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Her smile widened. “It’s going to be fun.”
“Fun?” Cade stared into her eyes. She had nice eyes. And he really liked all those little gold flecks.
“Yes, fun,” she said. “What more could you ask for? Two whole weeks on a deserted island. Just the two of us for fourteen days.”
“Fourteen days,” he echoed.
She nodded with an intriguing—suggestive?—glint in her eyes. “Fourteen days and nights.”
The nights might turn out to be the best part. He smiled.
What the hell am I doing? Cade looked away. The sun was getting to him. He’d have to drink more water. Or wear a hat. “Have you ever watched Survivor?”
“Once or twice at a party, but I didn’t pay too much attention. The people were so dirty and starving.” She wrinkled her nose. “How much fun is that?”
“Exactly.” This wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought. At least she knew what they were up against. “I don’t know what Henry has in mind, but I’m assuming it will be similar to the show. He’ll stick us on a deserted island and make us compete against each other for rewards.”
“Henry would never pit us against each other.” Confidence laced each of her words. “There’s no way that would happen.”
“Maybe not, but, we need to be prepared. Come on.”
Cade walked toward the lounge. The click of her ridiculous heels on the wooden deck told him she was following.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To raid the galley. We have to be ready for whatever Henry throws at us such as not giving us any rations.” At her blank stare, Cade clarified it. “Food. He might not give us any food.”
She pursed her lips. “Henry wouldn’t do that to us.”
Cade wished he had her confidence. “What if he does?”
“He won’t.”
She had so much trust in her friendship with Henry. Cade couldn’t afford such blind loyalty again. He headed down the stairs to the galley. Fortunately none of the crew milled about. “Without food we’ll have to eat bugs and worms and snakes and a whole lot of other nasty stuff.”
“Henry will give us food.” Certainty filled her voice. “I’ve never swatted a fly. How could he expect me to eat one?”
Cade didn’t have time to change her mind. “Fine, we’ll have food, but let’s bring a few extra things to eat.”
“You mean snacks?”
“Snacks, food, whatever we can fit in our backpacks.”
“My backpack’s full.”
“You’ll have to make room.” He struggled to keep his voice low and calm. Losing his temper would solve nothing and only bring attention to their whereabouts. “We don’t have much time. I can do this on my own, but I’d rather we did it together. Are you in, Sterling?”
She grinned. “I’m in, Armstrong.”
He hated that name, hated everything associated with it. “It’s Waters.”
“I’m sorry.”
He handed her a plastic bag and kept one for himself. “You stand guard first, while I go in. Then we switch. Got it?”
She nodded. “We’re going to make a good team, Cade.”
He doubted that, but as long as they survived until the end he didn’t care. “Let me know if someone is coming.”
“Will it work if I whistle?” She put her lips together and blew. It looked as if she was waiting for a kiss.
“A whistle is—” he dragged his eyes away from her puckered lips “—fine.”
More than fine coming from her lips, but he wasn’t going there. Not today, tomorrow or any time in the next two weeks.
“The two weeks are going to fly by,” Henry said to her and Cade as they rode to shore in a small boat. He motioned to the cove in front of them. “What do you think of your new home?”
Cynthia stared at the picture postcard island paradise. A movie set couldn’t have captured the lagoon with clear blue water, towering palm trees and a crescent of sparkling white sand any more perfectly. “It’s breathtaking.”
“Lucky us,” Cade said. “Our own Gilligan’s Island.”
“I get to be Ginger,” Cynthia said.
The boat stopped twenty-five feet from shore. Crew members unloaded two wooden crates and carried them to shore. As soon as they reached the beach, music played. Drums, chanting, an eerie flutelike instrument.
Cynthia looked around for the mysterious source. She noticed a boom box sitting near Henry’s feet and immediately felt better. For a minute she thought they were arriving at Fantasy Island. At least that would explain why Henry wore an all white suit like Mr. Roarke.
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.
