Taking the Heat by Kate J. Squires Page B

really a woman, no?’ His rolling accent was gorgeous to listen to, but the words were slightly off-putting. ‘I come home from work, I want to find food on the table! After all, a woman is only as good in the letto as she is in the kitchen, no?’
    â€˜No …’ Meghan’s voice was wispy and distant. Clearly, she wasn’t listening. Across the fire, Babette and Callum were dancing provocatively without touching, his hands shadowing her curves, while she bent over and twerked in his direction. Poor Meghan …
    â€˜Ah! Ciao, bella! ’ Meghan’s log-mate turned to me, and even though his classic European features were aesthetically appealing, I felt my skin crawl.
    â€˜Hi. I’m Tara.’
    â€˜I’m Dante, but you must have already guessed, no?’
    â€˜No …?’
    â€˜Because … I light an inferno in your fica!’ He busted out laughing at his own cleverness, and I nodded politely.
    â€˜Nice to meet you, Dante,’ I said, rising, feeling the need to get as far away from the Italian stud as possible.
    â€˜Until next time, fighetta. ’ He flashed his dark eyes at me, and I moved away quickly. Apparently, not every contestant on the island was instantly likable.
    While the party raged around me, I felt my head swim. With the prospect of tomorrow’s date looming, I decided to call it a night.
    It’s always been my go-to move to sneak out of parties. That way, whenever anyone says, ‘Hey! When did you leave last night?’ I can say, ‘I was there until really late! Didn’t you notice?’
    Sneaking away from the beach quietly, I looked back just once, when I reached the stairs. Henry stood awkwardly by the bonfire, conversing with the twins.
    Chris, of course, stood alone, with his eyes locked on me.
    I waved tentatively, and then, too tired for anything more, fled along the walkway, back here to my room.
    (So, Tara, who do you think will be your date tomorrow?)
    I don’t know. There’s someone I hope is on the other side of the door, but we’ll see.
    (Who would you use a strike on?)
    Ask me tomorrow.
    ***
    Transcript of Tara M’s video diary: Day 3
    I was still in the make-up chair when a knock on the door had everyone in the room freeze. My team panicked.
    â€˜He’s early!’
    â€˜No! These curlers can’t come out for another ten minutes!’
    â€˜Who is it? Who is it? ’
    â€˜Guys! Settle down!’ I yelled over their fussing. ‘I’ll just answer it and ask him to wait, okay?’
    Pulling open the heavy wooden door, I was weirdly unsurprised to see Clara barge in, followed by a small camera crew. ‘Oh my fucking god. I need a fucking drink.’
    â€˜Hi, Clara. Good to see you too.’
    She made a beeline for the fridge and pulled out a beer. Collapsing into my couch, she pulled deeply on it, drinking a quarter of the bottle before she took a breath.
    I sat back down, the makeup and hair people resuming their work. ‘Are you okay?’
    â€˜Yes. No. I don’t fucking know, okay?’
    â€˜Okay.’ I fell silent, and allowed her to speak next. The camera zoomed in on her elegant face, her glossy black hair caught up in a detailed braid, snaking down her back. In tiny denim shorts and a white bikini top, she was like a perfect doll—if dolls used language like a Scorsese character.
    After another long swallow, she said, ‘I’m so fucking confused. Fucking Toshi. He spoke to me last night, and he’s all fucking like, “I still love you, we are soul mates, I support you, I should have never left you”, blah, blah, fucking blah.’
    I smiled at her reflection in the mirror in front of me. ‘Do you still have feelings for Toshi?’
    â€˜Yeah. I think I still love him.’ She smiled back, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability. ‘I know we have these dates today, but I just want to see him tonight, and tell