He’d wanted in so badly. It had all become second nature over the last decade to fall into character again and again. He knew that’s why these ladies were here. They hadn’t even known who he was before that first night he’d walked into the room. They had all signed up because they wanted exposure and fame, maybe to find a rich husband they could manipulate. All of them except for Eliza.
He had to stop thinking of her. Especially here. The day was so hot, windy and humid. The catamaran was going to take them to the sheltered side of an island about thirty minutes out for swimming and a picnic lunch. Then they would all return to the marina where he would choose one of the women to take out to an expensive dinner in a secluded cave just down the coast. The helicopter was fuelled up and the scene was already set with fairy lights and lanterns.
Banjo’s stomach lurched again. ‘Why don’t we sit and have a drink?’ he suggested. He needed a drink.
The time passed quite quickly and before he knew it, he was really having fun. The ladies were intelligent and keen to talk. The cameras rolled on and on until he almost forgot they were there.
Molly, the paediatrician, came out with the big guns as soon as the boat anchored and the wind died down. ‘Banjo, maybe you can tell us what you are looking for in a prospective wife?’
He gulped. Someone was bound to ask that eventually but this early? And on an empty stomach? ‘I guess I’m looking for someone who wants to have fun. We’re all young and full of life, so I’d want a woman who doesn’t need to be serious all the time.’
Kirsty, the firefighter, who had her sarong tied low down across her rippling six pack said, ‘Sometimes life is serious.’
Banjo inclined his head. ‘Yes it is, but when times are good, I want to enjoy it.’
Grace, a medical secretary, asked, ‘What else?’
‘Adventurous, kind, sexy, funny would be good too.’
A few ladies laughed and looked like they wanted more but he was over the inquisition. He didn’t want it all to come out right away. ‘How about we go for a swim? I’ve heard there’re some amazing sights to see beneath the water.’
More laughter as they took his suggestion the wrong way. He chuckled too.
Jennifer was hanging back and he didn’t want her to feel left out so he grabbed two snorkels and two sets of flippers and approached her. ‘I can’t wait to see the fish out there,’ he said.
She looked so nervous. ‘I’ve never snorkelled before,’ she admitted, her skin paling to a shade of green.
Banjo dropped the gear and rubbed his hands up and down her arms, to try to take her mind off her fear. He knew all about fear. ‘Can you swim?’ he asked quietly.
She met his gaze, the fear still there. ‘I can.’ But then she hesitated and colour filled her cheeks. ‘Not well enough to save my life though.’
‘That’s okay.’ He gave her hands a squeeze and went back to the locker with the scuba gear in it. He picked up a hot pink life jacket and held it up in front of Jennifer, shaking his head when he realised it would be too big. He reached back in and found a royal blue one in a smaller size.
He helped her into it, fastening the buckles over her chest and stomach and making sure it was tight enough. The woman should have worn a wetsuit, not a polka dotted bikini. ‘Now you only have to worry about floating rather than swimming.’ And he only had to worry about her arse hanging out and not all that skin on show.
When he finally looked back up to meet her gaze again, fear had slipped away and something else simmered. Heat. The point of his pulse that only recognised carnal lust thumped but he pushed it back down.
He spent the next twenty minutes making sure everyone had what they needed; a couple more women wanted help with life jackets and flippers. He was hot and bothered in the stifling humidity and it was such a relief to jump into the crystal cool waters of the Low Isles.
Every now and then one of the girls would get too close and try to hold his hand as they marvelled at the wonders beneath the surface, the colourful reef, and vibrant fish darting in and out of plants and rocks. It truly was amazing and he hoped all the ladies were enjoying themselves. He wanted them to have had a good time when it came to not handing out roses week after week.
After the snorkelling, there was a light afternoon tea and champagne on the white, sandy beach of Low Island. There was a short walk to check out the vegetation but the camera crew had a hard time following so they stayed close, swimming a little more, laughing a lot more.
The sun sank lower across the horizon and the producer announced it was time to head back. On the catamaran, Banjo went below, away from the girls, to decide who would have dinner with him. It was going to get awkward, of that he was absolutely sure. He was also supposed to give a rose to whoever he chose. Whoever the lucky lady was, she would go back to the house later and show it off to the others who would then try harder to get his attention. It sounded straightforward but it wasn’t. What a mess.
So he decided he would pick the one he’d hit it off with the most over the day. The only woman to show any genuine emotion. Even though Jennifer had been terrified to go in the water, she’d given it a shot anyway. So he’d return the favour and give her a go too. It had been one of Eliza’s conditions that he open his heart to the possibility of finding his match. Little did she know his heart didn’t want a perfect match. His heart was perfectly happy with the way things were.
Chapter 8
Around eight pm, the front doors of the house opened and the camera crew were ready to pick out the one girl who hadn’t come back with the other seven. The one lucky enough to snare Banjo’s attention on the first date. She’d written that headline too. You’re welcome, she thought with only a lingering hint of bitterness.
When she saw Amelia behind Becky, she felt a little deflated that the killer itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny bikini hadn’t worked wonders as she’d hoped it would have. He was a looker, Banjo: he liked to look at half-dressed women. Or at least that’s the vibe she got from their run and then the pool scene the day before.
‘How did it go? Where did you go?’ Eliza asked, injecting a great deal of enthusiasm she didn’t feel into her questions.
Molly answered first with the sights they’d seen that day and the food they had eaten. She did it in a way that told the four women left behind that they were losers who’d missed out.
Eliza peered around at the flushed faces of the rest of the women. ‘Did Jennifer get the one-on-one?’
‘Genius, that one,’ Kirsty grumbled and then put on a high-pitched voice. ‘I can’t really swim. Banjo, can you help me? Carry me? Swim with me?’
Peals of giggles followed as they settled on the couches. Smart thinking, Eliza marvelled. Maybe she’d have to drop a few hints to Amelia on helplessness before the next date. She’d hoped Banjo was different, that he wouldn’t want a typical helpless ninny of a female, but he was fitting exactly into the mould. Every mould for that matter.
‘Did anyone steal a hug?’ Brooke gasped theatrically. ‘Or a kiss?’
All the women shook their heads. Grace spoke up with, ‘He is very touchy though. I like that about him. When he’s talking to you, he touches your arm, or your knee if you’re sitting. He put his hand on the small of my back and I nearly fainted.’
Molly offered, ‘He’s a real gentleman, with manners and morals. I wouldn’t have guessed that from the recent news headlines.’
Neither would Eliza. She’d seen him in stalk mode the night before when he’d cornered her against the table. Morals? Of a hungry lion. Manners? She nearly snorted her Bacardi out her nose.
‘What do you think Jennifer and Banjo are doing right now?’ Erin whispered like it was a huge secret.
‘If Jennifer is half as smart as she tries to hide, she’d be working on getting into his bed. That’s what I’d be doing.’ The group laughed at Kirsty’s words but Eliza felt a little sick.
In the last season of one of the rival shows, the guy was rumoured to have slept with one
of the ladies and he was almost stoned in the streets for it. Malcolm would be over the moon if that happened on She’s The One, but the season would be dead in the water. God, she hoped the other producer, Fletcher, would put a stop to it rather than egg Banjo on.
‘Are any of you worried about his number?’ Erika asked, her cheeks pink as she sipped red wine from a tall-stemmed glass.
Eliza’s interest was piqued. ‘His number?’
‘You know, how many women he’s already slept with? I bet it’s a lot.’
A tension settled over the group until Molly said, ‘I don’t really care. As long as he’s faithful while we’re together, and he doesn’t have any diseases …’ she trailed off and then met Eliza’s eyes. ‘The network would have vetted him the same as they did us, wouldn’t they?’
Every one of the contestants had to have a medical before coming on the show. Including blood tests and providing their medical history. Despite Banjo’s player status, he’d never had an STD. He’d told the doctor that he’d never had unprotected sex in his life. Better to be safe than find out halfway through the show that he had herpes. Even the women had all been screened on sexual health.
Eliza searched out Amanda and raised her brows. The producer told the film crew to stop rolling while they had this part of the discussion. The public did not want to think about sexually transmitted diseases or anything ugly. Or real.
‘Of course he was checked out.’
Erin spoke up again. ‘Do you know his number, Eliza? You probably know him better than any of us.’
Her heart sped up. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘You’re the network boss’s daughter who was working for the show before becoming a contestant. You must have met him before the other day?’
Observant, Erin was. Eliza mentally cursed. ‘I never met him before you all did,’ she lied. ‘He had been overseas until just before the taping.’
That thankfully got some of the heat off her and onto a discussion on whether the last lady standing would be expected to fly around the world with Banjo or try to have a long-distance relationship.
Erin seemed to be worrying over every little thing. ‘Would you trust him? Like really trust him?’
It was a question that had been raised when his name had been added to the short list of wealthy Aussie bachelors. ‘If he really clicks with you and falls in love, then he’d be faithful. We wouldn’t have chosen someone completely irredeemable,’ said Eliza. But the heavy feeling in her chest didn’t sit well at her statement. They couldn’t possibly know, even if it was a serious, fair-game contest, if he would be faithful or not. None of them could be sure of anything. It’s what made it reality TV. The ifs and buts. The whys and why-nots.
Again, Eliza wondered at the other women’s motives for signing up for the show. They were all so successful and beautiful and marriageable. Did they have skeletons in their closets like Banjo would have? Or were they simply lonely and looking for love?
Eliza was lonely too; she knew the feeling. But she wasn’t desperate for love. She had a career to think about before marriage. She also had to be stationary for a real life, not travelling anywhere and everywhere for a good story. Banjo did too. Perhaps one of the women present could tie him down. Eliza highly doubted it but, as she downed the last of her drink, she sent up a silent prayer that Jennifer had something in her that Banjo would like.
***
The woman was about as interesting as dishwater. Banjo tried to hide his yawn behind his napkin and either carried it off like a pro or was ignored by the babbling Jennifer. She’d been talking non-stop for an hour. By the time the limo pulled up in front of the mansion, he was praying for sudden deafness. Or for Jennifer to become struck down by instant laryngitis.
The only time he’d had any peace was in the helicopter when the pilot had said something about her headgear malfunctioning and taken it off her. He was even beginning to wonder if her earlier genuine fear had more to do with ingenuity than emotion. He probably should applaud her. Then run far away.
He was supposed to give a rose tonight, it was part of the plan, but he found himself ignoring its presence on the date.
When Fletcher, the second producer, and a camera man followed him into his house, he huffed a frustrated sigh. ‘That was intense.’
Fletcher nodded but then burst with uncontained laughter. ‘That was hilarious! I’ve never seen anyone look as uncomfortable as you did and it not be picked up by the other half of the date.’
He wanted to return with, maybe if I could get a word in edgeways. But that would be unkind. ‘Listen, can we do the interview tomorrow? I’m beat.’
Fletcher shook his head. ‘No way, my man. The rose ceremony is in two days so we need to get started on splicing the footage for Sunday night’s airing.’
Two days? He knew there was no way any of the women could already be heavily invested in him but it still sat badly that he was going to have to send two ladies home. Rejected and possibly humiliated. The show was airing in the ratings off season so they were only doing six weeks rather than dragging it out for the usual twelve to sixteen.
He waited while the camera guy played the lights in a room set up just for his interviews. His palms became clammy and he felt almost sick. This just wasn’t him. He’d been so drunk when he’d agreed to the show. Drunker still when he’d signed the first contract. Stone cold sober when he’d signed the last but out of choices all the same.
He really wanted to talk to one of his friends about how out of control his life had become. Then he remembered he didn’t really have any friends he could talk to about it and trust them to keep it all a secret. His only thought was, how sad. How sad that he hadn’t spent any time in one place long enough to make lasting friendships. There wasn’t anyone he could call up and just shoot the breeze with. He had no siblings and his father was dead. His mother estranged. He hadn’t spoken to her in a year and a half. Hadn’t seen her in longer. She had another family now. One who needed her like Banjo never had. Since he was sixteen, it had been him and his dad. Travelling the world. Skiing and boarding the best slopes in the hopes for a medal or a personal best. His mum hated the cold. She hated the wet too. So she’d stayed at home. Alone. Focused on her own career as a nurse.
Banjo didn’t blame her for having her own life or for divorcing his dad when she did. He did wonder why they’d never made more of an effort to be more involved though. The actual question had never come up.
Speaking of questions, he thought wryly as Fletcher gestured that they were ready for him.
Sitting on a stool in front of a light that would surely leave permanent damage on his eyeballs, he put on his game face and pushed aside thoughts of sitting at home alone waiting for your family to remember you were there.
‘So, Banjo, I’m going to ask you some questions, you’re going to answer as honestly and openly as you can. Okay?’
‘Sure, but I’m not talking about her bad points. Australia will see what they will, but I’m not bagging Jennifer to the general public.’
‘We’ll try to keep it innocuous.’
And so it went for almost an hour. Fletcher asked him questions, Banjo deflected. Then they’d have to do it again.
‘Have any of the ladies in particular pinged your bachelor radar yet? Anyone you think might be able to tame the Ice Bullet into picket fences and barking dogs?’
Wasn’t it a little early for that question? They were only in the first week of six. His lower brain called out to him that he’d certainly found Eliza interesting. When he’d had his arms wrapped around her and his tongue in her mouth. ‘There are a few ladies I might have a possibility of chemistry with, but it’s too early to tell. Ask me again in five weeks.’
‘C’mon, there must be one who had stood out from the rest?’
Banjo recalled what Eliza had said about not setting her up just yet. ‘If I had to pick one girl, I would say Grace.’ She had this wild red curly hair and was so petite and fragile yet
she’d done everything with gusto and enthusiasm. He’d enjoyed hanging out with her on the catamaran and probably should have chosen her for the one-on-one. Her genuine humour and infectious laugh when a bright little orange fish swam into her cleavage had made him laugh with her without any acting skills or previous thought.
But then his mind drifted back to Eliza. He wondered if she would have enjoyed the day as well. The coral of the reef had been so vibrant and teemed with a life under the surface like he’d only ever seen in documentaries. It was a day he wouldn’t soon forget and regretted not inviting her as well.
‘When is the next group date?’ he asked. He would make sure she was in that one. It was one thing to not set her up, it was another thing entirely to ignore her.
‘You’re due to have brunch with the ladies by the pool tomorrow and then the ceremony the night after. We’ll be taping live for that one so don’t stuff it up. The next group date is Tuesday or Wednesday.’
Banjo nodded.
Fletcher stood by the door and added, ‘No more runs either. You’ve got a treadmill if you can’t not exercise. Some of the girls have complained that it’s not fair for you to run with the daughter of the guy who started all of this.’
‘Eliza and I went for one run. It has nothing to do with Malcolm at all. We met on the path and ran together. It hasn’t happened since.’ But she had set him up that morning and he wanted to talk to her about it. Congratulate her. He’d assumed she’d be waiting for him that morning for another run but had instead been greeted by a handful of beauties in their gym clothes. He’d given her points for that one, ambushing him like that and then not even rocking up to see the look on his face.
‘Well, don’t do it again, okay.’
‘Yeah, no worries,’ he lied. If he had the chance to get away from the show for half an hour, he’d do what he damn well pleased. Most of the women hadn’t been able to keep up with him anyway. Some had wanted to talk and that was hard to do when you had to concentrate on your breathing. Something he was trying to do right then as well since anger had taken over. ‘Anything else you want to control about me while we’re here?’
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