Zola nodded, recognizing the woman from the episodes they’d forced her and Durango to watch the night before. Highlights, they called them. She hadn’t paid as much attention as she probably should have because reality television bored the shit out of her. She was more interested in the hard facts, the biographies and applications the contestants had filled out before being accepted as contestants.
“Gunner likes to keep to himself. That’s part of the reason . . .”
Felicity didn’t finish her thought because very few in the studio knew why Zola was really there. But she understood.
That was part of the reason why they suspected him of sabotage.
Zola studied each of the contestants, not really listening to their comments about the new player coming into their realm. She was more interested in who spoke to who, who spent time with their partner, who chose to spend time with others, and who appeared to be aligned with who. She wanted to know the lay of the land before she went inside.
“Two minutes,” the director said, letting them know it was just about time for Zola to go in.
She stepped back from the screen as the makeup and hair people descended on her. She was wearing a getup she would never have worn in the real world, jean shorts, a low-cut white blouse, and sandals that wrapped up around her calves. She was more comfortable in long sleeves and combat boots, but everyone had decided that wasn’t appropriate for the persona she was supposed to be promoting in the house. Not only was she already dressed in this crap, but the bag she was taking inside with her was filled with similar clothing as well as push up bras and a bag full of makeup she wasn’t sure she knew what to do with. Her mother had been a fashionista, but none of it had worn off on Zola.
She was a Marine, for Christ’s sake!
Her face shine free and her hair flowing down her back in a mass of curls, she was directed to the double doors that were set on a timer to allow her inside. Panic made her chest feel as though it might explode for a moment, but she glanced behind her and saw Durango standing off to one side. He jerked his chin up, giving her a little courage in his silent, distant sort of way. She bit her bottom lip and turned back around.
She could do this. She’d hate it, but she could do it.
The doors opened as Susan began her introduction of Zola. Her heart was pounding as she stepped through the doors and felt the wind as they began to close behind her. And then the second set of doors down the narrow hallway began to swing open.
The remaining cast of the show was sitting in the living room immediately in front of her, watching with naked curiosity—and a little fear mixed with competitiveness—as she made her way inside. She dropped her bag near the door and strode forward, stopping just short of the horseshoe-shaped sitting area so that they could check her out.
She saw looks of surprise on a lot of faces. Interest appeared on a few of the four male faces, including Brian’s. No friendliness. No quick acceptance. They stood almost as one and came forward, a few offering hugs while others offered handshakes. It was a chaotic moment that took place in a haze of freshly applied cologne and perfume. It made her sick to her stomach, but she somehow managed to keep a polite smile on her face.
“Well, you don’t look anything like what we expected,” one of the guys, Josh, announced.
Zola tilted her head to one side. “You’re exactly what I expected.”
That sent a titter of laughter around the room.
“You have four hours to get to know your new housemate,” Susan’s voice said over the television. “After that, there will be a challenge for each team to complete.”
The screen went dark. The houseguests looked around at each other, their eyes moving over Zola and Brian before they began to retreat, one team at a time.
“I guess we should get to know each other, then.”
Zola turned and focused on Brian. He’d combed his hair, but it was longish on top and continued to look unkempt to her. He looked pleasant enough otherwise, with soft brown eyes and an “aw shucks!” sort of face. He was well built and taller than Zola, but just about everyone was taller than her since she stood barely five-three. And he had a nice smile, not that he was smiling now.
“Our bedroom is over here,” he said, gesturing toward a hallway just beyond the living room. He walked off, leaving Zola to snatch up her bag and carry it for herself.
Such a gentleman!
The room was about the size of her college dorm room with two twin beds and a narrow closet that was filled to overflowing with male clothing. She set her bag on a low chair and sat on the edge of the one bed that was still neatly made as he threw himself down, face first, on the other bed.
“What’s your name?” he asked, as though Susan hadn’t said it half a dozen times.
“Zola.”
“What kind of name is that?”
She shrugged. “My mom had a thing for all things French. There was a writer named Emile Zola, and she liked his name.”
“Oh.” He was clearly not interested in her answer. But then he turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, looking her over with naked interest. She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the cleavage the shirt they’d picked out for her exposed. “You go to college?”
“Yes.”
They’d told her to be as honest as possible without giving out too much information. She didn’t think telling him that would give anything away.
“What’d you study?”
Now that was a trickier question.
“Biology,” she lied.
“Where?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, the taste of wax and chemicals from the lipstick they’d put on her washing over her tongue. Would the truth hurt her? Would it be easier to remember if she gave the truth? She wasn’t sure.
She finally decided the truth was the best option.
“Florida State.”
That peaked his interest. He sat up and studied her for a second, his eyes remaining on her face this time.
“You’re from Florida?”
“Yes.”
“That’s cool. I’m from Miami.”
“I grew up in St. Augustine.”
He smiled, nodding slowly. “That’s awesome. It helps to have something in common.”
“What else do we need to know about each other?”
“Everything.” He groaned a little, throwing himself back against the mattress. “The quiz comps, which is probably what we’re going to do this afternoon, require us to know just about every little detail about each other. Like where we went to school, what we do for a living, what our favorite colors are.”
“What are your favorite colors?”
“Green and blue.”
“Mine are purple and yellow.”
“Interesting choice.”
“What do you do for a living?”
She already knew the answers to most of the things they would likely ask because of his bio, but she asked every pertinent question she could think of, from his favorite food to his favorite pickup line. Once she asked a few questions, he started to talk freely about himself, as most men tend to do, and it wasn’t hard to get him to say everything she already knew. She even learned a couple of new tidbits, like the fact that he was engaged just a month before coming to do the show. Zola was pretty sure no one else had gotten him to admit that, even the producers.
“Your turn,” he finally said. “What’s your story?”
“I don’t really have much of a story. I went to college. I got a job. I haven’t had any serious relationships in a few years, nothing interesting to confess. Just a good group of friends and my work.”
“What do you do for a living?”
Zola had discussed that with Durango, Felicity, and Cillian. Everyone decided that she should tell the contestants that she was a high school science teacher. It seemed to be the most benign thing she could say without having to come up with a bunch of information to support it. She knew enough about high school science to
satisfy casual questions.
That’s what she told him and answered a few more questions, mostly stupid things like what she did on the weekends, and who she did it with. She had to feed him some of the answers she thought she knew would be important later, but she wasn’t sure he was listening.
They had to do well in the comps if Zola was going to stick around long enough to figure out who the saboteur was. If this guy screwed it up for her, he’d be screwing more than his chance to win half a million dollars.
“My head hurts,” he announced suddenly. “I think I’m going to go find a dark corner to sleep for a while.” He was out the door before Zola could comment. It was clear he didn’t want to spend more time with her than necessary.
Zola wandered out into the rest of the house, curious to find where the others had wandered off to, but no one seemed to be around. She thought she heard laughter from a room at the top of the stairs, but couldn’t be completely sure. She went into the kitchen, her tummy rumbling a little. She’d been too wound up this morning to eat the meal Durango had ordered up from room service.
She wondered what he thought of her performance so far.
Zola nearly screamed when she turned away from the refrigerator, a delicious looking fruit salad in her hands when she realized she was no longer alone.
Gunner Pratt was standing at the counter spreading peanut butter onto a slice of white bread.
“You scared me,” she said, setting the bowl on the counter beside him.
He didn’t answer and didn’t help when she went searching for a bowl and couldn’t find it until she’d opened four different cabinets.
“You’re Gunner, right?”
He glanced at her. “Yep.”
“One of the advantages of not coming into late: I got to watch a few of the already aired episodes.”
“Good for you.”
“You were ruthless on the last comp. You do time in the military?”
“Marines.”
She’d already known that, but she had to bite back the automatic response that always came to her lips when she met a fellow Marine, the battle cry that all Marines learn the moment they enter the service: Oohrah! But she was supposed to be a wimpy high school teacher, not a Marine.
“Impressive.”
Zola scooped a few spoonfuls of the salad into her bowl before leaning against the counter to look at Gunner. He was a good-looking guy, good enough looking that even she found him delicious to set her eyes on despite her conscious choice to distance herself from the male sex. He was tall, taller than most of the men in the house, with wide shoulders and a barrel chest. He clearly worked out quite often, his arms bursting with muscles, but not so muscular that he looked like he could give the next Mr. Universe a run for his money. Just muscular enough to be sexy and capable, not overdone. And he filled out a pair of jeans quite impressively. He had dark blond hair, the kind that looked like it could be brown or blond, depending on the light, and blue eyes that were so pale it seemed like he was looking through you whenever he focused his gaze in your direction. A thin, patrician nose and a strong jaw completed the perfect picture, turning him into something that should grace every magazine cover from now until the end of time.
Beautiful. Can you use that word with a man?
“You have a woman outside of this competition?”
His eyebrows rose. “Rules say you can’t be in a committed relationship.”
“Yeah, well, who tells the truth when five-hundred-thousand dollars is on the line?”
He focused on her for a long second. “I do.”
He finished putting his sandwich together and lifted it to his mouth, moving like he was leaving the room. Zola turned back to her salad, about to lift a strawberry to her lips when a woman suddenly shrieked. Lesley, Brian’s sole supporter, stared at Zola like she’d just murdered an entire litter of puppies.
“That’s my salad!”
“Oh,” Zola said, dropping the strawberry back into the bowl. “I wasn’t aware.”
“Everyone knows not to touch my stuff! I have allergies!”
“I didn’t know. Do you want me to put it back?”
“You’ve already got your stink all over it!” She stared at Zola like she believed she was insane. “No, I don’t want you to put it back!”
She walked off, shaking her head and muttering under her breath. Zola glanced at Gunner, and he was biting back a laugh.
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“You’re not my partner.”
He walked off, chuckling under his breath even as he bit off a huge bite of his sandwich.
“Asshole,” Zola whispered under her breath as she dumped the salad she’d fixed herself and replaced the rest of the salad back in the fridge.
She’d have to learn to navigate these waters if she was going to survive in this house. It was never her intention to make friends, but it would help if Gunner would talk to her. As one of the leading suspects, she needed to know what was going on in his head. But the man barely gave her more than one-word answers. Except for that last bit, of course.
He thought she was playing the game. She wasn’t.
Chapter 5
Chicago, Illinois
The Set of Stranger’s Retreat
Gunner walked out into the yard late in the afternoon to escape the canned air of the house. Everyone else was out there, sitting around the pool like this was some sort of summer vacation rather than a game. The new girl, Zola, was sitting at one of the tables with Michelle, Kirk, Josh, and Jessica. They were giving her the rundown of the game, explaining some of the comps they’d already done, and what she might expect to happen as the game progressed.
Normally he’d sit in one of the hammocks and ignore everyone, but there was something about the new girl that drew him in. He’d been smart, not allowing himself to become attracted to any of the girls in the house, but this one . . . She could be trouble for him. Petite and dark, black hair that was nearly blue and gold eyes, long sooty lashes and full lips, she was exotic enough to catch even a blind guy’s attention. Add to that full breasts and curvy hips, it was nearly impossible not to be attracted to her.
But he’d be damned if she screwed him out of winning this game.
He took a seat at the table, sitting across from the new girl rather than choosing one of the seats that were open beside her. Jessica smiled, and Kirk shot him a shocked look, but everyone else ignored him.
“You’re really a high school teacher?” Josh was asking.
“I am,” new girl said in a soft, almost breathy, voice.
“None of my high school teachers looked like you!”
Jessica hit her partner on the arm as she shifted in her seat, leaning a little closer against the table. “How did you get chosen to come into the house now?”
New girl shook her head. “I don’t know. Good luck, I suppose.”
“I didn’t think they’d send anyone new in,” Michelle said.
“Me, either,” Jessica inserted.
“You were hoping Brian would go home so that you’d be safe.”
“Exactly.”
Everyone laughed a little, everyone but the new girl and Gunner. He was too busy checking her out, and she was too busy doing the same, not him, but the others. She was very curious, it seemed, about the dynamics that existed between these people. And he couldn’t blame her. She was at a disadvantage, coming into the game this late. If it were him, he’d be very observant, trying to figure out who was on top, and who was on the way out the door. And how he could use that information to get himself where he needed to be.
She was smart, that was obvious. But was she smart enough to win the game?
Josh was openly checking out the new girl, too. Kirk was a little subtler about it, but he and Michelle didn’t have the same sort of relationship Jessica and Josh did. He was pretty sure once Jessica realized what was happening, she’d put Josh in his place over it.
“Where are you from, Zola?” Mic
helle asked.
“Florida.”
That got Gunner’s attention. He’d spent some time in Florida, but it’d been years since he’d been there. The way she said it, he found himself wondering how long it’d been since she’d been there.
“What part of Florida?”
“The north. But I live in Illinois now.”
“Convenient,” Josh said.
“Where are you guys from? All over the country, I’d guess.”
“Josh is from a small town outside of Springfield,” Jessica answered for her teammate. “I’m from here in Chicago.”
“Me, too,” Michelle added.
“I’m from Los Angeles,” Kirk informed them all.
“And you?” New girl looked right at Gunner. “Where are you from, Mr. Silent?”
Jessica giggled. “She has you figured out!”
Gunner tilted his head slightly. “Right now, I’m from Chicago.”
“Yeah? And when you’re not playing this game?”
He shrugged. “Anywhere I want to be from.”
“A wanderer, huh? I always wanted that sort of transient life.” The new girl adopted a wistful look. “But reality kind of made that impossible.”
“Why?” Josh wanted to know.
“I have bills to pay.”
He nodded in quick sympathy. “Don’t we all? Isn’t that why we’re here?”
More laughter, but Gunner was more interested in the fact that the new girl didn’t laugh. She looked a little pensive. Sad. He wondered what was behind that.
“I’ll be back,” she said, getting up from the table.
Josh, Kirk, and Michelle joined Gunner in watching her walk away. Jessica slapped Josh’s arm again, finally catching on to his interest in the new girl. Josh grabbed his wounded arm, a look of feigned innocence on his face. Jessica just shook her head and got up, shedding her light dress to expose the bikini hidden underneath. She dove into the pool with a gracefulness that spoke of a childhood of ballet training before her current career as a professional dancer.
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