He knew the signs. “Open your eyes,” he instructed. “Look at a focal point until the dizziness passes.”

Those killer eyes opened and landed on him. “I’m okay.”

“You are definitely okay,” he agreed. “Probably not ready for a mountain climb, but-”

“A flight home would be great.”

He gave her a grim smile and pulled her slowly upright to a sit. “Well, that answers that. You know where you are. Tell me who you are and what year it is, and we’ll be in business.”

“I know who I am.” Her eyes met his, and in them was the knowledge of what they’d done last night. “I’d like to stand up. Because I think there might be ants crawling in places they have no business crawling.”

He got her up, noting that Andy kept an arm around her, acting as her crutch. Not that Dorie seemed to mind. Nope, she leaned on him, even smiled a sweet thanks into his face.

While Christian tried to remember why he’d ever wanted the two of them to find each other.

“Actually,” Dorie said after a moment, looking shaky, “the ground was good. You guys go on ahead and finish your exploring, I’ll just take a little nap.”

“No nap,” Christian said, catching her before she lay back down. “In fact, no sleeping for you, not with a concussion.”

“You said mild.”

“No sleeping,” he repeated firmly. “Not until I say so.”

“She needs to get back to camp,” Denny said.

Brandy slipped an arm around Dorie’s waist. “We’re done exploring today.”

“So where the hell’s Ethan?” Denny turned in a slow circle, looking.

Andy nodded down the way they’d been walking. “He kept going.”

Denny shook his head. “Idiot. Let’s go back.”

“And what, just leave Ethan out here?” Cadence asked, looking horrified.

“Ethan’s a big boy,” Denny said. “He can take care of himself, trust me.”

They all began the trek back, each of them taking turns helping Dorie so that Christian didn’t have to.

Which should have worked for him.

Except it didn’t.

“I really thought I was cut out for this whole outdoor life adventure,” Andy muttered at the halfway point. “Turns out I’m not. I need a vacation from my vacation.”

At the shakiness of his voice, Christian looked at him. “You starting to lose it?”

“Yes. Yes, I believe I am.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

“Really? So you think there’s a Ritz on the other side of this island?”

“We’ll be found,” Denny said. “You’ll get your Ritz.”

“Yes, but when? A day? A week? We’ll all be dead before then.”

“Nah,” Christian said. “We have plenty of fresh water, and it’d take a lot longer than a week to die of starvation.”

“Good to know.” But Andy’s voice said it wasn’t good to know at all.

When they finally staggered back to the beach, Denny handed out water, fresh fruits, and bread. The cheese and meats were gone, and though no one complained or said a word about it, Christian knew by tomorrow people would be panicking.

He hoped like hell Ethan found people on the other side of the island. And a working radio. He watched Dorie very carefully, which was how he knew that though she pretended to, she didn’t drink and she didn’t eat. He waited until Cadence and Brandy went with Andy to the water to cool off and then he crouched at her side.

“Are you going to ask me how I’m doing?” she asked without looking at him. “Because I’m not sure I could summon up a good lie right now.”

“I want the truth.”

“I want to take a nap.”

“I know, but-”

“No, I mean I can’t keep my eyes open, Christian.” She put her hand on his arm and looked into his face, her own imploring. “I’m not trying to be a whiner here, but my head hurts like hell and my eyes are closing, and if you need me to stay awake, then help me.”

He considered calling Andy back to get on babysitting duty, but that thought only pissed him off, so he rose to his feet and gently pulled her to hers. “Come on.”

“Oh no,” she said when he walked her back to the edge of the rain forest.

“Trust me.”

She didn’t say a word to that, so he assumed she did trust him, which he didn’t want to think about. He remained silent, keeping an arm around her waist, guiding her, until they stood before the natural waterfall, where they’d had the most erotic, sensual, hottest sex of his life only the night before.

He pulled her into the cool water up to her calves, and immediately saw a change in her eyes. More alert, more aware.

Good.

Why he then pulled her against him, gently cupped her head, taking care not to touch her injury, before leaning in and kissing her, he’d never know. But he immediately sank into the kiss, into the feel of her doing the same with that sweet, soft sigh, and when she slid her hands up his back as if she couldn’t help but touch as much of him as she could, he thought his legs were going to buckle.

Then she pulled back just a little and stared at his mouth in surprise.

He was just as surprised.

“What was that?” she asked.

With a shake of his head-which didn’t help clear it-he stepped back. “Not a clue.”

“I thought we weren’t going to do that anymore.”

“Like I said, not a clue.”

She was still looking into his eyes, her own curious. “You said that it was just adrenaline. But that didn’t feel like just adrenaline.”

“I know.”

Again, she looked at him for a long beat. “I’m going to make this easy for you, Christian.” She staggered back a step, then held up a hand when he would have reached for her. “If you don’t know how or why that just happened, then you need to keep your hands off me. And your mouth.” She pointed at him. “Especially your mouth.” With that, she turned and very carefully and very slowly began to leave.

He followed, and when she glanced at him, he raised his hands. “You want to go back. Fine. But not alone.”

“I’m feeling better.”

“Great, even if you’re lying. But there’s still the little problem of whoever made Bobby bleed all over his bathroom, remember?” He could see by her face that she did. “Don’t ask me to let you go back alone.”

She stared at him, then slowly turned and began walking again, allowing him to follow. Because apparently, he could do little else.

TWENTY

Night Two on deserted island

without modern conveniences,

which sounds much more romantic

than it really is.


For some time now, Dorie had had this recurring dream. It changed a little each time, but it came in some variation of finding herself seventy-something years old, complete with gray hair and white orthopedic shoes, moving up and down the aisles of Shop-Mart, still shelving for an even older, meaner Mr. Stryowski.

This time she was in the geriatric aisle trying to reach the Depends, and Mr. Stryowski was coming after her waving his cane.

When she awoke with a start, she was covered in sweat. “I am not going to be shelving adult diapers when I’m seventy,” she said out loud, then shut up because her head hurt like hell.

“Well, that’s good.”

She gulped in air but kept her eyes closed. His voice was low, already unbearably familiar, and just the sound of it, French as ever, was so comforting she felt the burn of tears behind her eyes.

“Dorie? Look at me.”

“No, thanks.”

“Dorie.”

Fine. She’d look at him, even if doing so always, always, did something to her belly, and it wasn’t completely pleasant. She opened her eyes. Pitch-dark under their shelter, and pitch-dark outside except for the glow of the ever-burning campfire.

Turning her head, she focused on Christian crouched at her side. Behind him, she could hear Brandy breathing deeply and evenly. Cadence was behind her, most likely asleep as well, though she wasn’t making a sound. Andy, she knew, was closer to the beach, but was still in plain sight, or had been when they’d all gone to sleep.

She knew Denny had settled near Andy, with Ethan as well, who’d returned with no news. She could only assume that Christian had slept with the guys.

When he wasn’t waking her up, that is.

He’d been waking her up every few hours. She had no idea what time it was, but guessed dawn was still a long way off.

“How many of me do you see?” he asked.

“Same as the last time you asked me that question, and the time before.”

“Dorie.”

She sighed. “I see one of you. Do you have an evil ex-wife?”

“What? No.”

“Just checking, because you’re always looking at me like you’re waiting for me to bite you or something.”

“I’ve never been married, and I’m definitely not afraid of a bite. What’s my name?”

“Grumpy Doctor. Which reminds me to ask you, why are you a doctor anyway, if you grew up hating being dragged around the world with your father?”

“I never said I hated it, and what happened to the gorgeous part?”

“Huh?”

“I thought the nickname was Gorgeous Grumpy Doctor.”

She rolled her eyes. Big mistake, because that hurt like hell. “Okay, why do you look like you hate being a doctor?”

His gaze cut to hers. “What I hate, if anything, is-was-being on a sailboat and healing paper cuts and sprained ankles.”

“And splinters.”

A very small smile curved his lips. “Actually, that was a nice perk.”

“That’s my butt you’re talking about.”

“Like I said, a perk.”

“Well, thank you. I think.” She studied him a moment, and he let her. In reverse, she’d be squirming, but he wasn’t much of a squirmer. He was extremely comfortable in his own skin, an appealing trait, she had to admit. “Why aren’t you working at a hospital then, healing much more serious problems?”

He looked away.