Tempted By The Hero

She was an asset. Not some piece of ass.

He rose to his feet, determined not to fail her. They needed food, water and shelter ASAP. He doubted they’d find people, based on the size and structure of this island. He had to make a fire or they’d get eaten alive by bugs tonight. He wasn’t sure if they’d return to this cove, so he pulled the raft as far away from the shoreline as possible. Then he collected some fire-making materials. The dry husk threads from the coconut were ideal. He dipped some of the longer threads in the gas tank and rolled them up in a palm leaf.

“What’s that for?” she asked.

“To help start a fire. Just in case.” He put his phone back together and offered her a hand. She winced as she stood up.

“Sore muscles?”

“Sore feet. From the rocks.”

He inspected the soles of her feet. She had several shallow cuts. He considered letting her stay on the beach, but that was against survival protocol, and carrying water back for her would be a hassle. What would she do if he got injured or delayed? He also wasn’t convinced the kidnappers had given up. Those men had a much better chance of pinpointing their location than the rescuers.

If there were rescuers. He wasn’t counting on that, either. They’d have no idea where to look. Only the pirates knew they’d stolen a raft. They knew this area, presumably. They could study the currents and wind conditions and estimate a landing zone. They might come back to tie up loose ends.

“I’ll make you some shoes,” he said.

She sat down in the shade again while he gathered several palm leaves. He folded them into squares and tied them to her feet with a narrow strip of the same material. The “shoes” wouldn’t be comfortable to walk in, but they’d protect her from further injury. He didn’t bother making a pair for himself. Even though he’d been off-duty for several weeks, his feet were tough and he preferred going bare.

The cliffs along the edge of the beach were slippery and steep, with no discernible path. He found the safest route and climbed behind Cady, giving her support and instructions when she needed it. She only lost her footing once, near the top. Although he was right there to catch her, his bad knee almost buckled under her weight. His heart pounded at the close call. A fall here would be disastrous. It would entail a swift death or prolonged suffering.

He’d seen a lot of dead bodies over the past six years. Most were men that had been killed by the enemy, or fought for the enemy. Women and children were harder to accept. There was a pregnant woman in Syria who would always haunt him.

He pushed the mental picture out of his mind, with some difficulty. He held on to Cady for an extra second to make sure she was steady. She glanced over her shoulder at him, letting out a ragged breath. Then they continued over the edge of the cliff. He didn’t relax until they were both on stable ground.

When they entered the rain forest, the lush vegetation became a fortress. He took the lead. It was slow going without a machete, but not impossible, and the leaves were pleasantly free of thorns. Unprotected vegetation indicated that there were no leaf-eating animals on the island. That usually meant no people.

She followed close behind him. He knew she was tired, because he was tired. His knee throbbed with every step and hunger gnawed at his belly. He had to stop to adjust his belt around his waist. He’d already lost weight. She watched with wary eyes, saying nothing. She had a dancer’s body, slender and compact. He liked her curves where they were. He needed to provide some sustenance before they both started wasting away.

If this island was deserted, they could be here awhile.

The day wore on, and finding water proved elusive. The rain forest was teeming with life, colorful birds and vibrant greenery. Everything was damp. It was humid as hell. He was soaked in sweat. But a convenient wellspring? Nah.

“I need a break,” Cady declared. “If I take another step, I’ll drop.”

He allowed a short rest, glancing around. He was impatient to reach the summit, wherever that was. He couldn’t see more than ten yards in any direction. While she sat with her back propped against a tree trunk, he noticed a liana vine hanging from the canopy above. Liana vines, like green coconuts, were a source of fresh water. He whacked it in half and let the end drip into his palm. The liquid ran clear, so he lifted it to his lips to taste. It was fine. He drank a few mouthfuls and passed the vine to her.

After two days at sea, they couldn’t get enough fresh water. He watched her throat work as she swallowed. When she returned the vine, he quenched his thirst in greedy gulps. They drank until there was nothing left.

Logan had been worried that they’d die of dehydration on the raft, despite his assurances to the contrary. He was still worried about it. He’d dismissed her idea to drink urine, but at one point he’d been tempted. Anything to get his mouth wet.

He lifted his gaze to the sun-dappled canopy overhead. He estimated it was early afternoon. They were burning daylight.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree trunk. He couldn’t expect her to hike through the jungle all day without proper shoes, on a mostly empty stomach, after last night’s grueling swim. She didn’t have his training, his muscle mass, or his stamina. It was a miracle she’d come this far.

Instead of badgering her, he let her rest. He spent the next few minutes exploring their immediate surroundings. The island was a haven for birds and flying insects. Mosquitos were a constant threat. Ferns and elephant plant grew wild.

He stumbled upon a tree with bumpy green fruits, similar to avocados. The branches were too high to reach, but he picked one off the ground and tucked it into his pants pocket. Then he examined the other trees in the area. He didn’t see any more fruit. A crow-sized bird kept flitting about overhead, squawking in distress. After a cursory glance upward, he noticed what appeared to be a bird’s nest in a crook between two branches.

He climbed the tree and hit the jackpot. Three eggs. He secured them in his shirt pocket before he descended. When he returned, Cady was on her feet. She was hopping around, swatting at her neck and shoulders.

Ants.

That was the problem with taking a break in the jungle: ants. He helped brush the insects off her bare back, hiding a smile.

She bent over to shake out her curls. “I can still feel them in my hair.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t look sorry,” she grumbled.

“Only because I found some eggs.” He took the green fruit out of his pocket. “And a tree full of these.”

She snatched it from him. “This is a breadfruit.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m a chef,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve studied the local produce.”

“Can we eat it raw?”

“It’s not good raw. You cook it like a yam or a potato.”

“I’d eat a potato raw.”

She handed the breadfruit back to him, shrugging. It was rock hard with a thick skin. He needed to make a fire anyway. It was safer to boil the eggs, if they could. His mouth watered at the thought of a hot meal. Any kind of meal.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I guess.”

They continued uphill. His injured knee slowed him down considerably, so she kept up with him pretty well. The foliage thinned out as they ascended, which made the hike easier. He increased the pace, sensing they were near the summit. Soon they broke through the canopy and he could see the island’s high point.

A quarter of a mile later, they were there. She sat on a flat rock at the peak, trying to catch her breath. He stood and took in the panoramic view.

It was majestic.

Stark, remote, dizzying and majestic.

He couldn’t see any other islands nearby, just an endless stretch of calm blue water. They were all alone on a big rock in the middle of the ocean. The summit was at the south end, judging by the position of the sun. They’d landed on the west side, which boasted one small, protected cove. The rest of that coastline was sheer cliffs and crashing waves. It was extremely inhospitable, possibly unapproachable. Sharp points jutted up from the sea around the shore like protective daggers.

The eastern side of the island was less severe, with gentler slopes and softer edges. It had a sprawling white-sand beach, framed by dozens of coconut trees. Beyond that, a sparkling expanse of crystal-blue water, with tide pools and an extensive coral reef system.

It was a fisherman’s paradise—but largely inaccessible, even by boat. There was no convenient shoring area. The island was small, only about five miles long and two miles wide. Getting around on foot wouldn’t be a problem. He spotted a craggy rock formation to the north, with what appeared to be fresh water cascading down its edge.

Overall, Logan was pleased. This spot was like a private tropical getaway, untouched by human hands. People paid big money to vacation at secluded resorts and nature preserves. He could survive here a few weeks.

The company wasn’t bad, either.

He glanced down at Cady, gauging her reaction. She wasn’t admiring the view or counting the island’s resources. She was weeping. Tears rolled down her pretty face. She wiped them away, sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What’s wrong?” she repeated, incredulous. She gestured to the deserted island and the open ocean all around them. “There’s nothing here!”

His stomach clenched with regret. Of course she was disappointed; she’d been hoping for a rescue that wouldn’t come and inhabitants that didn’t exist. She didn’t care what the island had to offer, other than a way out. She only saw what it lacked: visitors, conveniences, transportation and neighboring islands.

Logan didn’t blame her for being upset. She hadn’t signed up for this. She’d been kidnapped, traumatized and lost at sea. Now they were on dry land, but still completely isolated. She didn’t want to stay here and battle the elements. She wanted to go home.

Instead of escaping her nightmare, she was stuck in it.

With him.

Chapter 6

What was wrong? Was he serious?

She couldn’t believe he’d asked that. He’d lost his damned mind. He was standing at the summit of this bug-infested hellhole like the lord of his domain. He wore a relaxed expression, as if the gut-wrenching view invigorated him.

“We’re stranded on a deserted island. You’re not disturbed by that?”

He raked a hand through his hair, scowling. He didn’t look tired, even though they’d hiked for miles. Sweat dampened his face and shirt, but he wasn’t winded. She felt like she might faint from overexertion. He seemed unaffected by the climb. “I’m trained to stay calm in emergency situations, and to follow a specific survival protocol. You see a deserted island, but I see lifesaving resources.”

“I see a jungle fortress surrounded by sharks.”

He nodded, as if this was a fair assessment. Then he pulled out his phone and checked for service. Yeah, right. Shaking his head, he put it away. “I’m sorry. I should have tried to manage your expectations better.”

“My expectations?”

“I assumed the island was uninhabited, but I didn’t want to demotivate you.”

“You didn’t want to demotivate me,” she repeated dully. She’d turned into a parrot. She was a jungle parrot sidekick in a shredded red dress, with leaves for shoes.

None of this seemed real.

Her stomach dropped as she remembered what he’d said about the possibility of a rescue. She’d been dubious about his claims, but she hadn’t pressed him on it. Now she studied him with new suspicion. He stared back at her, cool as ice. “Do you think they’re looking for us, or did you lie about that, too?”

He tore his gaze away. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you lied?”

“I don’t know if there’s a search effort underway,” he said in a clipped tone. “They send rescue teams to reported accidents, like plane crashes or shipwrecks. Kidnappings at sea, without a specific location...”

Her spirits plummeted. There was no rescue team. What would they look for, other than the pirates? A man or woman overboard had no chance of surviving in the open ocean. Cady and Logan would be presumed dead.

“Let’s focus on the positive,” he said.

She threw back her head and laughed.

“We’re alive.”

She stopped laughing, because she sounded deranged, and he had a point.

“Being on dry land is a vast improvement over the raft. Two or three more days at sea would’ve killed us.”

She let out a ragged breath, fighting tears again.

“As deserted islands go, this one is ideal.”

“How?”

“Most uninhabited islands are spits of sand with a few palm trees and no fresh water. They’re uninhabited for a reason. There’s no way to live off them. This place is different. It has everything we need to survive.”

She studied the green landscape with wet eyes.

He crouched down next to her and pointed at the shoreline. “Look there. Tide pools are easy to forage, and full of seafood. Are you allergic to shellfish?”

“No.”

“Do you like it?”

She nodded, because she did. She loved it, in fact. Shrimp, crab, fish, sushi...she even liked sea urchin.

“And over here, check it out,” he said, moving his finger. “That white line in the rock face is a waterfall.”

“It’s far away.”

“It’s close to the beach, which is where I’d build a shelter. I can make an SOS signal right there on the sand that would be visible from the air. There are coconut trees and palm trees. Maybe some more of that breadfruit.”

“I’ve seen taro plants.”

“Yeah? They have roots you can eat.”

“I know.”

He directed his finger at her. “There’s something special here, too.”

“What?” she asked warily.

“You. You’re a great resource. You’re a chef. You’ve studied the local plants. You can cook the hell out of a fish. You’re also in excellent shape. You’re a strong swimmer. I couldn’t ask for a better partner.”

“Now you’re going overboard.”

“I mean it.”

“You wouldn’t rather have another SEAL with you?”

He held her gaze. “There’s no one I’d rather have with me.”

She didn’t know how to feel about this proclamation. The intensity that had excited her at the bar—and terrified her in the aftermath of the kidnapping—was still there, glittering in his eyes. But his brutal actions were no longer at the forefront of her mind. He’d been kind to her. He’d shared his clothing and his body heat on the raft. He was a good man. Although he hadn’t been completely honest with her about their predicament, and she didn’t trust him not to bend the truth again, she felt safe with him. She also knew he wanted her. She tried not to be flattered by his desire, and failed.

He was incredibly charismatic. That was why all of the women on the cruise had been agog over him. It wasn’t just his face, though he had handsome features. It wasn’t just his body, though that was a perfect ten. He radiated strength and confidence. When he focused his attention on her, she turned into mush.

“I’m no survival expert,” she said, glancing away.

“Have you ever been camping?”

“In an RV, with my grandpa.”

“The drill sergeant?”

“Yes.”

“This won’t be like that.”

She laughed again, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “No kidding.”

“How are your feet?”

“Terrible.”

“I’ll rewrap them before we go.”

“Must we?”

“It’s all downhill from here.”

“Ha.”

She spotted an aloe vera plant, so she sent him to pick some for her. While she took care of the cuts on her feet, he applied the slick moisture to his chapped lips and sunburned cheeks. Heavy beard stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked a little rough around the edges, but ruggedly handsome. This environment suited him. It didn’t suit her. She felt sweaty and dirty. Her hair was all over the place. There were oily stains on her dress from the coconut milk. Rugged wasn’t a word used to describe women, so she tried to think of a similar term. Natural, maybe. She was at peak natural right now.

When she was finished with the aloe vera, he rewrapped her feet with new leaves. “We’ll see if we can make it to that beach before nightfall. Then I’ll start a fire. We’ll have a cookout, and sleep under the stars.”

She arched a brow at his fanciful phrasing.

“Too much?”

“Let’s bring it down a notch. You’re supposed to be managing my expectations, remember?”

“Right. Okay, here goes. Let’s try to get as far from the summit as possible before the afternoon rain hits and makes the terrain even more treacherous.”

Well, that wasn’t as upbeat, but she’d asked for it. She noted a few dark clouds on the edge of the horizon and figured this was the likelier scenario. With a low groan, she rose to a standing position. After a quick stretch, she followed him down the hillside. Her arms and legs ached from overuse. She felt like a wrung-out dishrag. Logan, on the other hand, appeared hale and hearty as hell. Damn his rugged ass. She stared at his broad shoulders, remembering how his muscles had bunched beneath her fingertips, and how easily he’d lifted her.

It started raining.

He kept going.

She tried to be strong and brave and a team player, but it was just beyond her. She was soaked from head to toe. Her energy was sapped. Hiking uphill while wearing leaves for shoes was difficult. Downhill, on wet ground...it was impossible. She slipped and fell hard, right on her butt. Although she had plenty of padding there, it didn’t feel sufficient. She felt like she’d gotten spanked by the island, big-time.

She didn’t get up. She rolled onto her side and cried.

He knelt next to her. His hand rested on her waist. Instead of asking questions, he waited for her to compose herself.

“I’m okay,” she said finally. “I just fell.”

“Where does it hurt?”

She gestured to the general vicinity. The back of her dress had ridden up, exposing her sore, muddy bottom. He swept his palm over her abused flesh, squeezing gently. Then he gave her a soft pat of sympathy.

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” he said.

“Are you a medic, too?”

“No.”

She tugged her dress into place, suspecting he’d enjoyed that exam a little too much. He winced as he staggered upright, as if his knee was bothering him. The injury reminded her that he was a human being with real weaknesses. He wasn’t impervious to pain. He schooled his expression quickly and helped her to her feet.

“We need to find shelter for the night.”

Unfortunately, there were no convenient cabanas to duck into. There wasn’t even a dry rock to crawl under. She trudged along behind him, her head down. She was cold and wet and her butt hurt. The only pace she could manage was slow. The rain dissipated. The slope of the hillside became less severe, and the foliage grew thicker.

In the gathering dusk she imagined a lot of creepy crawlers that probably weren’t there. Spiders hanging from the trees. Centipedes scuttling through wet leaves on the ground. Poisonous frogs, pit vipers and tiny, flesh-eating parasites.

Then the mosquitos descended, and she wished for anything but them. She waved the buzzing nuisances away from her ears and wrapped the tulle around her head in an attempt to protect her face.

When a mosquito bit the tender flesh behind her knee, she shrieked in protest. “I’m getting eaten alive!”

“So am I,” Logan said, slapping his neck. “This sucks.”

“Literally!”

He dragged her toward a large rock formation that rose up in the gloom. Its mossy surface was covered in vines, hiding what appeared to be the mouth of a cave. He had to push aside the foliage to gain entry. It was pitch-black inside, and smelled bad. It was the least inviting shelter she could imagine, but she would’ve gone into Satan’s lair at this point. She held his hand in a tight grip as they ducked into the cave.

“I don’t know what’s in here,” he whispered.

“As long as it’s not more mosquitos.”

He stayed still for several moments, breathing hard in the dark quiet. “We can’t explore the interior.”

That was fine with her. She had no desire to explore. None whatsoever. Her eyes adjusted to the lack of light in slow increments. He sat down with his back against the cave wall. She wanted to curl up next to him, but she wasn’t sure which side of him was safer.

What if a wild animal wandered in?

What if one tried to get out?

“Here,” he said, splaying his legs. She settled between them, her back against his front. He put his arms around her. He was wet, but warm. His heartbeat pounded in a strong, steady rhythm. Fast, but not too fast, like hers. He was alert, rather than panicked. That was comforting. She could count on him to stay calm even when she was freaking out.

“What’s that smell?” she asked. “Rats?”

“Bats.”

Ugh. The hairs at her nape prickled at the thought of them flapping around her curls. Their nasty little teeth and leathery wings. At least the cave was free of mosquitos. She’d die of rabies, instead of malaria. “Can you make a fire?”

“Not without dry wood.”

She tried not to squirm around too much, but she was uncomfortable. The ground was hard against her sore bottom. She was hungry and thirsty.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“What do you want to know?”

“Where do you live?”

“I lived in San Francisco, until recently. I left a few months after I broke up with Andrew. It seemed better to make a fresh start. Right now I’m staying at my parents’ house in Long Beach.”

“I still live with my parents.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m overseas a lot, and they have a guest house. It works out.”

“Where is it?”

“Del Mar. It’s a suburb of San Diego.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Born and raised.”

Her grandparents lived in San Diego. She was stranded on a deserted island with a fellow Southern Californian. What were the odds?

“Did you grow up in Long Beach?” he asked.

“Close. Irvine. My parents moved because my mom got a job offer there. She’s a high school principal.”

“A principal and a cop for parents?”

“Sounds fun, right?”

“Were you a rebellious teenager?”

“Not really. Were you?”

“Nah. I was a mama’s boy. Still am.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty. You?”

“Twenty-seven.”

He grunted in response, shifting his injured knee.

“Am I hurting you?”

“You’re fine,” he said gruffly. “You should try to get some sleep.”

“What will we do tomorrow?”

“Find water. Make a fire. Build a shelter.”

She groaned at his overzealous to-do list.

“The beach isn’t far. Tomorrow will be an easier day.”

“I doubt there will be any easy days on this island.”

“Maybe not, but we’ll live.”

“You sound confident.”

“I am.”

“Have you ever failed at anything?”

He didn’t answer. When silence stretched between them, she realized this was a touchy subject. More painful than his busted knee, perhaps. She wondered if he’d failed to complete a mission, or failed to protect someone.

“I should have thanked you for saving me,” she said.

His arms tightened around her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s a big deal,” she insisted. “You risked your life.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said. “You got kidnapped while you were with me. Because you were with me.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I convinced you to leave the bar.”

She hadn’t needed much convincing. She flushed a little, remembering how uninhibited she’d been. How she’d devoured his mouth in the hallway. “I wouldn’t have done the same if our situations were reversed. I wouldn’t have started swimming after you.”