The Bachelor Pact (42 page)

Hmm—commitment issues. Strike him out of the game
. "Bachelor number one?"

"A cat, so I could curl up in a woman's lap at night and have her rub my back. Then I'd lick—"

"Wow," Sophie cut him off, "thank you, bachelor number one." If Lance wasn't careful, that first guy was going to knock him out of the game. "Bachelor number three?"

"A bear." His voice echoed with innuendo. "So I could wrap my arms around you and give you a bear hug. And we could hibernate all winter..."

Catcalls and laughter erupted, and Sophie's face heated. Who would have thought Lance would be such a ham on camera? And his voice sounded even deeper than normal. Huskier.

"All right, let's start with bachelor number one again."

"Honey you can start
and
end with me anytime."

The audience played along, enthusiasm building with their laughter.

"What food best describes your taste in women?"

He moaned suggestively. "Ice cream. I like my women sweet, dripping in chocolate sauce."

Oh, my.

"Bachelor number two?"

"A good burger. Nothing like simple, plain, and hearty."

What a dud. The coproducer waved at the clock.

"Number three." Lance.

"Hot tamales. I want my women spicy and hot."

Sophie shivered; once again the crowd murmured their appreciation.

"Last question, gentlemen. If you were going to choose a romantic gift for your lady, what would it be? Let's start with number two this time."
And get it over with.

"A
toaster."

Had he really said a kitchen appliance? What was wrong with this guy? "You think a toaster is romantic?"

"Well, it would save time in making breakfast the morning after."

Silence stretched after his answer as Sophie contemplated the meaning. In a Mars-Venus sort of way, she supposed it was a suitable answer. More time for lovemaking, less for cooking.

"Bachelor number one?"

"A fur coat." His voice grew lower. "Of course, she'd be naked underneath."

Judging from the whispered innuendoes and uproar of the crowd, the bachelors must have started male posturing or flexing their muscles behind the screen. Maybe she should have sneaked a look at the other two candidates before she decided on Lance.

After all, bachelor number one's answers were pretty romantic. "Bachelor number three?"

He cleared his throat and spoke in a low tone that sent her senses spinning. "I'd buy her a see-through negligee. Something silky that would brush her skin just the way I want to caress her with my fingers." He paused, then continued in a breathy voice. "And it would be red. Red-hot for the passion we'd feel in each other's arms."

The crowd roared, several women shouting out, "Pick him! Pick him!"

Sophie released a shaky breath, dabbing at her neck where perspiration had started to bead. The peppy music picked up, leading into the break, and the camera focused on the ticking of the clock, signifying that she had two minutes to make her decision. Then the camera zoomed to the audience, where her assistant polled the crowd.

"Psst."

Sophie folded the sheet of questions into a triangle in her hands.

"Psst, Sophie."

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Maddie to the left of the stage jumping up and down, waving frantically at her.
Come here!
Maddie mouthed.

Sophie frowned, indicating the clock hands winding around on the wall. There wasn't time. Worse, the producer was shooting daggers at her with his eyes as if to ask why Sophie had given Maddie full reign behind stage. Arial rushed to the edge with her makeup kit, but Maddie snatched the kit and ran toward Sophie. Teetering on her heels, Maddie paused beside her and leaned close, dusting Sophie's nose with powder.

Sophie covered her lapel microphone with her hand. "What is it? We're due back on air—"

"Lance is supposed to be bachelor number three, right?"

"Right."

"Well, he's not."

Sophie pushed Maddie's hand away as she grabbed the lipstick. "He's not what?"

"He's not number three." Maddie's eyes narrowed as she gestured toward the screen. "He's number two."

"Two?"

"Yes, two as in do—"

Sophie shushed her, the truth dawning. "That sneak."

"He must have caught on to us." Maddie hitched out a hip. "And he switched places!"

A fist squeezed Sophie's heart. Because he didn't want the date with her.

His answers to her questions reverberated inside her head like a cannon blast. He'd said he wanted hamburger. That he wanted to run free like the wolves. That he'd buy his girlfriend a toaster.

He was throwing the game on purpose!

"You should pick him anyway, just for revenge. Prove to him the sacred rules work." Maddie wagged the lipstick in Sophie's face. "This is not just a battle of the sexes anymore, girl; it's war. Down-and-out, dirty, full-fledged war."

The air caught in Sophie's lungs.
When life deals you lemons, make lemonade.

She'd always tried to live by that motto.

In fact, she'd been trying to make lemonade with Lance, but he'd squeezed the last drop of hope from her now. Like a dried-up piece of fruit, her heart cracked and burst. She was a broken shell spitting nothing but shattered seeds.

The drumroll signified time for her to wrap up the show. The producer gave her a venomous look.

"Remember rule number two," Maddie said in a hiss. "Dangle the bait and watch him squirm. So shake that booty and tease him mercilessly." Maddie shook her butt for emphasis, dotted Sophie's lips red, then teetered offstage.

Sophie's mind raced as the clock wound down and the buzzer exploded into the tense silence. "The audience is divided forty-forty between bachelor number one and three, with ten percent voting for number two," Sophie's assistant announced. "Who will win this romantic trip with our sexy host?"

The camera zoomed back to Sophie. What should she do?

Lance had given such god-awful answers to her questions. How could she pick him and not look like an idiot? Even the audience had pegged Lance as a loser.

But could she spend the weekend on a romantic getaway at a topless beach with a complete stranger?

Chapter 2

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The clock counted down the final seconds. Sophie squirmed. She could not keep chasing a man who didn't want her. Lance must have seen beneath the surface and realized she wasn't the woman she portrayed herself to be. He had seen the flaws, maybe even knew her secrets....

It was time to cut the line.

The buzzer sounded. Her assistant's voice broke through the blurred haze that had once been her brain.

"Okay, Sophie, will it be bachelor number one, bachelor number two, or bachelor number three?"

She felt the cameras focus on her again. "It was a hard decision, Eden, but I'm going to choose bachelor number three."

The crowd applauded. Music played for several seconds, giving Sophie's heart time to lob and settle. Finally her assistant waved for quiet. "It sounds as if the audience agrees with you. But let's meet the other bachelors first." Eden gestured toward the screen. "Bachelor number one is a model for a local sportswear company, has his own yacht, and lives on Skidaway Island. Meet Bailey Boxlighter. And he is yummy!"

The crowd whistled and cheered. Sophie pasted on a smile as he rounded the corner. No man should have such flawless skin and perfect teeth. She'd dated a model once who was so obsessed with his looks, he couldn't eat for checking his reflection in his wineglass. And she could have sworn she'd seen Bailey's face on the cover of a porn magazine in Vegas. If it was him, the man was so, um,
large,
he was deformed.

He kissed her cheek, then nibbled at her ear. "Sorry, Sophie; it would have been fun."

"You had some wonderful answers," she said, sensing a hurt ego more than true disappointment. He was obviously accustomed to women swooning over him.

The very reason she liked Lance. He was down-to-earth, real, caring—at least he cared about his siblings, but unfortunately not her.

Drat, she had to forget Lance Summers.

"And now bachelor number two. This hometown boy owns his own land development company here in Savannah. Meet Lance Summers."

Lance stalked around the screen, his wide shoulders encased in a denim jacket that made him look the rugged bad boy she knew him to be. This time her smile made her cheeks ache, but she had to save face.

"Better luck next time, Lance."

He nodded, then gave her a quick peck on her cheek, not quite meeting her eyes as he stepped aside. She was surprised he wasn't gloating. No man could have faked such bad answers except Lance. Which proved that if he ever set his mind to it, he'd probably be the most romantic man in the world.

But he was not to be hers. Some other woman would receive the pleasure of his adoration.

"And now, fellows, your consolation prize," Eden said. "The
Sophie Knows
show is giving you a six-month membership to the Savannah Singles Service."

Sophie beamed a look at Lance. "Hope you enjoy."

He frowned as if she'd sentenced him to hard labor. "Thanks a bunch."

A drumroll sounded, breaking into the tense silence that followed his reply. Sophie held her breath, mustering up fake enthusiasm as her assistant introduced her date.

"Our winning bachelor, number three, is an ex-football player for the Atlanta Falcons. He retired to Savannah but has recently agreed to join the coaching staff at the University of Georgia in the fall. I'd say Rory Dalton made a touchdown today!"

The crowd erupted into laughter, but Sophie inhaled as the ex-football player stalked toward her. She'd thought Lance was a big man, but this guy's shoulders looked like watermelons, his legs were the size of tree trunks, and when he picked her up and swung her around, her bones squeaked in protest. With a growl in her ear, he slid her to the floor, threw her backward over his arm, and settled his mouth on top of hers.

Good Lord almighty, he was going to swallow her whole and try to score right there on stage.

* * *

Lance was sweating profusely, due to the heat wave, he assured himself, not to the fact that the hulk was kissing Sophie. Still, protective instincts emerged, tempting him to intercept the man's pass, but he forced his feet to remain glued to the floor. He couldn't make a fool of himself on TV, not for a woman who was completely wrong for him.

Besides, he had fulfilled his obligation to Sophie and her show, and beat her at her own game. Now he could focus on his business, which he and his brother Reid had barely kept out of the red the last year, and forget the guilt that had dogged him for being rude to Sophie in the past. Plus, now that Maddie had gotten hitched to his best friend, Chase, Lance was finally free to enjoy his bachelorhood without worrying about a menagerie of sex-crazed men chasing his little sister. Sophie was too sophisticated, too showy, too much in the limelight, too perfect for a guy like him. He would never fit in with her TV producers and society-elite friends. Although sometimes at night he craved the soft curves of a woman's body pressed up to him, the idea of marriage made him nauseated. And Sophie had
marriage
written all over her.

Then why did he have this twisting, gnarling ache in his stomach as Sophie curled her hands around Dalton's arms?

Protective instincts, nothing more. She was his kid sister's friend, so naturally he felt the urge to call a penalty on the man for illegal maneuvers, but Sophie was a grown woman and could do whatever she pleased. Even if it meant pawing and humping onstage.

He cleared his throat in disgust, and the two finally broke apart. Sophie was breathless, her face flushed, her eyes wide as she staggered upright. He barely resisted the urge to assist her so she wouldn't fall down, and glared at the whisker burn on her cheek. Damn, had the man been raised by wolves?

"Well, it looks like Savannah won't be the only place with a heat wave; the steam is going to rise in Cancun," Sophie's assistant said with a twinkle in her eyes. "Our lucky couples will leave for their romantic getaways tonight. And on a special Saturday show we'll take a sneak peak to see how they're doing; then next week, we'll air special footage of each of their adventures." She paused. "If you'd like to vote on which couple you think might turn their dating match into a long-term relationship, log on to our Web site. Next week we'll find out which predictions come true."

The following few minutes blurred as the other couples and losing bachelors gathered onstage to throw kisses to the crowd. As the music wound down, chaos descended. Maddie and a number of production assistants rushed onstage to meet the bachelor and congratulate Sophie and the other couples, all chattering noisily and shrieking over the upcoming romantic excursions.

"Oh, my God, I can't believe we're going on a cruise," one of the women tittered.

"And I'm flying to Paris." The second woman moaned. "My dream."

Rory shook his hand, this time so hard Lance ground his molars. "Sorry you had to lose, man. I could give you some tips if you want."