He was afraid for her. He cared about her.

“Go back to the beach.”

“First ask me again how I am.”

“I already know the answer.”

“Ask me, Christian.”

He sighed, and took a good look at her, probably seeing the emotion spilling all over her face, because he stepped over the rock between them, coming toe-to-toe with her.

She resisted the urge to put her hands on his damp chest. She had no idea why it was so unattractive when a woman perspired, but just the opposite when a man did.

Focus. “Ask me.”

“Fine.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “How are you?”

“Bad.”

He grimaced. “Look, you’ve been through a lot. You’ve probably never dealt with anything like this before, much less worried about the threat of possible physical violence, but-”

“You don’t know that.”

He arched a brow.

“Okay,” she caved. “I’ve never been in this type of situation before. Nothing even close, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it. But it’s you I’m worried about-”

“Me?” He looked incredulous. “I can handle it. I can handle anything.”

And probably had. “You know Bobby personally. It’s different for you.”

He folded his arms over his chest, so close yet still so closed off to her. “So you’ve decided that I didn’t kill him then?”

“Will it go to your head if I say yes?”

He gave her another of those long, penetrating looks that had her wishing she’d managed to do something more about her bedraggled appearance.

As if reading her mind, his gaze slid slowly down her body and then back up, but before she could read his expression, he turned his back on her and once again began climbing. “Go back to the beach,” he repeated.

She eyed the sleek sinew of his back, the way his muscles bunched and stretched, his entire body working like a well-oiled machine, recognizing the steady, unwavering motions for what they were-suppressed grief.

He’d helped her earlier, helped her deal, and now she wanted to do the same for him. Hurrying to keep up, she reached out to touch him.

“Don’t,” he said, those muscles jerking beneath her fingers.

“It’s a lot to deal with alone-”

“Goddamnit. At least I can deal.” Belying that cool, unfathomable voice, he whirled away from her. “Bobby can no longer deal at all. I should be counting my blessings.” He glanced at her. “And you should be counting yours, too.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if someone offed Bobby for being annoying, you might consider yourself in mortal danger.”

FIFTEEN

Forget Ashton,

send the Coast Guard (and chocolate).


Five minutes later, Christian climbed straight up onto a plateau.

Shit.

Not high enough to see past the mountains behind them or the other side of the island, and not low enough to see any other routes, it was a dead end. “We could go into the rain forest, see if it leads anywhere,” he said over his shoulder to Dorie.

“Oh, God. Really?”

He let out a sigh. He’d come back on his own. “Back to the beach then.” He turned to Dorie, and caught her oogling his ass.

The sheer lust on her face created his own, which was bad. Very, very bad. “Dorie.”

She shut her mouth and closed her eyes. “Sorry.”

Sorry. How much of a jerk had he become that he’d made a woman sorry for wanting him?

“I’m going back now,” she said.

“Good idea. Come on.” He took her hand and they walked in silence back to the beach. Brandy was sun-bathing. Cadence was busy with the luggage. Andy was standing near the water’s edge, his Abercrombie and Fitch cargoes rolled up, his head down.

Dorie let go of his hand and headed for Andy, and Christian had no choice but to let her. He looked at the boat and tried to get his mind off her and whatever connection she was making with Andy. He’d tried to get the galley appliances working, but the water damage had been thorough. They had no working lights, refrigeration, or running water.

They would have to eat cold cuts and anything else that could go bad in the heat. By his own calculations, they would last approximately one more day without having to go search out food.

He hated the thought of barbequed snapping turtle.

Dorie was still with Andy.

“You really are something,” Andy was saying to Dorie. “Beautiful.” He touched her jaw.

Dorie swallowed hard. Christian’s stomach tightened.

Dorie smiled, but it was a little weak. “Um, I hath to go get thomething.”

Andy blinked. “Huh?”

She appeared to bite her own tongue, but she backed away. “I’m thorry, but-”

“Are you all right-”

“Thine.” She whirled then, apparently not as easy to seduce as Christian would have bet on, and ran-

Right into Christian.

“Oh,” she gasped as he caught her. “Sorry.”

He peered into her face. “What’s the matter with your tongue?”

“Nothing. Nothing now anyway. Excuse me.” Pushing away from him, she moved down the beach toward Cadence and Brandy, who were turning over their drying clothes on the rocks. It was like a Frederick’s of Hollywood sale, with panties and bras and things all over the place. Dorie sat in the center of it and pulled a pad of paper from her purse. She began drawing, her tongue between her teeth, her brow furrowed in concentration. With the humidity, her hair had gone wild, barely contained on top of her head with curly tendrils hanging down in her face, which she kept blowing away with an irritated huff.

She was no longer wearing his shirt, a fact for which he was grateful because the sight of his clothing on her had given him an unwelcome surge of possession over her. Now she wore a lightweight skirt and two camisoles layered over each other.

The clothes clung to her body, outlining her, a situation he couldn’t say was a hardship to take in. She was only average height, really, and he supposed average weight, more curvy than thin, which was a bonus if he’d been looking to hook up with her.

He was not.

Not going to mix business and pleasure. Not when he had other, more pressing things to do-like help them all survive.

Lifting her pad, Dorie showed Brandy and Cadence what she’d drawn. Then she grabbed a palm tree frond and began twisting it, maneuvering it into some shape… a visor, which she set on Cadence’s head.

Cadence laughed and handed her another frond for Brandy, and she twisted that as well, and they all laughed. Bonded.

Christian turned away. Ethan was gathering wood for a fire, and doing it rather ineffectively. With a sigh, Christian joined him, tripling the stack of wood in front of the makeshift fire pit in minutes.

“Thanks,” Ethan said, swiping sweat from his eyes. “I need a break.”

“We need to build a shelter first.” Between the two of them they used the palm fronds and sail remnants to create an overhang to protect them from the elements, the relentless sun, and later, the night, which would be darker than their guests could imagine.

Cadence immediately got busy making the shelter homey, keeping her hands busy. Christian understood the feeling. He needed to keep himself occupied as well. He glanced at Dorie, and caught her watching him. She licked her lips, a nervous little gesture that gave her away, but not as much as her nipples hardening, an impressive sight in those two thin, layered tops.

Andy wandered over there. Of course he did, blocking Christian’s view, to show Dorie his pants, which were ripped at the seam.

Dorie opened her purse and pulled out a small kit of some kind, doing something that included scissors and a needle and thread, all the while engaging in conversation with Cadence and Brandy. He had no idea how women could talk nonstop like that for hours on end; it was just one of those phenomena he attributed to having more estrogen than testosterone. But Andy didn’t appear to mind that, or having her hands all over him as she fixed the pants.

Andy leaned in to kiss her, and she surprised both men by turning her head and giving him her cheek.

Andy kissed her, sliding his finger over her shoulder, his gaze briefly dropping to her breasts.

So did Christian’s.

Her nipples were no longer hard.

She didn’t get turned on by Andy, not like she had for Christian. He really wished he didn’t know that.


“Here he comes,” Cadence whispered.

Dorie’s heart thumped hard. “Christian?”

“Baseball Cutie.”

She turned. Yep, Andy was back, looking determined. Oh boy. He held out a frond. “Do me?”

“Uh…” Once again her tongue swelled and stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Make me a visor?”

“Oh! Sure.” She began twisting the frond, concentrating on that instead of her tongue, but then he sat close enough that their thighs brushed.

She glanced over at Cadence, who moved away to give them privacy, and then back to Andy. “Andy, I think I’ve given you the wrong impression.” She couldn’t believe she was going to do this. “I think you’re a really great guy.”

“Uh-oh,” Andy said. “The ‘great guy’ speech.”

Oh, God. This was hard. But after the past few days, after the way her body had sort of taken over and reacted to Christian, she couldn’t continue with Andy. “I just don’t think I’m right for you.”

“You’re exactly right for me. You’re beautiful, sweet, and unjaded. You’re like a fresh breeze, and I-”

“Andy.” She let out a disparaging sound. “Crazy,” she said to herself. “I’m crazy for doing this.”

“It’s the heat,” he told her earnestly, looking so gorgeous it physically hurt to look at him. “It’s getting to me, too.”

“No.” She covered her face, then dropped her hands and looked right into his eyes, determined. “It’s not the heat. You’re not right for me.”