Lance wasn't careful, that first guy was going to knock him out of the game. "Bachelor number three?"
"A bear." His voice echoed with innuendo. "So I could wrap my arms around you and give you a bear hug. And we could hibernate all winter..."
Catcalls and laughter erupted, and Sophie's face heated. Who would have thought Lance would be such a ham on camera? And his voice sounded even deeper than normal. Huskier.
"All right, let's start with bachelor number one again."
"Honey you can start and end with me anytime."
The audience played along, enthusiasm building with their laughter.
"What food best describes your taste in women?"
He moaned suggestively. "Ice cream. I like my women sweet, dripping in chocolate sauce."
Oh, my.
"Bachelor number two?"
"A good burger. Nothing like simple, plain, and hearty."
What a dud. The coproducer waved at the clock.
"Number three." Lance.
"Hot tamales. I want my women spicy and hot."
Sophie shivered; once again the crowd murmured their appreciation.
"Last question, gentlemen. If you were going to choose a romantic gift for your lady, what would it be? Let's start with number two this time." And get it over with.
"A toaster."
Had he really said a kitchen appliance? What was wrong with this guy? "You think a toaster is romantic?"
"Well, it would save time in making breakfast the morning after."
Silence stretched after his answer as Sophie contemplated the meaning. In a Mars-Venus sort of way, she supposed it was a suitable answer. More time for lovemaking, less for cooking.
"Bachelor number one?"
"A fur coat." His voice grew lower. "Of course, she'd be naked underneath."
Judging from the whispered innuendoes and uproar of the crowd, the bachelors must have started male posturing or flexing their muscles behind the screen. Maybe she should have sneaked a look at the other two candidates before she decided on Lance.
After all, bachelor number one's answers were pretty romantic. "Bachelor number three?"
He cleared his throat and spoke in a low tone that sent her senses spinning. "I'd buy her a see-through negligee. Something silky that would brush her skin just the way I want to caress her with my fingers." He paused, then continued in a breathy voice. "And it would be red. Red-hot for the passion we'd feel in each other's arms."
The crowd roared, several women shouting out, "Pick him! Pick him!"
Sophie released a shaky breath, dabbing at her neck where perspiration had started to bead. The peppy music picked up, leading into the break, and the camera focused on the ticking of the clock, signifying that she had two minutes to make her decision. Then the camera zoomed to the audience, where her assistant polled the crowd.
"Psst."
Sophie folded the sheet of questions into a triangle in her hands.
"Psst, Sophie."
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Maddie to the left of the stage jumping up and down, waving frantically at her. Come here! Maddie mouthed.
Sophie frowned, indicating the clock hands winding around on the wall. There wasn't time. Worse, the producer was shooting daggers at her with his eyes as if to ask why Sophie had given Maddie full reign behind stage. Arial rushed to the edge with her makeup kit, but Maddie snatched the kit and ran toward Sophie. Teetering on her heels, Maddie paused beside her and leaned close, dusting Sophie's nose with powder.
Sophie covered her lapel microphone with her hand. "What is it? We're due back on air—"
"Lance is supposed to be bachelor number three, right?"
"Right."
"Well, he's not."
Sophie pushed Maddie's hand away as she grabbed the lipstick. "He's not what?"
"He's not number three." Maddie's eyes narrowed as she gestured toward the screen. "He's number two."
"Two?"
"Yes, two as in do—"
Sophie shushed her, the truth dawning. "That sneak."
"He must have caught on to us." Maddie hitched out a hip. "And he switched places!"
A fist squeezed Sophie's heart. Because he didn't want the date with her.
His
"A bear." His voice echoed with innuendo. "So I could wrap my arms around you and give you a bear hug. And we could hibernate all winter..."
Catcalls and laughter erupted, and Sophie's face heated. Who would have thought Lance would be such a ham on camera? And his voice sounded even deeper than normal. Huskier.
"All right, let's start with bachelor number one again."
"Honey you can start and end with me anytime."
The audience played along, enthusiasm building with their laughter.
"What food best describes your taste in women?"
He moaned suggestively. "Ice cream. I like my women sweet, dripping in chocolate sauce."
Oh, my.
"Bachelor number two?"
"A good burger. Nothing like simple, plain, and hearty."
What a dud. The coproducer waved at the clock.
"Number three." Lance.
"Hot tamales. I want my women spicy and hot."
Sophie shivered; once again the crowd murmured their appreciation.
"Last question, gentlemen. If you were going to choose a romantic gift for your lady, what would it be? Let's start with number two this time." And get it over with.
"A toaster."
Had he really said a kitchen appliance? What was wrong with this guy? "You think a toaster is romantic?"
"Well, it would save time in making breakfast the morning after."
Silence stretched after his answer as Sophie contemplated the meaning. In a Mars-Venus sort of way, she supposed it was a suitable answer. More time for lovemaking, less for cooking.
"Bachelor number one?"
"A fur coat." His voice grew lower. "Of course, she'd be naked underneath."
Judging from the whispered innuendoes and uproar of the crowd, the bachelors must have started male posturing or flexing their muscles behind the screen. Maybe she should have sneaked a look at the other two candidates before she decided on Lance.
After all, bachelor number one's answers were pretty romantic. "Bachelor number three?"
He cleared his throat and spoke in a low tone that sent her senses spinning. "I'd buy her a see-through negligee. Something silky that would brush her skin just the way I want to caress her with my fingers." He paused, then continued in a breathy voice. "And it would be red. Red-hot for the passion we'd feel in each other's arms."
The crowd roared, several women shouting out, "Pick him! Pick him!"
Sophie released a shaky breath, dabbing at her neck where perspiration had started to bead. The peppy music picked up, leading into the break, and the camera focused on the ticking of the clock, signifying that she had two minutes to make her decision. Then the camera zoomed to the audience, where her assistant polled the crowd.
"Psst."
Sophie folded the sheet of questions into a triangle in her hands.
"Psst, Sophie."
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Maddie to the left of the stage jumping up and down, waving frantically at her. Come here! Maddie mouthed.
Sophie frowned, indicating the clock hands winding around on the wall. There wasn't time. Worse, the producer was shooting daggers at her with his eyes as if to ask why Sophie had given Maddie full reign behind stage. Arial rushed to the edge with her makeup kit, but Maddie snatched the kit and ran toward Sophie. Teetering on her heels, Maddie paused beside her and leaned close, dusting Sophie's nose with powder.
Sophie covered her lapel microphone with her hand. "What is it? We're due back on air—"
"Lance is supposed to be bachelor number three, right?"
"Right."
"Well, he's not."
Sophie pushed Maddie's hand away as she grabbed the lipstick. "He's not what?"
"He's not number three." Maddie's eyes narrowed as she gestured toward the screen. "He's number two."
"Two?"
"Yes, two as in do—"
Sophie shushed her, the truth dawning. "That sneak."
"He must have caught on to us." Maddie hitched out a hip. "And he switched places!"
A fist squeezed Sophie's heart. Because he didn't want the date with her.
His
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