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Henry rose. “Your adventure begins now. For the next two weeks, you will live on this island. There’s a radio for emergencies, but otherwise you are on your own. Basic provisions have been provided. The rest you will need to find, make or win. I’ll stop by on a regular basis to check up on you and play a few games.”
“What kind of games?” Cynthia asked.
“Games to challenge your ability to survive on the island,” Henry explained. “And you win prizes by playing.”
Cynthia clapped. “I love prizes.”
“That’s the spirit.” He grinned. “Ready to go ashore?”
Cade removed his shoes, slung his backpack over his shoulder and hopped out of the boat. As he waded to shore, he passed the crewmen on their way back.
“Go on,” Henry urged.
“I’ll get wet.” The beach wasn’t far, but her stomach knotted and she thought she might be sick at the idea of getting in the water. “I don’t want to get wet.”
“The water’s nice and warm,” Cade yelled.
“No.” Fear paralyzed her. She’d been caught in a riptide when she was eight. Since then she hadn’t been in the water except for sitting in a bathtub or a Jacuzzi. No one noticed she never swam. “The saltwater will ruin my clothes.”
“Come on, Sterling.”
Ever since their successful raids on the galley, Cade had called her Sterling. Cynthia worried he might have forgotten her first name. At this point her name didn’t matter, but she would ask Henry a million questions if it kept her out of the water. “Why does Cade keep calling me by my last name?”
“Men often call each other by their last names.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do I look like a man?”
Henry gave her the once-over. “Not in the slightest.”
“Thank you.”
“Get in the water, Cynthia,” Henry said.
So much for stalling. Think, think… “Have him carry me to shore,” she whispered.
“Brilliant idea. One I should have thought of.” Henry beamed. “Cade, carry her to shore.”
“What?” he asked.
“Carry Cynthia to shore,” Henry suggested. “That’s what a gentleman would do.”
Cade mumbled something about not being a gentleman, but Cynthia couldn’t hear his exact words. Still he dropped his backpack on the beach and waded back to the boat.
“Thanks,” she mouthed to Henry.
“I’ve done my part. The rest is up to you.”
By the time Cade reached the boat, he’d drawn his lips into a thin line. “The water isn’t deep.”
Cynthia had learned deep was a relative term. She forced a smile and batted her eyelashes. “Please?”
A beat passed. He nodded once.
“Thanks.” This time her smile was genuine. Not only had she maneuvered her way out of getting in the water, she was going to end up in Cade’s arms. It would be like the scene in Gone with the Wind when Rhett carried Scarlett up the stairs. Yes, a brilliant idea. Her first of many during the next fourteen days.
As Cade grabbed her backpack, she rose. Anticipation filled her. His hands clasped around her waist. A bevy of butterflies attacked her stomach. She waited for him to lift her into his arms. He slung her over his left shoulder like a Prada bag instead.
Staring at the water, she pushed herself up his back. “What—”
“You’re not as light as you look.” His hand clamped on the back of her thigh. “Stop wiggling or I’m going to drop you.”
She didn’t move a muscle; she didn’t blink. She couldn’t. The heat from his hands radiated through the fabric of her capris. Hot. Burning. Okay, so this wasn’t the romantic scene she’d envisioned, but talk about a turn-on.
This was not a good thing. In fact, it was a very bad thing. She wanted to feel comfortable with Cade, chummy and cuddly like she had with Travis. Not all hot and bothered wondering if Cade would move his hand up a couple more inches. The goal was for him to get lost in her, not the other way around. She wasn’t going to repeat her parents’ mistake.
He dropped her unceremoniously on the sand. “Next time, you’re getting wet.”
No next time. No water. No touching.
Cade handed her the backpack. “Thanks,” she said.
No “you’re welcome” or “not a problem.” Simply nothing. She didn’t understand. Most men wanted her gratitude.
The horn from the boat sliced through the silence. Henry waved. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Have fun tonight.”
Cynthia blew him a kiss and waved. She turned and faced a tense-looking Cade. Maybe he was jealous of Henry. She didn’t want to start out on the wrong foot. Not when she wanted Cade to like her. “Want a kiss, too?”
“Only if it’s chocolate.”
Now he was talking. She moistened her lips. “Those are my second favorite kind.”
Chapter Three
What had he done to deserve Sterling?
They were on an island and she didn’t want to get wet. She was more pampered than a Persian show cat. Forget about being here at the end of the two weeks. She’d be lucky to survive tonight.
Cade watched her pick up her backpack, ease the strap onto her shoulder and straighten it. No doubt years of cruising malls and boutiques with shopping bags and a large purse had trained her well. Only her shopping expertise was worthless here. So were those high-heeled sandals. The thin straps made her ankles look so delicate. The heels accentuated her toned calves. At least they were good for something. They weren’t designed for walking or comfort or anything remotely practical. “You might want to take off your shoes,” he suggested.
“The sand is hot.” She took a wobbly step in the hourglass-fine sand. And another. It was like watching a train wreck.
One more step and her ankle gave way. She stumbled and plopped onto the sand with a delicate exclamation. A heap of legs, arms and backpack. She brushed the sand from her hands with a bit of impatience.
He walked toward her. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Frustration laced her words. As she undid the strap circling her thin ankle, she fumbled with the catches. Finally she removed the sandals. “I should have listened to you.”
“The sand is hot.” Cade wanted to be charitable if not nice. No matter what he might think of Sterling, he was going to be the picture of restraint and politeness. That was the only way they would survive this ordeal together. Fourteen days with her? The thought made him grit his teeth. “Want a hand?”
“Please.”
He extended his arm, and his hand engulfed hers. Her skin felt soft and smooth against his. Warm, too. Her hand was so small, but she was no wispy flower about to wilt in the sun. He’d found that out when he carried her to shore. She was soft, but well toned. No doubt she worked out.
As Cade pulled Sterling to her feet, he caught a whiff of her perfume. No light and airy fragrance for her, either. Her scent was exotic, yet subtle. The kind of perfume that left an imprint and made him want another smell. But that wasn’t an option. She wasn’t one, either.
He let go of her hand. “I hope you brought other shoes.”
“Of course, I did. They are the most beautiful pair of Manolo…” Her smile disappeared. “They have heels, too. No matter, I’ll simply buy another pair.”
Cade glanced around. Palm trees, sand, shrubbery. Not a shoe store in sight. “Where?”
“At the resort.”
“What resort?”
She stared at him as if he’d asked the stupidest question in the world. “The one we’re staying at for our adventure.”
Uh-oh. Cade looked out to sea. A small dot sailed toward the horizon. He had one word for Henry. Chicken. Cade actually had several more, but he’d joined the kids at Smiling Moon’s challenge to stop swearing. Until now, he’d forgotten, but he needed to make an effort for the kids’ sake.
“What’s wrong?” Sterling asked.
Might as well tell her the truth. She’d figure it out for herself soon enough. “We’re on a deserted island, Sterling. There is no resort.”
“There has to be a resort.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“If there’s no resort, where will we sleep?” She tilted her chin with an inquisitive look in her eyes. “A hotel?”
He dug the toe of his shoe into the sand. “Right here.”
Her forehead creased, but she still didn’t seem to get it.
“Out here on the beach,” he added. “Or maybe back by the trees. We’ll have to scout out a good campsite. Among the trees would be the best.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean we’ll sleep outside like…camping in a t-tent?”
He nodded. “A tent would be a luxury. Remember this is a survival adventure. Henry wants us to use survival skills.”
“Put me in a motel with poly-cotton blend sheets and no room service and I’ll show you survival skills. This…this is inhumane.” Her words held an edge of panic. She glanced around. “Where are the…facilities?”
“Do you mean bathrooms?”
She nodded.
“Wherever you want them to be.”
Her mouth gaped open. “You mean…in the wild?”
The horror in her voice almost made Cade feel sorry for her. “This isn’t exactly the wild, but the answer is yes.”
She pursed her lips. Yes, she had the perfect pout down pat. He was surprised she didn’t stomp her feet or toss her shoes to the ground. No doubt that’s what she would do next.
“How could Henry do this to us? To me?” Her eyes glistened and Cade thought she might cry. “Henry’s supposed to be my friend. He’s like a brother to me.”
Cade took a step toward her and stopped. He didn’t know what to do. Hug her? He didn’t want to give her the wrong idea. She wasn’t his friend. She was his responsibility for the next two weeks. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Henry said this would be a fun adventure. I’m usually up for anything, but this…” She blinked. “What was he thinking? Henry knows I’ve never been camping.”
Cade understood Sterling’s frustration. He didn’t want to be here any more than she did, but he could imagine this was a lot worse for her than him. She probably didn’t use public restrooms or know what a latrine was. “It’ll be okay.”
“No, it won’t.” Her gaze, full of fear, locked on Cade. “I don’t want to die in the wild.”
“No one is going to die.” Like her or not, he would have to cut her some slack. He squeezed her hand. “I’ve spent lots of time outdoors. Hiking, backpacking, climbing, camping.”
“So you know what to do?”
“I know what to do,” he assured her. “I’ll—we’ll be fine.”
Her brilliant smile made him feel like her hero. A superhero to Henry’s treacherous villain? No, Cade wouldn’t go that far, but he enjoyed spending time outdoors and knew what he was doing. He’d chaperoned a group of kids backpacking on the Pacific Coast Trail and another group on a climb up Mount Shasta. If he could handle a bunch of kids from broken homes with chips on their shoulders the size of Asia, he could manage Sterling. Sure she didn’t come from a broken home and her chip was diamond, but the principle was the same. He just needed a softer touch.
Soft like her skin.
He was still holding her hand. He let go as if it were a stick of dynamite about to blow. Touching her again seemed like a really bad idea. Almost as bad as agreeing to the adventure. He motioned to the wooden crates. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
Cade pried open the lid and removed the contents: toilet paper, cloth napkins, one blanket, a ball of string, a canvas cloth, a plastic tarp, two towels and washcloths, eating and serving utensils, two pots, two mugs, two plates, a plastic bag filled with matches, two rain ponchos, two flashlights and a first aid kit. “No food.”
“It’ll be in the other box.” Sterling’s voice lacked her earlier confidence.
He opened the second crate and pulled out the contents: a battery-operated radio and microphone, sunscreen, lip balm, a container of rice, another of coffee, a bottle of multivitamins, salt and pepper, two buckets and two canteens. He found a handwritten letter at the bottom of the crate.
To my lucky participants,
Welcome to the Isle of Davenport. I purchased it specifically for your adventure so enjoy all this beautiful island has to offer. The crates contain basic supplies to get you started. The rest is up to you to find, make or win during one of my games. You will face a series of tests and challenges. Whoever wins gets a prize. You’ll find a water tank beyond the trees. Enclosed is a map to a fresh water source. I recommend boiling the water before drinking it. I can’t think of anything else to write except it does rain so get a shelter built ASAP. Have fun, my friends, and see you tomorrow.
All my best,
H.
Egomaniac. Cade clenched his jaw. “Henry needs to be sent on his own adventure. The bast—uh, bashful guy.”
Sterling looked dumbfounded. “He didn’t leave us any food except some rice. How much rice can one person eat? White rice isn’t food. It doesn’t even make a good side dish.”
“Don’t forget, we brought our own food.” Cade didn’t want her to worry. Or cry. He opened his pack and pulled out an orange, a bag of crackers, a jar of peanut butter, two cans of tomatoes and three cans of beans. “At least we won’t be eating tree bark or other nasty stuff.”
He expected a smile; he didn’t get one. Uh-oh. The chef had interrupted them so Cade hadn’t seen what Sterling had taken from the galley. “You packed food, right?”
“I—I did.” She clutched her backpack. “But I was thinking more along the lines of snacks and…”
“And what? Show me what you brought.” She looked like a rabbit snared in a trap and guilt surged through him. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he was feeling the pressure. Cade took a deep breath. Like it or not, he was going to have to make sure they both got through the next two weeks. “Whatever you packed will be fine.”
She pulled a small jar of stuffed olives from a side pocket of her backpack. Olives wouldn’t have been his first choice, but it could have been a lot worse.
He smiled. “Good job.”
Next she removed a clear bottle from the main compartment.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Gin.” Pride filled her eyes. “We can make martinis.”
Martinis? Cade’s blood pressure soared off the charts. It was all he could do not to lose it. He wasn’t sure how, but he managed to keep smiling. Even as he calculated the number of cans of beans she could have packed in the same space. “I would have never thought of that.”
“Did you think about dessert?” She pulled three Go-diva chocolate bars from the backpack’s front pocket. “I can’t live without chocolate.”
Cade blew out a puff of air. They had all they needed for hangovers and cavities. Not that it mattered since they were going to starve to death. At least they would go in style—drunk and on a sugar high.
She removed a small can of mandarin oranges, four granola bars and a pear. “The pear’s not ripe, but I thought that would be better since it would last longer.”
Okay, she was redeeming herself for the martinis. “Great.”
“And my pièce de résistance…” She removed a small can from the other side pocket.
Excitement rushed through him. “Tuna.”
“No, it’s caviar. Not Beluga, but it will do.”
Cade would have preferred Starkist. A can of Spam would have been more useful than caviar. Oh, well… “Let’s put all the food in here.”
She frowned. “You’re disappointed in me.”
Cade grabbed one of the empty crates. “I’m not.”
“You are.” She fiddled with one of the zippers on her pack. “I can see it in your face.”
“You aren’t seeing anything on my face.”
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