Bird of Paradise (6 page)

“Hero,” he said with a sigh of relief. Her
heart did a few jumping jacks. “Do you mind?”

She scooted her purse out of the way and
tried to look cool and unconcerned. “Not in the least.”

“Thank you.” He plopped the cat down on the
seat next to her, and leaned forward over her. “He likes you; and
he won’t be any trouble. Just don’t let him try to kill
himself.”

She looked down at her hand
in complete and utter surprise. There was a leash in it. She looked
at the seat next to her. Jesus was considering her with his one
good eye. She looked up. Adam had claimed the empty seat next to
Sally, and was leaning close to her, arguing vehemently, if
quietly.
Bloody hell!

Pressure on her leg had her looking back at
the cat. He curled up next to her, his huge head resting on her
thigh. One side of his lip was curled under itself, exposing a
fang.

He was drooling on her dress.

Chapter Three

“Orientation in the ballroom, ladies and gentlemen,”
the TV show producer was saying, waving his clipboard at everyone
as they emerged from the shuttles. “Your bags will be taken to your
rooms. Ballroom inside and to the left. Move along, please. We have
a schedule to keep.”

Adam retrieved Jesus from the Englishwoman, thanking
her politely for watching the cat while he tried to plead his case
with Sally. Hero seemed to be a bit peeved with him, although he
couldn't understand why. She'd said she liked cats, and Jesus had
obviously taken to her, something he didn't do with many women. He
was about to ask Hero if it was her first time in the Caribbean
when the women he'd tried so hard to escape earlier pounced on him,
driveling on about his cat, and how thrilled they were to meet him
in person. He shot Hero a look begging for her help, or at the very
least sympathy, but she didn't take pity on him, strolling on ahead
without so much as a glance back at him.

She really was something, he thought to himself as
he followed the crowd into a brightly lit ballroom. Tall and
statuesque with short, curly auburn hair, not to mention curves in
places that would drive a monk mad, topped off with a charming
English accent—why couldn't he have met her elsewhere? Why did it
have to be here, where she would be sure to be swarmed with men
wanting to get closer to all those delicious curves? His eyes
followed her as she took a seat at one of the tables near the back
of the ballroom.

“Excuse me, will you, ladies? I see
someone I know. Yes, yes, later, I promise we'll talk. Thank you
all for the kind words.” He made his escape, hurrying toward the
rear of the ballroom, his eyes on the tall Englishwoman. She was
chatting happily with the woman next to her, a small woman with
long blonde…
damn
!

“Ladies,” he nodded as he pulled out the chair next
to Hero. Both she and Sally turned gimlet eyes on him. He ignored
the chilly reception and placed Jesus on the chair, taking the seat
on the cat's far side. “I see we're just in time. Looks like
they're about to start.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Crescent Moon
Resort! Welcome to Eden!” A woman’s voice blared out from speakers
in the ceiling, and the words, the ballroom suddenly burst to life.
Huge arc lights lining the walls flashed on, making Adam and
everyone at his table blink in response. Cameramen poured out of
the doorways, spacing themselves around the room, their heavy
shoulder-mounted cameras pointing at the people seated at the
tables, shadowed by men and women with sound equipment, microphones
that followed the sweep of cameras. A number of other people
emerged as well, each clutching a clipboard with the Eden TV show
emblem blazoned on the front. On a small raised dais at the front
of the room, several men in suits joined a couple of women standing
around a computer setup.

“Is everyone seated?” One of the women, a black
woman with spiky hair and blood-red framed glasses asked, looking
around the room. “Handlers, do we have everyone? Yes? Excellent.
Welcome, contestants, to Eden! My name is Dara Thompson, and I'm
the executive producer of Eden. Standing to my left is the
president of Hawkeye Productions, Mr. Michael Hawkins. Before Mike
welcomes you and explains what will be happening in the next few
weeks, I'd like to introduce someone who I'm sure you'll all
recognize—the host of our show, the fabulous Rupert Asterisk!”

The audience applauded while Adam wrestled his
orientation packet from where Jesus had dragged it to his chair,
returning the folder with one soggy, chewed upon corner to the
table. He dug through his pocket until he found a well-gnawed
catnip mouse, giving it to the cat, who promptly growled and
pounced on it, holding it with his front paws and rolling onto his
back to kick at the mouse with his back legs. Adam looked up to
find Hero's serious grey eyes on him. He smiled at her. She started
to smile in return, then suddenly shifted her gaze to the front of
the room, where the show's host, the well-known diminutive
actor/comedian was entertaining the crowd with somewhat bawdy jokes
about Adam and Eve. Adam smiled politely with the rest of the
audience, but couldn't help but sneak a peek back to the woman
sitting next to his cat.

She was studying Jesus’s mouse with a perplexed
expression. He grinned, and leaned across the cat to whisper, “It's
a sock. Actually, it's three socks sewn together. Sturdier that
way. I made it myself.”

Her eyes met his, tiny lines of puzzlement between
her arched brows smoothing out as she blinked at him. “You make him
toys?”

“I have to. He eats regular cat toys. This one will
probably last a week or less before he guts it.”

She watched Jesus chomping on the sock mouse's head.
“You put whiskers on it?”

“Well, it
is
a mouse. They have whiskers, you
know. I wouldn't want to cheat him out of a proper
mouse.”

She looked at him as if he was the one with mouse
whiskers; then suddenly her eyes warmed up and her enticing lips
curved into a smile. It lit up her whole face and, more amazingly,
seemed to light him up inside, as well. “You really are a very nice
man despite everything.”

Despite everything? The warm glow
her smile had started suddenly froze into a leaden lump of
embarrassment. The women. She must have seen those blasted women
hanging off him.
Hell
.

“I can't think of anyone else who would go to such
trouble for a pet.”

His heart started beating a bit faster at her
praise. “He's not your average garden variety of pet, as you can
see. He's had a hard life. A few toys are the least I can do to
make up for what he's been through.”

She looked like she was going to say something else,
but the woman on the other side of him shushed them and pointed
toward the stage. Asterisk had been replaced by a tall man with
slicked-back blonde hair who was explaining the basic rules of the
contest.

“Now, as you all know, the show is
divided into two-week sections. The first two weeks feature a
variety of events and are intended to give you all a chance to find
out how compatible you are with the contestants of the opposite
sex. Each day of the first week you will have three dates: two
during the day, and the third a group date at night. At the end of
every day you will be required to go into the special video booths
set up in the lobby. We call them the confession boxes.” The man
waited for the polite laughter to die down. “The confession box is
where points are awarded; if your date indicates he or she had a
good time with you, and you say likewise, you both receive points
for compatibility. If one of you states he or she did not enjoy the
date…well, sorry, no points there. The second week you'll be paired
off with those dates whom you've scored with—that's scored
points
, gentlemen.
Anything else is up to you.” The man held up his hands as if
absolving himself from any wrongdoing as the audience hooted and
whistled at his double entendre. Adam rolled his eyes. If the women
who had hounded him at the airport were anything to go by, there
wasn't anyone here he would have even the slightest romantic
interest in…except perhaps the goddess sitting next to him. He slid
his gaze toward Hero as the president continued.

“Couples rated compatible will be paired off, and
judged on how well they work together. They'll be faced with a
variety of challenges, all geared to give them a better
understanding of what the other is really like. Successful couples
will be awarded points while those of you not meant to be together
will have the opportunity to pair up with someone else of your
choice. At the end of the second week, the participants who have
earned the most points will advance to the next round, leaving us
to start the third week with only fifty bachelors and fifty
bachelorettes. By the end of the sixth week, only one couple will
be left to enjoy the grand prize of—say it with me—one million
dollars and an around-the-world-trip for two. As you can tell from
the number of your fellow contestants, the competition will be
tough, but remember! The goal of the show is to find that special
someone, not to rack up points, so be honest in the confession
booth. We've all had enough bad dates not to want to repeat them
just to accrue a few points, right?”

The audience groaned their agreement. Jesus tugged
on his leash, standing with his front legs on the back of the
chair, giving the cameraman who was filming him one of his silent
meows. The cameraman grinned in delight, tightening the focus of
his shot as the cat squinted his eye at the light atop the camera,
batting at it with one massive paw.

“Show off,” Adam grumbled, glancing up to see if
Hero was watching. She was, but the smile that had started such a
warm glow within him had faded. She looked worried now, pensive,
tapping a finger against lush lips as if she was considering his
fitness for some role. A surge of lust slashed through him,
whispering to him exactly what role he'd like to perform with
her.

“One final word and then I'll let you go all freshen
up before dinner. You'll notice around you the cameramen and
soundmen. They are here to capture your responses to your dates, as
well as to film any interviews you might be requested to do with
the illustrious Asterisk. Please do your best to pretend the camera
crew is not present. We want your reactions to be as realistic and
unstudied as possible. Be honest, be yourself, and above all, have
fun here in our own little Eden!”

Dara the executive producer had returned to the
microphone with a few last minute announcements. “Dinner tonight is
the first of this week's group dates. Each table will be playing a
few icebreaker games to allow you to get to know each other. Points
will be awarded to tables whose members complete the events. There
will be a cocktail get-to-know-you hour before in the south patio.
The orientation packets handed to you as you came in include your
room key and a map to the resort, as well as a list of amenities,
Eden rules, et cetera. If you have any questions, feel free to ask
any of the show's handlers. They're the ones with the blue buttons
and the wild looks in their eyes.”

The crowd laughed and applauded the producer,
chatting among themselves as they started filing out of the
ballroom. Adam pulled Jesus back from where he was trying to climb
onto Hero's lap.

“Sorry,” he said. “He really likes you. You ought to
take that as a compliment—he doesn't like too many women. My vet
thinks it was a woman who abused him as a kitten.”

“Abused him? How terrible. Poor Puss,” Hero said,
stroking the cat's large head. Jesus made that peculiar rumbling
deep in his chest that passed for purring, giving Adam a sly look
out of his good eye. Adam looked over Hero's head.

“Er…Sally, if I could speak to you for just a
moment…”

“You do, and I'll tell that producer the truth about
you,” Sally snarled as she gathered up her things and stalked
off.

Adam was torn between going after her to beg her to
not turn him in, and staying to talk to Hero. He sighed. There were
Jesus's testicles to consider; duty had to win out. Feeling more a
martyr than ever, he scooped up the cat from where he was making
himself at home on Hero's lap. “I'm sorry about that; he really is
a mooch when it comes to attention. I'll just take him off to my
room and let him stretch his legs.”

“I see.” She didn't look like she saw anything she
understood; she looked confused. Delightfully confused, he amended,
gnawing on a delectable lower lip as she eyed him
speculatively.

He glanced out the glass doors to the long
palm-lined walk that ran the length of the resort, knowing he
should leave, but wanting to stay. Large clusters of people were
still visible, including the retreating form of Sally. He really
needed to talk to her, to make her understand that he didn't pose
any threat to her whatsoever, and to get her to agree not to expose
him. But Hero was an irresistible lure—especially since her
hesitant expression told him she wanted to say something, but
hadn't yet mustered up the nerve.

He sighed again and gave in. He could find Sally
later. Just once he wanted to do something for himself.

“Erm…Mr. Marsh—”

“Call me Adam,” he said, uncomfortably aware once
again that she believed him to be someone he wasn't. He pushed that
thought aside. There was nothing he could do about that now.
Perhaps later…if he was allowed to have a later, that is.

“Adam, would it be possible to have a word in your
ear? Privately?”

She wanted to talk to him
privately. How fitting that he should be right there, willing to be
talked to.
Privately
.