Gillian’s Island (7 page)

Then the other reality crept back into her mind. The water situation.
Terror gripped her and she couldn’t lie still any longer, even
if she was enjoying being near Jamie. She slipped from beneath the
covers carefully so she wouldn’t wake him and got out of bed.
She located her shorts and shirt and pulled them on.

Gillian crept down the hallway lit only by the sunlight streaming
down the staircase, and made her way to the galley. She grabbed a
bottle of water from the fridge and tried again not to panic. Eight
people. Only a week’s worth of bottled water. She pushed down
the fear building inside her.

The water was barely above room temperature as it slipped down her
parched throat. The fridge had already begun to lose its chill.
Holding her breath, Gillian opened the freezer and quickly tested the
temperature inside with her hand before slamming the door shut to
keep what little cold air remained inside. The leftover meat was in
there. They’d have to eat as much of that as they could today
before it spoiled. The lettuce, berries and melon in the produce
drawer of the fridge wouldn’t last much longer either once they
got warm.

Then what?

She began a thorough search and inventory of the remaining cabinets.
They were packed with cans and bottles, but nothing they could
survive on for the long haul. Peanuts. Potato chips. Caviar. Cocktail
olives and onions. Vodka. Vermouth. They could set up a hell of a
martini bar, but as far as feeding a group of eight for an
undetermined amount of time? Not so much. They would have been better
off stuck on some fishing trawler than on this rich guy’s
yacht. At least then, she’d have hope for large stores of
corned beef hash or canned ham. Something of substance that wouldn’t
rot in the heat.

Rob had been planning on pulling into port during the week so they
could refuel and pick up fresh produce. That wasn’t happening
now.

“Good morning.”

Gillian jumped, startled by Jamie’s voice behind her. She
turned toward him. “Hi.”

He took one look at her face and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“My pitiful poker face gave me away again?” She forced a
smile as he came closer and ran his hands up and down her arms,
leaving goose bumps in their wake.

“Yeah, though I’m thinking it might work to my advantage
in a game of strip poker.” He waggled his eyebrows and made her
laugh. “Seriously, what’s the matter?”

“The freezer’s already getting warm. We’ll have to
finish off the meat and fresh fruit and vegetables before they go
bad. The only other stuff here…” She swept her hand to
indicate the open cabinets and let out a big sigh of frustration.
“Let’s just say we could host a nice cocktail party, but
that’s about it.”

“I told you, I can find us plenty to eat. In fact, I’ll
make you a full meal of island bounty today just to prove it to you.
Okay?”

Seaweed and some strange mollusks? Yummy. Her face must have shown
her distaste.

Jamie
rolled his eyes. “It won’t be that bad.”

She eyed the cabinets. Perhaps if she ate Jamie’s island
gourmet cuisine after some vodka. “Okay.”

“You don’t believe me, but that’s fine. You’ll
see.” He shrugged.

“I guess I will.” Or starve. She tried to hide that
thought so he didn’t think she was ungrateful for his effort.

Jamie leaned past her and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge
for himself. “Did you find more bottled water?”

“One unopened case in the cabinet. That’s it.”

He glanced out the galley’s porthole. “There are dark
clouds on the horizon. I’m going to set up some fresh water
catches before I head out exploring.”

Her stomach twisted. “You don’t think you’re going
to find water, do you?”

His gaze locked on hers. There was regret in his eyes. “I’m
pretty sure I won’t. I didn’t get a chance to tell you,
you were sleeping when I got back to the stateroom, but I did some
work last night and now I’m fairly certain I know where we
are.”

“Where?” Her fear of his answer warred with her desire to
know.

“San Miguel Island. It’s part of the Channel Islands
National Park. The good news is we’re only about fifty-five
miles off the coast of Ventura. The bad news is, if I remember my
facts correctly, there’s no fresh water on San Miguel.”

“Oh, my God.” Her hand found the counter for support.

Jamie reached out and smoothed the frown from her brow with his
thumb.

“There’s nothing to panic about, Gillian. Given where we
are, we won’t be here that long. They’ll be looking for
us and there’ll be ship traffic nearby. Most of the other
islands not part of the park are heavily developed and there’s
a big military presence in this area.” He laughed. “We’re
just lucky this isn’t fifty years ago. The military used to use
this island for bombing practice.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “That’s comforting.”

“Bad joke. I’m sorry.”

Gillian shook her head. “It’s okay.”

“Wanna help me?” Jamie raised a brow and waited.

Fifty-five miles to the mainland and no fresh water source. She
sighed. Keeping busy could only help take her mind off his supposed
good news. “Sure, I’d love to. How?”

“Did you find any large pots or containers in here? We can use
the tarp I saw up top, and even some of the rain slickers onboard.
I’ll set them up to catch the rainwater and funnel it into
catch basins. We can store it for later in case we need it.”

So much for his confidence in the fact they’d be found soon. If
he was setting up a way for them to catch fresh water, he was getting
them ready for the long haul.

Gillian swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I found a
bunch of ice buckets.”

He laughed. “That figures, considering all the champagne
onboard. They’ll work. Speaking of champagne, I guess no one
else is awake yet after the amount of alcohol I watched being
consumed last night.”

“Yeah, I think they’ll all sleep for a while.” Not
that they’d be much help anyway. She and Jamie would handle
what needed to be done. Stomping down the fear, Gillian headed for
the cabinet where she’d seen the silver buckets.

With Jamie’s knowledge, they all just might survive this thing.
She couldn’t let herself believe otherwise.

Chapter Eight

“It’s so ugly.” She pressed her lips tightly
together, as if to block the entry of anything unpleasant between
them.

Jamie couldn’t hide his smile at Gillian’s expression.
“Then close your eyes.”

It would be too easy to get lost in those eyes, so he wrestled his
attention back to the task at hand, getting Gillian to eat.

Nearby, the dance of the natives stranded with them continued as the
others consumed more steak and, of course, alcohol, which only made
for more idiotic behavior. Jamie had purposely positioned their
little picnic meal away from them so they could have privacy. Julie
was upset, afraid they wouldn’t get rescued in time for the
wedding, which meant Rob was upset too. He was with her inside her
stateroom, so Jamie and Gillian were on their own with the feast he’d
harvested for them.

The furrow between her brows deepened. “Are you sure it’s
edible?”

“Yes. Not only is it edible, sea urchins are prized in certain
parts of the world.” Figuring he needed to distract her, he
launched into all he knew about sea urchins. “The best time to
gather them is at night under a full moon.”

Her gaze darted to the luminescent orb above them. “Like
tonight.”

He smiled. “Like tonight. Some islanders drizzle them with
olive oil and a dash of vinegar.”

Luckily for him, the galley was very well stocked. As he spoke, he
did what he described, preparing the raw sea urchin he’d opened
for her with the oil and vinegar. With a kitchen towel wrapped around
his left hand to protect him from the spines, he used the tines of
the fork in his right to lift out the colorful little sections of
flesh. He didn’t dare elaborate and tell Gillian the edible
part was actually the hermaphroditic creature’s gonads. Some
things were better left unsaid.

“What do you do for a living?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re stalling.”

“No. Well, yes, but I really am curious. You know more about
everything than anyone else I know.”

“I know a little bit about a lot of things. That doesn’t
mean I know everything about everything. I’m a professor in the
anthropology department at the University of Chicago. Since we’re
playing question and answer, what do you do?”

“I’m a boring old accountant.”

“You’re not boring or old.”

“I’m so boring I had three years worth of vacation days
stored up because I never do anything or go anywhere. That turned out
to be lucky, though, since I’ve used them so I could help my
sister with the wedding.”

“Lucky indeed. Now enough stalling. Are you ready?” He
held the fork up.

She wrinkled her nose. “You first.”

Jamie sighed dramatically while rolling his eyes and was rewarded
with a smile from Gillian. He slurped down the custard-like fish then
licked his lips. “Mmm. Good. Your turn now.”

Gillian watched him closely, as if waiting for him to keel over or
blow up like a balloon.

“I think you’re lying to me about how it tastes.”
She squinted at the small pile of spiny creatures he’d caught.

“Only one way to find out.” He picked up another urchin,
prepared it the same way he had the first and lifted the loaded fork.

She hesitated a beat and then her lips parted and she waited for him
to feed her. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the golden
food enter her mouth. His eyes never left her while she swallowed.
Then her pink tongue appeared and licked those luscious lips and he
had trouble swallowing himself. “Good?”

“Not as bad as I thought.” She shrugged.

“Glad to hear it.” He finally remembered to pull his hand
with the fork back from her. “Ready for some kelp salad?”

Gillian laughed. “Sure. Why not.”

Earlier, he’d made a dressing for the sea kelp with ingredients
he’d found in the galley, and then put the salad into bowls.
She took it now, poking at it with another fork. “It looks kind
of normal, I guess.”

“It is. Just like lettuce, but it grows in the sea.”

Those gorgeous lips twisted. “You mean like sea weed?”

“Try it.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

He watched as she chewed. Yeah, it would be a little rubbery but that
didn’t mean it didn’t taste good. Meanwhile, he was
imagining what that mouth could do to him. To distract himself, he
started talking. “Sea kelp is very high in protein, fiber,
vitamins B and E, and manganese.”

Looking less than impressed, she swallowed. “Oh, good, because
I’ve often thought how I don’t get enough manganese in my
diet.”

Now his lips twisted. “Admit it. It’s not that bad.”

Rolling her eyes, she finally smiled. “It’s not that
bad.”

He returned her smile. “I told you so. Ready for some abalone?”

A short laugh burst from Gillian. “I don’t know. Am I?”

“Yes.” If she wasn’t, he would have to get her
ready because the meat was nearly gone and would be too warm to eat
soon anyway. Unless they tried making jerky out of the limited
leftover steak, this was what they would have to survive on until
they were rescued.

He began a detailed lecture about abalone, making it sound as
attractive as possible. “Some people say the flavor is richer
than scallops. The texture is supposed to be firmer than calamari.
It’s a delicacy, prized by the Chinese.”

“I don’t usually eat my scallops or my calamari raw. In
fact, deep fried and greasy and smothered in red sauce is how I
prefer my calamari.”

“We don’t have to have the abalone raw. I mean, it can be
served raw in sushi or ceviche, but it can be grilled too, or even
fried.” Abandoning his bowl, he got up and pulled two aluminum
foil packets from the coals at the edge of the fire. “I wrapped
it with a little white wine, lemon, salt and pepper.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Had he actually impressed her? “You are
quite the survival chef, aren’t you? Perhaps you should get
your own cable cooking show. Half Survivor, half Rachel Ray.”

“Not a bad idea. You can be my sidekick. We’ll roam the
world, stopping in all the most exotic places and I’ll cook for
you.” Jamie looked up and found her watching him as he plated
the fish and handed it to her. She had a strange expression on her
face. “What?”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. “That sounds nice actually,
traveling the world, eating. Together.”

Out of the blue, the memory of her going down over his cock the day
they met hit him like a physical blow. His body immediately woke up.
“Um. Here.”

Taking the plate he thrust in her direction, she broke the gaze and
concentrated on the food. “Thanks.”

With the second dish he’d prepared for himself in hand, he sat
again as Gillian began systematically to devour the fish. “I
guess you like it.”

“Yes. It’s good.” Her eyes shot nervously to him,
then away again. Was she suddenly shy around him? Or was it something
else?

The tension between them was almost palpable. His gut twisted and his
erection got even harder. To distract himself from thinking about
throwing her over his shoulder and tossing her onto his bed, he
shoved a forkful of abalone into his mouth. When he glanced up, she
was watching him again.

She placed the now empty plate on the blanket next to her and, if his
mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, she leaned toward him. Or
perhaps he leaned closer to her.

“Jamie.”

“Yeah?”

Their faces were a breath apart now. His gaze dropped to watch her
lips part as her breath quickened.

“Reilly!” The squeal had him pulling back guiltily just
as Reilly sped past, laughing and swinging a bikini top over his head
as a topless bridesmaid pursued him covering bouncing bare breasts
with her hands.