Chapter 1: Carter

There wassomething irredeemable about Cora Gordon in that dress. Carter wouldn't have thought the ruby color would pair nicely with hair as fiery as hers but the image in front of him was doing a fair amount of work to prove him wrong.

He'd known, of course, when he'd been handed this show, that he'd be spending the better part of the next few months in the presence of sex incarnate. That's what these godforsaken programs were about. He just hadn't expected to be affected by it.

He was thirty-six years old, for Christ's sake. The woman in front of him was only—he glanced down at his clipboard—twenty-fucking-four. The sight of a pretty girl in a slinky little dress shouldn't have been getting him so excited. He'd thought himself mature. Evolved. Above his baser instincts, at least.

Well, fuck him if Honeymoon Manor wasn't already more trouble than it was worth.

Though, that wasn't exactly true. Carter had been working for this network for nearly fourteen years now—he'd been younger than Cora when he started—but those years still hadn't been enough to get him where he wanted to be. None of his superiors, not even Gavin, could argue that Carter wasn't great at his job. But every failed pitch was a reminder that they weren't quite ready to allow him to stop jumping through hoops.

He'd been nearly belligerent this last time, his professionalism bowing under the weight of his frustration. And that behavior, for all it had satisfied him in the moment, had only succeeded in landing him…here.

Hiding his straining erection in his slacks while he filmed an intro reel for this stupid fucking show.

Gavin had claimed that the show was merely a test for Carter. Proof that, if he could successfully run something he held no passion for, he could undoubtedly bring the company success with something that had his heart. Perhaps a sound idea for a newer crew, one without the years of successful television Carter had under his belt. But Carter saw it for what it was.

A punishment.

Was it as severe as it could have been, though?

Of course not. Robin had already taken care of the scouting and the casting and an entirely different team had already developed the premise of the show itself. They'd already secured the manor and arranged for the on-site resources. Really, Carter was responsible for very little. Other than, obviously, keeping the show progressing, teasing storylines from the footage, embellishing some more of the creative bits. Coming up with compelling challenges. Problem-solving the inevitable failures and mishaps.

Babysitting these money-hungry twenty-somethings and ensuring they weren't about to air pornography.

Evidently, based on the way Cora was dressed, the wardrobe team was playing fast and loose with that last one.

And then this girl had had the audacity to place her plump little ass on that stool and give him the sweetest fucking smile he'd ever seen. Like a sexed-up little doe.

Fuck. Him.

Carter cleared his throat and pretended to arrange something on his clipboard as he settled behind the camera. "Let's start with name, age, occupation, and where you're from."

Cora nodded and trained her eyes on the lens. Flipped her hair back in what anyone could see was a perfect fucking shot.

"I'm Cora. I'm twenty-four, and I'm a graphic designer from Indiana."

He'd known this. He had it in front of him. But hearing her say it out loud was a bit like cold water falling on his head. A young little midwestern sweetheart, with a smile like that and an attitude like hers? She didn't need his attention by any stretch of the imagination. Didn't want it, if Carter had to guess.

Not to mention she was his charge. Decidedly not just some thing to ogle.

"Great," Carter sniffed. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions to get you comfortable talking about yourself. If you think of something you want to say, don't worry about sticking to the question. We're just trying to get an idea of your personality and what you're going to bring to the show."

Cora nodded, adjusting herself on the stool and gesturing for Carter to ask his first question.

"Why did you sign up for Honeymoon Manor?"

She blushed. "Well, I've been a little…unlucky in love in the past—though I guess that's putting it kindly." A self-deprecating laugh and more pink that they'd need to color-correct in post. Carter would hate to see it go but viewers wanted unapologetic. "I feel like I keep going for these guys that don't actually want more than sex. And don't get me wrong—I love it when a man can appreciate my body. But it's like, if I only wanted to fuck you, I would have just fucked you."

Jesus. "Any stories you want to share from these relationships?"

"Oh, I've got about a million," she smirked. "How many do you want?"

Truthfully, Carter wasn't sure he could handle even one. The thought of some tosser fucking with the angel in front of him might send him to an early grave.

"As many as you want," he answered. Unhelpfully.

Cora was clearly unaffected by his assholery and just shook her head. "There was this one guy I hooked up with who, the first time we had sex, just like rabbit-humped me into the bed. And, like, halfway through, got a notification on his watch and wanted me to high five him for meeting his fitness goal."

"And did you?"

"Meet my fitness goal?"

"High five him."

She nodded. "Well, I wasn't about to leave him hanging. Now that I think about it, I think that made him come faster."

Carter suppressed both a groan and the urge to ask her if this boy had bothered to get her off. He'd put money on the fact that he hadn't. He also purposefully ignored that she'd specified a first time. Instead, he asked, "Any others?"

"There was another guy who asked to use my razor before he went to town. He wanted to get his pubes in order." The crew behind Carter snickered but Cora was unaffected by their laughter. "I guess I'm glad he was thoughtful enough to not give me a rash down there but I was pulling those things out of my razor and my drain for like a week."

She pretended to gag and the sound did nothing to help Carter's predicament.

"He used your bathroom to shave his pubic hair and you still slept with him?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I didn't sleep with him…We just did a little bit of light fondling."

If he wasn't so thrown off by this conversation, Carter might have been able to admit that he saw why Robin had cast Cora. She was funny and self-effacing but gorgeous enough and confident enough that her stories wouldn't make anyone sad.

Deciding to run with that train of thought, he asked, "What makes you a good contestant for Honeymoon Manor?"

"Have you seen my ass?" she deadpanned. He certainly fucking had. But he was spared from responding when she went on, sing-songing, "Just kidding! Well, sort of. I do have a great ass. But I'm all about new experiences and having stories to share. I'm not shy so I think having that kind of energy in the manor will be a fun addition."

Maybe she wasn't shy but Carter couldn't help but notice she had shied away from truly talking herself up.

He decided to press. "What else?"

Cora scrunched her nose in thought and already Carter could tell that she was debating whether or not she wanted to make another joke. Instead, though, she said, "I've got a pretty positive outlook on life. I don't let things get to me. Rejection doesn't really bother me anymore—I just dust off and move on. I'll probably run through every guy in here.'

Don't say it, Carter silently begged.

"Or they'll run through me."

God help him, she winked. She'd made herself sound like an absorbent punching bag and she was winking at him?

"Also, I feel like a lot of guys have a fetish for redheads. You'll probably get a bunch of viewers just from that."

He didn't want to tell her she was right so he just asked, "Is there anything you think might cause conflict in the manor?"

"Like I said, nothing really gets to me. I imagine there'll be people who think it's maybe just because I don't care." She shifted, crossing and uncrossing her legs recklessly, like her dress wasn't as short as it was. "I care so much, though. Just need someone to let me."

"What are you looking for in a partner?"

Cora laughed and it was genuine. Loud. Contagious enough to make Carter's chest hurt. "I feel like it's less of a question of what I look for and more of a question of what finds me, you know?"

"What finds you, then?"

"Trouble."

He didn't fucking doubt it. It was a good sound bite, too. But he wouldn't help her out this time by giving her another question. He wanted his original answered.

"Oh." Cora shifted, realizing he wasn't going to comment. "Hmm. What am I looking for in a partner? I guess, in the manor, I'm going to be looking for the exact opposite of what I've had in the past. Someone…established, I think. Confident enough in their own lives and themselves that they don't think the only thing they have to offer is mediocre sex. Someone who's excited to romance me."

"Someone more mature," Carter found himself saying, God knew why.

"Exactly."

And then he shoved his foot further into his mouth when he said, "Someone older."

There she went, turning pink again. He wondered if she knew how attractive it was, the way her skin flushed so easily. Then again, what did she care?

He'd put words in her mouth when he said she wanted someone older. It didn't mean she gave a singular shit about how attractive Carter found her blushing.

He couldn't wait for this interview to be over.

"Someone older," she confirmed anyway.

Or maybe he never wanted it to end.

"Hi, I'm Leith. I'm twenty-six and I'm a carpenter from South Carolina. I've been running my family business for about seven years now so I'm excited to get the chance to step away and find a girl who wants to build a life with me. Wait—did I miss out on some sort of building pun? Or maybe a wood joke? I feel like I'm obligated to make some sort of wood joke. I'll take care of the wood if she takes care of mine? I don't know, man."

"I'm Eloise. I'm twenty-two and I'm a barista from Washington—how weirdly typical, right? I feel like I've been stalling starting my life so I'm ready to get into the manor and actually start experiencing some things. I want to fall in love and have someone fall in love with me. What better opportunity than to be trapped together for five weeks?"

"I'm Maxon and I'm a twenty-seven-year-old entrepreneur from New York. I love what I do but everything's so fast-paced over there, you know? I wanna slow down. Take some time to look. Maybe take a second to make out, too?"

"I'm Willow. I'm twenty-three and I'm an office manager and a cam girl from Arkansas. I've found that there's a really unfortunate stigma around women who use their bodies for work so I'm excited to get into the manor and meet someone who's in it for my heart—not just what's in front of it."

"My name is Silas. I'm twenty-eight and I work in project management over in Oregon. I've definitely built a reputation for myself back home. My friends would say I had a bit of wild streak in my youth—fuck, man. Youth? I'm not even thirty yet and I feel like I'm about to be the grandfather of this manor. But I think it might be time for me to finally settle down and stop living up to that reputation."

"Hi, I'm Danica Davies. I'm twenty-six. And I'm—well, I guess I don't really know what I do anymore. I'm sure y'all would have a better idea than I would. I'm really looking to start over, now that the whole world knows my business. I feel like finding love—and love for myself—is probably a pretty good place to start."

"Hey, I'm Killian. I'm twenty-seven and I operate a wedding venue with my folks over in Napa Valley. My parents thought all the bridezillas we work with would turn me off from something like this but what can I say? I love love. I'm pumped to get in there with a bunch of cuties who feel the same."

"Maia. I'm a twenty-five-year-old model from California… What? What the hell else do you want me to say? I thought we were just going over the basics."

"Hey! What up? I'm Foster, I'm twenty-four, and I'm a pro surfer. My manager told me not to tell you guys I signed up for this show for the tropical beaches but I'm pretty transparent, you know? If I happen to find someone sexy to dry me off after…well, I won't complain."

This was going to be a disaster…

…but it might make for decent television.