Taking the Heat (5 page)

‘And the fifth, and final rule of Erotic Island,' said Miles, working his way up to a big finish, ‘is this: you must win a key and enter your designated fantasy cabin, then engage sexually with the person inside, at least once, or you forfeit your entire prize.'

I was torn between horror and delight.
One quick screw for a million bucks! But with someone I couldn't see?
My head told me I should feel more indignation, but somewhere along the line I seemed to have lost my morals, and the thought of an indecent encounter with a stranger in a dark room seemed less repellent than it should.

‘Now, each of these rules is deadly serious. The entire island, including your rooms and the fantasy cabins, is monitored with cameras. And while not all footage will be used, all of it is watched. Break the rules, and we will know about it.' Miles gave us a very stern look, and several people, myself included, quailed slightly, even though we hadn't done anything.

‘Finally, my dear contestants, I thought you might be interested in seeing these …'

A production assistant handed me a tablet. On it was the homepage of my internet banking site.

‘I'd like you all to log in and check your balances, please.'

Fingers flying, I typed my username and password. When the screen refreshed, I almost dropped the device. Where my balance normally showed about five grand, a red line now informed me that there was a million dollars pending, awaiting clearance.

Stunned, I looked around at the others. Several guys let out a whoop and high-fived. One girl squealed and a few people plopped down on the sand, unable to stay standing from the shock.

I touched the little red line on my screen reverently. It had all just been a game up until now. Tonight, things got very real.

‘You all have the chance to become winners here on Erotic Island. Good luck, contestants,' smiled Miles benevolently. ‘The party may be over for tonight, but tomorrow the games begin. Your first challenge begins here on the beach after lunch. Until then, sweet dreams.'

He bowed and left. Being closest to the stage, I let myself sit on the black carpeted surface, still processing everything I'd been told. A runner came and collected my tablet and my limp hands dropped back into my lap.

‘Hey. Are you okay?' I looked up into Henry's face, his comforting brown eyes a safe space after the flood of information.

‘Yeah. I think. I don't know.'

Henry crouched down in front of me and went to put a hand on my shoulder. At the last second, he realised his mistake and he tucked his arms behind his back instead. ‘Would you like me to walk you back to your room?'

He was being lovely, but the crazy day had drained me of the will to socialise. I smiled weakly at him. ‘Thanks, but I think I'm just going to sit here and watch the waves for a little while. I'll see you tomorrow?'

‘Of course. I'm going to come down for breakfast around ten, if you'd like to join me?'

‘Sure. Good night, Henry.'

‘Good night, Tara.'

I watched him leave, the muscles of his butt working hard on the soft sand.
Mmmm …
Don't judge me. I might have been exhausted and overwhelmed, but I wasn't immune to appreciating Henry's better features.

With Henry gone, the beach was almost empty, save for a single cameraman who kept his lens trained on me. Inside the bungalow, a few crew members in black rushed around, clearing up the mess, but all the contestants had vanished.

‘Need a back rub?'

All but one.

Sighing, I turned to Chris, standing over me on the stage. ‘Hands to yourself, coffee boy. We're here for three weeks—I don't intend to blow one of my three chances on the first night, and especially not with you.'

As he loomed over me, his tanned skin blending with the starry sky above his head, he grinned. ‘I guarantee—by the end of this, you'll have used at least one of those three chances on me.'

He leaped off the stage, lithe like a panther, and while his confidence was irritating, I found the idea of a forbidden tryst with him just as stimulating.

He wandered off down the beach. I had to remind myself I didn't want to join him.

Did I? I don't know. I'm really tired. Are we done now? It's been a really long day. Nothing else happened after that—I walked back to my room and you guys stuck me on the balcony here with a camera in my face. Now I just want to go to bed.

(Unit manager, off camera:
That's great, really good stuff. Can you just tell us quickly—why do you hate Chris so much? Don't you find him attractive?)

I don't hate him. And yeah, he's hot as hell and if I see him in a swimsuit, I'll probably embarrass myself by walking into a pole or something. But still, I think he's a douche.

(Why?)

Because … I don't know. The first second I saw him in that coffee shop, something inside me jumped. Like a part of me already knew him. And when I looked in his eyes, it was like he felt that too.

And then he shot me down. I felt so terrible after he insulted me for auditioning—I nearly walked away. If it weren't for Serena, I wouldn't have gone back in and I wouldn't be here and there wouldn't be a million bucks sitting in my account, waiting for clearance.

And then, he auditions himself! So clearly, his insult was simply a tactic to drive me away, so he would have less competition. He nearly cost me the chance to save my sister. I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for that.

No matter how good he looks without a shirt on.

Chapter 5

Transcript of Tara M's video diary: Day 2

Lordy, what a day! This is going to be an epic three weeks.

Okay, so this morning I woke up late to the sound of the phone beside my bed ringing.

‘What?' I growled into the receiver, my head throbbing.

‘Good morning, Miss Tara!' An assistant chirped merrily down the line at me. ‘It's ten-thirty and this is your wake-up call. The first challenge begins in ninety minutes on the beach, and I'm sure you'd like to eat breakfast first!'

‘You are way too perky for this time in the morning,' I said, rolling over and slamming the phone down. Stretching under the soft cotton sheets, I enjoyed the feeling of just being horizontal for one more minute. From my bed, I could see the glowing blue ocean, and birds called melodically to each other in the trees around me.

A knock at the door disturbed my morning for the second time. ‘Makeup!' someone called, the way people normally say, ‘Housekeeping!'

Unenthusiastically, I planted my feet on the cool bamboo floor and padded over to let the team in.

Half an hour later, wardrobe had me kitted out in a silver one-piece, with barely enough material to cover half my butt cheeks. A white kaftan threaded with silver gave me a little more coverage, but since it was see-through, my nipples were clearly visible through both layers of fabric.

The hair lady sprayed my high ponytail one last time, and twisted the blonde ends to make them curl prettily. ‘Beautiful,' someone sighed.

‘Thanks, guys.' I tried to be gracious—it was their job to make me look do-able. And really, what girl doesn't like new clothes and having someone else deal with their hair?

I stepped out into the tropical morning and breathed deeply. The palms high above my head waved happily at me, the dappled light falling on my fair skin. As I started out for the bungalow, I finally allowed myself to process what I'd learned the night before.

The rules state I have to sleep with someone before I leave. I need the million bucks, ergo, I will have to do it. I think. I don't know. But I don't have to decide now
—
I'll make up my mind later. I'll meet everyone first and see if there's anyone I definitely wouldn't want to sleep with. Besides, I can't get into my fantasy cabin anyway unless I win a key.

I hadn't actually planned on participating fiercely in any of the challenges. But if I needed a key to even have the choice about going through with things, I had to give it my all.
Game on, then.

The bungalow appeared around the bend, transformed from the party den it had been last night to its more laid-back state. A single camera crew filmed a couple of contestants chatting and eating at the long tables, but I had eyes only for the breakfast buffet. My stomach leaped; I hadn't eaten much yesterday and breakfast is my favourite meal of the day.

Rushing straight for the plates, I loaded up with bacon, hash browns, English muffins and grilled tomatoes. I stuck a raspberry Danish in my mouth so it didn't absorb any savoury flavours and turned to find a seat.

‘Travelling light this morning, are we?' Chris, looking effortlessly hot in a fitted sleeveless shirt and black board shorts, stared down at my laden plate. He completely blocked my way, and with my mouth full of pastry I couldn't even respond with an insult of my own.

I settled for rolling my eyes and pushing past him, careful not to touch him. If I did use up one of my strikes, it wouldn't be because of breakfast. Breakfast is the most amazing meal of the day and shouldn't be responsible for anything bad. Except maybe making my pants tighter.

Chris breathed in my ear as I passed. ‘You know, there's this weird thing that happens to your skin whenever you get near me.' He indicated the goose bumps on my arm I hadn't even noticed had sprung up. ‘You should get that checked out.'

Giving up, I spat my Danish onto my plate. ‘Unlike your wardrobe department, mine seem to think that swimsuits are appropriate for every occasion, and it's cool today, so don't flatter yourself, please.'

‘I don't even have to touch you to make your body react,' he went on, ignoring my comment completely. His pupils grew larger, the black circles a contrast to the icy blue of his irises. ‘Imagine what will happen when I put my hands all over you.'

Lucky my fingers were gripping the plate tightly, because they started trembling almost immediately.
Dammit body! Get yourself together!
The thought of Chris' wide, tanned hands on me sent shockwaves rippling all over my skin.

Pretending that my body wasn't calling to his like a needy fan-girl, I tossed my hair. ‘Bring it on, sunshine. You don't scare me.'

He laughed loudly as I stomped off on trembly legs. He moved over to the drinks station, and I tried to put him out of my mind.
That man will not spoil my brekky, dammit!

Sinking gratefully into a seat across from two other contestants, I tried to put Douche-face out of my mind as I said, ‘Hi, guys. I'm Tara.'

Turning to me with bright smiles, the two identical faces introduced themselves in glorious Swiss accents.

‘Halloo! I'm Lars!'

‘And I'm Loris! We are happy to meet you!'

Both guys had pure white hair and honey-coloured skin; they looked like an ad for mineral water or apricot facial scrub or something equally as wholesome. The similarity between them was almost scary.

‘Clearly, you're twins,' I said. ‘But who's older?'

‘Me!' said Lars, on the left. ‘By almost two hours!'

‘But I am the smarter brother, don't make a mistake!' Loris grinned and I smiled back. Their enthusiasm and adorable accents made them downright gorgeous. If I landed in a fantasy cabin with either brother, I wouldn't complain.

‘That must be cool, being here together.'

Sounding only a little like Chef from the Muppets, Loris said, ‘You are here with someone also?'

‘What? No, just me.'

‘Oh, sorry,' said Lars. ‘We see Chris and he is always looking at you. He stares at you right now. You are both from Australia, ja?'

‘Ja, I mean, yes. I mean, yes, we're both from Australia, but no, we're not together.' The brothers had flustered me. Now they'd mentioned it, I could actually feel Chris watching me, his gaze like an invisible tether between us. Trying to shake it off, I asked, ‘Have you guys ever been to Australia?'

Their eyes lit up. ‘Not yet, but we would be loving to go. When we win our money, we want to go around the world, then set up our own IT company.'

‘IT? What field?' I peppered them with enough questions to keep them talking while I scoffed down my breakfast. They were both equally lovely and fun to look at, but I was glad I didn't feel any romantic twitches for them: how on earth could I choose between them?

‘We are going to get ready for the first challenge,' said Lars as I finished up. ‘We will see you there, ja?'

‘Ja. Thanks guys.'

They strolled off as I scraped the last of my hash browns up with my fork. Sudden tingles shot down my left side. Chris was the cause, leaning over me and placing a tea beside my plate, then disappearing before I could react.

It was an Earl Grey. Opposite urges clashed within me. Part of me loved the fact he'd remembered my favourite tea, the other half of me wanted to knock it over. I was grateful he'd brought me a drink and annoyed he presumed I would want him too.

But the smell of the bergamot drew my hands to the cup and I raised it to my lips, breathing it in before taking a long swallow.
Mmmm …

‘I'd fucking slit somebody's throat for a decent cappuccino,' said a bitchy voice from behind me. I turned to see a gorgeous Japanese girl sneering at the buffet. ‘And for fuck's sake, where is the carb-free option? If I have to spend the next three fucking weeks in a swimsuit, I don't want to look like I'm fucking pregnant.'

I stared in wonder as her tiny heart-shaped mouth dropped obscenities with casual disdain. Her black hair shone in the morning light, swinging around her tan bikini top. She plonked down across from me and said, ‘I'm Clara. Who the fuck are you?'

Well, she managed one sentence without saying fuck, even if it was only two words.
‘I'm Tara, I'm—'

‘Oh my god, I don't even fucking care.' She flapped a hand at me, her fake nails sharpened to a point, like talons. ‘Do you know when this fucking thing gets underway?'