Page 6 of Lochlan

My mouth gapes open, but it's Livi who speaks.

“You want us to do a volleyball exhibition at a nudist colony?”

Poppy claps her hands. “Yes, you have several days to choose from, and I'm sure they'll work around your schedule. As I said, this challenge must be completed within two weeks. You can contact the director on your own to make the arrangements. They're huge beach volleyball fans and have talked about lending support to the club through their other facilities, where clothing is required.”

“What's the third challenge?” I ask.

Poppy frowns, and clearly this is the challenge she hoped we'd choose. “You wouldn't be at the Blue Crest Ridge alone,” she cajoles. “Your teammates will also attend. Clothing is optional for guests, but you won't have that choice.”

When we don't respond, Poppy shrugs. “The third challenge will have a time limit of one month. It's very simple. You need to prove you had sex with a guy of our choosing.”

CHAPTER3

SEDUCTRESS

KENZIE

Pru and I were up late tonighttrying to figure out how to approach Lochlan MacTavish, the guy I'm assigned to seduce. Pru has gone to bed, confident that I'll figure out a plan soon.

According to my Internet search, he's about thirty, part owner of MacTavish Cellars, and is a member of a very old Edinburgh family. There's no way I can just saunter into a winery and ask him to have his way with me, and oh, by the way, can I have a quick photo of us doing it? Jeez, if I were him, I'd call the police and have me dragged from the premises.

I study a picture of him taken during an interview. Thick black hair, calculating blue eyes, and his lips in a twisted, arrogant smirk, like there's nothing he hasn't seen before. That crazy approach I just came up with on the fly wouldn't work on him anyway; he doesn't seem to be a player. When he was asked who he was dating, he saidno comment. In fact, anything personal was met with the same reply. I haven't seen him in the tabloids. God, I hope he's not gay; it would be like Poppy to send me on an impossible mission.

Pru suggested I get to know him first before I make a proposition. Since there's nothing about his personal life in this interview, I pull up the MacTavish Cellars website. Jackpot. I notice they're looking for wine-tasting room associates. Better yet, it's a part-time position that will fit around training. I send off an email to my dad to ask him to work his Scottish network to get me an introduction to someone in personnel. My aim is not to fuck the guy, but to get a photo of us looking like we're about to do the dirty; that should be enough for Poppy. At least she selected gorgeous-looking men. Livi has to seduce Douglas Foxton, from Foxton Winery. I heard her give a sigh of relief when we decided on this challenge.

I tap a few keys, hit image search, and I'm rewarded with several images of Lochlan. I'm not a belt-notching seductress; I don't need to be. There are enough fit, driven, willing men on the volleyball circuit for a distraction. I'm focused on my career right now; I don't need the drama of a relationship screwing up my head. So, this Lochlan guy wouldn't have to worry about me sticking around after I get what I want.

I sigh, looking at a picture of Lochlan at a gala, dressed in a tux, looking like a pissed-off stud. My dad would be over the moon if he found out I was seeing a Scottish guy, but the truth is, I don't like Scottish men. I've had several dates over the years with guys my dad insisted I meet, suitable males he found through the network. “You need a strong Scottish man to make your life right,” he'd say. “Your blood will tell you who's the right man.”

All the dates were disasters, and the worst ones were the males born in Scotland. There's nothing more arrogant than a rich, privileged Scot.

I know I'm judging a guy I have no interest in, on past experiences. I wouldn't be plotting to seduce him if the team would just accept me on my playing ability and forget these stupid bonding rituals. All I want to do, all I've ever wanted to do is play since I was a kid who could barely hit the ball over the net.

Dread creeps in and the demons of doubt try to overtake me again. I'm close to partnering with someone who has the talent to take us to the Olympics, so close I can see us competing together at the games. I shut my eyes to hold off the unwanted thoughts and retreat to a place within, where I can pull my strength. This is just another hurdle, that's all. I glance at Lochlan's image again. I can keep my distaste for this arrogant man under control long enough to get him interested, get my picture, and bid him a fond farewell.

My phone does a silent vibrate. It's a little startling that I'm getting a call this late. I grab the cell off the table to see Dad's face flash on the screen. It's a safe bet he's gotten my text.

“Hi, Dad, you're up late.”

“I am. I'm finishing up some research on a case I'm hearing in the morning.”

“Doesn't Judge MacGregor have clerks that do that stuff?”

“I do, but sometimes I like to do my own fact finding. I got your text, I emailed you the name of the head of HR at MacTavish Cellars, and she'll contact you tomorrow. After I sent you the information, which cost me a round of golf, by the way, I realized I haven't spoken to my daughter in a couple of weeks. How are you doing?”

Hearing his voice, I realize something too, that I miss him. It's the small moments that I miss most, like talking about our day at dinner, his horrible dad jokes, and his no-judgement advice. “I'm fine. I'm getting used to this new squad.”

“You'll do fine; you always do great. Poppy would be lucky to have you as a partner.”

I can't talk to him about the Crimson Beach initiation. Better to let him think his daughter is still having high school sports problems like when I was trying to play with the older girls.

Dad was my first coach and a great athlete in his own right. He competed on the beach volleyball circuit until he was accepted into law school. He met Mom on a summer break during law school while he was in Edinburgh visiting relatives. Mom is a Black Scot able to trace her roots to Guyana, in South America and the Highland coast of Scotland. They fell in love and married shortly after and moved to California. A few years later I arrived, but by the time I turned five, mom realized she couldn't adjust to Southern California and moved back to Scotland. It's been this weird long-distance marriage. We visit a few times a year and I've even spent summers with her, but it's hard to be close to a mother that distant.

“We'll see,” I say. “All these girls are exceptional, but it looks like I'm in competition with Livi; I told you about her?”

“Yeah, I looked up her status, but baby, you got the height and the speed like Poppy's last partner. I wouldn't worry; you got this.”

I chuckle at the obvious pep talk from Coach MacGregor.

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