriend. My good friend Liv, as tiny and blonde as I was tall and brunette, was fabulous, but Craig was my real best friend and had been since high school.

  Phillip jumped in with his standard grace and class. "I tried it. Liv wouldn't play."

  I tore my eyes from Dean's disbelieving face and turned to Phillip. "Excuse me?"

  "Why, did you fart?"

  Somebody chuckled. It wasn't me. "You went after Liv? While you were dating me?"

  He shrugged. "I'd had enough of you always arguing with me, and I figured it was worth a try. We were pretty much done anyhow."

  Aaron, his usual joking tone restored, said, "Did she go for it?"

  Phillip shrugged again, less cocky this time. "Let's just say she slaps pretty hard."

  I felt both proud of Liv and annoyed she hadn't told me. We'd only been friends for a few months at that point, so she'd probably been afraid to. She'd definitely made her delight at his departure clear, though. And I hadn't argued with Phillip, I'd only wanted him to admit I was right sometimes. Or even once.

  I turned back to Dean. "Do you believe me?"

  "Whatever." He dropped his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

  Well, all right, then.

 
; *****

  The limo driver got lost at least three times on the way to the airport, necessitating drawn-out stops to study his maps, and our tempers began to fray.

  "It's a twenty minute drive tops from the hotel to the airport," Phillip said. "We've been in here an hour already. What's wrong with that idiot?" Nobody knew, but that didn't stop Phillip bringing it up every few minutes. Between that, and the tension between Aaron and Dean that kept everyone else silent, I'd never been so delighted to arrive at an airport before.

  We scrambled from the limo to find Peter and the cameras waiting for us, not looking bothered by our lateness. The usual Las Vegas airport crowds bustled around us, and people kept eying me, the lone female in a group of men, then nudging their companions and whispering, no doubt trying to figure out who I was to have such an entourage. Someone who was pure evil in a past life, apparently, if I deserved all this.

  Peter hurried us into the airport and straight onto a tiny plane, time seeming important to him suddenly. I took a seat at the front, not wanting to add airsickness to my list of woes, and the guys headed to the back. Peter sat across from me, and once we were in the air he stood in the aisle and unloaded a litany of rules and restrictions.

  I struggled to listen but couldn't focus. I'd pretty much prepared myself for the constant filming and invaded privacy of reality television, but I'd expected to disappear into my hotel room when I needed time alone. Now, I'd have nowhere to disappear to, and a lot more need.

  "You should assume you're on camera at all times, since you'll have a crew with you and we've also hidden cameras and microphones. The hidden ones will be relocated from time to time when you're away from your island, so don't bother trying to find them."

  Away? Where would we be going?

  "And no talking to the camera crew or other staff. Pretend they're not there. Now, once we land, you and I will be busy for a while," he said, turning his attention to me. Before I could ask why, he went on. "Gentlemen, you'll build the shelter and set up camp."

  "We will?" Phillip sounded offended and amused at once. His usual tone. Our ten years apart had dulled my memories of how aggravating he could be, but he was wasting no time polishing them to a blinding sheen. I'd been so right to break up with him.