Breaking the Rules (10 page)

Eden’s
remaining one-hundred contestants crowded the deck surrounding the swimming pool. Rupert Asterisk, the show’s host, stood at the end of the diving board, making bad jokes as he bounced up and down.

Ripples of laughter wove through the crowd as Mitch made his way over to the bar. Winston looked up at him as he neared. Then the bartender knelt, rising a moment later with Mitch’s camera in hand.

“Thanks,” Mitch said, trading it for the canvas drawstring bag, which still held Claire’s suit. “Hang on to that for me, would you?” Balancing the camera on his shoulder, he went to work, filming the tanned faces around him until he found her.

She stood next to Watson, across the pool from Mitch. Mitch zoomed in for a closeup. Claire seemed unaware of anything going on around her; her worried eyes studied her fiancé, though he pretended not to notice her beside him. Mitch shifted completely to the scrawny jerk and found him flirting with the nearest camera. A scab lined the sunburned bridge of his long, narrow nose.
Yes, sirree.
The guy had true Hollywood leading-man potential. No doubt about it.

“Okay, folks,” Asterisk finally said, ending his bouncing. “On to the first challenge of the second round. You’re about to take part in a good old-fashioned swimming-pool chicken fight. Ladies, you’ll sit on your male partner’s shoulders and try to knock off your opponent. Gentlemen, I’ll start at the end of the alphabet. When I call your name, choose a partner. I’ll assign each couple an opposing pair. The team whose woman falls off first loses.”

He motioned to the bar side of the pool. “Winning couples immediately leave the pool and stand on this side. Losing couples stand on the opposite side. The winning couples have the privilege of choosing their dates for the next three days and nights. Any questions?” When no one responded, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a sheet of paper, opened it, and called the first name. “James Watson.”

Mitch cut to Claire. She looked unemotional. Impassive. As if her face would crumble if she so much as blinked.

Jimbo smiled at her. “I choose Claire,” he said.

Her face did crumble then, and for a moment Mitch thought she might cry. But then she grinned and threw her arms around her fiancé’s neck.

Mitch cursed under his breath. Why did she have to look so damn happy? And worse than that, why did it bother him? He should be glad Claire and her sweetheart were back in each other’s good graces. Now he could concentrate on the reason he’d taken this stupid job in the first place: Hawkeye Productions’ elusive Michael Hawkins.

When the remaining forty-nine male contestants had chosen their partners, Asterisk pitted each couple against another pair; then everyone jumped into the gigantic pool, clothes and all. The women climbed on the men’s shoulders, Asterisk blew a whistle, and the fighting began.

Mitch tried to keep his camera aimed at anyone other than Claire. Why should he be bothered by the fact that her dress was white and wet and molded to her body? He wasn’t interested. He was just doing a job and doing it for one reason only: to further his career.

He panned the camera around the screeching, splashing crowd in the pool, passing by Claire with ease, then slicing back to her as her opponent, Darla Brimbeau, reached for Claire’s hair. Mitch winced. Of all the women Asterisk could’ve chosen to fight Claire, Darla was the worst. The woman wasn’t only an Amazon; she was a ruthless Amazon. She’d introduced herself to every member of the cast and crew on
Eden
the moment she arrived on the island. And she’d made it clear she’d do whatever it took to win, moral or not.

Claire shrieked and swayed and wobbled atop James’s shoulders as Darla tugged her hair.

When it appeared certain Claire would fall, Darla flashed her too-white teeth at the nearest camera. But her smile turned into a sneer when Claire caught her balance and righted herself. Darla glanced down at James, who stared up at her. In one swift move, Darla pulled her halter top over her head and dropped it in the water.

Wide-eyed, James staggered backward at the same instant Claire lunged forward, using her entire body to tackle Dada. Both women went into the water, but Darla hit first.

Mitch chuckled. He didn’t know why Claire’s aggression surprised him. She’d proved last night that when she wanted something she went after it with gusto.

He watched James Watson choke and sputter on the chlorinated water he’d apparently swallowed while ogling Dada’s enormous set of buoys.
Fine.
If Claire wanted a life with the guy, he wouldn’t interfere. Mitch liked her too much to do anything that might rob her of her wish.

He winced and groaned as Watson puked into the pool, scattering contestants in every direction and bringing the entire camera crew running to film him. “That-a-boy, Bozo,” Mitch mumbled. It looked as if the camera-ham had finally figured out how to get the attention he craved.

Chapter Nine

Mitch took his place behind the curtain in the confession booth and prepared for the first contestant to step inside. A part of him hoped it might be Claire. He wished he didn’t want to see her, but he did. For the past three days and nights he’d avoided bumping into her. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about her. Constantly. Luckily, he hadn’t been assigned to film any of her dates with the pukemeister since the evening the two of them stood among the winners of the chicken-fight contest and chose each other for all six dates.

Claire seemed stunned James chose her while Mitch wasn’t in the least surprised. The guy was as predictable as rush hour traffic in LA on a Friday afternoon. Maybe Watson had been faithful to Claire prior to
Eden,
but now he’d sampled a taste of the chase, and he liked it. Mitch had known that once Watson thought Claire was seeing someone on the side, his interest in her would return.

He adjusted the camera on the tripod. This morning was his first time in the confession booth since he’d filmed Claire a few days back. He hated listening to the baring of shallow souls, and wasn’t looking forward to the next couple of hours.

The outside door squeaked open. Mitch switched the camera on and looked through the viewfinder. He jerked back involuntarily at the sight of the man facing the curtain.

“James Watson, Prairie, Texas.”

Speaking of shallow souls…

Watson settled in. He puffed out his cheeks, which were blotchy and peeling from too much sun. The scab on his nose still hung tight. “I have something to get off my chest.”

Mitch knew it wasn’t hair. The guy didn’t have so much as one short and curly between his bony shoulder blades.

James’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Claire thinks I’ve only been dating her these past three days, but the truth is…” He averted his eyes. “The truth is, I’ve managed to sneak in some time with Darla on the side.”

Mitch stifled a yawn.
You and every other male contestant on the island.
Hell, for all he knew, maybe some of the women, too. Dana and her wardrobe of thong bikinis in every color of the rainbow were a big hit on
Eden
. The woman not only loved to show them off; she loved to
take
them off. Especially on camera.

“Anyway,” James continued, “I guess I’m feeling sort of guilty. We
are
engaged. And I did talk her into coming on
Eden
even though she had reservations. But the thing is, she’s acting prudish with me lately. Not that she’s ever been all that spontaneous or anything, but up until now she’s never acted like a nun, either. What am I supposed to do? Be content to sit around with her and stare at the freakin’ scenery? I’m a man, damn it. It’s time she treated me like one.”

That-a-boy, asshole. Turn this around. Make it Claire’s fault. I know you can do it.

James squared his shoulders and jutted out his chin. “If this is how she’s going to treat me for the rest of our lives, then who’d blame me for making the most of this experience? How could
she
even blame me? She knew when she agreed to come on here that there’d be dozens of beautiful women intent on seducing me.”

In your wet dreams.

“She knew that was part of the bargain. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t give in to temptation from time to time. It’s only natural in a situation like this. And, you know? Maybe now’s the time to get all that out of my system. In the end, Claire will probably be glad I did. Getting through this will make us a stronger couple. If she can’t admit that, she’s only being childish.”

Mitch wondered what method of torture would cause Lover Boy the greatest discomfort. The guy craved attention; maybe solitary confinement would make him squirm the most. Odds were good that the door could be barred before Watson knew what was happening. The confession booth could easily be transformed into an isolation booth. It would be the first time Mitch had ever enjoyed this shift.

As Watson continued to talk himself out of his guilt, Mitch reminded himself that Claire had chosen to marry Bozo of her own free will. She’d known him all her life. Surely she had an inkling of what she was getting.
This game can’t change a person that quickly or easily.

“So.” James pushed back the chair and stood. “It’s Claire for dinner tonight.” He wiggled his brows and leered at the camera. “And Darla for dessert.”

Mitch narrowed his eyes.
Or can it?

That evening Claire drained her glass of merlot and gazed at the sunset over the waves just outside James’s patio where the two of them ate dinner. She wondered what Mitch was doing. Was he off for the night? Breaking the rules with some other
Eden
contestant?

She scanned the lush foliage surrounding the large patio deck. Across from her, a glowing red eye hovered amid the greenery. She spied another to the side of the walkway leading to the beach. The cameramen attached to both had successfully hidden themselves behind coral blossoms and glossy dark leaves.

Claire stared at the closest light. The light stared back. Her heart hiccupped. Maybe Mitch was working tonight. Doing his job. Spying on people who had come here knowing their privacy would be invaded and broadcast to the world.

Across the table, James drained his own glass, poured himself another, then asked a question. Though his words didn’t register in her Mitch-preoccupied mind, she nodded.

“Is that a yes, you want to take a dip in the hot tub, or a yes, it’s too humid to take a dip?”

Drawing a breath of salty air, Claire glanced from James to the red light and back again. “The second one.”

The hopeful glow in his eyes extinguished, leaving behind an alcohol-induced dullness. “That’s what I thought.” He picked at the remains on his plate.

Claire reached for her fork but immediately laid it back down. What was the matter with her? She had wanted James to pay attention to her, to spend time with her, and now he was following through. “What the heck,” she said. “Heat is a
good
thing for two engaged people, right?”

James’s fork paused. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m glad I wore this outfit, since I’m going to get wet.”

“I like it, by the way.” He downed half his wine in one gulp as he glanced at her breasts. “The outfit, I mean.”

He’d had too much to drink; she could tell by the slur of his words. Still, drunk or not, the desire in his eyes should’ve pleased her. Instead she felt herself shrinking away from it and what it promised. “Thank you.”

While coercing her to make the purchase this afternoon at an island boutique, Ally had promised Claire the ensemble would please James. And though her friend was obviously right, Claire felt as if she dined in the nude. The string-bikini top wasn’t made to lift and support, only to cover the essentials. And the short sarong tied around her hips was so transparent that the barely there bottoms were visible beneath it.

“Well…” James glanced at his watch, then pushed away from the table. He held out a hand. “I’m ready if you are.”

Claire cast a quick look of longing at her untouched key lime pie and two looks of dread at the piercing red eyes hiding in the foliage. “Are you in a hurry?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” James’s grin was slow and sluggish. “I’m anxious to see what your new outfit looks like when it’s wet.”

Mitch was anxious to see Claire’s outfit wet, too. But he wasn’t in a hurry for the rest of the world to enjoy the same privilege. And, fiancé or not, he didn’t want James Watson ogling her, either. He had no right, but every time the guy looked her up and down, Mitch wanted to pound him.

He considered turning off the camera, but it wouldn’t serve his purpose. Ray still filmed across the way, just at a different angle. Besides that, Mitch had already pushed his luck by getting involved with Claire and then erasing both her and Ally’s confession-booth footage.

Because the hot tub sat a few feet from the patio table, Mitch had to shift position in order to bring it into view. The leaves rustled, and Claire shot a nervous glance in his direction. He was glad for the abundance of plants and bushes and trees surrounding the deck. In the dark clothing he’d worn, if he were careful, Claire would not be able to identify him. He felt bad enough filming her. If she knew he held the camera, he didn’t think he could continue.

Watson pulled off his shirt, slipped out of his slacks, and stepped into the water wearing only boxers. He turned a knob and the water began to bubble and gurgle and steam. He looked up at Claire. She stood at the edge of the tub, frowning. “Get in. It feels great,” James slurred.