by Cora Seton
Melissa would be wondering what was happening, too. As soon as her phone charged—and she had a minute alone—she’d text her to let her know she was okay.
Somehow all of it had seemed possible when they were dreaming up the plan. Now Eve figured it would be a miracle if she lasted the night before she tripped herself up and everyone saw right through her. She wasn’t sure why she’d made an immediate enemy in Greg, but she had. That didn’t bode well.
“It’s no dream—” Anders had just started to reassure her when the door to the bunkhouse burst open and two men strode in. Eve yelped at the sudden interruption and clapped a hand to her chest. Who were these people? She didn’t recognize either from the show.
The taller of the two strangers immediately honed in on the sound. “Who’s this?” he demanded and crossed the room toward her. To Eve’s relief, Avery blocked him. She noticed the second man was carrying a video camera.
Hell. These were crew members.
“Eve needs rest. Anders and Curtis rescued her. She’s had a rough night—” Avery held out her hands to stop the second man from filming, but the first pushed past her.
“A rough night?” He turned back to the cameraman. Clapped his hands twice. “Byron, hurry up and get this. Now we’ve got a story we can run with.” He gestured to Anders. “Navy SEAL desperate for a wife saves woman desperate for—” He looked at Eve. “What are you desperate for?”
She gaped at him, unable to keep up. What was she desperate for? Justice against Hansen Oil? She couldn’t say that yet. “S-safety?” she managed. She was supposed to be on the run from her boyfriend.
“Clem—” Avery began.
“Saves woman desperate for safety.” Clem grimaced. “Too repetitive. We need something better.” He looked her up and down again. “Navy SEAL desperate for a wife saves woman desperate for love. That’s how we’ll frame this episode. What do you say, little lady? Give the SEAL a kiss, would you?”
Eve’s mouth dropped open. Normally, she’d be happy to give Anders a kiss, but she doubted he wanted one, and she wasn’t going to assault him, especially not on the say-so of this guy.
Anders’s fingers balled into a fist. Curtis grabbed his arm. “Don’t punch the director,” he cautioned. “No matter how much he deserves it.”
Director? Eve looked at the man again. Somehow she’d thought the director was the sharp-faced woman named Renata, who did the voice-overs on the show and sometimes interviewed the participants onscreen.
“Clem is new here,” Avery explained. “Very new.”
“Byron, get filming,” Clem demanded. “I need an episode that will knock everyone’s socks off, and it looks like we’ve got the start of it. What brings you here, Eve? Lust?” He elbowed Anders. “After all, this guy’s up for grabs.”
She couldn’t think of a thing to say.
How many times had she fantasized about Anders—
“Stop filming.” Eve finally found her voice. She wasn’t ready for any of this. She’d figured she’d have time to get the lay of the land before they put her on an episode. Now she wondered what she’d been thinking. Of course they would want to film her arrival.
Her cheeks were hot. Was she blushing again? Clem’s accusation had thrown her off. What if they guessed she’d come here deliberately? They might throw her out before she had a chance to do what she’d come to do.
Should she say something right now? Talk about Hansen Oil? Tell them about the images?
No.
She couldn’t tell them. She had to show them, which meant she needed to wait until her phone charged.
For now, she had to be careful and dispel any suspicions Clem, or Greg, or anyone else might be harboring.
A woman who’d just been dumped by her boyfriend and found herself at Base Camp wouldn’t want to be filmed. She had every right to protest. “Please don’t film me,” she said again. “You can’t put me on an episode.”
Clem grinned. “Like hell I can’t. Anders, back me up. You need a wife. Here’s a candidate.”
Anders’s hands were still clenched, and Eve couldn’t blame him; everything about Clem rubbed her the wrong way, and she’d been here only a matter of minutes.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like her looks?” Clem elbowed Anders again.
She had to be scarlet. What if Anders didn’t—
“I like her looks just fine,” Anders said. “I don’t like your attitude one bit, though. You need to shut up—”
Eve swallowed hard in a suddenly dry throat. Now she was warm in an entirely different way. Anders liked her looks?
“But maybe she doesn’t like you,” Clem spoke right over him. “Maybe she hates everything about Base Camp. Maybe she’d like to see you all dead. What do you say, Eve? Are you a terrorist? Are you going to blow up the bunkhouse?”
He sounded downright hopeful.
“No.” Eve cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m not a terrorist. I’m an environmentalist.”
Clem lifted an eyebrow. “An environmentalist.” He chuckled a little. “What did I tell you, Anders? Love at first sight. You two will be married in no time.”
Eve didn’t mean to look at Anders, but she couldn’t help it. She found him looking back at her, his dark eyes assessing her.
What was he thinking?
“You’re single, right?” Clem demanded.
A corner of Anders’s mouth curved into a smile, flustering her all over again. “I—” Eve started but found she couldn’t finish.
The man was lethal when he did that. But she couldn’t go down this path—not all the way. Three weeks from now she’d be starting school and waiting for the delivery of her framed-in tiny house. She’d be on her way to becoming a real adult.
“She has a boyfriend,” Anders informed the director, and his gaze challenged her to deny it. Clem scowled.
“A boyfriend?” he repeated.
Eve shook her head decisively. “Not anymore,” she said. “I can’t stay more than a day or two, though.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have a job. A life.” A woman who’d just washed up at Base Camp wouldn’t be in a hurry to accept Clem’s proposition. “I’m supposed to be in Montana through Christmas, then go home. Would it be possible… for me to stay just until then?”
That would give her plenty of time to figure out how to expose Hansen Oil on camera, then get away and hide before the next Base Camp episode aired.
“Of course,” Avery said. “We’d love to have you for the holiday!”
“No,” Clem said. “No, no, no.”
“Why not?” Anders turned on him. “You just said she should stay.”
“I said she should marry you. No dead weight on set.”
Eve stiffened. She was about to lose her chance to fulfill her mission. Anders stepped toward the man, but Clem forestalled him. “You heard what Fulsom said. This show is going to the dogs, and it’s my job to fix it. I say the only way she stays is if she’s considering being your bride. Otherwise, she’s out of here.”
“That’s not fair,” Avery said.
“Who gives a damn about fair?” Clem asked her.
“Okay,” Eve blurted. She didn’t know what else to do. When everyone turned to her, she felt her cheeks heat all over again. Walker, who’d been quiet since she arrived, grinned suddenly, and that unsettled her more than anything else. A moment later, his expression was just as unreadable as ever.
“Okay?” Anders repeated. “You… sure about that?”
“I’m not making any promises,” she hurried to add, “but I need a place to stay, and James will never find me here. And who knows?” She lifted her hands, hoping she wasn’t going too far. Melissa hadn’t prepped her for this contingency. “Maybe the Universe is playing some strange practical joke. Maybe you’re the perfect man, Anders Olsen, and the whole reason I was with James in the first place was to get me here. Nothing would surprise me right now.”
Was it working—brazening it out
like this?
Avery smiled. “I like the way you think.”
“Sometimes things just work out.” Hope took Curtis’s hand.
“What do you say?” Greg asked Anders. “Do you want Eve to stay?” Eve could tell he was still suspicious of her.
Eve looked from him to the others in the room. Clem looked smug. Curtis was nodding. Hope was amused. Avery was happy. Walker was unreadable. And Anders—
Anders was smiling again. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’d like that.”
Chapter Four
‡
“Try to get some sleep, and we’ll talk more in the morning,” Anders said to Eve an hour later. Clem was finally gone after crowding around her for far too long and asking far too many questions. Finally, the director said since he couldn’t sleep at the manor, he’d head back to town, where the production company kept rooms for crew members at a motel. He ordered Byron to stay and film anything interesting that might happen. Byron didn’t look too pleased about that.
“I’ve set up a sleeping bag for you over here,” Avery told Eve. “Sorry we don’t have fancier quarters, but this is the way it is for now. I’ve made your bed as comfortable as I can.” She and Eve had changed again—this time into pajamas. Anders had heard that initially the women had worn Regency-style nightgowns to go with the rest of the Regency theme, but somewhere along the way they’d relaxed their standards and at night switched to more modern—and, he assumed, more comfortable—sleepwear.
Eve looked at the sleeping bag laid out on the thin mattress pad on the floor and sighed. “I’ve watched the show. I know how this works. All the single people sleep in the bunkhouse.”
Anders sympathized with her lack of enthusiasm. He had been looking forward to the day he got to move into his own house for a long time now, but never as much as tonight, when he wished he could offer a real bed to Eve.
Not that he was trying to sleep with her. He didn’t take advantage of women, despite what Clem obviously wanted from him, but Eve had been through a lot and deserved better than this. And sharing a bed with her—simply to keep her safe and warm—wouldn’t be a hardship.
His body had been letting him know all night that he’d spent too much time without a girlfriend. He wondered if he’d sleep at all with Eve so close.
“Good night. You can rest easy; we’ll all be looking out for trouble. If your boyfriend comes anywhere near here, we’ll take care of him.” He wished he could say more to reassure her—and let her know the man was obviously a fool if he’d treated her badly.
“Good night,” she said absently but didn’t move away.
It must feel strange to bunk down in a room of people you didn’t know. “You’re safe here,” he assured her again. “Your boyfriend can’t have any idea where you got to.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” she reminded him. “I’m so over him.”
He believed her anger, but he knew love didn’t disappear just because you wanted it to.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Avery said, interrupting them, leading her toward the women’s side of the room.
Anders turned to find Curtis watching him. Hope had already left for their tiny house. Curtis was pulling on his coat.
“What?” Anders asked.
“I didn’t say anything.” He looked like he was holding back an I told you so.
“Don’t read anything into the situation that isn’t there.” Anders kept his voice low, hoping Eve couldn’t hear them.
“What if I’m reading something into the situation that is there?”
Anders ignored him and made his way to bed.
But not to sleep. Too many thoughts jumbled in his mind, the way they had been these last few days, ever since he’d drawn the short straw and found it was his turn to marry. Eve was certainly pretty. She was scrappy, too. No shrinking violet there, despite her short stature. It had taken guts to run away from her boyfriend and keep stumbling through the snow until she’d fallen into his arms.
Still, a woman who’d just been dumped by a controlling boyfriend would hardly be in the mood to fall for him—would she? Was there time for them to get to know each other well enough to predict how they’d feel in the future? At some point he’d need to take a leap of faith with someone, he supposed. Unlike Curtis and his new belief in mystical possibilities, Anders was a pragmatist. He figured if he wanted a wife, he needed to make the most of any situation that presented itself. Eve was here, and she’d agreed to stay for a few days. He needed to make a quick judgment about whether he could commit to trying to build a life with her, and if he could, he needed to work even more quickly to convince her to stay long enough to give it a try.
In the end, Base Camp was what mattered most. Doing his part to convince people to take sustainability seriously. He’d marry someone—anyone—so that Base Camp could go on. Even a backup bride Boone located for him.
Anders turned over. Just as he suspected, sleep was eluding him, and now that it was dark and quiet and he knew Eve was only feet away, he was having trouble corralling his thoughts and not letting them wander into more interesting pastures.
What would it be like to get to know Eve better? To share a bed together—or a sleeping bag?
He didn’t even have the privacy required to take care of a bout of lust like this. Which is what this was.
Pure lust.
It wasn’t like he’d fallen for Eve at first sight.
He hadn’t not fallen for her, either, though.
Anders turned onto his other side with a sigh and peered through the dark room to where the women were sleeping. Avery blocked his view of Eve, but he could imagine her lying in the dark, her dark hair tousled on the pillow, her eyelashes feathered on her cheeks.
She was a beautiful woman. An intriguing one. Since his libido had already decided they were compatible, would they connect in other ways? After all, they couldn’t spend a lifetime screwing.
Hell. Now his mind was really working overtime.
Anders forced his thoughts to more mundane matters. He’d show her around Base Camp tomorrow, he decided. Talk to her about his work. See if they held any interests in common.
Would they share a worldview? After all, she’d announced she was an environmentalist. That was a start.
What about his secret? If he told her who he was, what would she think of him then? Could she see him for himself? Or would she judge him on his father’s actions?
He wanted someone who knew him through and through—and wouldn’t walk away. A woman who got him—the way his father never had. A woman who wouldn’t stand in the way of his goals. Or tell him how dumb he was for not choosing money over his values.
Was Curtis right? Had the universe provided him with a suitable candidate?
Would Eve stay long enough for him to find out?
When Eve woke again, it was still the middle of the night and the bunkhouse was bathed in the dim light that seeped through the curtainless windows. She turned over, wincing at the hardness of the floor beneath her mat, and tried to go back to sleep. When she closed her eyes, however, worried thoughts crowded her mind. What would happen if Anders and the others discovered she was lying to them? Could she really pull off exposing Hansen Oil in the next few days? Would she last at Base Camp that long? What if Anders decided he wasn’t attracted to her after all and asked her to leave?
She opened her eyes, looked at Avery’s sleeping shape nearby but was afraid to look beyond her to Anders.
But when she shut her eyes again, her thoughts spun and tangled. What if Hansen Oil went after her—or her family? What if it brought a libel suit against her? What if it cleaned up the spill before anyone could investigate?
She supposed that last possibility would be a good thing. She’d weather embarrassment if it meant the company fixed the problem before it poisoned North Run’s water supply—if it hadn’t already.
She’d managed to text Melissa earlier and let her know everything had gone according to plan. Only problem is, the di
rector practically ordered Anders to try to get me to marry him.
That’s a problem? Melissa had texted back.
It’s a complication. I need to focus on taking down Hansen Oil.
I’m here when you need me. When do you think you’ll be able to do the big reveal?
I don’t know yet. The new director seems far more concerned with Anders’s sex life than sustainability or environmentalism.
Let me know if you need my help.
Will do.
Eve pressed her palms to her eyes. There was nothing more she could do tonight. She had to sleep.
Try as she might, sleep wouldn’t come, and now she needed to use the bathroom.
She sat up in her sleeping bag gingerly, climbed out of it as carefully as she could and moved across the room to the bathroom, trying not to wake the others. Afterward, she slipped into the kitchen, hoping to find some chamomile tea. If she didn’t sleep tonight, tomorrow she’d be off her game, and she was already having trouble keeping all her lies straight.
In the kitchen, a long room off the side of the main one where she’d been bunked down, Eve moved quietly until she found what she needed.
“Everything okay?”
She jumped when a man’s voice sounded behind her, spun around and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Anders in the doorway. Then her heart kicked up again. He was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else. The hard planes of his chest were a sight to behold. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were mesmerizing.
She forced her gaze to his face.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me, either.” Anders joined her in the kitchen, taking the kettle from her hand and setting it on the stove. In a few minutes he served her a cup of chamomile tea, and she took it gratefully, barely able to breathe with him so close. “Bad dreams?”
Neither of them had turned on the light in the kitchen for fear of waking the others, and she was grateful for the dimness. It made it easier to twist the truth. “A few.”
“I’ve dealt with them myself,” he said. He took a sip from his own mug. “Sometimes all you can do is stay awake.”
