Trial Run: Addicted To Love Romance Collection (12 page)

The early part of the following morning was spent swimming to the reef and towing the boat back to shore. The craft was a sorry sight, after spending so much time being tossed against the sharp rocks. It took a little perseverance, but in the end they had removed all the unnecessary appendages from it. The seats went, as did the steering cable. The skeg and propeller had snapped off, but Rob and Amelie thought they could find a way to build and attach a rudimentary rudder.

Despite all her training in the field of car mechanics, Amelie couldn’t think of a way to bring the engine back to life, and the state of the fuel line made that final. Rob avoided her gaze as they removed the engine and fuel line. What an idiot he’d been, doing Jason’s bidding like some stupid minion with no brain function of his own!

The jagged rocks had ripped three long gashes in the hull. It wasn’t clear whether they would be able to fill those, or patch them up somehow, but Rob was already thinking of alternatives.

This left one major problem – a propulsion method. Since they had no engine, they could either use oars or sails. The latter would be far less tiring, but how do you make a sail out in the wilderness? And how do you attach a stable mast to a glass fiber boat?

They had many questions they couldn’t yet answer, but they approached the work with a positive attitude. Since it was clear they wouldn’t be able to leave the island in the next day or two, Rob suggested they go through all their supplies and work on making sure they would be comfortable. Organizing stills for drinking water was certainly a priority.

By lunchtime, when they took a break, new ideas were forming in Amelie’s mind, and she wasted no time in implementing them. First off, she peeled the vinyl off the two useless seats and fashioned herself some trekking shoes. They didn’t look pretty, but they wrapped around her feet and could be tied around her ankles with vines. She made another pair for Rob out of the chair backs, but his feet were too big to be fully encased. In the end, he opted to walk barefooted, as he had so far.

Next, Amelie sorted all her clothing into two piles – the more durable materials stayed piled in front of her, while the rest were stuffed into a bag. With a ruthlessness Rob wouldn’t have thought her capable of, Amelie cut her clothes to make them into large chunks which she could tie together using vines. It was a valiant effort, Rob thought, but he didn’t think a sail made of t-shirts and denim shorts would last more than half an hour in a stiff breeze, not to mention its lack of effectiveness. Still, he didn’t want to deflate her bubble. He let her do what she wanted, as long as she wasn’t spoiling anything useful.

She threw all her make-up away and donated any plastic bags toward water-still making, which scored her brownie points with Rob. Once he’d set up twelve stills, Rob went spear-fishing, and Amelie continued making the sail for the boat. It was slow progress, but she was doing something useful, so she worked with a smile on her face.

“Oh,” she said as Rob spread the cleaned fish over some palm leaves. Her hand paused half-way through making the next hole in the side of a pair of pink capris which were already half-tied to the back half of a yellow sundress. “How long do you think we’ll be on the boat?”

“As long as it takes us to reach an inhabited island.”

Amelie made an exasperated face. She was cute when she did that, Rob thought, smiling. “One week? One day?” she insisted.

“A couple of days, I would guess. Why?”

“Well, what do you suggest we do for food? You won’t be able to go spear-fishing in the deeper water, and we wouldn’t be able to cook what we catch, would we?”

Rob thought for a moment. “We’ll have to prepare enough food ahead of time. I’m sure we can come up with something.”

Amelie laughed. “Yeah. Coconut stew in coconut juice.”

“No, no. Have faith, woman. Just give Chef Rob ten minutes and he’ll come up with a menu fit for a…” he’d nearly said ‘princess’, but that term no longer fitted to the resourceful woman in front of him.

Silently, he removed the knife and clothes out of her hands and captured her lips with his. Could there ever be anything sexier in the whole world than a woman who was creative, adventurous and feisty, all in one pretty package? As he lowered her slowly back to the leafy mattress she’d made with her own skilled hands, Rob could only think of how much he desired her. Jason and his bet could not be further from Rob’s mind.

Day six of their island adventure broke to heavy cloud cover. It was clear the rain would not be far away, but that only made them more determined to get going. They went down a shallow depression and then climbed a ridge covered in dense scrubby bush. By the time they’d made it to the top, great fat raindrops began to plop down from the heavy skies.

“Look!” Rob pointed straight ahead. “Typical.”

Amelie laughed. Of course they would trip over a fresh water sinkhole just as it started to rain. Nature had a way of laughing at them.

They collected more gourds, three of which Rob insisted in hollowing out right then and there, so he could fill them with water from the sinkhole. Amelie continued to frown at him until he explained that he was only intending to use it after boiling it. They’d watched birds and a rock iguana have their fill of it, so they figured the water wasn’t poisonous.

On the way back, Rob pointed out a gumbo-limbo tree. He lopped off a small branch to take back for making tea and hollowed another gourd, which he lashed to the tree to collect any resin that may leak from the fresh cut.

Amelie was given the task of carrying vines, which she was doing by winding them around her neck and shoulders, to leave her hands free. Before long, she looked like she had a boa constrictor wrapped around herself, like a huge orange shawl.

They were soaked through by the time they got back home, but the scavenged goods made them giddy with excitement. Amelie was feeling less guilty about wasting the drinking water, and Rob was eager to try plugging the holes in the hull of the boat with a mixture of gumbo-limbo resin and plant fibers.

They had a meal of coconut-steamed crab for dinner and sat by the fire, watching the rain, drinking tea and recounting childhood adventures until Rob revealed the reason why he’d been so keen on making gumbo-limbo tea. According to Bahamian traditions, the tea was a well-known aphrodisiac. Amelie didn’t even attempt to deny its effectiveness. Who wouldn’t be attracted to a man like Rob, with or without the tea?

She didn’t keep track of the number of orgasms he gave her while the rain pelted the shelter’s roof right above their heads, though she had a feeling Rob had been counting them.

It took Rob three days to admit defeat. He’d tried mixing the resin with plant fibers, coconut husk and even sand, but the gaps in the boat’s hull didn’t stay plugged for long. Today, he was going to try sticking bands of fresh, inner bark to the hull either side of the rip. If this didn’t work, either, there was nothing left but trying to raise the hull enough so that the small water leakage wouldn’t sink the boat with two people in it.

Amelie had finished tying together all the pieces of strong fabric into a multicolored sail, and now all that remained was trying to build some sort of mast on which to hang it.

She watched Rob walk away into the trees, hatchet in hand, and wondered if he even remembered. Today was her twenty-second birthday. Instead of celebrating it at a club or in a five-star hotel, she was stuck on an island, with probably nothing better to crack open but yet another coconut. Happy birthday, indeed!

A lone tear slid down her face as she allowed herself to be drawn into self-pity. Still, no amount of crying was going to make things better. When she got back home, she’d celebrate for a week straight, she vowed. Until then, twisting vines into rope was as good a pastime as any. One step closer to her destination.

Sniffling lightly, she gritted her teeth and continued twisting.

Rob was proud of himself. He was certain Amelie hadn’t figured out what he was up to. Today was her birthday, and he was determined to make it special. Every time they went exploring, he’d kept her away from the beach on the east side of the island, and that was for a good reason. Because every spare minute he could find over the last two days, he’d spent getting the beach ready for this moment. He cleared a patch of sand, which he surrounded in white shells and resin-soaked torches, then built a canopy to serve as a shelter, off to one side, and put together a few other baubles to serve as decoration and improve the atmosphere.

His options were limited here, away from civilization, but if bible stories were to be believed, Adam and Eve did quite well together, long before people decided they needed entertainment in order to be happy.

He’d also prepared a birthday feast. Aside from the wider range of fish he could get this side of the island, he’d built a mini-smokehouse, to help with keeping the menu interesting. Amelie had wished for a more varied diet, and he’d gone to great lengths to make that happen. He’d spent hours on making a lobster pot, especially so he could treat her to something special tonight.

That had probably been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Weaving was not on his skills list. He was hoping she hadn’t linked his watching her weave to his sudden rushing off, supposedly in search of some building materials, so he could try and replicate it. It took a bit of practice, and his dexterity would never equal hers, but he managed to trap a lobster, so that must count for something.

And then, there was the present. Would she like it? Would it seem hokey to her, too old-fashioned maybe? Would she read too much into it? He’d whittled at the chunks of wood for hours, shaping them just so, even before he knew what the whole was going to become. When he held the finished item in his hand, it seemed obvious that it would be what he’d ended up with.

For a while, he simply stared at the work of art, lost in thought, wondering whether it would be so bad if she did read too much into it. Then he’d hidden it in a coconut, and wrapped a ribbon of leaf around it, just like a present one would buy in a store.

The clouds were borrowing some of the setting sun’s pink hues when he tugged Amelie by the hand into the forest. He’d made the trip so often in the last few days, there was a clear path between the two beaches now.

At the last moment, he slipped behind her and covered her eyes with his hands.

Amelie squirmed and tried to dislodge his grip, but he pulled her back against his chest, and she dropped her hands, recognizing defeat. He led her forward slowly, keeping her back pressed against his chest. Walking was a little awkward, but he really wanted to see her surprised face when she saw her presents.

“Wait. What are you doing?” she muttered, stumbling.

“Just a little farther,” Rob encouraged her. “There. Are you ready?”

Amelie’s breaths were coming in swift gasps. She took one deep lungful, then nodded. Rob uncovered her eyes.

“Oh!” Her hands flew up to cover her mouth in awe. She took a few steps until she stood right on the edge of the ringed area. “For me?” she asked, turning half-way to look at Rob over her shoulder.

Rob smiled. “Happy birthday, Ammy. I hope this next year brings you everything you wish for, and then some. You deserve it.”

Tears sprouted in her eyes and she launched herself at Rob. He caught her and hugged her tight, placing just a chaste kiss on her hair.

“Oh, Rob. I… I…”

“Shh,” he said. “I know.” And he did. Only he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear those words yet. Not sure he could reciprocate, not yet. Would he ever?

He rocked her gently from side to side, but she pulled back and sucked in another big gulp of air before she blurted out, “What I mean to say is I love you, Rob Tyson.”

And there they were, those three words, out in the open for all to see.

Instead of saying anything, he kissed her gently, then deeper and deeper, stroking her back and holding her tight against him, until he reckoned she was dazed enough by lust not to pursue the subject further.

“Shall we dance?” Rob asked when they stopped for breath, pointing to the circle surrounded by shells and lights.

Amelie giggled, but let him lead her to the patch of sand. “But… We don’t have any music.”

“We don’t?” Rob said, in mock alarm.

He let go of Amelie for a minute to retrieve the ‘instruments’ he’d built earlier. She clapped her hands when he handed her the tambourine. The sound was pretty flat, but she soon found a rhythm.

Rob kneeled behind a pile of wood he’d constructed to serve as drums. Three different sounds, plus a whistle and Amelie’s tambourine. Who said they couldn’t have fun on a deserted island?

As soon as he started hitting the drums in a repetitive pattern, Amelie joined in. It wasn’t exactly music, but it was easy, clean fun, something they both needed in the middle of all the madness.

Amelie rotated her hips and began to swing them side to side in a motion that made her stomach contort into the sexiest moves he’d ever seen. Her little top that already exposed her bellybutton rode higher, and her tiny miniskirt swayed this way and that, like a caress to her upper thighs.

Rob’s hands stuttered once or twice as he watched her twirl on the spot and shift her arms gracefully through the air. It was like watching the mesmerizing dance of a siren. No, more than that. She was like the most charming belly dancer. He felt his ready erection harden when he realized she was dancing that way only for him.

“You look so tempting,” Rob mumbled in a husky voice.

Amelie smiled and danced closer to him, swinging low and giving him an eyeful. Ye, gods! Didn’t she know what she was doing to him? The look in her eyes as she turned away said she knew only too well. She was teasing him. The little sexpot!

Rob threw away his sticks and grabbed Amelie roughly around the middle. She dropped the tambourine and arched back, leaning against his arms and exposing her midriff.

Big mistake.

Dinner would have to wait.