Page 25 of The Wanted One

“If you could be anything, anyone you wanted, right now,” the woman continued, her tone soft and almost wispy that time, “who would it be?”

I focused back on him. Jack’s jaw clenched, and his chest lifted and fell with a heavy breath. His eyes focused on the table as he revealed, “A husband and father.”

Why did his answer feel so . . . painfully honest? Why did it hurt my chest so much to hear? Why did it make me want to believe that of all his answers, that was the most genuine?

“Last question,” she began, never referring to a list of questions on paper so she either memorized them or made them up as she went, “based on first impressions, if you have to pick someone on your team to marry and be the mother of your children, who would you pick?”

That was a twist on her sex question, and yet, it felt even more intimate.

Jack shook his head, then began working his fingers over the buttons of his shirt. “No comment. Don’t ask again,” he ground out, then pushed back in his seat while opening his shirt and slid it back off his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the pavers as he stood.

I gulped at the sight of the hard planes of his chest. The sexy ink on his shoulder and at his side. The way his ab muscles flexed as he took a few deep breaths and let them go. There was just so much to take in. I wanted another question. I wanted him to lie. I wanted his hand to go to his belt buckle, and for him to be in the same situation as Carter.

And mostly, I needed to get a grip, remembering he’d already lied. And to me.

“Okay, then.” Shannon looked at Stephen, deferring to him for what was next.

“Time for the women,” Stephen instructed, and I blinked and tore my focus from Jack’s muscular frame. The idea of sitting in that chair and doing the very thing I always avoided, talking about myself, was nauseating.

Lucy was ordered first up, and she was hit with different questions. They were more skills-based, as if the show wanted to ensure we hadn’t fudged our “list of extracurriculars” to earn ourselves a spot in the game.

But it was the next series of questions for Lucy that made me physically ill.

“Any living family aside from your sister?” Shannon asked, and Lucy shot me a worried look before shaking her head no. “Where do you currently live?”

Guess we’re not going back to Spain.

“Mallorca,” Lucy tossed out, knowing I was crawling out of my skin.

Shannon asked her a few more questions, thankfully ones I could stomach, before Lucy finally swapped places, putting Gwen up next.

Gwen had been hit with similar questions to Lucy, and Carter seemed a bit thrown at how easily Gwen had confessed she’d choose him to sleep with.

I’d swear my entire team knew each other, not just Jack and Carter. Not that I’d yet to confirm that theory. Just a hunch. But the way they all looked so uneasy, how they peered at each other during the lie detector tests, told a much different story from the one they were showing the host.

Mya went third. She lied about her best kiss when she shared it’d been with Jack. Then she lied about who she’d sleep with, in which she’d given Carter’s name. And that meant she’d have to strip. But only to her underwear? Or did she get to keep her bra? Or damn, was she like me and not wearing one?

“Panties and bra can stay on if you’d like,” Stephen told her.

“Gee, thanks.” Mya removed her dress, her gaze bouncing back and forth between Oliver and Mason as the material pooled around her wedge sandals. Her matching frilly pink panty set seemed to snag the attention from the guys on the next team over.

There’s awkward, and then there’s this.

“Charlotte, you’re up,” Shannon called me over.

I sat in the hot seat and did my best not to look at the man I wasn’t supposed to already know.

She tossed me a few softball questions to warm me up. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

“Do you have any secrets?” was her fourth one.

“Don’t we all?” was my way of dodging the answer, and she tipped her head as if to say, True.

“What are you really good at doing? What do you do best?”

What was I supposed to say to that for an answer: I’m great at avoiding answering personal questions? Or the other truth, the one I didn’t want to admit, either? “Surfing,” I said, making up my mind to go with the not-quite-a-lie answer; although, it was certainly not what I was best at. No buzz. Nice.

“Are you attracted to anyone on your team?” she asked next.

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