Bachelor Games (Tropical Temptation)

by St. Denis, Daire

  Who knew?

  Maybe he kissed all women like this.

  “Stop.” With palms on his chest, she pushed him away. “I can’t.”

  Calum blinked, and his eyes took a moment to focus. “Why not?”

  His heavy-lidded gaze dropped to her mouth again, and Becca nearly forgot her reasons for pushing him away. God, he tasted good. So fresh and minty. Juicy and delicious.

  “I—”

  “Hey, Mr. Men’s Magazine himself.” A recognizable male voice called from the promenade.

  Becca turned toward the voice and thought she might die. Right there. Or rather, she prayed she would. Her worst nightmare was loping along the sand toward them.

  “Hey, Kevyn,” Cal called before turning back to Becca. “I’m sorry. He’s the host for the week. I’ll need to speak with him, and then I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “There’s no need, Cal. There’s nothing to talk about.” She turned her back on the approaching man. “Thanks for the shirt. I’ll have it laundered and returned by tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Becca—”

  She didn’t answer because she had to get away.

  Kevyn Wasinski, the bane of her high school existence, was here? Would he recognize her? Did he even remember what he’d done? Probably not, but Becca couldn’t take the chance. So, without looking back, she hurried down the beach in the opposite direction.

  “Becca, wait,” Cal called.

  She didn’t turn. She needed to put distance between herself and Kevyn. But Kevyn had one of those annoying voices that carried over all other normal sounds, so she heard him questioning Cal about her.

  “Is that one of the contestants?”

  “No.”

  “Who is she?”

  “No one. She’s no one.”

  Her legs faltered.

  She’s no one.

  It didn’t matter that she was never going to have any sort of relationship with Calum Price. It still felt like he’d thrown a knife at her back and it had stuck—thwack!—right between her shoulder blades.

  Fuck. It was high school all over again.

  Becca had vowed to herself that she would stay away from Calum and that the kiss on the airplane was an anomaly, something that was statistically unlikely to ever happen again. Except it had. She hugged his shirt to her body as she stood outside the door to her villa. Lifting a shoulder, she breathed in deeply of his scent. Vanilla and spice. One part fabric softener, two parts expensive cologne. Warm, fluttery sensations swept down her arms and thighs as the smell mixed with memory and she relived the kiss one more time before forcing herself to remember the disappointment.

  She’s no one.

  Exactly.

  And to punctuate the sentiment, there was Kevyn Wasinski, the supreme being of all assholes, the only male who had come close to destroying her. But his presence was a reminder that Becca would never let a man bring her or her sister down again. No, sir.

  With chin held high, she opened the door quietly, hoping to find Grace in the shower getting ready for tonight.

  “Becca? Is that you?” Her sister’s voice came from the sitting area of the villa.

  “Yep.” Becca hurried to the bathroom and stripped out of her wet dress, crumpling Cal’s shirt and her dress together before donning a robe that hung on the back of the door. Grace was in the sitting room, watching Hell’s Kitchen on TV, with something that resembled guacamole caked on her face, and eating a chocolate-covered strawberry. She’d unpacked, which meant the room looked like a wig shop: one short, blond wig hanging over a lampshade, two long wigs—one blond, one dark brown—hanging off the curtain rods, a ponytail clipped to the edge of the mirror.

  “Don’t you think it’s going to be too hot for wigs?” Becca said, hoisting her suitcase onto the desk to unpack.

  “I like to be prepared,” Grace said, popping the strawberry into her mouth.

  “Where’d you get the strawberries?” Becca asked.

  “They were delivered right after you left.” Grace pointed to a gift box on the table. “Compliments of the owner.”

  Becca picked up the card that lay beside the box, expecting to see a generic welcome card. This one was hand written.

  Grace,

  Welcome to the Playground of Paradise Bay Resort. I hope you enjoy your stay, and if you need anything, please let me know.

  Sincerely,

  Jeffrey Reid

  PS: Best of luck in the pageant. I’ll be rooting for you.

  “Do you know this guy?” Becca asked, holding up the card.

  Grace waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sure everyone received them. It’s no big deal.”

  Becca snagged a strawberry and popped it into her mouth. “Hey, you’ll never guess who I saw down on the beach,” Becca said, dropping the wet garments on the floor and kicking them beneath the luggage stand. She’d deal with them later.

  “Calum?” Grace perked up.

  Shit. She hated lying to Grace, so instead of denying it, she said, “Kevyn Wasinski.”

  “No.” Grace’s eyes went wide.

  “Yep. But he goes by Kevyn Khan now. I looked him up.”

  “The YouTuber? The ‘Hate me or Date me’ guy?”

  “That’s him. He’s going to be the host this week.”

  “Are you kidding? What are the chances? Do you think he’ll remember me?”

  “I doubt it.” People rarely remembered that she and Grace were sisters because they were so different. “But if he does, you need to play dumb.”

  “I can do that.” Grace said it so eagerly and innocently, the irony of her statement completely lost on her, that Becca couldn’t help herself. She had to give her sister a hug.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Grace asked after Becca released her.

  “Of course,” Becca said, plastering a reassuring smile on her face. “What he did to me in high school was a long time ago.”

  “Okay, well, I’m sorry he’s here.” She put her hands on her hips. “But, just so you know, I’m still mad at you.”

  “Grace…” Guilt—of the hot and sickly variety—shot through Becca, adding to the uncomfortable mix of emotions already milling about in the pit of her stomach.

  “Just think how much further ahead I would have been if I had been sitting with Calum for six hours on the airplane.”

  “It was better this way, honest.”

  “How?” Grace pursed her lips, making her look like a pouty avocado. “How was it better that you got to spend all that exclusive time with the man I’m supposed to impress so I can win this contest?”

  “If I’m going to help you, like I always do, I need to understand him…”

  So, you kiss him, not once but twice?

  Becca paused and cleared her throat. “This was the perfect opportunity.” She unzipped her suitcase and put her neatly folded clothes into a drawer. In the corner of her suitcase was a small black canvas bag which she carefully placed on top of the dresser. “Plus,” she said, glancing at her sister. “In the event that the two of you jet off to Paris together at the end of the week, I need to make sure he’s okay.”

  “I could have done that.”

  Becca faced her sister. “You know you are not the best judge of men.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. Name one guy you’ve dated who wasn’t an asshole.”

  “David.”

  “Grace, he stalked you.”

  “It was kind of sweet.”

  Becca groaned.

  “There was Nick.”

  This time Becca got up and stood in front of her sister. “Honey, he hit you. Remember?”

  Grace’s lip trembled. “I just go out with the guys who ask me out.”

  And that was the point. It seemed like the only men who ever asked Grace out were macho, misogynist losers. Becca only needed to be fooled once to know to stay far away from a certain type of man. Unfortunately, Grace was fooled over and over again.
r />   “Bec?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think I date jerks because, well”—Grace paused, gazed down at her lap, and then continued softly— “because my dad was a jerk? You know, the way he left Mom when she was pregnant with me?”

  Becca sat on the bed across from Grace and took her hands. “No. I don’t think that has anything to do with it. I think you are so good and kind and trusting that sometimes you get taken advantage of.”

  “Yeah…”

  Becca stood. “Let’s not worry about all this right now. What we need to do is focus on this competition.” She unzipped the black canvas bag and removed two hard-shell cases. Inside the first, lying snug in a foam lining, was a micro earpiece that Grace would wear throughout the competition. The other case held the wireless microphone and camera that were carefully hidden inside Grace’s signature flower—a red hibiscus.

  “We need to test these,” Becca said, placing the items on the table beside her laptop. She set up the hotel wifi on her computer and phone and then called up the spyware software in order to sync everything.

  With a sigh, Grace got up and wandered over to the desk, picking up the micro bud. “This one’s even smaller than the one we used in the Miss Wisconsin Pageant.”

  “We needed something that was both smaller and with better range.” She tapped the keys of her computer. “It’s a brand-new model. State of the art.” And she’d only spent a good portion of her savings on the purchase. But it would be worth it if Grace won the hundred grand.

  “Okay, I’ve got them paired and set up on the computer.” Becca showed her the image that she’d brought up on her phone, an image of Grace’s midsection.

  “Awesome.” She set the earbud down and picked up the flower, inspecting it. “Are the camera and speaker new, too?”

  “Yep.”

  Grace turned toward the mirror and clipped the flower into her hair. “Hey, Bec?”

  “Yeah?”

  “So? What is Calum Price like? Is he nice or is he an asshole?”

  Becca remained still because, suddenly, all she could see was Cal crouched in front of her, stroking her arms, keeping her calm in the tiny airplane bathroom. Then…lying on top of her, the entire length of his body pressed wetly against hers. Next, his arms around her as he carried her to safety. And finally…tilting her chin and tasting her mouth…

  “He’s perfect,” she whispered.

  “What was that?”

  Keeping her head down as she focused on the app’s setting, Becca repeated, “I said he’s perfect.” She glanced up and smiled at her sister. “In fact, he might even be good enough for you.”

  Chapter Six

  Fifty contestants milled about the conference room, all taking turns with the producers who were taking pictures and videoing the girls’ bios for the start of the show tomorrow. Cal had already recorded his short stint.

  For those who had finished, there were hors d’oeuvres and drinks, and Cal had been instructed to introduce himself to all the women. Already he could categorize them. There were the touchy-feelies, who had to touch him when they spoke: hand on his arm, on his chest, on his hand. Then there were the narcissists who launched into monologues about all of their accomplishments: their degrees, their awards, yada, yada, yada. There were smilers, who somehow—miraculously—managed to keep smiles plastered on their faces the entire time they spoke.

  Three asked him about himself.

  Only one apologized.

  “I’m sorry I barged into first class,” Grace Evans said when he joined her by the oyster bar.

  She was a very attractive woman, blond hair, wearing a retro, polka-dotted dress with a snug waist and full skirt. A bright-red flower pulled back one side of her hair, lending to that illusion of being from another era.

  “No worries,” he said.

  “I didn’t know where Becca had gone and—” Suddenly she put a hand to her head and cringed.

  “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head, blond curls bobbing. “Yeah…I just—” She covered her ear, in obvious pain, just as Kevyn Kahn walked by with his entourage of camera and mic people. He was introducing himself and the show. Twice he stopped, demanding they start recording over again. Always because someone else had screwed up.

  Kevyn paused when he saw Cal and then glanced at Grace. His head tilted to one side.

  “Hey. Do I know you?”

  Still holding a hand to the side of her head, she shook her head.

  “You sure? We never dated?”

  “Nope. Not me. No. Never.”

  Cal glanced at Grace. She was lying. Why? Did she know Kevyn?

  “My mistake. I’ve dated a lot of women.” He flashed a grin and then punched Cal on the shoulder as he moved past. It was probably meant to be a friendly tap, but there was more force behind it than necessary.

  Cal growled.

  Grace sneezed. Three times. She turned away and something dropped to the floor. Before he had a chance to see what it was, she scooped it up and tucked whatever it was into her handbag.

  “Bless you.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled.

  Though there was very little resemblance between the sisters, Cal caught something in Grace’s smile that seemed familiar. “What’s Becca up to tonight?”

  Her expression went from expectant to confused. “My sister?”

  “Yes.”

  She shrugged. “God. Who knows. Probably working.” She snorted. It was the same sort of sound that Becca had made on the plane. “I’ll tell you what she’s not doing.”

  “What’s that?”

  She stepped closer, smiling in a mischievous way. “Meeting someone. Even though she needs to. This is her vacation, too, right?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Grace leaned close. “I love my sister,” she said. “But she really needs to get laid.”

  For the first time that night, Cal laughed. Not because what Grace said was necessarily funny, but because it was so unexpected. “Oh, she does, does she?”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “Yes. Badly. She’s too serious. Works too hard. She’s all…tightly wound, you know what I mean? But…” She rested her hand on Cal’s forearm. Grace’s touch wasn’t like the other women’s. It was natural.

  “Nothing a good orgasm wouldn’t take care of.”

  Coming from any of the other women, Cal would have bet that Grace was trying to shock him or elicit a response from him. But there was something so innocent and down-to-earth about her that she just came across as genuine.

  Grace glanced in the direction of Kevyn. “As long as it’s a nice guy and not some asshole,” she said absently.

  “Do you know Kevyn Khan?”

  “You mean Wasinski?”

  “Is that his real name?”

  “What? No. I mean. I don’t know Kevyn. Kevyn who?” Grace had a panicky expression on her face. “I gotta go to the ladies’ room. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Cal watched Grace hurry off. Oh, yeah. She knew Kevyn, and she didn’t want him to remember. Interesting.

  Almost as interesting as her statement about Becca needing to get laid. Cal smiled to himself. Maybe he could be of service…

  He had no opportunity to explore the thought, though, because within seconds, he was surrounded by women, smiles wide, hips swaying, and hair flipping.

  What he wouldn’t give to be hanging out with Becca right now. Maybe helping her unwind.

  …

  Well, that was a fucking disaster. With a drink in one hand and her cell phone in the other, Becca wandered along the path toward the beach. The sound of the waves crashing against the sand greeted her. Mixed with it was music from the nearby bar and laughter from a group of people walking in the opposite direction.

  The earbud had stayed in Grace’s ear for less than an hour, at least long enough for her to do her mini-interview with the producers. But the second she’s alone with Calum, what does her sister do? Pulls out the earbud and goes rogue.<
br />
  No. Not rogue. She says the very worst possible thing.

  Becca needs to get laid.

  Nothing a good orgasm wouldn’t take care of.

  Honest to God. She couldn’t have fictionalized a worse scenario. What on earth compelled her sister to say such a thing? The worst part was, she had been able to see and hear it all, but once Grace had removed the earbud, she wasn’t able to hear Becca.

  If she had, she’d have clearly heard Becca cursing her.

  With every single fucking four-letter word she could think of.

  There must have been some feedback from some of the other electronic equipment in the area. She’d have to adjust the settings when they returned to the room. In the meantime, Becca set her drink and phone down on a side table, pulled a lounge chair from beneath a palapa and settled herself on it to do one of the few things that would help her chill.

  Stargaze.

  Because there were no big-city lights around, stars filled the sky. There was Orion, Cassiopeia, Gemini…a shooting star—meteor—all clearly visible. It was nothing like viewing the sky with a high-powered telescope, but still, it was pretty remarkable, even with the naked eye.

  Naked.

  She closed her eyes, imagining Calum lying on top of her, only this time they were naked.

  By the way he kissed, she just knew he would be good in bed. No, fantastic in bed. God. He’d probably even enjoy going down on a woman. With her eyes closed, Becca imagined the scenario. Just the two of them, naked on the beach, Cal exploring her entire body. Her neck…her collarbones, her breasts. Would he be gentle with her nipples or rough?

  Rough.

  Oh God.

  Would he hold her down as he kissed her stomach, licking her navel, her hips…?

  The image of his dark hair against the light skin of her thighs made her moan. Out loud. More than once.

  “Becca? Is that you?”

  She was startled into an upright position, her hands moving protectively in front of her…and tossing the remainder of her drink right into Calum Price’s face.

  “Oh God. I’m sorry.” She tried to wipe his face with the back of her hand. “What are you doing here?”