“Mmmmm … the kind of sexy that makes your temperature rise. I need more. How’s his ass?” Sadie closes her eyes as if she’s imagining the man I’m describing.

“Like you could bounce a quarter off of it.”

“Arms?”

“He was wearing a dress shirt, so I only got to see his forearms.”

Her eyes are still closed. “Okay … tell me about those.”

“Strong, incredibly sexy.”

“Chest?” Her voice is lower.

“Broad. Thick wide shoulders. Narrow waist.”

Sadie’s eyes fly open.

“What?” I say, wondering what part of my description could possibly have derailed her fantasy.

“Why are you home, if he’s out there?”

I laugh, but then I remember the reason. Leaning back with a sigh, I admit, “He asked me out too.”

“And … ?”

“I said no.”

“Why?”

“You know why! The contract.”

“Screw the contract.”

“Screw the contract? You’re the one that made me sign it!”

“I made you sign it. I didn’t tell you that you have to follow it to a tee!”

“But that’s the way it works. I promise them something and they promise me something. Isn’t that how you explained it to me?”

“Pffftt … No one ever pays attention to those things,” my best friend, who also happens to be my attorney, says.

“I need to focus on the show. I don’t need a distraction right now.”

“You haven’t gotten distracted in a long time. How long has it been?”

Too long. “I’ve been busy.”

“I know. You’ve been running yourself ragged since the accident.”

“Someone has to take care of things.”

“Yes. And you will. But there’s no reason you can’t take care of other things too. Have you checked for cobwebs down there?” She teases, then her face turns serious. “Look, I know you have a lot on your plate. But sometimes I worry it’s less about you being busy, and more about you denying yourself happiness from misplaced guilt.”

“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me. Plus, who knows, I could win a lot of money on this show and get my cobwebs dusted.”

I’m up early, nervous as hell about going back to the Throb set. Today is the first day of bachelor’s choice, meaning Flynn gets to pick which girl he wants to spend twenty-four hours alone with on a deserted island. Sure, the island is only a few miles off the coast of California, and the deserted couples get delivered a gourmet food basket—Survivor, it’s not. But still, who knows what can happen when two people who are attracted to each other are alone for twenty-four hours in that setting?

I hastily park my car and jog to the door of the studio a few minutes late. The other contestants are sitting around waiting still, so I stop by Frank’s office and say good morning.

“You know, missy, normally I’d have to be married to let a woman take that much money from me.” Frank smiles warmly as he jokes.

“And normally I wouldn’t let a man off so easily the first time I play with him,” I say joking—but there’s truth in my words. One of the cardinal rules my dad taught me: you only get the element of surprise once, so win big the first time.

Frank chuckles. “What’s Mr. Montgomery got planned for today?”

“We’re all going over to the beach house in Malibu. We spend a few hours with Flynn and then he gets to pick his choice for his next date.”

Frank sighs. “Whatever happened to meeting women the old-fashioned way … picking them up in a bar? I don’t get the whole reality TV thing. Why would a beautiful girl like you have to go on national TV to maybe get a date?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time I signed up.” I shrug, trying to come off casual. The terms of our contract are confidential, so I can’t share with him the real reason I decided to go on the show … the $250,000 grand prize.

Behind me, I hear the director calling everyone together. “I better go. Have a good day, Frank.”

“You too, Kate. The seat is yours if you want to sit in on the next game, kiddo. I know some of the guys would love a chance to win back some of their money.” Frank pauses. “And maybe their pride.”

“I’d love that. See you soon.”

The age range of the contestants runs from twenty-three to twenty-eight, yet it feels like high school all over again. I look over to the padded lounge chairs along the side of the pool, where six of the remaining ladies sit gathered in a tight group, gossiping.

“Bet they were cheerleaders,” Ava says as she joins me in the pool, the two of us outsiders looking in on the cool-girl posse from a distance.

“Without a doubt.” I nod my chin in the direction of the ringleader who sits in the middle of the clan. “Jessica was definitely prom queen too.”

“You know they aren’t coming in because they don’t want to mess up their hair and makeup.”

“Of course … God forbid.” I should probably be doing the same thing, keeping my eye on winning the prize, but it’s over ninety degrees today, and sweltering in the sun while staring longingly at the glistening pool just seems stupid to me.

“Who do you think he picks for the first stranded date?” Ava’s fisted hands clench and unclench in the water, each squeeze sending a stream of water soaring into the air.

“Jessica. That little white string she calls a bathing suit will definitely catch Flynn’s attention. You think they’re real?”

“Her boobs?”

“Yeah.”

“No, they are definitely not real.” We both stare over at prom queen; her nipples are barely covered by the small triangle top that tries to contain her overflowing breasts.

I look down at my barely C cups: they’re perky, but definitely not the attention-getters that Jessica’s are. “Remind me not to stand next to her in a bathing suit.” I laugh.

“You?” Ava looks down and then back to me. “Hello? I look like a boy!”

I hadn’t really noticed her flat chest until now, but she actually makes me look endowed. “Maybe I should stand next to you, might help put my girls into perspective.” Ava splashes me, smiling.

“Hi ladies.” Flynn Beckham interrupts our girl talk, walking into the spacious yard wearing nothing but swim trunks. Every head turns. I may have entered this contest for the grand-prize money, but I’d be lying if I said that the bachelor hasn’t sparked my interest. He’s nothing like I expected. The outside may scream rockstar, but in the small amount of time I’ve spent getting to know him, he’s seemed like a pretty normal and great guy.

“Hi Flynn.” The lounge-chair ladies swoon in unison.

He smiles and waves, but keeps going as he passes, heading straight for the pool—to the blatant dismay of the poolside posing beauties.

As he gets closer to the pool, he winks at Ava and me … right before cannonballing into the middle, splashing water all over the ladies who weren’t planning on getting wet.

When he surfaces with a huge boyish smile on his face, I’m laughing. If I was in his position, it’s exactly what I would have done. “Wish I could have seen their faces,” Flynn grins as he speaks to us low.

“I don’t think they were happy getting their hair ruined,” I say through a genuine smile. He’s facing us, his back to the other women. I glance over, then return my attention to him. “Bet they all come in the pool now though.”

“I say four come in.”

“All six.”

Flynn arches his eyebrows. “Bet you a foot massage.”

Crinkling up my nose, I respond, “I’m not really a foot person.”

A lopsided smile reveals one of his two deep-set dimples. God, he really is adorable. “Chicken?” he challenges.

Looking over at the girls, I see three already coming toward the water. “You’re on.” I extend my hand and we shake on it.