Welcome to Paradise (5 page)

“Sweetie, you need to realize, guys like that are used to women wanting to get with them. You don’t think he’s really interested, do you? You just made yourself look ridiculous.”

 
“I wasn’t flirting with him,” she protested, feeling the humiliation start to burn. Had it really looked like she was throwing herself at Alec? Had he thought so? “I like him as a friend, that’s all. And I’m sure that’s how he feels about me too.”

“I explained this, remember? We’re not here to make friends. We're here to win.”

“But wouldn’t it be easier to win if we
did
make friends?” She was sure she was right.
Pretty sure, anyway.

“If we made alliances,” he corrected. “And I’ve been working on that. Cultivating Martin, for one. I’m working on Calvin too. You need to be cozying up to Arlene, like I told you. And it wouldn’t hurt to get to know the blondes. They don’t seem to have any alliances yet, and I know I can manipulate them to do what I want. They shouldn’t feel threatened by you,” he mused, “so you can probably get on their good side.”

She caught his meaning perfectly. She knew she couldn’t stack up against the blondes’ slim, long-legged perfection, but she wasn’t actually unattractive, was she? Scott hadn’t used to think so, anyway. She didn’t know how to pursue the topic, though, without sounding insecure and needy.

“I know I haven’t watched that many of these shows,” she said, pushing the uncomfortable thoughts aside with an effort, “but I do think it takes more than alliances to win. They don’t always work anyway, do they?
Especially if you don’t have a real bond.
It seems to me that developing friendships, real ones, could be as important as strategizing. And don’t you think a lot of it is just about getting along with people and being helpful to your team, so they’d rather get rid of somebody else?”

“Sweetie,” he sighed. “You must know how naïve that sounds. Don’t you think it’s time you grew up and learned how the world works? This isn’t a party, full of nice people all being nice to each other. It’s a
game,
and we’re trying to win. We can only win if everybody else loses. That’s the real world. And I’m doing all the heavy lifting. I’ll take care of the planning, and any manipulating that has to be done too. The only thing, the one single little tiny thing I’m asking you to do is to follow my lead. I know you can do that.”

 
A stubborn streak had her digging in her heels. “I think my approach could win just as well.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he snapped, losing the patient tone.
Then made a visible effort and continued.
“Look, sweetheart. You may think you can charm them and get ahead that way, but let’s be realistic here. You know I love you, but take a look at yourself in the mirror, and then look at Melody and Chelsea. Now ask yourself, in all honesty, do you think Alec, or any other man here, is going to be looking at you with the two of them around?”

“I never said he was looking at me,” she said, trying to rally her defenses. “I know he isn’t interested.
You’re
the one who said I was flirting, not me.” The treacherous tears had shown up, right on schedule.

“Aw. Come here,” he said, pulling her to him. “Don’t be so sensitive. I’m just trying to help. You don’t know how guys think, that’s all. They can be pretty cruel about girls who throw themselves at them. You stay away from him, and work harder to make friends with Arlene and the blondes. I’ll do the rest.” He tugged the towels away so she was standing naked before him, wrapped his hands in her hair, and pulled her in to kiss her.

“Scott,” she protested, “my hair’s all wet. You should go take your shower.”

He pulled her to the bed, pushed her down onto it and came down on top of her. “Not yet. I want to do it right now.”

 
It should be exciting, she thought in dismay, being desired like this. But she kept getting distracted by the dirty, sweaty clothes he pulled off, not to mention the dirty, sweaty body underneath them. His words had made her feel frumpy and unattractive, too, with her wet hair and her skin mottled from the evening chill in the unheated cabin.

And, as so often happened, it was too much, too fast. He’d made even less concession to foreplay than usual. Hadn’t kissed her, or talked to her, or even looked at her much. Just straight into the main attraction.

Relax,
she told herself. She closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the sensation, but she hadn’t had enough chance to get going, and it wasn’t even that comfortable, let alone stimulating. Her mind began to drift as Scott continued on.
And on.
Driving hard, as if he were making some kind of statement.

She found herself thinking about Gabe again, the way he’d smiled down at her.
I’m going to give her
her
lesson
. He hadn’t meant anything sexual by it. But imagine if he had. She let herself explore the possibilities of that, and began to warm at the thought. And then, as abruptly as he’d started, Scott was done.

 
“Was it good for you too?” he asked as always, still breathing heavily.

You are responsible for your own orgasm.
If she didn’t tell him what she needed, how would he know? And she was tired of mediocre sex. Or downright bad sex, nights like this. “Could you touch me some more? I need a little more to get there.”

He sighed and obliged. But after ten minutes, his lack of enthusiasm, not to mention the fact that she
kept having
to gently nudge his hand back to the right spot, broke through the fantasy she’d been determinedly working on. She thought about faking it, but she was sick of pretending.

“That’s OK,” she said. “You can stop. I’m not going to get there. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired, I guess.”

 
“Yeah,” he agreed, getting up and heading to the bathroom. “I’m going to grab a shower and go to sleep. I’m beat.”

But when she was alone,
there
Gabe was, right back in her head, moving into her fantasy and taking control. Those hands, moving over her. Taking their time. The dark blue eyes looking into hers as he talked to her, said all the things she wanted to hear. That mouth, chiseled but so generous, moving slowly down her body as his hands parted her legs.

Luckily, it was a long shower. And by the time Scott came out of the bathroom, she was feeling much better.

“Right,” John said the following morning. They had got into the vans again for the first time since their arrival and been taken to an outdoor shooting range, a simple affair of a few targets nailed to the face of a grassy bank about fifty yards away. “Who’s shot before?” He looked at Stanley. “Bet you have.”

“Me and my boy both,” Stanley agreed.

“Did you serve?” John asked. “I’ve been wondering.”

“Yeah. Marines.”

John nodded. “Thought so. You’ve got the look.”

“You were a Marine?” Mira asked.

“He
is
a Marine,” Gabe put in. “That’s the deal, right? You never quit?”

Stanley laughed, a pleasant rumble in the morning air. “You got it. Sounds like you’ve been around a few.”

“Yeah,” Gabe agreed. “I practice sports medicine, and I’ve worked with some of the amputees, once they’re back in business. And when they get competitive, they mean it. Even on one leg. Especially,” he grinned at Stanley, “the Marines.”

“Anyone else?” John looked at Hank. “You?”

“Nope. Never in the service, and haven’t shot a gun in years. It’s not too dangerous out there on the folk rock circuit. Plus all that singing about peace and
love,
doesn’t really fit the image, you know. When I was a boy in Texas, though, back before the earth cooled, I handled a firearm a time or two.”

“I have too,” Lupe said in her usual quiet tone. “Rough neighborhoods,” she explained when the others looked at her in surprise.

“Gabe and I’ve done a little bit,” Alec put in. “Scout camp. At least, that’s the last time I shot.”

“Yeah, me too,” Gabe agreed.

Mira could feel Scott’s restlessness beside her. He didn’t like to be
second-best
at anything, and she knew it was rankling that he didn’t know guns.

“All right, then,” John said. “First thing I want to say today is, I don’t care if this is the hundredth time you’ve heard all this, or the first. You need to listen, and listen
good
. Gun safety’s no joke. Any time you’re holding a firearm, you take it seriously. Always assume it’s loaded. Always assume you could kill someone, if you get it wrong. So don’t get it wrong.”

“Can I just say something?” Arlene interjected.

“Go right ahead,” John said resignedly.

“Martin and I would prefer to sit this out. We’re pacifists, and we’re not comfortable handling a weapon. We wouldn’t shoot anything anyway, so there’s no point in our learning.”

“You planning on telling
ol
’ Mama
Grizz
you’re a pacifist, when she comes for you?” John asked. “Or when a pack of wolves shows up? You can call yourself anything you like. They’ll just be calling you dinner.”

“Bear attacks are extremely rare,” Martin snapped. “And there’s never been a documented case of a wolf attacking a human in the United States. I read up on it before we came.”

“Have the bears and wolves signed your mutual nonaggression treaty?” Kevin asked innocently. “And what about livestock? Have wolves been given a bad rap on that too? Or do your rules of interspecies harmony require us to share our cattle with them?”

“You got a point there,” John said. “A nice calf, that’d be a mighty tasty dinner for a hungry wolf pack. You aren’t required to kill anything, just scare them off. Wouldn’t manage it anyway, not unless you got lucky, not with the birdshot we’ll be giving you. But with a 12-gauge and a good dog, you’ll make ’
em
think twice.”

“But why do the women have to learn?” Arlene objected. “If we’re going to be stuck in the house all the time? There isn’t likely to be a wolf in the kitchen.”

“Just in case,” John said. “You need to learn how to handle this thing safely, at the very least. I don’t want anyone getting shot on my watch. Now, first rule: never point your gun at anything you’re not intending to shoot.”

Scott shifted restlessly beside Mira as the safety lecture continued. “Come on, come on,” he muttered. “We get it. Don’t keep it loaded, don’t point it at anyone, blah
blah
blah
.”

“You said we aren’t going to be able to kill anything,” he said more loudly, interrupting John’s lecture. “Why not? Wouldn’t they have been shooting deer anyway, back then? We’re going to get pretty tired of eating beans, otherwise. I’m tired of it already.”

“Fish and Game might have something to say about that,” John said. “Hunting season’s not till October. And having you all out there with axes and saws is bad enough. Add buckshot to the mix, somebody
gettin
’ excited and making a mistake, and we could have a corpse on our hands. I’m sure that’d be real good TV, but you probably don’t want to be providing that kind of entertainment.”

“Unless it was somebody
really
unpopular,” Kevin murmured, his mischievous gaze darting to Scott. “I smell ratings bonanza.”

One by one, after the safety lecture was concluded, the sixteen of them took turns handling, loading, and firing the old-fashioned
double-barrelled
shotgun. Mira waited nervously for her
chance,
watching Melody exclaim at the recoil, turn to Gabe to ask a question that John answered.
And then Zara, handling the gun as easily and competently as she did everything else.
No fuss whatsoever.
And hitting the target, too.

Then John calling Scott forward.
Scott taking the gun from him, going through the steps, nodding impatiently at John’s reminders.
Pulling the trigger . . . and nothing happening.

“What the hell?” he asked, beginning to turn the gun in his hands.

“Whoa!” John said sharply, knocking the barrel up to the sky. “You trying to shoot yourself?”

“It’s jammed,” Scott complained.

“That’d be you not pulling the hammer back. You want to check
something,
you break it open, like I said. We’re not playing games here, and I haven’t been talking just to hear the beautiful sound of my voice. When you’re holding a loaded gun, you take your time, and you think about what you’re doing.”

Scott was red with anger and embarrassment by the time John finished. He stalked back to the group, his face thunderous,
Mike’s
camera tracking him the entire way. Glared at Kevin, who was frankly grinning at
him.
Mira had the uncomfortable feeling that this footage was bound to appear in the show’s first episode, and that Scott knew it.

“Come on, then, Miss Mira,” John called to her. “Come give this a try.”

She stepped forward cautiously and took the heavy shotgun in her hands. Recited John’s instructions back to
herself
as she went through them, step by careful step, loaded, pulled the hammer back, and finally pulled the trigger, feeling the recoil hard against her shoulder.

“Good one,” Alec said approvingly from beside her.

She smiled back at him, aimed again and pulled the second trigger, located behind the first. Laughed out loud when she saw that her shot had actually hit the target.

“You got a good eye,” John said. “And you know how to listen. You’ll do. Next,” he said to Alec. “See if you can do as good as the little lady here.”

“That wasn’t too bad,” Mira said happily to Kevin and Rachel. Scott had wandered away, still looking disgruntled, and she knew from experience that it would be a waste of time to talk to him now.

“Watching macho guys shoot guns isn’t usually my recreation of choice,” Kevin mused in reply. “On the other hand, watching those
Kincaids
do anything
works
for me.”

Mira looked at Alec, taking his own careful second shot now before handing the gun to Gabe, and had to agree.

“I sure hope they put us with the brothers,” Kevin sighed. “Even though they don’t bat for my team, I could look.”

“
Mmm
, me too,” Rachel agreed. “Too young for me, but I’d relax my standards and go cougar for that. But you know they’re going to be matching us up with Martin and Arlene, thanks to you, Bozo. You just can’t resist, can you?”

“Not when he makes it so easy,” Kevin grinned, unrepentant.

“I wish I did know how they’re going to team us up,” Mira said. “Who would you choose?”

“Besides the brothers?” Kevin gave it some thought. “Stanley and Calvin, for two. I wouldn’t have to do much at all then, would I?
And . . . mmm, probably Hank and Zara.
She can cook, and they get on my nerves less than anyone else.”

“I don’t care much for your team selection,” Rachel complained. “One other woman? Too much work.”

“You wouldn’t choose me?” Mira asked, hurt in spite of
herself
.

“Honey, I’d choose
you
in a heartbeat,” Kevin corrected her. “Because you can cook too.
But Boyfriend?
No, thanks.
Unfortunately, that’s exactly why I’ll end up with him. You know they’ll put me on a team with everyone I already hate.”

“You think that’s how it’ll work?” Mira asked, guiltily glossing over the insult to Scott. She knew she should be offended, but she liked the way Kevin and Rachel both said exactly what they were thinking. She wished she could do that. She was always too worried about hurting somebody’s feelings.

“Of course,” he said. “I keep forgetting, you don’t watch these shows. They want conflict. That’s what keeps people tuning in.
People who absolutely can’t stand each other, living in a confined space under pressure.
Reality TV at its finest. So they’ll stick Rachel and me with Martin and Arlene, for sure.
And the blondes with either Zara or Rachel, because they’re the only ones who’ll yell at them for not working.
You and Lupe are too nice. No fun at all. And you and Scott will be with the brothers, because he’s halfway to full testosterone poisoning already, he’s so jealous.”

“Yeah,” Mira sighed. “It seems like they do everything just a little bit better than he does, no matter how hard he tries. Especially Gabe.” She blushed a little, saying his name. She felt like everyone could see what she’d been thinking last night.
Worried most of all that
he
could see it.
Had carefully avoided even looking his way today, for exactly that reason.

“Honey,” Kevin corrected her, “that’s not the only reason. And oh, won’t that make for some delicious TV.”