The Trouble With Paradise (24 page)

Oh, God.
He was going to slip into her from behind, and her legs trembled because she was going to let him. Just to see if she could come again without any effort at all, she told herself. Call it research.

Or sheer, unadulterated, uncontrollable lust.

He bunched up the material of her skirt, pushing it high. But instead of skimming her panties down, he slid them aside, bunching them where no panties should be bunched, giving her a world-class wedgie. “Hey—”

“Shh.”

She was just surprised enough to actually close her mouth, but then he flattened one hand on her bottom and ran a finger over the crease of her upper thigh, right where she’d removed the first splinter. “Good work,” he said. “Where’s the other one?”

“Don’t you even
think
about it,” she hissed, and began to struggle.

“Too late, I’m thinking.” He whisked her panties down to her thighs, leaving her hanging out in the wind. “Ah,” he murmured. “There it is.” He might have said other stuff, too, but Dorie was too busy trying to get free in order to kill him.

“Hang on,” he said.

Hang on.
Hang on?
Was he crazy? “Don’t you
dare
—”

He spread his hand over her now bared bottom, holding her down. “I just need a light”—he rifled through the first-aid kit—“Perfect.”

He’d found a flashlight. Which meant she was going to die of embarrassment right here. “We’re not doing this.”

“Not we,” he corrected.
“Me.”

“I mean it, Christian—”

“Damn it, it’s infected.” He said this while still holding her down with ease, and she scrunched her eyes tightly shut because now that she wasn’t blinded by lust, she could only imagine the picture she made for him, bent over the rock, her skirt shoved up to her waist, her panties pushed down to her thighs, exposing—

“This might hurt a little—”

“Ouch!”
She yelped at the sharp prick, and would have whipped around except for that whole holding her down thing. Almost before she could draw a breath, she felt his finger stroke the spot with something cool and incredibly soothing.

“Topical antibiotic,” he said. “Be still, you’re squirming all over the place.”

Her head was buried in her arms, her eyes still tightly shut.
Be still?
She was hoping to
die
.

“Relax, I’ve seen it all before. A million times.”

Yeah, just what she wanted to hear.
Idiot.
She was an idiot. “Thank you,” she managed, but the words backed up in her throat when his finger left the spot, replaced by—
“What are you doing?”

“Kissing it better,” he murmured, his mouth against her skin.

She jerked upright, which had the effect of bouncing his mouth off her butt, and whipped around, shoving her skirt down as she did. “Okay, thank you for the splinter removal, but—”

He sat back on his heels, his eyes gleaming with good humor. “Yes?”

“That was entirely inappropriate.”

A full-blown grin left him at that. “You didn’t say that the first time I had my mouth on your—”

“Okay, you have to stop that,” she said, pointing at him. “Stop talking dirty.”

“That’s not talking dirty.” He rose to his feet, a lithe, easy motion, and took a step toward her. “Now this is talking dirty . . .” And he pulled her into his arms, putting his mouth to her ear, whispering things that made her legs wobble.

Between them she could feel herself go damp. “Okay, yes that was dirty.” She drew in a shaky breath. “But we decided not to do this again, remember? Now I’m going to bed.”

His eyes were sleepy and sexy as hell. “Fine. But what about the bet?”

Oh good God.
“I did not agree to dance naked.”

“I took your silence as agreement.”

“Well, it’s a shame then that you didn’t specify which night.” Brilliant! “Because it’ll be the night that hell freezes over.”

His mouth curved in a little smile, but mercifully, he let her get away with it. Probably because when it came right down to it, he knew as well as she did that doing it again would be a colossally bad idea. So she faked a smile the way she’d faked orgasms—pre-Christian, that is. And then, with her pride intact—at least some of it—she turned and began walking back. She passed Bobby’s hat—sobering—and went directly to the pad Ethan had set up for her earlier, no longer in a talking or eating or anything kind of mood. Curling up beneath the very late-night stars, she closed her eyes and attempted to get some sleep.

Instead, she lay there for hours listening to the waves crash against the shore, because sleep wouldn’t come.

Dorie woke up at the crack of dawn to a symphony of birds and more of the waves pounding the sand. She tried not to let her brain kick into gear, because just beyond her grogginess she could sense a whole lot of stuff weighing her down, just waiting for her to remember.

But whether she liked it or not, it all came crashing back to her. Shipwrecked. Bobby gone.

Sex in the rain forest . . .

She sat up just as Brandy did the same next to her, and took a second to realize that for the first time in several days her bottom didn’t hurt.

Fancy that.
Still, it’d be a cold day in hell before she admitted it.

Or danced naked for a certain far too sexy for his own good doctor.

“Uh-oh,” Brandy said, and looked at Cadence’s empty pad. “Think she’s okay?”

“Let’s make sure.”

They found her down the beach, facing the surf, talking to herself. Muttering, mostly.

“You had to go off the beaten path,” she was saying. “You had to jump at this stupid vacation, just because it was free. Seriously, when will you learn to just stay home and relax in your own world—”

“Hey, girl,” Brandy said.

Cadence whipped around, the stick in her hands coming up like a sword as she prepared to stab them, her eyes wild and full of violence. “Haaaiii-yaaaa,” she screamed like a kung fu master, until she focused. “Ohmigod.” Hostility deflated, she dropped the stick and stepped back. “I’m so sorry.”

Dorie, shocked at the sheer aggression that had been inside Cadence’s eyes, swallowed. “You know martial arts?”

Cadence sagged to the sand. “My therapist thought it’d be a great way to relieve stress. I’ve been taking classes for seven years, but it’s not working.”

“Seven years?” Brandy turned and looked at Dorie with a raised brow that said
holy crap, look at the meek one now
. “Impressive.”

Dorie agreed but kept the thought to herself, still a little uneasy at what she’d seen in Cadence’s eyes, because it drummed home the point that she didn’t really know any of these people . . .

Or what they were capable of.

By mutual consent, they walked into the forest to handle their business behind different trees, but when Cadence let out a little scream, both Dorie and Brandy came running, Brandy with a knife in her hands at the ready.

Cadence pointed to a snake that slithered off into the forest, and sagged back against a tree. “Sorry, it startled me.”

Knife gleaming, Brandy shivered wildly. “No problem. I hate snakes.”

Dorie couldn’t take her eyes off the blade.
Had everyone lost their minds?

Since when had they all armed themselves?

“Hey, check this out.” Brandy walked to a coconut tree and swiped the knife through the air, and a few coconuts came crashing down to the ground. “Man, that’s satisfying.” She did it again, bringing three more coconuts down. “This is what I should have done to my ex’s family jewels.”

“So,” Dorie asked as casually as she could, “where did you get the knife?”

“Oh, this?” Brandy flipped it around like a Japanese chef, then stuck it in the waistband of her tiny Daisy Dukes. “I’ve been carrying it for protection. Turned out I needed it more than I thought.”

“Have you ever used it?” Cadence asked.

Brandy’s smile faded. “Not lately, if that’s what you’re asking.”

They all walked back, silent now, each lost in her own thoughts. Dorie was certainly lost in hers. She thought she’d known these women, but it turned out, they were still basically strangers. Not a comforting thought.

Brandy kept fiddling with the tag on her top, which was a snug designer tee that read:
I don’t mind that you are talking so long as you don’t mind that I’m not listening.
“This thing is driving me crazy.” Pulling the shirt off, leaving her in a tiny red string bikini top, she yanked at the tag . . . and ripped a nice hole in the shirt. “Well, shit.” She thrust it into Dorie’s hands. “You’re a designer. Redesign.”

They all sat on a large rock. Dorie set down her purse and ripped off the sleeves of the tee, then after a few more strategic tears began using her handy needle and thread.

“Oh, yes,” Brandy said when Dorie tied her into her new halter top. “Very nice. You really ought to do this for a living, hon.”

Yes.
Yes, she should.

When they came out of the forest, Christian was dragging more wood to the fire. He nodded to Dorie, who didn’t have it in her to just nod back. So she smiled. “Need help?”

Moving wood, taking off your clothes . . .

“I’m good.”

Code for “don’t talk to me.” Got it.
Luckily, Ethan had breakfast waiting, because nothing worked for awkward moments like a pile of food.

“This is the last of the meats I had frozen,” Ethan told them, gesturing to the sausage and bacon, which he’d cooked over an open flame. “It all defrosted, so eat up.”

Unsettling thought, eating the last of the protein. While they did, Denny stood up at the head of the group. “I thought I heard an engine this morning.”

Everyone stopped eating and gaped at him.

“So we’re going to divide and conquer. I’m going east. Ethan to the west, while Christian stays on the beach to keep the fire going for the smoke signal and to look after you.”

“But what if we want to help explore?” Cadence asked.

“No. Your only job is to sunbathe, rest, and relax.”

“What if we don’t want to?” Cadence asked. “Relax, that is.”

“Yeah. I’d like to explore,” Brandy pitched in.

“Oh, no.” Denny shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

“No offense, Denny,” Brandy said, “but you’re not in charge of us on land.”

From across the fire, Christian dropped an armful of logs, and locked gazes with Dorie, giving her a little zing of sexual awareness.

Swallowing hard, she turned her attention back to the conversation at hand.

“Sitting on the beach waiting to be rescued seems so passive,” Cadence said to Denny. “I think we should all go, if we want.”

All?
Dorie wasn’t in a hurry to hike/climb in the rain forest. “Maybe we should think about this—”

“We want to go,” Cadence said. “All of us.”

“Cadence, listen to me,” Denny said. “It’s going to be hot, sweaty, hard work—”

“We’re going.” This from Brandy, in a voice of steel.

New society, new rules,
Dorie thought. Or maybe no rules at all . . . Fact was, they were all operating on sheer nerves at this point. And no matter how much she wanted to think otherwise, she was alone.

Once again her gaze collided with Christian’s.

He looked back, his expression shuttered, but she could see past that, to the man beneath. No matter that they’d knocked their good parts together, no matter that they’d decided not to knock those parts together again, she could trust him.

Which meant she wasn’t entirely alone after all.

 

Andy used a large stick to beat the branches away from his face as they walked. Ahead of him, Ethan did the same as he led them higher and higher up the rocky volcanic precipice.

Behind them both, Dorie gasped for breath and tried to keep up.

Andy slowed, and smiled at her. “You okay?”

“Terrific.”

Denny, Brandy, and Cadence had gone in the opposite direction, with Denny determined to find the source of the engine he thought he’d heard.

Christian remained back at camp, manning the fire and watching for boats. He hadn’t wanted to, but Denny had insisted. Dorie had wanted to stay, too, but if she had, the condoms in her purse would be calling her name about now, so she’d gotten off her tush, telling herself the exercise would be good for her. “I hope the other group is okay. I’m worried about them.”

“I’m worried about us,” Andy said.

“Why?”

“Because we’re on a deserted island. Because rescue hasn’t come. Because one of us is dead.”

Her heart clutched. “We don’t know that.”

“Do you really think he hung on this long?”

“Maybe he was rescued.”

Andy’s face said what he thought of those chances.

Dorie swiped a scary-looking bug away. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“A lux hotel, darlin’. With all the amenities of a
real
vacation.”

Dorie huffed out a laugh, then tripped over a fallen tree, managing to catch herself before she fell. “I’ve
got
to get better shoes.”

Ahead of them, Ethan kept walking, the distance between him and his two charges getting bigger and bigger. “Go at your own pace,” he called back.

Her own pace would be on her butt on the beach, which she could have actually pulled off now that she was splinter-free. Thinking about how Christian had removed it by flashlight brought a surge of renewed embarrassment.

Andy looked at her and stopped. “You’re awfully red. Let’s sit a moment.”

“No, I’m good.” Pulling away, she walked backward, smiling at him, thankful he couldn’t read her thoughts—still on Christian, and how he’d kissed the spot. “Let’s just keep—”