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  The Bachelor on Mars, Copyright © Leigh Wyndfield, 2021

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  Omnific Publishing

  2355 Westwood Blvd., Suite 506

  Los Angeles, CA 90064

  www.omnificpublishing.com

  First Omnific eBook edition, September 2021

  First Omnific trade paperback edition, September 2021

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead,

  is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Wyndfield, Leigh.

  The Bachelor on Mars / Leigh Wyndfield – 1st ed. ISBN: 978-1-623422-70-7

  1. Contemporary Romance — Fiction. 2. Mars — Fiction.

  3. Science — Fiction. 4. Humor — Fiction. I. Title

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover Design by Sweet n’ Spicy Designs

  Interior Book Design by Amit Dey

  Printed in the United States of America

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Margaret Carson rose from a crouch, wrench in hand, to find her research assistant Taylor fidgeting on the far side of the lift. The graduate students always seemed to be fidgeting, as if she made them nervous, which was silly. She wasn’t an ogre, just no-nonsense and direct.

  “Yes?” she asked, hoping the interruption would be fast. If she adjusted the drive shaft a tiny bit, she knew the rover she’d spent the last five years working on would be perfect.

  “Dr. Carson, I know you asked not to be disturbed.”

  “True.” She couldn’t return to work until she dealt with whatever Taylor had to tell her, so Margaret forced herself to focus.

  “A man is here who says he’s your brother,” Taylor said in a rush, her voice breathy and higher than usual, her face shining with fascination. “I didn’t even know you had a brother.”

  Every woman had this reaction to Hank. Her whole family had been blessed in the good-looks department, a trait that had been a hindrance more than once in her career. As a mechanical engineer, her appearance should never be more important than her brain, so she’d learned to be as incognito as possible. She accomplished this by wearing what she called her uniform—black pants, a shapeless golf shirt and no makeup. Her hair was always in an unsophisticated ponytail and she’d added glasses despite not needing them. She suspected she’d taken the slightly sloppy look too far, but it was so comfortable, she’d be okay if she never wore high heels again.

  “Show him in,” she said with a sigh. If her brother had come in person, then the four messages he’d left earlier really had been important after all, which wasn’t necessarily true when it came to her brother.

  She’d planned to call him in a couple hours. After she’d finished the adjustment she’d woken up in the middle of the night knowing would solve the drive train problem that had cropped up last week on the rough terrain simulating Mars. Which was where her rover would ultimately end up, when she won the grants to pay to test it on the red planet.

  Margaret stared fondly at her creation, the domed passenger compartment that could carry two people sitting atop supports that went down to eight wheels like a gigantic, bad ass spider. The struts could flex and bend to accommodate obstacles and uneven ground. The odd wheel base allowed it to climb, solving the current issue with normal rovers getting trapped by sudden breaks in the terrain. The compartment would keep two people in a perfectly controlled oxygen environment. In the rear, two solar panels flared like wings.

  The unmanned rovers of the past had run into issues with solar, because the panels had been quickly covered by the dust that swirled in the Mars wind. They had replaced their solar with nuclear, which had a lifespan of only two years. But her rovers carried people, who could easily wipe off the dust, giving them a never-ending power supply that should be perfect.

  Maybe if she added another shock absorber up at the top of each wheel strut, she’d be able to lessen the abuse to the drive train. She leaned down to study the top of the struts.

  “Margo,” her brother said from somewhere above her, making her jump because she’d already forgotten him.

  “Hank,” she said, straightening, blinking a bit to bring him into focus.

  Her brother’s name was Harold, but he was not a Harold. Her brother was the least stuffy, most fun-loving guy she knew. Women and even men flocked to him, with his blond hair and easy smile, straight teeth, glowing green eyes, and perfect body. Today he was dressed as a TV executive, which was what he did for a living.

  Her brother frowned in concern, clearly wondering as all her family did, how this had happened. This being her whole mechanical engineering fixation and her lack of personal style. “I have a proposition for you.”

  She didn’t have time for one of her brother’s schemes, so she said, “No,” and leaned over to the rover.

  Hank knocked on the rover’s hood.

  She stumbled backwards in surprise, having already drifted into work. “Why are you still here? You know I don’t participate in your crazy plans anymore, Harold.”

  “I know you don’t usually, Margaret,” he said, stressing her full name as she had stressed his, but the difference was, she liked it better when he called her by her name. She was the one person in the family who appreciated a stuffy handle. “But this time, you will be glad you listened to me.”

  Margaret straightened and put on her patience hat. The way to get rid of Hank was to hear it all the way through and then be firm and clear. When her brother dug in like this, he wasn’t going to go away without fully exploring his skills of persuasion. While tenacity was one of her own positive attributes, she found it annoying in others. “I’m listening.”

  “You know my latest TV show?”

  She strained her brain, but the file folder came up empty. “No.” She loved her brother and knew he loved her, but they were completely opposite people, and as such had a hard time finding each other interesting.

  Hank threw up his hands, clearly exasperated. “Margo, do you ever notice what anyone else does with their lives?”

  “Not really,” she admitted, wondering why he looked so huffy. She wished no one ill, she just had better things to do with her time. She glanced at the rover. Like work.

  Hank knocked on the rover’s hood again, annoying her. “Don’t ignore me when I’ve driven all the way over here to talk to you.”

  She stepped away from her work, because she wouldn’t be able to stand near and not focus on it. “Then talk.”

  “My latest show I’m producing is called The Mars Bachelor.”

  “Oh, good lord,” she whispered, but softly, because she couldn’t get rid of him without him saying whatever it was he’d come to say.

  “It takes place on Mars, of course.”

  She blinked. “But that would cost millions.”

  Hank huffed out a laugh. “You have no idea.
We can’t film without two rockets to move both the people and equipment up and back down, which would blow your mind it’s so expensive. Then we have to pay to live in some crappy research station that is about one step up from camping despite a daily rate that is triple the Ritz per person.”

  The full impact hit her. “Wait! Are you telling me you’ll get to Mars before I will, Hank? Because if you’re telling me that, we both know that’s completely unfair.” She’d spent her life trying to get to the red planet.

  “Have you ever watched The Bachelor?” he asked, ignoring her question.

  “Of course not,” she said, insulted.

  “My God, it’s like you’re not even part of our generation,” he said, shaking his head. “Okay, so the premise is that women compete to end up engaged to one man. He slowly weeds them out until he’s left with The One.” He made air quotes around the last two words.

  She hissed. “That is one of the most hideous, misogynistic things I’ve ever heard, and you’re producing it?”

  “Settle down,” he said, grinning at her, not insulted in the least by her criticism. He never was. “They have the same show in reverse where the woman picks from a group of men.”

  “Still disgusting, even if the woman is picking,” she informed him, but had to secretly admit it wasn’t as gross.

  “Disgusting or not, we have plenty of money to go to any place our viewers can dream up. We’re set to leave tomorrow for Mars.”

  She moaned in jealousy. Her brother, who had once declared that only geeks were interested in space, was going on her dream trip.

  Going to Mars would be commonplace in the next twenty or thirty years, now that they’d solved the space travel puzzle. With the introduction of new rockets and a cheap fuel source, it was only a three-week trip instead of three hundred days. But for today, only scientists and a small few were given visas to go up and even then, the price was astronomical.

  But somehow her brother and a group of desperate-to-be-in-love women were heading up to the red planet before she was. She gripped a nearby lab table to steady herself.

  Hank raised his fist as if to knock on her rover again.

  “You better not,” she warned, but she wasn’t really angry. It was impossible to stay mad at Hank since he was in a continuous good mood. And it wasn’t his fault he was going to Mars before her. He’d probably done market research and found Mars was the number one filming location for high ratings. And she had to admit, even she would be tempted to watch.

  He laughed and lowered his hand. “One of the contestants fell and broke her leg last night. We need a fill in.” He looked at Margaret expectantly.

  She made a hurry up motion with one hand, wondering why he’d paused. Surely he’d be gone soon, so she could get back to work.

  He shook his head, wearing a look that he often had when they talked. “You.” He pointed at her. “I need you to fill in.”

  “You want me to be on a show where a man picks through women like he would choose a dog at the pound?”

  He nodded. “On Mars.”

  Mars.

  Oh, God. Would she give up her pride to go to Mars? “Why me?” she asked. He had other people to choose from, like someone who wanted to put themselves in a debasing and probably humiliating position.

  “Who else would I think of? You’ve talked about little else since we were kids. And very few people are sitting around with all the psych evaluations, medical tests, physical conditioning requirements, and vaccines completed.” Hank gave her an assessing look. “Besides, you’re beautiful and I need a gorgeous woman. And we can play up the brainy professor thing.”

  “Great. Just what I’ve always longed for. The opportunity to be valued for my looks.” Another thought occurred to her. “Wait a minute, you think I’ll let you publicly humiliate me in front of all my peers on a national TV show?”

  Hank nodded. “International. The show is in every English speaking country and dubbed in three languages.” Hank’s pride at this fact was clear.

  “You’re insane,” she whispered, staring at her brother with wonder. Did he have no idea who she was? She would never risk her reputation like this, even if Mars was her biggest dream. “I have spent my life building my academic reputation. I would never live it down if I went on your show.”

  “This show is not about humiliating women, Margo.” His tone turned annoyed. “It’s about love.”

  “Love is for saps and losers, Hank.”

  “How is it possible you and I are from the same family?” he asked, his voice filled with awe, because Hank was a man who loved deeply and often.

  “No one was ever remembered throughout history for being in love,” she said, trying to explain. Her life was about making this world better, creating solutions to hard problems. She wanted to leave her stamp on science long after she was gone.

  “How about Romeo and Juliet?”

  She covered her eyes with her hands. Did her brother not read? “They were fourteen-year-olds who killed themselves. Besides, they weren’t even real people. Shakespeare made them up.”

  Hank stared at her with that determined look on his face. The same one that had once had him heckling her until she’d been the lead in a play he’d written, a memory that still made her burn with humiliation every time she thought of it. He pointed at the rover. “If you come fill in, I promise to give you a fake name, hide your identity, and—”

  She opened her mouth to cut him off.

  He raised his voice to finish, “—you can test your rover.”

  She closed her mouth, staring at him in shock. Test her rover. On Mars.

  He knew he had her hooked, because he held up one finger. “You get to test it after you’re voted off the show. Not before.”

  Reality hit her. “I have a budget meeting I can’t miss in two months.” Even with the decreased time to get to Mars and back, there was no way she would make it. And if she wasn’t there, her lab funding would be the first on the chopping block.

  “We’ve got two rockets scheduled. One with the original cast and a second coming less than a week later that will bring new supplies and take those home who are voted out in the first few rounds. It’s the regular quarterly supply run for the station. Boyle made us pay for it.” Hank made a sour face. “You would come back just in time to make your meeting, although expect to be badly space lagged.”

  She started to say no again, but asked instead, “I’ll get voted off at the beginning?” All her pride fell away like her weight loss resolutions in the face of chocolate. Test her rover. And Hank promised she’d be anonymous. She’d slap on makeup and dye her hair. Take off her glasses.

  “Right. You’ll go first for sure. With your acting skills, we’ll have to edit you out as it is.” He looked grumpy at the thought. “You’re going to end up being a bigger pain in the ass than dealing with Jack Boyle.”

  “Jack Boyle, the geologist?” she asked, drawn up short by the famous name.

  Hank nodded. “He runs the station.”

  “Jack Boyle is letting a reality TV show film at Research Station 7?” Holy smokes. His reputation made him sound like he’d never sell out. She’d seen him speak a few times. He had a hot mind and a pretty decent body. He was, in fact, her definition of perfection in the male species.

  “You know the number of his research station?” her brother asked, acting like she knew the name of an obscure last century rock band.

  “Hank, there are only two active stations on Mars right now. It’s not exactly hard to keep up with two numbers. Besides, Jack Boyle is a super star.”

  “Jack Boyle is a grumpy, hard-headed asshole.”

  A horrible thought occurred to her. “He isn’t the bachelor is he?”

  Hank laughed for so long, she figured the answer was no.

  “It’s not that unlikely. He’s pretty hot for a geologist.” When she’d seen him at a Mars Exploration event last year, he’d actually handed her some papers she’d dropped and she’d checked h
im out up close. Definitely a ten in her book.

  Her brother swiped at tears, annoying her further.

  She decided to ignore his mirth, since he obviously thought her personal idea of a perfect mate wasn’t bachelor worthy. Hank never could appreciate science. “Wow, Jack Boyle, I’ve always wanted to meet him.” But oh no! She’d meet him as a contestant on an embarrassing TV show. She’d have to duck him if at all possible. “How will I be anonymous?” she asked, seeing complications everywhere.

  But Boyle didn’t know who she was. Besides, he barely spoke to anyone. He might have published the most far-reaching studies on rock formations on Mars, but he was basically a recluse, totally focused on his research.

  Hank scanned her up and down appraisingly. “Because we’ll turn you into the knockout you are, hiding under all that.”

  She stared at her lab coat and tennis shoes. “I work in a lab. This is practical attire.” Besides, this was her uniform, not rags.

  “Just trust me. Our own mother won’t recognize you after my people get done.”

  This is a bad idea. It will all go wrong, her mind warned. No one keeps secrets anymore.

  She looked at her rover. Mars. She’d finally get to Mars and test her rover. No more late night grant work, no more begging for funding. She’d be there.

  “Two days work max and you can spend the time until the next shuttle testing. You’ll have at least a couple days of experiments, before the second shuttle arrives.” Hank gave her his here-is-your-biggest-wish smile. “This might be your only chance in the next ten years and I’m handing it to you on a silver platter.”

  “This is going to be a disaster,” she whispered, but she was going and he knew it.

  “Great! It’s settled then,” Hank said. “You need to be packed and at this address before six tonight. I’ve got a crew in route here to pick up the rover and whatever else you need for your tests.” He put a stack of papers on a nearby workbench, “You can’t get on the shuttle without signing these liability forms. The company won’t be responsible if anything goes wrong. You’re going to another planet—”

  She cut him off. “I know where I’m going. Probably better than you do.”