When Thomas answered, I asked, “So do you have sunscreen or do I need to get my own?”

  “What makes you think we’ll be outside?”

  Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. It was possible that we’d go an indoor pool. Thomas just seemed to be the type of guy who’d want to be in the sun every chance he got. “Just a guess.”

  “I have everything under control, dear Claire.”

  “Okay.”

  As I got ready to hang up, he said, “Hope you’re looking sexy.”

  For some reason, that hit me wrong—but I didn’t want to be rude or give it away, so I simply said, “You, too,” and then hung up.

  And then I looked over the swimsuits again, trying to decide if I should change my mind and go with the one-piece…

  * * *

  Right around noon, Thomas showed up at my door. He wasn’t even trying to dress for anything other than what we’d planned—so, shirtless, he wore nothing but trunks and sandals. His abs caught my attention. Fully clothed, I wouldn’t have guessed that he was so tight and firm, but his pecs and abs made me drool.

  I didn’t have a chance to say a word, though. I was wearing a thin, lacy cover but there was no mistaking the bikini underneath. Cute black flipflops showed off my pink toenails, and I had my hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Let’s go, gorgeous.” Thomas’s approval of my outfit and sweet words helped thaw my chilliness toward him—which was good, considering we had two hours together ahead of us. Soon, we were in the car, leaving the mansion. “So you wanna know what we’re doing?”

  “Sure.”

  He was quiet for a minute and then said, “You’ll find out soon.”

  I sighed. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why these guys acted like they were holding secrets to Area 51 or NORAD when it was a simple date. And letting me know beforehand might spoil whatever “surprise” they thought they were going to bestow on me, but that didn’t mean it would ruin the date.

  I found it strange that we were going the exact same direction Gabe had taken me the day before, and I wondered if, perhaps, we were going to be doing the same thing. After all, how many unusual original dates had I ever been on? Well, that was okay—but why would I want to ride a Ferris wheel in a bathing suit—even if the rides were on the beach?

  Maybe there was a water park near here.

  For some reason, Thomas didn’t talk much, and I wondered if it was because we had a cameraman in the back seat. He was the same guy who’d been with Gabe and me the day before. So, with Thomas concentrating on merging with traffic and me antsy and bored out of my mind, I turned in the seat and looked at the man with the camera. “What’s your name anyway?”

  I could see his frown behind the camera. “I’m not supposed to interact with you.”

  “Yeah, well, there are lots of things we’re not supposed to do around here that we have been anyway. I just want to know your name. How much harm is in that?’

  I could tell he agreed by the tone of his voice. “Jimmy.” I got ready to ask him more questions about himself when he said, “Now turn around and pretend I’m not here.”

  Thomas laughed. “Like that’s possible.” After a few seconds, he said, “Do you like burgers and fries, Claire?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “How long have you lived in this part of California, woman? Burgers are, like, evil. I guess you could say they’re a guilty pleasure—unless, of course, it’s a gourmet burger. But around these parts we’re more interested in avocados and salads. Fish tacos. California rolls. Shrimp tacos. Pho.”

  “Fine. But I still like my burgers.” I wasn’t a native Californian, and he knew it—and while I liked the cuisine served in my new home, I still liked the tastes from home I’d become accustomed to growing up—and a plain old cheeseburger was one of them. But I didn’t have an issue with gourmet burgers, either, because my taste buds liked trying out a chef’s new take on a classic.

  When Thomas finally pulled off the highway, I was amazed to find that we were still going the route Gabe had taken the day before—but I wasn’t going to say anything. I couldn’t imagine the producers letting two guys take me on the same date two days in a row.

  Or maybe they were. See how I’d react to the guys and our date if done differently.

  Soon, though, he drove past the amusement park, so I knew we weren’t going there. But not far away from that point, he turned off the main road and into a huge parking lot—for the beach.

  I got out of the car, removing my wrap and setting it on the car seat before taking a deep breath through my nose, enjoying the salty ocean air once again. As we walked toward the huge open beach, I wondered how I’d gone so long living here and never been to this particular place before.

  That told me I’d been working way too hard, not making time for fun. The beach was long, and it reminded me of all the ones I’d ever seen in the movies—lifeguards in tall chairs, volleyball nets here and there, a walkway away far enough up the sand that high tide wouldn’t touch it, and miles of pristine light-colored sand, perfect for wading or wandering. There were lots of people enjoying the sun, including people jogging and biking along the wide sidewalk.

  Under the sun, it was obvious that Thomas got plenty of rays already. His skin had a beautiful golden tan, and I wondered if he was even browned under his trunks or if that was the only spot on his body that never saw the light of day. He had a bit of alpha male asshole in him—but he seemed more manipulative than dominant, and that made me wary of him. And that was too bad, because he was likable, nice enough when he wanted to be…and fucking hot.

  It was warm outside but not scorching hot, so I wasn’t particular about how we spent the next two hours. “Do you want to take a walk or sunbathe—or would you rather play volleyball or swim?” He nodded his head toward the water. “Or surf?” All those things sounded fun—but the best way we’d be able to get to know each other (and assess true compatibility) would be by talking to each other. So my choice was simple. “Why don’t we take a walk?”

  “We can jog part of the way if you want.”

  “I want to get to know you better—so I want to leisurely stroll.”

  Grinning, he said, “Okay. Lead the way.”

  The cameraman cleared his throat. Both Thomas and I turned to see him holding a can of spray sunscreen. Mr. I’ve-got-in-under-control had forgotten that my skin was much lighter than his. But he took the hint—and the sunscreen—and did me the honor.

  Soon, we were walking along the wide sidewalk that not only had room for the two of us to saunter side by side but leave plenty of space for other folks walking, biking, or skateboarding in the opposite direction. The sun felt so nice on my shoulders and the slight breeze moved the hair in my ponytail enough that I could feel it brushing against the top of my spine. After I let the waves of gratitude move through my body, I decided it was time to start up a conversation. Out of the four guys left, Thomas and Darius were the two I knew the least about—so I needed to do my research. I figured the audience knew more than I did, so it was up to me to educate myself. After all, what if we had completely different values? I knew the matchmakers thought we were compatible, but I needed to find out for myself—and that information might also help the audience. “What do you do for a living, Thomas?”

  I saw the smirk form on his face, even though he managed to keep that tone out of his voice. “You sure you wanna know?”

  I tilted my head and glanced at him while taking my next few steps. “Unless you’re a drug dealer or a pimp, I think I’d be okay with whatever it is you do.”

  His eyes remained on the water to the west, watching the waves come in. “I’m a dancer.”

  That explained why he was so toned and firm.

  “Yeah? What kind of dancer?”

  “That’s where I might lose you.” I took my focus from the water to him, but his eyes didn’t meet mine. Finally, he said, “I’m a stripper.”

  Suddenly, my imagination went wild. A stripper? “As in Chippendales?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t work for them. There are plenty of places in this city for me to do my thing, so I go where the money is.”

  “Where do you work right now?”

  “Nowhere. I quit to be on the show.”

  I stifled a giggle, imagining him striking one of the typical poses I’d seen male strippers do—hands interlaced behind their head while they gyrated their pelvis, putting all emphasis on those tummy muscles between their pecs and waistband. The need to laugh I figured was due to nerves, mainly because I’d never been around a guy like that before—and I realized I was being judgmental, but I wondered what guy would use his body in that fashion to make money. That was none of my business, I supposed, but it didn’t mean I didn’t want to know more. “What got you into that line of work?”

  “At first, I did it as a joke. I knew I had a great body and a friend told me all I wanted to do was be worshipped. You know, he said, that’s the only reason why I worked out in the first place. So I said, ‘Yeah, that’s it.’ And the next day I went to one of those places and applied. I wasn’t much of a dancer then, so I almost didn’t get the job, but the guy auditioning me said I had charisma, and he could work with charisma—so he had the other guys there show me enough moves to get by and, over the next couple of months, I watched them and found ways to incorporate their moves into my own routines. I finally took some dancing lessons, just so I could get better. And now I don’t even think twice about it. Some places, you don’t make a lot of money, but you go to the right place and you can make money hand over fist.”

  A kid on a skateboard coming my way got a little close and I had to sidestep to protect my toes. Thomas put an arm around me to keep me steady and I was actually sad when he removed it as we continued down the path.

  “I think it depends on how freely the drinks flow and how well we can get the ladies enjoying themselves right off the bat. The last place I worked, all the guys were rock hard and shirtless, from the guy at the door to the bartender to the waiters. And the ladies used that as an excuse to shove one-dollar bills anywhere they could.”

  I started kind of feeling sorry for him. “Were you ever groped?”

  “More than you could imagine.”

  He didn’t seem to be broken up about it. Pointing to the east, he said, “That’s where we’ll eat lunch later. Want to keep walking and then come back in a while?”

  “Sure. I think we have plenty of time, don’t we?” He nodded and we continued walking. “Are you planning to return to that work after the show?”

  “In some ways, it was good. Flattering for the ego and fun to see how much money I could make in a night. But I’m worth more than that. I’ve considered getting into the escort business, because that’s where the money is. A guy like me could make a thousand or more a night.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. I have friends who do.” I found that interesting, and I tried to imagine myself married—or even just dating—an escort. What would that be like, knowing he screwed other women for a living?

  I couldn’t think of what to say, at least nothing that wouldn’t come off as judgy or snoopy, so I instead looked at the ocean as we walked and waited for a natural topic to come to mind. After a while, though, he started talking again. “I actually tried out for this show as a way of getting out of that business entirely. I want to break into show biz. Lots of my friends have told me I’d look good up on the silver screen.”

  “What a coincidence. That was the main reason why I tried out for the show—exposure. I’ve been trying to break in for years.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe we’ll break in together.”

  I never would have thought I’d have something in common with Thomas, so that was cool. In spite of being good looking and having a sexy drawl and nice body, I hadn’t felt much of a connection with him, so I appreciated being able to relate to him.

  As we continued walking along the beach, though, he stopped talking and started moving as if he was in a strip club on a stage. I didn’t know if he was trying to embarrass me or show me his moves or even turn me on, but it made people stop what they were doing to watch us. It was bad enough we had a camera guy walking near us at all times filming, because that kept a few eyes on us, but Thomas was increasing the number of watchers just by doing his thing.

  At one point, he jumped in front of me and cupped his hands behind his head. Then he started grinding the air to the beat of electronic dance music in his head. He was so into it that I could picture a dark room and dozens of women screaming and thrusting dollar bills into his crotch. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t stopped walking when he began performing an entire routine as women began gathering around, along with a couple of guys, too.

  Me, though? I wanted to melt into the sand and head back to the mansion…

  Chapter Eight

  SURROUNDED BY WOMEN and a couple guys while Thomas performed an entire routine to some music in his head was not a date about me. In fact, it seemed like he wasn’t even paying attention to me anymore. No, I didn’t need the world to revolve around me all the time, but I did expect my date to want to spend that time with me and not a bunch of adoring, drooling fans. Finally, I looked at the camera guy, raised my eyebrows, and then began walking back down the sidewalk from where we came. If I had to, I’d call a cab from the parking lot, but I was done. It was great that Thomas didn’t mind making a spectacle of himself, but I had other things to do with my time.

  What gave me hope, though, was that I didn’t get too far before I heard his southern voice calling to me. “Claire, where you goin’?” I turned around then, waiting for him to join me, leaving the cheering crowd behind. “You didn’t like my dancing?”

  “No, it wasn’t that. It was that you were amassing a mob.”

  “Did that bother you?” I shrugged and started walking again. “If you want to be an actress, Claire, you need to get used to paparazzi, don’t you think?”

  That sort of pissed me off, even though I kept my temper in check—but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “That wasn’t paparazzi, Thomas—that was an audience.”

  Chuckling, he said, “Fair enough. Are you ready for lunch?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  * * *

  The rest of my date with Thomas was uneventful compared to his dance routine. We ate lunch and he mostly talked about himself, although he did ask me questions on occasion. By the end, though, I was beginning to think there was no compatibility between us, and the more he talked, the less I found him interesting.

  When we got to the car, he said, “Imagine it, Claire. What if I won the whole thing and became your mate—and then we parlayed that into an acting career for us both?”

  “That would be pretty cool.”

  “Hell, yeah.” Unexpectedly, he swept me into his arms and said, “Now that shit makes me hard.” Without warning, he planted his lips on mine. I hadn’t much remembered his kiss from our strange first date last week, but this time was memorable. He pressed his body into mine and nipped at my lips until I responded. Then he slowly touched his tongue on my lower lip before entering my mouth. It led into several passionate kisses, amazing because he finally read my cues instead of boring me with stories about himself.

  Maybe he would be a good escort.

  Finally, camera guy said, “I hate to break up the party, guys, but time’s up. Gotta head back to the mansion.”

  Thomas let go of me and turned. “What if we made this a threesome, dude?”

  * * *

  That night at dinner, I could feel tension so thick, it was harder to slice through than the ribeye on my plate. Something strange was still going on with the men, and I suspected it involved testosterone.

  Fortunately, I was able to get Grayson to talk. All I did was ask if there was a new videogame he was looking forward to, and the words spilled out like bees from a disturbed hive. The men argued daily and threats surfaced, but Grayson tried to stay out of it. After the discomfort of dinner, I gladly walked away for a while and spent the evening reading a book and painting my toenails. If my existence here was supposed to be a life of leisure, I was beginning to think I wanted no part of it. I’d never been this bored in all my life.

  Of course, if it meant I would have an amazing companion for life, I could sacrifice a little longer.

  The next day, I didn’t see Darius at breakfast, but he picked me up promptly at eleven-thirty as promised. He gave me a hug and I could smell his cologne then—spicy but subtle—and I was immediately in the mood for romance.

  He held my door for me as I got in. I wore a light-blue flowery sundress that ended a few inches above my knees, and I think he appreciated the view, but I couldn’t be sure. Just as Thomas felt like he was wearing a disguise to fool us into thinking he was someone different, if any guy in this game was a closed book, it was Darius.

  That made me all the more intrigued. I couldn’t help it—I loved a good mystery.

  As he pulled out onto the main road (cameraman in tow in the backseat, mouth shut but filming every little thing), he said, “Since we have extra time, I decided I want to take you to one of my favorite restaurants. It’s in Malibu, so it’ll take us a while to get there, but we’ll still have plenty of time to eat.”

  “I thought drive time didn’t matter anymore.”

  A sly smile widened on Darius’s face as he slightly turned his head to look at me, his white teeth gleaming. “They said I’m traveling too far out of the accepted radius.”

  “That sounds like bullshit.”

  This cameraman—not the same guy who accompanied me with my Gabe and Thomas dates—said, “Now that we’ve taken the drive time out of the equation, the producers had to make sure things were still fair. So any date within ten miles, no matter the traffic conditions, gets extra time for travel. More than that, though, and we have to count the time.”

  I felt my heart sink, begging that Gabe never chose anything far away—or else my life would be in danger again.

 

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