And that was fine, right? Next stop, three weeks’ vacation in Paradise. Yet somehow, watching the other woman style, fluff, brush, and powder, she felt herself getting annoyed. Were these Barbie dolls actually planning to swim? The only sensible one was Lani, the girl who’d organized their coupon swap yesterday, whose white bikini and braided up-do were both practical and beautiful.
Outside the snack bar, a loudspeaker buzzed to life. “MARRIAGE IS A MARATHON,” it shouted. “Today, each lovely contestant will swim ten laps….”
A ten lap marathon? Anna crossed her arms in disgust.
Tiffany brushed past Anna, swinging her hips. “You’ve got the right idea, frog-girl,” she muttered. “Don’t even try.”
Frog girl? Anna clenched and unclenched her unpainted fingernails. Frog girl. Is that what Chris would think if he saw her? Maybe. Maybe she was a frog compared to these bronze-skinned barracudas. Maybe if Chris were here, he wouldn’t even notice her. On the other hand, the barracudas…. No, they were bridacudas, Anna decided. The bridacudas weren’t likely to notice Chris either. None of these husband-hunters wanted a maintenance man.
“Anna!” Lani hurried to Anna’s corner. She’d wrapped her bikini in a gauzy, hibiscus-patterned sarong, and the combination of red and white was stunning against her teak skin.
Anna jumped up. “You look amazing!”
“Thanks!” Lani hugged her. “I know you brought your dad on vacation instead of a stylist.” She waved to her assistant who bustled over, dragging two rolling suitcases. “My sister, Kim, and I want to help you get ready.”
“I am ready.” Anna shrugged. “This is me.”
“Not for long.” Kim unzipped a suitcase and started selecting makeup.
“Look!” Lani shook out a rectangle of sheer turquoise fabric and draped it across Anna’s shoulders. “I got you a present.”
Anna held out her arm. The printed cloth shimmered like the Caribbean sea. “I can’t take this.”
“You can,” Lani said. “In fact, you have to. It’s not my color and the shop doesn’t accept returns. Anyhow, we used a coupon and got a two-for-one discount.” She gestured at her own sarong. “Yours didn’t cost a penny.”
Kim held several eyeliner tubes next to Anna’s hair and squinted at the colors. She was a year or two younger than her sister, Anna thought. Probably early twenties.
“Why is everyone wearing so much makeup?” Anna grumbled. “It’s going to be a mess once we start swimming.”
“The stuff I’m using is waterproof.” Kim outlined Anna’s eyes. “And we’ll go light. But most these girls would rather die than put their face in the pool.”
“Then how are they going to race?”
“They’re not, probably,” Lani said. “Whoever finishes first automatically moves on, so a few of us are going to swim seriously. But everyone else plans to win on votes alone. They’ll get in and paddle back and forth like cats trying to keep their fur dry. We’re going to set a record for the slowest ten-lap race in history.” She laughed. “Which thrills the camera crew. They’ll get all the time they want for close-ups of wet boobs and butts.”
“That’s terrible!”
“That’s show business.” Lani shrugged. “Most the Vacation Bride audience is computer nerds who never go home from the office. This may be the closest they get to half-naked women all year.”
“And you’re OK with that?”
“I’m OK with the twenty-five-thousand-dollar consolation prize you get if the show doesn’t end in a wedding.” Lani glanced around and leaned forward. “I’m crowd-funding my own video game company. If I win, I’ll take the cash, so great. But even if I lose, I’m going to be famous on the internet. Engineers will be lining up around the block to get in on my startup!”
“Maybe.”
“Just don’t tell anyone,” Lani said. “If they think you don’t want to get married, they kick you off the show.”
Kim smoothed lipstick onto Anna’s mouth and squinted critically at the result. “Perfect!” She raised a mirror with a dramatic flourish. A videographer drifted over to see what was happening. Kim waited and then bowed dramatically to the camera. “Ladies and gentlemen.” She gestured at Anna. “I give you Ryan Andersen’s Vacation Bride.”
A group of sneering contestants moved closer to look.
Anna tried to ignore them. “Wow, thanks!” she told Kim, studying her reflection. “You’re really good.” The makeup barely showed, and yet she practically glowed.
“I’m planning to be a makeup artist once this is over.” Kim took out an airbrush and hooked it to a metal cylinder. “Stand up. Spread your arms.” She held up a piece of cardboard to shield Anna’s swimsuit and started spraying on tan. The shade wasn’t quite right, but it was vastly better than Anna’s pasty-white skin. “This stuff only lasts about an hour in water,” Kim warned. “We can do DHA later, but that takes time.”
The rest of the contest women clustered around. They didn’t look happy.
Kim threaded a white ribbon into a needle and wove it through Anna’s braid. “There. Fabulous.” She twitched Anna’s gauzy cover-up into place. “Can I get a pic for my website?”
“Of me? Um.” Anna hesitated, but it was a little late to be shy. “OK. If you want.”
Kim posed Lani and Anna arm-in-arm and snapped a couple of photos. “Great! All we need now is the money shot for the cameras.” She winked at Anna and then turned and gestured at the bridacudas. “Suck it, bitches!”
There was a collective gasp. The camerawoman tossed Kim a grinning thumbs up.
A whistle blew at the other end of the changing room. The show’s director, a no-nonsense woman named Chandra, clapped her hands.
“All right, ladies,” Chandra called. “May I have everybody in one line!”
Anna peeked through the glass doors that led to the pool deck. The resort’s infinity pool had six lanes, which meant the twelve contestants were scheduled to race in two starts. She scanned the bleachers and spotted her Dad in front—despite the fact she’d told him not to come—sitting beside Roy, the bartender they’d met in St. Thomas. Anna examined the crowd more carefully. No sign of Chris. She sighed with relief and took the last place in line.
“OK, I have an announcement,” Chandra addressed the women. “I know some of you have grown very fond of a certain bachelor during the last three weeks and even might have considered marrying him.” She paused for the expected giggles. “However, there’s been a change. Due to unforeseen circumstances, Ryan Andersen is no longer available to be on the show.”
A surprised murmur passed down the line.
“In keeping with everyone’s signed contracts, the role of potential bridegroom will now be filled by Ryan Andersen’s cousin.”
“Can they do that?” Tiffany whined loudly. “They can’t do that, can they?”
“Who cares,” another woman said. “The question is, is he rich?”
“He’s not rich,” a third voice contributed. “I’ve met him. The man’s good looking, but he’s just an ordinary working guy.”
“Who is it?”
Anna didn’t care who it was. She peered past the women, scanning for Chris. Outside, the show was giving the same message to the audience. Standing beside an announcer Anna didn’t recognize was…. Oh no! He’d changed into a well-cut blazer and was facing away, but Anna had sketched that back and shoulders yesterday. The man standing beside the announcer was Chris.
How? Anna ducked out of sight as Chris turned. Why?
A whistle blew. The first six women strolled onto the deck. They paraded elegantly back and forth in front of the bleachers, showing off their figures, and then struck elaborate poses beside the shallow end of the pool. Behind the women, an outdoor video screen flashed to life showing the current tally of internet votes. As usual, Tiffany was in the lead.
What’s Chris doing here? Anna couldn’t imagine. Was he running the scoreboard? Cleaning? Helping the crew? I can’t go out there. The enormity o
f last night’s deception hit her. He’s going to think I lied. Why hadn’t she simply confessed that she’d joined the contest to give her dad a vacation? Why hadn’t she explained? I wasn’t sure he’d believe me. But that wasn’t the only reason. I didn’t want him to think I was chasing another guy.
“OK.” Chandra strolled along the remaining contestants, straightening bikini straps. “Group two, get ready.”
The whistle blew. The five women ahead of Anna began to move.
She stood paralyzed. I can’t.
“Anna!” Kim ran to her. “Anna, go!”
Outside, the second group paraded for the crowd.
What’s wrong with me? Anna bit her lip. Why do I care? But she couldn’t let Chris think she was one of these bridacudas.
A buzzer sounded. The first six contestants slipped into the pool and began swimming with careful, awkward strokes. One of the cameramen hurried to Anna.
“Young lady.” Chandra crossed her arms. “Either you join the others, or you’re out of the contest.”
The second five women sat down and put their feet in the pool.
“I’m sorry.” Anna turned and walked away from the door.
“Anna!” Kim followed her. “What’s the matter? You look great.”
“It’s not that. It’s just…I never expected to win.” Anna stared past the empty snack counter, avoiding Kim’s gaze. The wall was painted in Caribbean blues and greens and held a row of photographs labeled Meet our Staff. “I’m not cut out for the contest. I’ll have to watch from the sidelines and cheer for Lani instead.”
“But—” Kim said.
The first photo on the wall was a headshot of Chris. That seemed odd. Anna leaned forward, squinting to read the caption: Chris Andersen, Resort Manager. She blinked and read the words again. Resort Manager.
Not maintenance man.
Not ferry captain.
Not nice-guy-who-grew-up-barefoot-on-the-island.
“He lied!” It didn’t make sense. Chris had lied to Anna about his job. But why? Because he wanted to fool me. Because he wanted her to believe he led a romantic, humble life.
“Anna!” Kim grabbed her arm. “You’ve got to get in the water.”
The man must think I’m stupid! But Anna was stupid. She’d totally bought that story about growing up at the resort.
“Anna, they send you home as soon as you’re out of the contest.”
He’s probably had lots of practice lying…. Anna blinked at Kim. “What?”
“The women who are eliminated get sent straight home,” Kim repeated. “Didn’t you know?”
“Home?” Back to Milwaukee? “Immediately?”
“I know you came here for your dad,” Kim whispered. “You can still do this. Go!”
Something crystallized inside of Anna. I came for Daddy. Nothing else mattered. She ran to Chandra. “I’m going to race.”
“You have to do the fashion parade before you get in the water. And they’ve already finished two laps.” The director pursed her lips. “You can’t win.”
“You wanna bet?” Anna jogged onto the deck. There were some snickers from the watching stylists and then a general murmur of surprise. She quick-marched past the bleachers and back, tossed her cover-up on a chair, and struck a hands-on-hips pose.
The crowd clapped, a little uncertainly.
Anna held her place, watching the pool. In front of her, the bridacudas paddled like arthritic grandmas. One or two were making a genuine effort, but Lani was right. Most women looked more interested in keeping their hair and makeup dry than winning a race. She darted a glance at Chris, who stood watching her coldly.
“Very well.” Chandra pressed the start buzzer. “You may go.”
Anna smiled sweetly at the cameras. “Suck it b-b-babies!” She executed a shallow racing dive and set a fast pace at the crawl. Anna had never tried for the Olympics. The training was too expensive and took too much time. She’d raced for fun, seldom worrying about whether she won or lost. She pushed herself through the bubbles now, reaching for the old feeling—three laps, then two, then only one behind the others—the calm, centered feeling that she was swimming her best. The third time she passed her lane-mate, she sensed a change in the pool. Some of the watchers were shouting encouragement. Women in other lanes began to kick and splash.
Anna breathed rhythmically, stretching her arms in clean, even strokes. She passed a fourth time, taking the lead in her lane, but wasn’t sure about the others. She pushed harder, heart pounding, arms and legs starting to burn, swimming her tenth lap in what she thought might be a personal record. Instead of a timing official, a figure loomed over the shallow end, waiting to help her out. Anna accepted his hand and popped up onto the deck in front of Chris. She jerked her hand free and braced her arms on her thighs, gasping for breath.
The rest of the women were still in the water. She’d finished first.
The little crowd in the bleachers cheered wildly. Anna straightened and waved to her dad.
“Congratulations,” Chris said through gritted teeth. “You’re one step closer to becoming a trophy wife.”
“Congratulations, yourself!” Anna hissed. “From maintenance man to resort manager in less than twenty-four hours. That’s one heck of a promotion. Or did you lie when you said you’d be fixing air conditioners today?”
“I do fix air conditioners. All the time.”
“That must be really hard when you’re full of hot air!”
Lani finished her tenth lap, placing second. Chris stalked over and yanked her out of the pool. A Spanish woman named Marguerite put on a burst of speed and finished third. The video screen flashed to a close-up of Marguerite’s ruined makeup, and she let out a yowl. Her stylist rushed over to make repairs.
Kim and Lani stood with Anna while Chris fished helping contestants, one-by-one, out of the water.
“Oh my god.” Kim handed Anna her cover-up. “That was hysterical! After you dove, three or four girls actually put their faces in the water and started flailing. When that didn’t help, they figured their best option was to ruin everyone else’s makeup. The camera crew’s been having a field day!” She pointed to the video screen, which cycled back and forth between vote counts—Tiffany still in the lead—and video clips of shrieking, splashing women. Onscreen, a hairpiece sailed across the pool and landed in the bleachers.
“Nice race, kiddo!” Anna’s father pushed through the crowd. “I knew you’d wallop ’em!”
She hugged him. “Thanks, Dad!”
The whistle blew. “All right, ladies.” Chandra shooed away frantic stylists. “You now have one last chance to show your beauty to our cameras while the internet voting completes.”
Anna moved to her assigned place on the deck. The other contestants had fluffed and preened, if not to their original levels, at least to where they no longer looked like drowned animals. Now they dropped their cover-ups and threw back their shoulders in an effort to impress. Anna clung firmly to the sarong Lani had given her and watched the resort’s infinity pool flow endlessly toward Paradise Bay. She didn’t need votes. She’d finished first, so she would automatically stay in the contest.
There was a long wait while each woman’s final score was calculated, and then the results flashed on the screen. Lani was third, immediately behind Tiffany. She and Anna exchanged grins.
The four women who’d been eliminated received black orchids and were escorted off the pool deck, leaving eight contestants behind.
“And now,” the announcer said, “each of our remaining ladies will have her first chance to kiss our bridegroom.”
Bridegroom. Anna had almost forgotten this was a wedding reality show. She looked around curiously. Who’s the guy? They’d said the original bachelor, Ryan Andersen, had left the show. Anna watched, first puzzled and then amazed as Chris approached the eighth-place bridacuda and tilted her in his arms.
It couldn’t be.
Chris kissed contestants seven and six. He can’t be the
groom! The man hated Vacation Bride. He’d said so. Of course, he’d also said he worked in maintenance. Chris continued up the line while the announcer jabbered about the change of bachelors. The cash prize had been doubled to make up for the fact Chris wasn’t a billionaire.
Chris reached for Lani. The cameras zoomed in on their kiss. It lasted a lot longer than Anna thought was strictly necessary.
Lani stood up, fanning herself.
Chris kissed Tiffany, holding the embrace even longer.
Anna closed her eyes and listened, half furious, half mortified, to the excited crowd. She felt Chris loom to a stop in front of her. Anna had lain awake much of the previous night dreaming of Chris. Imagining exactly this sort of embrace. She opened her eyes and stared into perfect blue eyes.
She hadn’t dreamed of kissing Chris in front of a crowd.
He opened his arms, scowling. “Well?”
“Congratulations,” Anna spat. “I hope you and your bridacudas will be very happy.” She ducked out of reach. “Because I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last bachelor on earth.”
Chapter Eight
Chris sat with his back pressed against the sun-warmed stones of the Paradise sugar mill and watched a game of cutthroat volleyball that would eliminate two of the eight remaining vacation brides. During the week he’d been on the show, he’d had his fill of romantic barbeques, romantic horseback rides, romantic sailing adventures, and romantic strolls under the stars. What he hadn’t had was one sensible conversation.
As part of his duties, Chris had taken each woman on a private date consisting of him, her, the Vacation Bride camera crew, and the entire internet audience. And each woman had done her best to appear more lovable than the rest. But that was for show. Off-camera, the bridacudas—Anna’s nickname for them had stuck—were as disgusted with Chris as he was with them. The only date that hadn’t been completely phony was Anna’s. She’d picked snorkeling and had used the mask as an excuse not to talk. Right now, she and a high-pitched, giggling girl named Kayla were tied for last place in the contest.
Chris watched Anna’s team serve. The ball flew back and forth before Anna set up a spike that Lani smashed past the net, scoring a point. They served again and, after a quick exchange, won the set. Anna wasn’t as good at volleyball as she’d been at swimming, but she was in third place for the match, which put her out of danger of being cut from the show.
Vacation Bride: A Billionaire Marriage of Convenience (Brides of Paradise Book 1) Page 5
