‘But you coming here in the middle of the night is perfectly normal?’
There was nothing normal or perfect about what they were doing. ‘This is different. I didn’t come expecting anything. If you don’t start locking your downstairs door, your next visitor might actually want something from you, in or out of your jocks.’
‘But because you don’t really like me, it’s okay for you?’
He took a step forward as he spoke. Eliza took an even bigger one back. ‘I never said I didn’t like you, I just don’t like you, like you. You’re not my type at all.’
His left eyebrow did this little raise which just made the blue of his eyes stand out even more as he cocked his head to the side. ‘What type do you like? Or should we save this discussion for when the cameras are rolling?’
She shook her head, held out a hand to stop him from taking any more steps. The intent look on his face was beginning to make her nervous. Well, more than nervous. ‘I don’t go for sports freaks at all. In fact, I hate team sports more than anything in the world.’
‘I don’t play team sports, Eliza. I play to win for me, not a team.’
‘And I don’t like supremely arrogant guys who think they’re heroes just because they won a few gold medals.’
The other eyebrow joined its brother. ‘So successful men with money in the bank and a deserved career are off the list. You haven’t said anything about features yet. I guess slim men with blondish hair and blue eyes don’t get your motor running either?’
He definitely didn’t have blondish hair. Up this close, she would have gone with caramel with gold highlights herself. He also wasn’t slim. He was built. ‘I like black hair, brown or green eyes, and not too muscular. I don’t like guys who preen in front of a mirror all day long staring at their own guns.’
His muscles flexed and her traitorous gaze was drawn there. Despite her good intentions of keeping the conversation short and sweet, it was getting out of hand. ‘This isn’t getting us anywhere. Don’t invite me on the first group date. Figure out which ones you might at least be attracted to and invite them.
God, he stepped closer still. If she held her hand out to stop him, she’d have to touch him. He wasn’t her type, damn it. This self-assured arrogance was and always had been a turn-off for her. ‘I should go.’
‘You always say words to intimate that you aren’t attractive, Eliza. You said the exact words the first day we met.’
A self-deprecating laugh slipped from her lips before she could stop it. ‘Line me up next to some of those knock-outs next door and I’m like a lump of coal. I don’t know how you two think Australia is going to buy this story of you picking me at the end.’ Only he wasn’t staring at her like she was blobby and black and boring.
Eliza could only watch as two big hands cupped her cheeks and tilted her head back so they were more eye-to-eye. ‘Coal doesn’t compare and you know it. You’re beautiful.’
Her lips were so dry and the lump forming in her throat suddenly dropped to her abdomen. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘A man would have to be an idiot and half-blind not to find you sexy.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he was either of those things but then he did something he wasn’t supposed to. Something that wasn’t in the contract or on the cards this early in the game.
Chapter 6
The first time Banjo touched his lips to Eliza’s, it actually scared the shit out of him. Why didn’t he just nod and agree when she said not to invite her on the group date? Open the door for her to get the hell out before he thought with his dick instead of his common sense?
When she let out a breathy moan and opened those luscious lips to let him in, he should have pulled back and sent her on her way. He didn’t. Instead he explored her mouth with his tongue, nipped and sucked and licked. He didn’t dare drop his hands but damn, he wanted to.
Warm fingers slid up his chest, over his shoulders and around his neck forcing him to relinquish her face and move his grip elsewhere. Her chest pushed right against his until he could guess just how full her breasts would be if he held them in his hands, her nipples pebbled and begging to be soothed with his tongue. As his blood surged south, so did his touch. Each rib was defined beneath her flimsy tank and silky skin. The muscles of her back shifted as she tried to get closer still, neither wanting to come up for air anytime soon.
With a growl he didn’t know was in him, he cupped her arse and lifted her onto the dining table, grinding into her softness when her ankles locked behind his back. Her taste filled his mouth and he drank and drank.
He slid his fingers under her top and slowly drifted higher and higher, inching closer and closer to her breasts, revelling in the heat of her body and the complete abandon of her actions. But then shattering glass pierced the silence and Eliza flinched away.
On the floor next to them was a broken vase, the colourful gerberas a rainbow across the marble tiles. It must have been knocked over when he’d rocked against her. An omen? The universe telling him he was about to make a monumental mistake?
He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. ‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’
Pushing against his chest until he had to step back, Eliza jumped off the table and threw him an accusing glare. ‘You started it when you touched me.’
‘You touched me back and anyway, we have to eventually touch, kiss, pretend for the world that we are in love.’ He smiled but it lacked humour. It was more predatory and he knew it. ‘It’s good to get some practice in. You can’t jump me every time our mouths touch.’
‘I did not jump you.’
‘Sure you didn’t.’
‘Well, if you were dressed properly,’ she sputtered but went on, ‘If you just listened and let me go without an argument, it would never have happened.’
‘My swim shorts are almost the same size as my boxers, how will you manage when we’re all together and I’m still not wearing more?’ He almost laughed when her gaze dropped. He was still standing to attention but he wasn’t sure she’d looked down yet. Now that she did, her eyes widened and she turned around so fast, her hair was slow to follow, swishing about the tops of her shoulders.
‘You can’t do that!’ she cried.
‘I can’t help it, Eliza. When a beautiful woman rubs against a living male and makes the noises you were, his body takes on a mind of its own.’ He wanted to discomfit her more, like a teenage boy taunting the girl he liked. Walking up behind her, he snaked his arms around her stomach, his thumbs hooked in the waistband of her shorts and whispered, ‘You’re lucky we stopped when we did. Next I was going to slip off your panties and sink into your heat, make you scream my name.’
Her head lolled back against his shoulder but then she seemed to snap to attention again, jumping out of his arms like he had the plague. ‘Yeah, well, tell your boy to stand down. You were right, it shouldn’t have happened and won’t happen again. No panties off and no sinking into anything.’
He kind of hoped it did happen again but didn’t say it out loud. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t get a goodbye as she stomped from his kitchen and attempted to slam the door behind her. He was supposed to be making her like him, not love him or want to climb in bed with him. If they didn’t have the contract in place he wondered if she’d walk out now. It was clear while her body responded like a kitten swimming in cream, her mind still had some kind of roadblock sign up where he was concerned. He still didn’t know why though.
Not her type? He snorted and dropped back onto the carpet in the lounge room for more gruelling sit-ups and planks. The only reason he’d been awake when she’d snuck in was because he couldn’t sleep knowing the enormity of his first group date list and what it would mean to the girls invited along. His mind wandered to a place where the vase of flowers hadn’t smashed. To a place where she was naked and he was on his knees, his face between her legs as she thrashed and moaned.
Damn it, even if she was super keen and
gave him the go ahead, he couldn’t do that to Eliza on national TV. Although it would be good for the ratings. There was no way, even as bad as he was with his playboy lifestyle and bad-boy reputation, that he would ever do that to anyone, especially not a good girl like Eliza Peterson. He wouldn’t say his conscience was involved just yet, but he needed to get it right so the board would take notice.
He tensed his abs and lifted his head and shoulders again and again and again until his entire upper body burned and sweat dripped from his neck. There was no way he was putting Eliza’s name on that date list now anyway. The date was an afternoon on a catamaran with a group and then a private dinner for him and one other woman. With cameras. And an audience.
He could not afford to get carried away. Again. So soon.
Shaking his head and swearing long and loud, he flipped over and dropped to the floor, pushing back up until his arms started to shake. ‘One,’ he muttered.
By the time he got to forty-eight, he had a clear picture of which ladies he’d spend the next day with. A stunning, smart-ass brunette was not going to be amongst them.
Chapter 7
Early the next morning, while Eliza pretended to sleep, at least seven women jogged out of the house in their designer shorts and runners in the hopes they would accidentally bump into Banjo.
She wished them well. She wished Banjo to the devil. Last night had all been her fault, she knew that, but he didn’t have to carry it as far as he did. Was he toying with her? That’s exactly how it had felt as he’d stood there with that curving of his lips, his thumbs in her shorts and her blood on fire, his boxers tented in the front and pressed against her arse. Impressive was the adjective that came to mind first. Doomed was the next.
An insistent throb kicked up a rhythm in her abdomen and she tried to mentally tell it to stop. It was little wonder her body was so turned on by last night but that didn’t mean she had to keep thinking about it. About him. If word got out that she’d been there at all, they were tanked. Banjo would laugh it off and she would be labelled as desperate and conniving. Two descriptors the other ladies already applied to her after yesterday’s run. Which was why she was still in bed.
Her legs itched to lose some of the restless energy from last night but she couldn’t look him in the eye this morning and act like they hadn’t almost had sex on the dining table of his bachelor pad while eleven other women planned their dates with him right next door.
She was supposed to be turning his eye toward another lady, any lady but her, and she was failing already. Sitting up in bed, she met the eyes of her roommate and muttered, ‘Good morning.’
Amelia smiled and returned the greeting before asking, ‘Why didn’t you run with the rest of the girls this morning?’
‘Why didn’t you?’
Amelia’s laugh was a little nervous. ‘I’m not really into exercise out of the water.’
‘I didn’t sleep well,’ Eliza admitted in a vague way of explaining why she was still in bed.
Suspicion flared across Amelia’s face but then it was gone and her smile was back in place. ‘Do you think you’ll get a spot on today’s date?’
She was about to shake her head but then thought better of it. Now was the time for her acting skills. ‘I hope so. Banjo is kind of hot, isn’t he?’
A sigh drifted across the room as Amelia said, ‘Kind of? He kicks butt over McDreamy and McSteamy.’ She giggled. ‘McIcy? McSnowy? We need a name for him.’
‘You like him already?’ They’d only spent a few hours with Banjo and only in a group setting so far—how could her roommate know if she liked him? He was so arrogant and full of himself. It was hard to imagine anyone falling for the real Banjo.
With a quick shrug, Amelia got out of bed and went to her suitcase to pick out an outfit for the day. ‘He’s hot. He’s famous. He’s rich. What is there not to like?’
How about his personality? The fact that he’s a playboy and would probably never stick to just one woman? ‘Totally,’ Eliza mumbled. As she headed for the shower, she couldn’t help but think that maybe Banjo deserved someone as shallow as he was. Into it for the looks and the booty, not to mention the prestige. Amelia could very well be his perfect match.
As the two women dressed and went downstairs to the waiting film crew, a plan began to form in Eliza’s mind. Eliza knew Banjo couldn’t look past a beautiful woman with loads of skin on show. She was sure from the way he’d pressed his chest to hers that he was a boob man. And maybe an arse guy too. God, why did she have to think about his hands on her arse?
She almost stumbled off the last step but was saved humiliation when a squeal came from the direction of the front door.
‘It’s here!’ Allison, a beautiful redhead who worked in IT, gushed as she held up a black and silver envelope. Was it for the cameras that she was so excited or was it for the date?
A couple of whispered cues from Amanda had them all relaxing in the lounge room and chatting before the big letter opening would commence.
Becky, the flight attendant, had her fingers crossed. Doctor Molly bounced up and down in her seat. Kirsty, the firefighter, looked like she was going to vomit. Eliza felt bad for them all. She knew how desperate some of the women in the room were to find love. Rather than feel sorry for them though, she was beginning to think she was saving them all the hassle of falling for Banjo and then having him rip their hearts from their chests.
When she’d done her research on the newest bachelor, she hadn’t been able to find one girlfriend to interview. Not one woman who had been seen leaving Banjo’s bed more than once. He had sex with them, sometimes more than one at a time, and then he let them go and never contacted them again.
Clearly he was immune to love or commitment. Or allergic. But that hadn’t bothered her dad. Malcolm had laughed about it being a good challenge and how they’d show a leopard could change his spots and have his heart pinned by the right kind of woman. How naive were these guys? And why had Banjo really said yes to coming on the show in the first place? She didn’t for one minute believe he was looking to settle down. Why would he? He led the kind of life most other men would kill for.
She wondered if maybe he’d kissed her because he was used to always having a bed warmer. It had already been a whole three days and he hadn’t seen any action. Eliza was more than determined that it wouldn’t be her in that position. Her stomach flipped at the possibility. In any position!
More squealing brought her back to the room as Allison carefully opened the envelope. There was a collective hush as she scanned the names, a huge smile lighting up her face when she obviously saw her own.
‘Set sail for love,’ she began by reading the date’s description. ‘Get to know your bachelor while cruising the seas and maybe take him home for tea.’
More squeals. Eliza smiled and remembered she was supposed to be excited too. ‘Ooh,’ she added.
‘Banjo would like the company of Becky, Amelia, Grace, Kirsty, Jennifer, Molly, Sofia and Allison, that’s me. Be ready to sail off into the sunset with your man at the helm.’
More squealing and clapping and jumping around for the eight invited. Of the four left behind, Eliza was okay with it but tried to look disappointed. Brooke looked like she wanted to cry and Erin maybe wanted to punch one of the squealers. Erika just shrugged but left the room pretty quickly.
‘I’m so sorry you missed out this time,’ Amelia said, giving Eliza a hug she hadn’t seen coming.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ Eliza assured her with just the right amount of fake sadness and regret. ‘It sounds like someone is going to get to have dinner with Banjo after the date, though, so good luck.’
‘What am I going to wear?’
Less is best, Eliza wanted to suggest but instead went with, ‘Why don’t I help you get ready?’
‘Really? You would do that even though you’re not going?’
‘I’d love to.’ And they were probably the first true words she’d spoken. She had a feeling
she’d found her woman to throw at the bachelor. Let’s see how he’d dodge this little pocket rocket.
***
You know the kind of sick feeling you get sometimes that has nothing to do with the food you’ve eaten or the pitch of the boat on the waves? Banjo had felt nervous before, going into a big contest, competing at the Olympics. This was so much worse! He shot a hand out to steady the girl he was talking to as the catamaran crossed the wake of another pleasure craft on their voyage out of the harbour and onto the great unknown.
She fell against him, her hands on his chest, a smile on her lips. ‘Oops, sorry about that.’
Sure you are. He forced a laugh and helped her back on her feet. Within seconds, he was mobbed. There were only eight women before him but he felt as if it was a cast of thousands. For the first time his second thoughts about the show were very serious. Why hadn’t he still bailed on the series and then tried to get someone like Eliza to pose as his respectable girlfriend? Why did he have to do it like this? He was uncomfortable around so many fawning females all at once. It wasn’t manly of him at all to admit it so he squashed down the odd sensation and set about being all smiles for the cameras.
This is what he did. He projected. He projected charm and oozed confidence. He flirted and touched and laughed. But it wasn’t him. Not really. He’d learned early on that the only way to get people to like him was to be what everyone wanted him to be. His father’s son. His dad had been the best at what he’d done. In everything. Skiing, being a business man, and a dad. Everyone had loved him and supported him and had only wanted the best for him. When he died, all eyes fell to his protégé. His young son who was already prepping to be better than his dad on the snow but a poor example of a man off of it. So he’d sat back and observed the best of the best. Very soon he’d figured out that the one thing the greats of his sport had in common had been their confidence and their charm. If the ladies loved you, you were in with a chance.
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