“I did not.”
“I know sex hair when I see it.” She came to stand behind Becca and messed up her hair, giggling as she did it. “You know, I don’t need babysitting. If you want to have a sleepover, do it. Just text me so I don’t get worried.”
Thank God Grace’s phone chose that moment to chirp to life.
“Beach volleyball?” Grace complained as she stared at her phone where the message from the organizers had just come in. “I haven’t played volleyball since the eighth grade.”
“Well,” Becca said, “I’m willing to bet that most of the other women haven’t, either, so you’ll be fine. You just have to come up with a strategy that sets you apart. Just like you did yesterday.”
Grace set the phone down and fiddled with her hair as a dreamy expression stole over her features. “That was such good advice you gave me last night. Being the first one there really allowed me to get to know Calum better.” She sighed. “Did I tell you what happened?”
Becca froze. “No.”
“He touched me.”
“Who touched you?” Placing a hand to her stomach did nothing to quell the unsettled feeling. She must be hungry.
“Calum, silly.”
Becca’s stomach twisted one hundred eighty degrees in the opposite direction. “Where?”
“On the beach. At dinner.”
“No, I mean, where did he touch you?”
“Oh.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “On the back of my hand.”
Becca slowly released a breath. “Okay, so that’s good, right?” She applied lotion to her skin and got dressed, putting her bathing suit on first before slipping her summer dress over her head.
“On the one hand, he’s such a gentleman,” Grace said. “But there’s this animal magnetism about him that makes me think he’s good in bed.”
Becca’s hands shook as she tied the straps of her dress at her shoulders. She could so clearly remember Cal’s touch there. The feel of the straps sliding down her shoulders. His hands on her breasts. Rough…
“You okay, Bec? You look weird.”
She shook herself out of her reverie and forced a smile. “So, what’s your plan for the volleyball game?”
Grace’s expression soured. “I wish you could take my place. You’re the volleyball player.”
“Just because I played intramurals does not make me a volleyball player.”
“Yeah, well. At least you know the rules.”
“Honestly, Grace. Based on last night’s events, I don’t think rules are a big part of this competition.” Becca rubbed her suddenly aching temples. “We just need you to stand out. You’re not going to be the most skilled, so…it has to be something else.”
“I’ve got that cute bikini.”
“Everyone is going to have a cute bikini.”
Grace shrugged. “I don’t know, then.”
“Okay, let’s go about this the other way. What is every other girl going to be doing?”
“Playing hard. Showing off. Being competitive.” Grace’s pretty nose crinkled “Oh, and being mean.” Was she thinking about the mud-slinging Kaitlyn who’d tried to kill her in the ring yesterday?
Becca towel dried her hair. “Then you be your sweet self, which is everything that every other woman is not being. Just like you did yesterday.”
Grace sat up straighter. “I can do that.”
“And don’t wear your bikini.”
“What?”
“Everyone else will be in teeny tiny suits.” She twisted her lips. “Probably hoping for a wardrobe malfunction.”
“But—”
“No buts. You need to stand out, and the only way is by wearing something that is different. Plus, you need something supportive, unless you want your boobs hanging low.”
“My boobs have never hung low, thank you very much.”
Becca leaned closer. “Have I ever led you astray?”
“No…”
“So?”
“Okay. But can you help me practice a few skills before the matches start?”
“Of course.”
Grace smiled and clasped Becca’s hands. “What did I ever do to deserve a sister like you?”
After Grace shut the bathroom door behind her, Becca doubled over the vanity. Her sister’s comment was a punch, right to the gut. Grace was so wrong about her, and the only thing Becca could do to make up for her duplicitous behavior was to do her damnedest to make sure her sister won.
…
It was seven thirty a.m., and Cal got off the phone with his second-in-command, Nolan Wayne, who was in New York, working behind the scenes to buy up the remaining stocks needed to make more than 50 percent interest for the resort before the shareholders’ vote in three days. Nolan reassured him that the lawyers had been working with him the entire time. Everything was happening according to schedule, and the papers were ironclad.
He had just hung up with Nolan and was about to make his way to the event tent when his phone rang.
“Cal? Is that you?”
“Hey, Mom.” He couldn’t help smiling. She’d called his cell, of course it was him.
“Where are you? Are you in New York?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m just calling to remind you about Dad’s retirement party on Friday.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Cal said, “I won’t be able to make it.” He explained where he was and what he was doing.
“You’re on The Bachelor?” she asked excitedly. “Oh, that’s so exciting!” His mother was a huge fan of the popular television show and all its spin-offs.
“No, Mom. It’s not The Bachelor. It’s like The Bachelor. Sort of. It’s a beauty pageant set at a tropical resort. And a trip with me to Paris is part of the prize.”
“Wow. Is it going to be on TV?”
“No, it’s streaming live on the internet.”
“Oh.” He could hear the disappointment in her voice. She wasn’t a big fan of the internet—thank God—because he didn’t want her watching this.
“Well, if it’s anything like The Bachelor, you be careful, Calum. Some of those girls are manipulative.”
Cal chuckled. “Okay, Mom. I’ll be careful.”
“And make sure you choose a nice girl, okay? Outer beauty is fleeting. Inner beauty lasts a lifetime. You deserve a nice girl.”
“Right, Mom.” Cal recalled the many times he’d heard this mantra over the years.
“You sure you can’t make Dad’s retirement? It would mean so much to him.”
“I can’t.” The answer had become a pat response over the years, but this time, it was legitimate. He didn’t want the media circus that he was a part of to be thrust down his parents’ throats.
Is that the real reason?
Cal cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry, Mom. I’ll send a gift.”
He hung up and then went to stand on the patio, leaning against the wrought-iron rail, gazing out at the crystal-blue waves crashing upon the white-sand shore.
The life he lived now was so far removed from where he’d grown up, sometimes he forgot that he’d been a poor kid, growing up in Paterson, New Jersey. His parents had done their best, he knew that now, but things hadn’t been easy growing up. He’d been teased for wearing second-hand clothes, teased because of what his father did for a living—custodian of the high school he’d attended—teased because his mother was sick.
He’d always told himself he’d stayed away to protect his down-to-earth parents from his publicized life. But now, he wasn’t so sure that was the truth. His dad was a hard worker and his mom had loved him.
Still loved him, even though he hadn’t visited in years.
You deserve a nice girl.
His mom would adore Becca.
Though it didn’t bear thinking about, because he was never going to introduce the two. However, that didn’t stop Cal from imagining making love to her in his old bedroom. Why that fantasy came up when he had so many others to work with from la
st night, he had no idea. But it was hot.
Thoughts of Becca in any and all positions seemed to be taking over his brain. From last night to the moment he’d woken up this morning—with a raging woody—wishing she was there in his bed so he could play some more control games with her.
He’d always enjoyed taking over a woman and her needs. He’d never let a woman do the same to him. But with Becca? Fuck. Both were enjoyable. It was as if they were made for each other.
Whoa, easy, dude. You just met this woman.
Scrubbing a hand across his face, Calum gathered all the Becca memories and shut them up in a room in his mind, closing the door firmly behind it. He had to focus.
He made his way to the event tent that had been set up on the beach next to a bunch of sand volleyball courts. He gazed out toward the horizon, taking a deep breath of salty air, when a ball bounced off a chair and rolled in the sand toward him. Becca appeared on the other side of the roped-off partition, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing a one-piece bathing suit and sunglasses.
“This yours?” Cal asked.
“Yes.” She stretched her arms out for the ball, asking for him to toss it. Why? Because she didn’t want to get too close?
“You play?”
“A little. I’m just helping Grace with a few skills before the tournament.”
“She shouldn’t worry. Each of the contestants will be teamed up with two professional players.”
“I know. But, she wants to do her best.”
When Cal still didn’t toss the ball, she said, “Can I have the ball, please?”
“Absolutely. On one condition.”
“What’s that?” She sounded out of breath.
Coming to stand closer, he said quietly, “Stay overnight, tonight.”
With a panicked expression, she glanced around, like she was worried people had overheard.
“Becca?” Grace called from about twenty feet away as she weaved in and out between lounge chairs. “Oh, hi, Calum. How are you?” She beamed.
He smiled in Grace’s direction and then dropped his voice. “If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you.”
Becca glanced over her shoulder at her sister. “Fine,” she whispered.
“Okay.” He placed the ball into her hands right before Grace drew close enough to hear. “Good luck today, Grace.”
“Thanks, Calum,” she said, smiling shyly, which was in contrast to the way she struck a pose with her hand on her hip, one knee bent and her body turned to the side. It was probably done subconsciously—presenting her figure to the best advantage.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Becca tugged on a reluctant Grace’s hand.
“See you out there,” Cal called.
As the women walked away—their differences never more pronounced—it was Becca, with her more athletic figure and no-nonsense attire, that drew his attention. And his desire.
Chapter Eleven
Stay over tonight.
That phrase had been playing over and over in her mind all morning as Becca pointed her gaze at the volleyball tournament while a whole other scenario played out in her mind. The evening with Calum. Him dominating her. Her taking control and teasing him until he got so turned-on, he was almost angry in his desire.
She squeezed her thighs together to quell her aching bits. Was there a female equivalent to blue balls? Because she felt as if she’d had a girlie hard-on for seventy-eight hours or however long it’d been since she’d first met Calum Price.
Oh, and there he was. No longer watching on the sidelines, wearing only beach shorts and sunglasses, the man was now playing volleyball himself. He and one other player against the winning female team of three, Cindy something-or-other was the contestant on that team.
“He is something else, isn’t he?” Grace plopped herself down beside Becca. “Look at all those muscles. He’s a good volleyball player, too.”
Grinding her teeth, Becca was capable of only making a few deep-throated sounds of agreement. After she managed to get the mixture of guilt, desire, and whatever other random emotion she was feeling under control, Becca reached for her sister’s arm and wiped off the sand still stuck there from her own volleyball game.
“You looked good out there,” Becca said.
“Did I?”
“Yes. You played well, and finishing third out of six teams is nothing to sneeze at.”
“Thanks.” Grace smiled. “Every point counts in this competition.”
“You’re going to be fine. I have a good feeling about everything,” Becca said, though her feelings were anything but good.
A half hour later, the match ended and Grace went to rejoin the other contestants on the beach court with Cal.
“La-dies! How are you doing?” Kevyn appeared looking fresh compared to everyone else.
When the response wasn’t as enthusiastic as he wanted—it never was—he shouted, “I said, how are you doing?”
It took all of Becca’s self-control not to get up and grab the stupid headset off his head and smack him. But of course, she could never do that. Instead, she pulled her hat lower on her head and adjusted her sunglasses so that on the off chance Kevyn looked her way, it was even more unlikely that he would recognize her.
“Viewer polls are in, and we have all of our scores tallied and up-to-date.” Indicating the huge portable digital screen set up by the courts. “As you know, the six ladies before you will remain until the end of the week. Every day we will tally their scores, which are a combination of points for winning a challenge, points for the number of viewer votes received, and of course, points that are bestowed by our man of the week, Calum Price.”
Cheers.
“So, let’s see where we’re at.” He turned to face the huge screen, and numbers for the different categories spun like a gameshow wheel until eventually scores were provided for each contestant in each category, and the names were then rearranged from first place to sixth place.
Grace was currently third.
“Look at that! Cindy is on top at the moment.” Kevyn strode up to the woman in question. “Tell me, Cindy, do you like being on top?”
“I love it!” She pumped her fist in the air to the delight of the crowd.
“Oh, the mental picture you create is killing me,” Kevyn bantered. Then he turned to the other contestants. “So, in addition to the scores, our viewer poll has been completed, and we have our next contest.” Kevyn waved to an assistant standing beside a huge Island Mobile poster, who rushed over with a box, which he gave to Kevyn.
“Do you want to hear what the next challenge is?”
More cheers, and even Becca stood to get a better view of what was going on.
From the box, Kevyn handed each lady a smart phone. “There is only one number programmed into these phones—all provided by our sponsor, Island Mobile—and that number is for a phone that belongs to this man, here.” Kevyn indicated Cal. “You may not all be volleyball players, but I’m willing to bet you are all experts in this activity.” With a huge, cheesy grin, he took a selfie of himself and Cal before passing the phone to the other man.
“That’s right, folks. Tonight, Island Mobile is sponsoring the Seven Selfie Challenge! Submit seven of your best selfies to Cal’s number by seven o’clock tonight, and make sure they’re good, because you’re receiving points from viewers and from Cal.”
Cheers rang through the crowd.
“Keep in mind that this is being broadcast live, so keep it sexy but keep it clean. No nips, no vajayjays.”
Laughter from the crowd drowned out Becca’s groan.
“Bring your A game, ladies. Only seven selfies, so make them your best! The challenge begins…” He raised his hand and brought it down in a dramatic sweep. “Now!”
When Becca caught up with Grace, her sister had already snapped more than a dozen pictures of herself, where she was currently reclining in a lounge chair, taking shots with her head turned different angles.
“Grace.”
Snap. Shift. Snap.
Hair flip. Snap.
“Grace,” Becca said, waving her hand in front of the phone.
“Oh. Hi, Bec.” Kicking her legs off the lounger, she stood up. “Finally. A challenge I’m good at.”
“Look around you.” Becca indicated the other contestants with a sweep of her hand. They were all doing the same thing, taking shots on beach towels, kneeling in the sand, some wet, some dry, all basically recreating Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue shots.
The magazine was killing it with this contest.
“What have you learned so far about Calum?”
“Um…” Grace gnawed her lip in thought. “He likes volleyball?”
“Yes. What else?”
Grace blinked and regarded Becca thoughtfully. “He likes you.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Yeah, I think he does.” Without warning, Grace pointed and took a photo of Becca, covered in sand, her hat clutched against her thigh. Grace showed her the picture.
“Delete that.”
“No.” Grace took another shot. When Becca tried to grab the phone from her hand, she backed away, laughing, taking more pictures.
“Stop!”
Grace only laughed more, depressing the button, taking continual pictures until Becca was laughing and out of breath, too. They collapsed on a stool by the beach bar, and Grace showed her the images. There were more than thirty pictures showing Becca’s wide range of emotions from annoyance, to irritation, to frustration until she gave in and laughed.
“This one is really good,” Grace said, pointing to a picture of Becca laughing with her mouth open.
“If you think wide-mouthed frogs are attractive.”
“Why do you do that?” Grace asked, tilting her head to one side.
“Do what?”
“Put yourself down.”
“Grace, we all know that you’re the beauty in the family.”
“You’re pretty, too. And you’re pretty in this picture.” She brushed a bit of hair off Becca’s forehead as she scrutinized her face, making Becca uncomfortable. “You’re just you. Maybe that’s why Cal likes you,” Grace said absently as she went back to scrolling through the pics.
Bachelor Games (Tropical Temptation) Page 10