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I opened my palm, waving my hand toward the four men. “Um, have you seen my team?” They were all good-looking men with rock-hard bodies. Muscles for days. I was also dodging again. I didn’t want to confess which one of the four men made my pulse race.
“And if your life depended on it, which of the four men would you want to save you?”
“I don’t know them well enough to answer that.” Well, hell, that was pretty much the truth. Why’d I get buzzed? I looked toward Jack, his arms crossed, studying me. I supposed my subconscious mind had a different answer. Jack, I’d choose him, even if it didn’t make sense.
“Looks like there is someone,” she said, reading my thoughts. “But maybe we’ll wait to see how everything plays out to get that answer. You don’t have to remove any clothes for that one.”
I almost grumbled a sarcastic thank you but kept my mouth shut. But was she suggesting I’d need my life saved by someone on my team later?
“Charlotte, have you ever killed someone to save another life?” Well, that was oddly specific compared to Carter’s question.
If I answered no, she’d know I was lying. If I told the truth, she’d ask why. And I couldn’t answer that. So, I sighed at what I’d have to do, and went with, “No comment.”
Hearing the buzz, Stephen started heading back our way from observing the team next to us.
“So, do shoes count as removing something?” Even as I tried to laugh it off, there was no way to hide the struggle in my voice.
“No.” Stephen matched my nervous laugh with what might have been kindness. But maybe it was just impatience.
I stood and reached beneath my dress to find the hem of my panties, doing my best to expose as little as possible. I slid my panties down my thighs, then allowed the dress to fall back in place as I shimmed free of the nude satin underwear. I stepped out of them, then snatched them from the ground.
I settled back in the seat, and my heart nearly broke free from my chest at the way Jack pinned me with a dark, broody stare.
Goose bumps I couldn’t conceal came back and I shivered under his gaze.
“Last question,” she began, and I knew what was coming. And I also knew if I didn’t answer honestly, I’d be losing my dress. “Who would you like to share a bed with tonight?”
My shoulders relaxed. “Easy.” Thank God for her wording on that one. “My sister.”
CHAPTER NINE
CHARLOTTE
With the canopy overhead, we were shielded from any last bits of evening light as all twenty-four contestants walked the trail in the jungle. We had to complete our third icebreaker round before we learned where we’d be sleeping tonight, and being told to march into the woods without knowing why wasn’t exactly thrilling.
There were two cameramen walking with us, as well as two guys who worked for the show holding obnoxiously bright lights. Based on how and where they aimed them, I assumed they were more for the purposes of helping film whatever we were about to do and less about helping us see so we didn’t trip.
With no time to recalibrate after the polygraph fiasco, Stephen had ordered us to the jungle path. We weren’t allowed to change, nor had we been allowed to put back on the clothes some of us had lost. So, I was bare beneath my dress. But they’d given us all black rubber boots to wear. I guessed that was better than the alternative of going barefoot or doing the impossible and walking through the jungle in heels.
“Can we talk?” I paused hesitantly at Jack’s voice just behind me, then carried forward after pretending to fix one of my boots.
“Not a good idea,” I whispered back.
“Is your name really Charlotte?”
I stopped walking, knowing we’d fall behind the others, but with the cameramen ahead of us, I opted to take my chances and get this out of the way now. I whirled around and faced him, ready to put a stop to his questions and hopefully avoid drawing attention to either of us. He must not have expected my abrupt change in direction, because he was too close, and we collided.
My hands landed on his muscular chest, and instead of biting my tongue, I snapped back, “Is your name really Jack?”
He snatched my arms as if worried I’d float away. Drift into Never Never Land. Pretty sure we were already there. “Yes,” he shot back.
“Mmmhmm,” I dragged out on purpose. “Sure. Jack London? Jack Hughes? Or?”
“Or what?” he asked, a touch of humor in his tone.
Frustrated, especially at how I hated the way his body felt so damn good beneath my palms, I wiggled free from his touch and started to face forward. But my normally steady legs betrayed me for the second time tonight, and my knees buckled.
When I lost my footing and went backward, Jack snatched hold of me. But rather than just righting me and sending me on my way, he lifted me from the ground, scooping me into his arms. For a second, I wondered if he’d toss me over his shoulder and carry me like I was some petulant kid who needed a time-out in my room. Or a spanking.
