Whose Bride Is She Anyway (8 page)

Sitting up August decided that was a much better attitude. He needed to prepare for tomorrow. Question being, was he ready for tomorrow?

Sorta.

What kind of answer was that? August shook his head. He’d damn well better hang onto his hat if he wanted to be in top form in order to win Kelsey. There was a boatload of studs just lining up for her.

Worse still, he knew that.

Oh for Christ’s sake, he wasn’t the August Guthrie of twelve years ago. He could hold his own with a woman. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to hold it with Kelsey after finding Tara so physically appealing.

Shit, he’d been so damn determined to get on this show to prove his point and now he was teetering on the brink of meeting the girl of his high school wet dreams and he knew next to nothing about her.

Maybe Kelsey will be a fantastic conversationalist. Maybe he’d fall head over heels in
love
with her. August fought the accompanying cringe the “L” word brought with it.

He just might fall head over heels, but it was more likely it would be as a result of tripping and falling.

On that note, August rose and decided to get a good night’s rest so he could beat the snot out of all those boy toys in the morning and he wasn’t going to waste another minute thinking about that Tara.

Peeling back the bushes, August stomped over what he couldn’t physically part with his hands while he thought about Tara Douglas just one last time.

Well fuck, wasn’t that peachy? He was having lustful thoughts about a woman he’d met all of two seconds ago,
officially
anyway, while fighting to remember what Kelsey looked like in that picture the show had given him.

He was tired, that’s all. Tomorrow everything would look better. Tomorrow he’d see Kelsey Little for the first time in more than twelve years and all would be right with the world. She’d be smokin’ hot and tootin’ his horny toads.

Trudging back up the beach August let that thought carry him back to his hut. As he slid between the cool sheets, letting his eyes drift slowly closed, the image of Tara Douglas’ silhouette against the moon came unbidden, yet oddly welcome.

Shit, she sure had a nice ass
… was August’s last thought before everything faded to black.

Lights, camera, action!

T
ara shifted in her folding chair as makeup people swarmed around the jury members, combing and powder puffing them to gleaming. As if it wasn’t hot enough, huge lights sat behind them, adding to the intense heat.

For crap’s sake, could they get the show on the road? She’d been up since five in this damn bikini that was giving her the wedgie of the millennium, her thick hair, normally curly, was beginning to go south and the heavy makeup felt like mud. Jesus, this was a lot of work. The producers of the show thought she’d make great ratings for them wearing a bikini.

Tara snorted when she’d been brought the request. “Oh, Ms. Douglas, you have a gorgeous figure” Chad or Brad or some guy with a soap opera name drawled, long and slow. “Trust me when I tell you, you are faaabuulooouuus.”

A bikini? In front of Kelsey Little? Miss Babe-o-licious?

Fine, not a problem. She didn’t feel the least bit insecure about showing off the ass that made her infamous in high school. Not one stinkin’ bit. It wasn’t the same ass anymore. Tara looked A-okay in a bikini, thank you. Chad—or was it Brad—said so. Tara just hoped that were true because while she might have felt fine about the bikini earlier, two hours later she had pause for thought.

So here she was in a bikini, feeling totally insecure and hating it. So much for all her
in your face, Kelsey
bravado. It was sticking uncomfortably to her and she felt certain if that sneaky cameraman did a close up on her thighs the planet Earth as a whole would cringe in unison.

“That Henry looks like a chicken with his head cut off doesn’t he? You’d think he was preparing for the Oscars,” Ms. Mary commented.

Tara tugged self consciously at the thin strips of material holding the girls in place and ground her teeth to keep from screaming. “I’m sure he’s as nervous as we are, Ms. Mary, ” Tara cut in. “There’s a lot of money invested in this.”

Henry Abernathy was busy running around, shouting directions to the prop people and in general behaving like this was a remake of Gone with the Wind.

“Jury members!” he called, clapping his hands as he made his way around the kidney shaped pool. “Listen up! The men have arrived and we’re waiting for Kelsey. Now, all I need from you is your silence. If you can manage that, we’ll be on the right path. We don’t want the viewing audience to see your reactions to the contestants, or your reaction to Kelsey’s reaction to them. ”

Mary DeWitt leaned over and gave Tara a quizzical look with a snort. “What the hell did he just say? I didn’t like him much on that interview I had with him. He’s gay. I’d bet my son on it.”

Tara snorted back. “Just keep a blank expression on your face and don’t give away how you feel about the contestants. That means no drooling over the hunks, Ms. Mary, because then Kelsey might know who you favor.”

“Oh hell, okay. And what’s
this
for again?” Mary held up the large cardboard scorecard each jury member was given in order to rate each contestant. They were to note their initial reactions to each piece of beefcake by giving them a score of one to five— five being exceptional. The cards were kept for future reference in their decisions.

Tara giggled. “Do you have your hearing aid in, Ms. Mary? ”

“Don’t be fresh, young lady. Of course I do, I’m just so tired from all that limbo-ing last night. I’m not the spring chicken I used to be. I didn’t hear what he was saying. ”

“I just want to be sure you hear
everything
. I don’t want you to miss something important.”
Like helping me pick the biggest jerk this side of Forgotten island for Kelsey.

Tara explained the scorecard, listening with half an ear to Henry Abernathy drone on about how once the cameras were on, they wouldn’t go off until the show was over.

Blah, blah, blah. As if she hadn’t heard this two bazillion times?

Preston Weichert, the show’s host, sat parallel to the jurors in the host’s chair, sipping a bottle of water. He seemed as friendly as he appeared to Tara on camera. Cool and calm, he was the epitome of collected.

Tara’s stomach, on the other hand, was engaging in the electric slide, shifting and sloshing its way to a jumbled mess as she fought off the heat and her anxiety over walloping Kelsey Little. She just wasn’t cut out for all of this undercover crap. Pretending she was something she wasn’t. Tara Douglas was not, nor ever would be Kelsey’s friend. Not in high school and not now. She was on the edge of doing something dreadful. Covering her mouth, Tara struggled with the bile that rose in her throat.

“Hey, you all right there, missy? ” Ms. Mary asked. “You look a little green. ”

Tara breathed deeply. Green with envy? Green around the gills? Oy. “I’m okay, just a bit nervous is all.”

Ms. Mary patted her hand and Andy cracked his knuckles. “Once everything begins to happen you won’t even know the camera is rolling,” Andy assured her.

After last night’s run-in with August Guthrie, Tara was a bundle of nerves. She should just get up right now and leave. Go home, make something up, lie, cuz God knew she was getting better and better at that.

“Hey, Tara,” Diana called to her from the end of their row of jurors. Tara shaded her eyes and looked in Diana’s direction. “You ready to rumble?” Diana wiggled her eyebrows and giggled.

Rumble? Like cause trouble rumble? Oh, God save her from herself and her guilty conscience…

Tara sat up and winked at Diana like she knew what she meant. “Ready when you are!”

What if someone discovered her reason for being here? What if someone went digging for something dirty on the jury members and found out about that damn video tape of her? Oh, Hells bells, Tara could just see the headlines now
. Geek plots revenge against reality show bride.

Now wait a minute, that was just silly, Tara thought. No one knew what she wanted to do to Kelsey. They couldn’t read her mind. Ah, but she could hear the questions now as microphones were shoved in her face; “Tell us Ms. Douglas, why would you want help Kelsey find a husband if she shoved you bare-ass-naked out into a hallway full of basketball players?” And how would she answer that? Forgive and forget? No hard feelings?

And then of course there was the added element of August Guthrie to really make things complicated…

“I think they’re linin’ ‘em up, Tara,” Walter yelled over the crew member’s noisy last-minute preparations.

Tara’s head shot up and she gulped as the muscles in her stomach tightened, but she rubbed her hands together for Walter’s benefit. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be!” she yelled back cheerfully.

She was going to see August again…

What if someone found out Tara Douglas thought August Guthrie, “Whose Bride Is She Anyway? ” beefcake, was hot?

Did she just admit that?

Oh, she did not think he was hot.

Did too…

She did not. How could she possibly think he was hot?

How quickly we forget the water fountain and the airport, long before you even knew August was a contestant.

Oh, fine. She’d seen enough to know he was hot.

And what had she been thinking about just before she fell asleep last night? Hmmm… June… July… August! Why, yes, it was August Guthrie doing the dance of lust in Tara Douglas’ dreams.

So he
might
be cute. Big deal. All of the contestants were cute, for crap’s sake. It’s a pre-req to be on the show.

But would they elicit the amazing physical response she’d had over someone she hardly knew? Tara would bet her bippy not. It was pretty rare a man turned her on like August did, especially
because
of the fact that she’d been consistently hot since their initial meeting. He smelled soooooo good and now he had her nostril hairs all in a twist.

Andy pulled a handkerchief from his Hawaiian shirt pocket and wiped his brow. “It’s getting hotter by the minute even under this canopy. I wish they’d start.”

Hot? Did Andy say
hot
? Tara sighed and twirled a long strand of her hair absently. It was true. She’d been thinking about the
hot
August and their encounter last night.

It didn’t matter, she had to focus on her mission and it didn’t include her hanging all over August Guthrie gushing and being stupidly girlie.

It involved making Kelsey pay and it was time for one last refresher course in payback.

Okay, so, here’s the plan
… Find a jerk for Kelsey
, enjoy your first vacation in five years,
find a jerk for Kelsey
, relax and have a good time,
find a jerk for Kelsey
, get a tan,
find a jerk for Kelsey
…

In that order, please. If she didn’t have a nervo us breakdown first. The twist of Tara’s gut reminded her she was a complete amateur at this conniving stuff.

“Tara!” Ms. Mary said. “I think they’re going to start. Sit up. You’re going to look so pretty on camera.”

Oh, shit, shit, shit! She was making a huge mistake. Was what she was planning really worth it? Was making Kelsey Little squirm in front of millions of people on national television going to make her complete? Fill up her account of revenge in the bank of Tara? How exactly did she plan to make her squirm anyhow? Tara wasn’t terribly confrontational, it wasn’t like she was going to jump up while the cameras rolled and start yelling, “Kelsey Little is a low-down dirty slut. Wanna see why, my fellow Americans?” It was more about getting some persona l satisfaction. It was about reading in the tabloids over her morning coffee and seeing in print just how miserable Kelsey was and how she’d had to give up the money because she couldn’t stay married to a slimeball. Tara wanted Kelsey Little to look her in the eye and
know
who she was. Know that it was Tara Douglas who was in charge now.

Gripping the arms of her chair, Tara rolled her head from side-to-side, trying to calm her nerves.

No one said she had to go through with it. Not a soul knew about it but her.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Tara consoled herself with that very thought as more chaos erupted.

Commotion reigned as the men began lining up in front of the jurors and more importantly, the queen of mean had arrived.

Diana catcalled and whistled, “Woo hoo! Bring on the pretty boys!”

Tara hid a smile as she caught sight of where Kelsey would be.

She sat in a chair shrouded with gauzy material, waiting to view her potential husbands. Her haughty outline was just visible. The humid air was thick with excitement and rife with testosterone.

Tara’s nostrils responded to the scent of suntan lotion
and
August Guthrie … standing but ten feet from her in his bathing suit and nothing else. She’d know that body anywhere. Oh, my…

Hookay, so he
was
hot. Great… Tara groaned. He looked even better than he had the other day. So good, he was making her nipples tighten and her legs quiver.

I told you,
her libido sing-songed.

Holy fanfreakintastic…

She must always listen to her libido and it was saying, yippee skippee.

Omigod.

Kelsey, Kelsey, Kelsey

W
hen had the ozone layer eroded so much that the hot sun beating down on his head felt like molten lava? August ran a hand over his slippery chest. Jesus, he was greased like a pig. The makeup people made a big deal out of sliming them up for the cameras with suntan lotion and it was just plain gross. It showed up well on camera, according to Chaz or whatever the costume guy’s name was. His nose filled with the scent of coconut-banana. Rolling his head from side-to-side, relaxing his tense muscles, August looked up to see what the jury was all about.

Holy hell.

August rocked from foot to foot nervously as he saw Tara in the full light of day.

Smile, August … look who the
foreman
of the jury is.
Wow, that was a really big sign they gave her. It read: Tara Douglas, Jury Foreman, in big bold letters. Right behind her pretty head. The girl from the water fountain was part of the jury and to top all of this wonderful reality show insanity off, she was the
foreman
and she was just as good looking as she’d been, if not better than when he’d first laid eyes on her.

Jesus.

Tara
Douglas
…August rolled her name around his brain again. Didn’t the jury foreman have to be a friend from Kelsey’s past? It was bad enough to lust for her, but to lust for a friend of Kelsey’s was just ugly and wrong. August adjusted his sunglasses to make sure his eyes were covered and he wasn’t caught ogling Tara.

What to do about the fact that his cock was ogling Tara too…

August shifted his stance, spreading his legs. Had she seen him too? And did she give a shit if she had? He hadn’t exactly been a fountain of sparkling conversation last night.

Tara had reminded him quite plainly last night that chatter was out. Besides, who needed Tara Douglas and he r hot ass? He was here for
Kelsey
.

Yep, that’s right. Kelsey, Kelsey, Kelsey.

Now if he could just tell that to the big hello he was waving to Tara from his drawers.

Henry Abernathy had already given them the “on camera” speech, they were just waiting for the sound crew to finish and they’d be ready to go.

Let’s do this already, August thought, tapping his toe in the stupid sandals the show provided. Looking down, August pursed his lips at them. They were kind of girlie.

Looking up, he saw that Tara Douglas had some really great legs. Long and slender with plenty of thigh to wrap around your waist while you—

August!
he scolded himself,
cut that out, now!

He groaned. His conscience would just happen to show up
now
. Go figure.

No. He would ignore the newest battle in his head and savor this last moment of lust for Tara before Kelsey came along and zapped him with her uber amounts of sex appeal. Just this once he was going to win the war in his head and get it out of his system—with whatever he could come up wit h to assuage his guilt over thinking about Tara.

Now, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do and that included giving Tara Douglas the once over in
peace,
without any further interruption from his morality meter. So, August challenged his ethics,
lemme finish, would ya?

Now, where was he? Ah yes … her hips…

The soft curve of her hip was a perfect place to hold on to when thrusting—

Danger Will Robinson, danger!
No thrusting, absolutely none.

August scoffed, he could thrust all he wanted in his imagination if he chose to. No one had to know.

Au contraire … he could be stopped when his imagination did
that.

August looked down at his crotch.

Oh… Yeah, that was noticeable, huh?

Not unless someone’s eyes were traveling south.

August grimaced and folded his hands in front of his crotch, continuing his journey into the mind candy that was Tara.

She had great breasts too. Full and round and he’d bet her nipples—

Whoa, since when did he call them
breasts
? Wasn’t the word “hooter”, used on more than one occasion when referring to that particular part of the female anatomy?

Somehow, it just seemed more appropriate for a woman like Tara to have her hooters referred to as breasts, was all. He was just doing some harmless looking…

He’d need eye surgery if he continued to “look” the way he had been.

Tara repositioned herself in her chair, licking her raspberry-tinted lips. Full and pouting, they called his name. Hair, black as midnight, with chocolate highlights fell to just below the curve of her breasts.

August groaned. The tip of her pink tongue was making him nuts as it ran over her bottom lip.

That bikini was awfully small… Looking around he saw that the rest of the pretty boys had noticed Tara too.

She was attractive. One would expect that others would see that as well. August rolled his shoulders. It was cool.

Just then, Vinny, the Italian Stallion waved to Tara from two guys down the line.

That’s it! They’d better back the fuck off. They were here to win Kelsey,
not
Tara.

And he was here to do what? Win the big stuffed panda bear?

Okay, it was pissing him off that these jerks were covertly observing Tara behind sunglasses that hid nothing but lust! Beach boy tilted his sunglasses upward and nodded at Tara casually. How
observant
did they have to be? Weren’t they here to win Kelsey?

Reality check here, August
. That’s why he was here too. This thing with Tara was just a mere physical reaction, it would pass.

It better, cuz it was show time and he had a hard on… And it wasn’t for Kelsey.

Crap. Kelsey was thirty or so feet from him on the other end of the pool. They’d kept her secluded with a big, filmy tent around her. This was stupid. They already knew what she looked like.

Ah, but Kelsey didn’t know what the contestants looked like.
Duh.

Henry Abernathy ran toward them, his face flush with the heat and obvious excitement. “Okay, boys, its show time. Take your places, please and do as you were instructed by the stage managers.”

August only vaguely heard Henry as he tried to focus on seeing Kelsey for the first time in twelve years. Shit, what was the instruction?

When they call your name, make an entrance.

Aaron leaned forward and grinned his oral wet dream of a smile. “Ready, man? ”

August nodded. Was he ready? Hell no.

All at once, the pool area took on a serene calm, everyone remained still and then, Preston Weichert entered the picture. His dulcet tones invited the viewing audience to join them for a new edition of, “Whose Bride Is She Anyway? Where marriage means money. ” Preston spoke as though he were intimately sharing a personal conversation with each and every audience member.

A blur of silent movement had the men shuffling toward their assigned spots as each contestant’s name rang out in the humid air.

August’s legs moved like lead, his girlie sandals flip-flopped noisily as he clunked down the long walk to Kelsey. Twelve long years of waiting was now, officially over.
Do you hear that?
August scolded his hard on for Tara.
It’s all about Kelsey now, buddy.
So just forget Tara Douglas because it’s show time…

* * *

As each contestant made their way to the end of the pool, where Kelsey would eventually reveal herself, the jurors busily rated them. Tara could hear Ms. Mary snicker softly.

Tara tried to keep her face impassive as each hunk sauntered by. A dark haired, beef of a babe strolled nonchalantly past her chair and winked arrogantly at her.

Oooh, he’s hot as the day is long!

Be quiet, Tara hushed her libido…
I’m thinking.

His name was Vinny. Vinny, Vinny, Vinny. Hmmmm… He needed a rating.

Three, Tara decided. He was be-a-utiful … but he had a tattoo that said “Who’s your daddy”…

So?

So, Tara didn’t like tattoos.

But, maybe Kelsey did. Hahah!

Good, then she couldn’t have him, now, could she? Vinny gets a three and that’s final.

When August’s name was finally announced a thrill of excitement shot up her spine. Tara sat up, keeping her back erect and her legs tightly crossed, refusing to make eye contact with him. Instead, she busied herself, staring at his crotch. Her cheeks flushed.

Tara scribbled the number two on her piece of cardboard.

Two, two, two!

A two? A two?
Her conscience screamed its rebellion in disbelief.
Now, you’re not being honest are you? August is much more worthy of at the very least, a four, and you know it.
She’d written two.
Two, two, two
… Tara darkened the number with her pen for emphasis. Hah! Now what was she accomplishing by lying about August’s rating but possibly keeping Kelsey from him?

Keeping Kesley from him…

Oh, God what had she been thinking? This was wrong, just ugly and mean and …

well … on the other hand, kinda empowering.

Squirming in her chair, Tara made a heart around August’s rating. It remained a two. So there, she mentally stuck her tongue out at him.

August looked rather uncomfortable under the hot sun. His bronzed skin glistened in the shimmering heat, oiled and slick from too much suntan lotion.

Holy guacamole, he was a big boy … and his shaggy blond hair, in complete disarray, was thick and shiny. She didn’t normally favor blond men, so that does that. August just didn’t do it for her. Not a lot anyway…

“You gave him a two?” a voice squawked in her ear with disbelief. “A two? Wanna borrow my glasses, missy?” Ms. Mary nudged her hard.

Tara shrugged her shoulders. “He’s not
that
cute.”

Ms. Mary cackled, “Oh, riiiigghht. All that blo nd hair, just imagine what it would be like to run your fingers through those rumpled strands. Especially after a good bout in the old sack…”

“Ms. Mary, we’re supposed to be judging them by what we feel best suits Kelsey. Not just by how hot we think they are. Looks aren’t everything.”

Ms. Mary crossed her eyes at Tara. “Well, aren’t you the uptight one? Chill out, would ya? Have some fun, enjoy the eye candy. If I could give him a ten, I would.”

Tara bristled. “I’m here to pick a
husband
for Kelsey, ” she whispered fiercely under her breath. “Not choose Mr. America.”

“Look, she’s going to marry a guy she’s known for less than a month, the least he can be is cute. I say we’re helping the poor gal out.” Mary muttered from under the brim of her hat.

Poor gal?
Please. “Let’s just focus on rating them
overall
, shall we?” Now, lay off August, you old coot, Tara thought.

She was behaving like a cranky, spoiled child. Tara Douglas was …
jealous.
Tara winced at that thought, then straightened. She was
not
.

Yes, yes she was.

Crap.

Several of the on-camera staff began to gather by Kelsey’s gauze covered chair. Preston Weichert introduced her to the world at large in muted tones, creating the much anticipated drama the viewing audience would expect when they watched from their arm chairs at home.

All cameras pointed to Kelsey.

Tara’s stomach lurched violently. It was now or never.