The Bachelor Pact Box Set

by Rita Herron

  Was the wind blowing in Cancun? He wiped at a bead of sweat on his face. Was it as hot on the beach as it was in her house?

  The image of Sophie entwined in his arms set him to pacing, the uncomfortable couch forgotten as he prowled from one end of the room to the other. Was she in bed with Rory Dalton now? Letting the hulk run his stubby hands all over her delicate body, teasing her until she came apart in his arms? Playing naked and getting hot and sweaty with the waves crashing in the background as she cried out in orgasm?

  He stopped and threw his hands over his head, trying to drown out the images.

  A low whistling sound echoed from above, giving him pause again. Was someone in the house? He climbed the steps, glanced in the spare bedroom which was empty, then crossed the hall to Sophie's bedroom. Darkness swallowed the room, moonlight spilling in through the sheers draped from the ceiling to the faded carpet. He hoped Sophie would want to rip up the ugly carpet and showcase the original flooring.

  He stepped forward, intending to examine it, but halted at the sight of that big black furball sprawled in the center of the magnificent bed. The furry animal lifted its head and hissed at him, claws bared (declawed or not, he still had back claws and they looked ominous), teeth shining white in the dim moonlight.

  Lance backed away, knowing he couldn't trespass into Sophie's territory with her feline protector armed, ready to pounce and do him bodily damage. Jazzy obviously didn't like him. Or maybe the house was haunted, as he'd once heard, and the whistling sound was the ghost, and the cat was reacting to it, not him. Animals were supposed to be able to sense spirits.

  The idea was ridiculous.

  But the very first time he'd come to see Sophie here, she'd mentioned the legend of the star-crossed lovers. Legend claimed that during the Civil War, an injured soldier took refuge inside these walls. After the woman of the house had doctored the soldier's injuries, she'd taken him as her lover. But the soldier had been called back to war, and she'd never seen him again. Her anguished spirit supposedly roamed the house, waiting for him to return....

  Lance did not believe in star-crossed lovers. Maybe he didn't believe in love at all.

  Reminding himself that the next day loomed with more backbreaking labor, he headed down the staircase, crossed to the sofa, stretched out, and closed his eyes.

  An hour later he lay staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks and watching a spider spin a web in the left-hand corner. If he were at his apartment, he'd be sleeping like a baby. Or would the phone be ringing from that singles service? When he'd stopped by earlier, the message machine had been blinking out of control, the messages all from husband-hunting women.

  He had never had insomnia in his life. Construction work, especially hands-on physical labor, normally wore him out.

  Was the hulk wearing out Sophie now? Keeping her awake with long, slow kisses? When they returned to Savannah, would Dalton try to move in on Sophie for good, make a permanent place in Sophie's bed for himself?

  Would her cat like Dalton and allow him to venture into Sophie's bedroom?

  His Southern, big-brotherly breeding kicked in. Maybe he should do something. After all, Sophie was Maddie's best friend; he'd hate to see anything bad happen to her. And some men did take advantage....

  I wouldn't go out with you if you were the last man on earth.

  Her words tormented him.

  And Maddie had doomed him further with her comment: My brother needs help in the romance department.

  He closed his eyes, praying for sleep to claim him and end the torture, but images of Sophie in that sexy red negligee she'd left on her bed played behind his eyelids in the dark.

  * * *

  "I still can't believe we're here," Rory said in a husky whisper.

  Sophie nodded and sipped her champagne. Cancun meant moonlit beaches, white powdery sand, a warm breeze blowing gently off the ocean, strains of piano music floating through the sultry air scented by tropical vegetation, and gourmet meals served by candlelight with endless complimentary wine—essentially, the resort was the most romantic place Sophie had ever been.

  Unfortunately her bones possessed no romantic inclinations at the moment.

  Especially toward Rory Dalton, with the multiple hands and one-track mind.

  "Smile for the camera."

  Rory pulled her into an embrace and they posed. Sophie donned a smile that she hoped fooled everyone who would watch the show. They finished their wine, Rory toasting the trip, she praying it would soon be over. They had already sipped margaritas at sunset, taken a romantic stroll along the sandy shore, been serenaded by a Spanish quartet, enjoyed the evening show, and dined overlooking the majestic waters in the open-air pavilion.

  "How about a dance?" His floral green shirt shimmered beneath a full moon that was meant for lovers. That, or werewolves ready to feed on the innocent.

  Not that Sophie was completely innocent.

  He caressed her neck, nibbling at her earlobe. Sophie told herself the camera was rolling, that Lance would see this footage and think she was having the time of her life, completely over him, and that nothing obscene could happen in the middle of a crowded dance floor in the outdoors.

  Rory pulled her into his arms, but the scent of his cologne hung as heavy in the air as his testosterone. The man must be part ape. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dark hair escaped through the opening in the top of his Floridian shirt, and he had been salivating for the last hour. She should toss him a bone, but didn't want to lead the man on.

  "Sophie, thanks for giving me the opportunity to share this trip with you."

  He really was being nice, Sophie reasoned. It wasn't his fault she had been stupid enough to want Lance. Maybe she was being overly cynical.

  "You're welcome; you won fair and square, Rory."

  "I'm totally taken with you; you know that, don't you?"

  She feigned laughter, playing along. "Where did you go to charm school?"

  He pressed his body into hers, the force of his arousal punctuating the fact that he was all male, and that she might have misjudged his charm for a come-on. His hands slipped from her waist to cup her butt, and she tensed, another smile tightening her mouth as she offered a fake smile to the camera.

  "This is the most exotic place I've even been," she said, hoping to turn the conversation to tourist mode. "The waves crashing in the background, the scents of flowers floating around us, the balmy air..."

  He licked her neck, his pointed tongue circling her breastbone as he dipped lower. "If you think this is erotic, let's go back to my room."

  Oh, gracious, he thought she'd said erotic?

  "Er, Rory—"

  "I can do things to you, baby, you've only dreamed about."

  With another man. "I do believe you're working the camera." Sophie swayed as he spun her around, brushing his fingertips across the tips of her breasts in the process. He was nothing if not a smooth mover.

  His sultry gaze lingered on her cleavage. "Will they join us later or will we be alone?"

  His cocky boldness amazed her. "Excuse me?"

  "If you want the cameras along, that's fine. If not, well... that's all right, too." His finger snaked out to trace a sensual line over her lip. "Either way, I promise to satisfy."

  Sophie fought the urge to bite his finger. "We have a long weekend, Rory; let's not rush things."

  His smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. The man was accustomed to playing the game and winning. "All right. For now, I'll have to be content to hold you in my arms. But tonight I'll dream about finally getting you alone."

  Sophie remembered Maddie's rules for trapping a man and wished she had brought flannel instead of this strapless red sundress. Worse, so far Maddie's rules were working with Rory—the more she dangled the bait in front of Rory and yanked it back, the more Rory chased it.

  * * *

  First thing the next morning, Lance had ordered a roofing crew over to check out Sophie's house. The sooner he finished
with this place, the sooner he could get some shut-eye.

  He had not slept a wink the night before.

  And for a man who'd always been able to fall asleep standing up, that was criminal. He'd counted sheep until dawn, then made coffee, met the plumber at six, and had ripped up all the cracked tiles from both bathroom floors by noon. By two o'clock, he had replaced the subflooring, by three he was sweating bullets and irritable as hell. Then Maddie burst through the doorway, chattering and making his head spin as he tried to keep up with her.

  "What are you doing here?" he finally asked between breaths.

  "I came to feed Jazzy. I promised Sophie I'd check on her while she was gone."

  The cat glared at him, tail swishing like a windshield wiper blade. "Uh, I guess I could do that, since I'm staying here anyway."

  "You're sweet to offer, Lance, but I didn't think you liked cats."

  "I like 'em fine." Except this one didn't like him. "Where did you find it, anyway?"

  Maddie frowned, then stooped and picked up the black furball. "Poor baby was scrounging for food near one of the unfinished houses on Skidaway."

  And Maddie couldn't resist bringing her home.

  Maddie glanced at her watch. "Oh, my gosh, look at the time. Sophie Knows airs any second. They're doing a special Saturday show just so we can watch Sophie's date."

  As if he'd forgotten. "I guess you'd better run along then."

  Maddie's eyes veered toward the TV mischievously. "But I don't want to miss it." She grabbed one of Sophie's diet Cokes from the refrigerator, then teetered toward the television set as if she owned the room, and plopped into the faded recliner with the cat purring in her lap. "Actually, I'll watch it here. My next appointment isn't for an hour, and it's around the corner. It'll be faster than driving all the way home and backtracking."

  "Of course." Lance grunted, wondering what exactly Maddie was up to. Did she plan to tease him by making him watch Sophie's date on TV?

  He stormed into the kitchen to begin repairs, refusing to give her the pleasure. But seconds later the head of the roofing crew called for him, so he ambled back to advise the workers on the job. He couldn't help but glance over at the television. And then he couldn't look away.

  Sophie, decked out in a bright silver string bikini that left little to the imagination, was running along the most beautiful beach he'd ever seen, the sun kissing her silky porcelain skin, the wind tossing that short black hair around her face, while Rory Dalton chased her across the white sand.

  Laughter spilled through the speakers as Rory tackled her from behind. His big hairy hands slid down Sophie's bare back as he cradled her in his arms and they hit the ground. Sophie squealed and pretended to battle for air, her cries for him to stop tickling her causing Lance's stomach to knot.

  The camera skimmed past them for a second to feast on a distant beach as the newscaster commented, "Right now, Mr. Dalton is trying to persuade our own Sophie Lane to stroll down to the nude beach, folks. Will she give in and shed that bikini, or will modesty convince her to bask in the sun, where our cameras can capture her every movement?"

  Lance silently cursed. While the thought of Sophie on the nude beach with the hulk sent him into fits, the thought of watching her every movement scantily clad and teasing Dalton to undress her with her racy laughter and flirty smile was just as painful.

  Modesty was not a problem for Sophie Lane. Hell, no. Hadn't Sophie dragged his innocent little sister off to a nudist colony for the weekend before she'd married Chase? Hadn't she fixed Maddie up with the producer of an S-and-M show?

  The woman definitely wasn't modest. If so, she'd cover up her near nakedness with a beach wrap.

  "They look like they're having so much fun," Maddie commented. "He's such a hottie."

  Lance flexed his muscles beneath his dirt-covered jeans and water-splattered workshirt. He wasn't exactly out of shape himself. But maybe he should work out more.

  "When I get home, I'm going to vote on whether or not they'll make it."

  He cleared his throat to speak, but the cat quirked beady eyes toward him.

  "Do you think Sophie and Rory will wind up tying the knot?"

  He shrugged. His stomach was in knots; that's what he thought. "I've got work to do." The camera flashed back to Rory, who was plucking at the tie to Sophie's string top.

  "Just think, Lance," Maddie said, smiling up at him, "if you'd won the date, you could have been there, sunning and dancing with a beautiful woman, instead of here digging up the floor and replacing pipes."

  He cast her an evil look and left the room. He didn't need her derisive comments; the sewage smell reeking from his clothes and his lack of sleep were perfect reminders. And if he were chasing Sophie, he'd catch her and they'd make love, which would be fantastic—but then she'd want marriage and that would be fatal.

  "Tune in Monday to see just how far Sophie and Rory take their relationship," the announcer said.

  Lance cursed beneath his breath. It was going to be a long damned weekend.

  * * *

  If Rory Dalton didn't peel his hairy, sweaty body off of her, Sophie was going to scream.

  "Smile for the camera."

  How could she smile when she was running for her life? Besides, her lips felt glued to her teeth in misery.

  "Come on, Soph, let's go to the nude beach. You don't want tan lines, do you?"

  Sophie feigned innocence. "I can't, Rory. I have my audience to think about."

  "Your audience will love you for it."

  "I don't think so." She jabbed where she thought it might hit home. "You make concessions for your fans, don't you?"

  He nodded, then cupped her chin in his hand. "Sure, I understand. But when this weekend is over, I want us to really be alone. Then we won't have to worry about a cameraman or your fans."

  But I still have to live with myself.

  He lowered his mouth and kissed her, not giving her time to protest. Sophie tried to relax. She wasn't betraying Lance by being with another man. In fact, she should give Rory a chance, because Lance didn't want her. But nothing about Rory's kiss aroused her.

  Maddie's rules flitted through her head—Give him a nibble; then yank the line.

  She eased back and he draped his arm over her shoulder. She wasn't playing games with him, but still, her refusal to climb in bed with him so readily seemed to spike his interest.

  Would her distance from Lance entice him to come around?

  She and Rory walked back toward their neighboring hotel rooms. Music and laughter floated around them; two lovers lay cuddled inside a hammock by the pool, laughing softly.

  Sophie's heart ached to have that connection with a man. But as she said good-night to Rory, she knew that it wouldn't happen with him.

  Maybe it never would with anyone.

  * * *

  Lucy Lane was well aware her sister worried about her, but what the heck was all the fuss? Lucy and Sophie had managed fine on their own since they were teenagers, had shared an apartment in one of the most exciting cities in the nation, dated constantly, and had nightly tips literally coming out of their ears, er, their bras.

  Then Sophie had gotten this bug up her butt that their dancing act wasn't respectable, that she wanted to have a "real" career, to get married one day, and she had run out on the show and their life in Las Vegas.

  If Lucy had her way, she'd convince Sophie to return to the Vegas show. She didn't particularly want Sophie to get married either; then Lucy wouldn't see her much, and things would never be the same between them. Lucy would be alone—more alone than she was now.

  She hated being alone. Hated the dark at night. Had even brought her nightlight with her.

  Granted, their Diva act was thriving, and Lucy had brought down the house a few times, but she missed her sister desperately. Although she was proud of Sophie's TV show, some of her guests were a tad too conservative. She had enjoyed the "Marry Me or Move On" segment with Sophie's friend, Maddie, though, and when
Chase Holloway had proposed to Maddie onstage, Lucy had bawled like a baby. The "Dating Game" episode was great, too, all those yumlicious hunks to choose from. How in the world had Sophie picked just one?

  The flight attendant sailed by, indicating for people to buckle their seat belts and return their seats to the upright positions. Lucy did so reluctantly, patting the arm of the man beside her. On a plane, her nerves normally bounced like a rubber ball, but this time she'd tied a lucky charm around her neck, so she felt assured they wouldn't have problems.

  "Thanks for letting me nap on your shoulder."

  He gave her the once-over. "Anytime."

  Honestly, she loved men. They could be so... easy. And this one was handsome, tall, dark skinned, and blond. Norwegian-looking.

  He slid a business card toward her. "I'm Ray, here on business for a few days. I'm staying at the Hamilton-Turner mansion. Call me if you get lonely."

  Lucy smiled, fluffing her wild strawberry blond curls. "Thanks, sugar. I'm here on business, too, but I intend to explore Savannah's nightlife while I'm in town."

  The plane hit the runway, jerking them slightly, and they both laughed. Lucy stuffed the card into the front of her silk blouse, grinning when his eyes followed the movement. The plane ground to a halt and everyone stood, gathering their overhead luggage.

  The man retrieved his briefcase, then gestured toward the silver suitcase. "This one yours?"

  "Yes, my work. I didn't want to take a chance on it not making it."

  "I know what you mean. I'd lose a big deal if I showed up at my meeting without the papers in my briefcase."

  Lucy laughed, wondering whether to reveal her job to the man and try to make a sale. If she did show him the contents of her case, he might think she was coming on to him, and get the wrong idea.

  Then again, Lucy could handle herself. Besides, it wasn't like Sophie was at home waiting on her tonight. The house would be empty. She'd let herself in when she arrived and Sophie would never know how late she'd stayed out.

  Businessmen/bachelors were an untapped market for her Sleepover, Inc., parties—the perfect gift for a wife, girlfriend, lover.... Maybe she and Ray could see the town; then she could show him some of her products and end the night by closing a sale.