Heart's Paradise (3 page)

Mark shook his finger skyward to emphasize his statement, his blue eyes glittering the way they always did when he was excited. His infectious attitude brought out her own smile. True, audiences would love to watch a billionaire win or fail in a survival situation. She nibbled her bottom lip, her gut told her they needed more, and she mulled over the idea.

“Why don’t we dig up some chick to join him?” she said, after a minute. “Some tough as nails Rambo-type. We’ll need some estrogen to balance the testosterone.”

“Good, good.” Mark nodded. “I like it.”

“Or…hmmm…” Shawna tossed the idea around a bit more, tapping her fingernails on the wood.

Her partner and co-producer waited with wide eyes. Their partnership worked so well because he came up with the grand plans and she fleshed them out.

She finally had her eureka moment. “I got it! We’ll let our billionaire and the chick think they’re on some survivalist show,
but it’s actually
a matchmaking show. Only the audience will be in on it.”

Mark slapped his hands down on the picnic table and jumped to his feet. “Brilliant! Yes, as always you’ve come up with the most delightful twist. And I haven’t seen anything like it, so people will jump on it.” He ran around the table and planted a big kiss on the top of Shawna’s head. She laughed, he was such a big kid.

“Think the network will go for it?” she asked.

“They’d be bloody stupid not to. Now we have to figure out who our lucky duo will be.”

“Oh, I already have our rich playboy picked out.” Shawna let Mark dangle in his curiosity a moment before continuing. “Jonathon Breck, the tabloids have been eating him up like candy lately. He shines in the spotlight.”

“Yes, yes, love it. How about our lady? She’ll have to be gorgeous of course, if we’re hoping for romance. And capable, we don’t want her backing out after three days.”

This brought them both to a standstill. They sat for a long time coming up empty on possibilities. Shawna pulled up an internet search on her phone for survival training. Only one female name popped up on the first page of the search. She opened the website and grinned. A woman with enviable curves smiled from the webpage. Modest length shorts nonetheless showcased well-toned legs, and she had arms that made Shawna curse her own personal trainer.

“Biceps like those belong in Hollywood,” she mumbled.

Mark jabbed his finger at the screen. “Her! Let’s get her.”

Shawna read a brief biography highlighting the woman’s qualifications on the ‘about’ page. She recognized the name. “Phoebe Heart. That’s actually a pretty good idea, she’s the daughter of that eighties and nineties popstar legend…Cybil Heart, isn’t it?” No mention was made of the connection as she scrolled through text and photos. “Though it doesn’t look like Phoebe has taken an interest in exploiting her mother’s fame. I’m not sure if she’s TV material.”

Mark shrugged. “Never hurts to ask. She does work as a wilderness guide, and with her looks and killer body, I think Jonathon will be all over her within hours.”

Shawna eyed a photo of Phoebe in a modest two-piece swimsuit and lifejacket as she paddled a canoe through rapids. Definitely physically fit. Shawna nearly drooled with the idea of how audiences would eat her up. And if things worked out, so would Jonathon.

Mark took her cellphone, studying the photos closely. “It looks like she’s single, I’m not seeing a ring in any of these pics. And we’ll hope she’s into guys.” He played with the phone for another minute. “I can’t dig up much on the internet outside of a few released baby pics and her business website.”

Shawna dug a notepad out of her lucky handbag and jotted down a bunch of notes. “Let’s get started on specifics. Title for the series, location, etcetera.”

“I like an island myself, a paradise. Beautiful tropical sunsets always have a positive effect on the libido,” Mark said.

Shawna put it down on her list. “But we can’t make it easy. How about we dump the two on different parts of the island, and leave them a map instructing them to the first day camp location. Only then will they know of the other person. It’ll be a huge surprise for them both.”

“Wonderful.” Her partner rubbed his hands together, and his face lit up in a wicked way. “And we’ll stick them on the island in only their underwear.”

Shawna laughed. “Oh, you’re an evil man, Mark. This just gets better and better.”

* * * *

“Cheer up, friend,” Jonathon Breck said. “Down a couple more of those then go shake a leg on the dance floor.”

His longtime buddy, Nicholas DeLuca, sat nearby, staring at his beer with a dark look on his face. Beyond them laughter filled the artfully decorated outdoor space. A wedding had taken place, a political match which had, as usual, drawn his father in. And when his father wanted to collect new friends of influence he always insisted Jonathon go. Being the dutiful son, he had made his perfunctory appearance—with Madison and Chrissy as his dates. Identical twins who happened to be runway models.

His father had nearly choked on his champagne when the three of them had shown up, arm in arm. The friends he was hoping to make had given Jonathon looks mixed with astonishment and disgust. Except for one old man who’d given him a sly grin and salute.

Nicholas remained mute, even when his sister, Natalie, rejoined him. Jonathon couldn’t blame the guy for being depressed. Though tight-lipped about his situation, the gossip hounds had spread the truth. He’d gotten strapped with a kid from some short-term fling. The woman had denied him visitation rights one day, then dumped the kid on his door the next and disappeared.

Damn, I couldn’t do it.
Jonathon shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to be tied down. Especially to a five-year-old boy with emotional issues. He gave his friend one final pat on the shoulder, nodded to Natalie, and took his two dates to the dance floor.

High-end champagne flowed through intoxicated guests like water, while waiters offered nibbles of caviar and escargot on tiny, tasteless crackers. Why rich people always insisted on eating salty fish eggs and snails was beyond Jonathon. He preferred a good American cheeseburger at a greasy spoon. Though, admittedly, when he had the craving he’d been known to fly to London just to have fish and chips at an out-of-the-way shop by the Thames. The owner’s daughter had a charming accent and an even more charming way of—

“Jonny, let’s go somewhere else.” Chrissy giggled and leaned heavily on his arm. “I think I’m a bit drunk, and I can’t dance in these shoes.”

“Of course you’re drunk,” Madison snapped, glaring at her flushed sister. “You ruin every event like this we go to.”

“Ladies, ladies, let’s be civil now,” Jonathon interrupted, wrapping one arm around Chrissy’s waist to keep her upright and the other around Madison’s shoulders to soothe her ruffled feathers. “I think I agree with Chrissy, let’s ditch this joint and see what trouble we can find, eh? I for one am starved and have a craving for cheap Chinese food.”

Chrissy gave him the sloppy formation of an eager smile, while her mirror image only wrinkled her delicate, freckled nose in an adorable way. She was harder to please, and seemed to have a taste for the wealthy lifestyle. Jonathon decided he liked Chrissy more, and perhaps he’d show her how
much
more later tonight. If he could get her to sober up first...he’d left drunken groping behind with his college days.

He waved off the waiting valet and led the women into the parking lot, wanting Chrissy to get some fresh air. Two men jumped from between parked vehicles, and lights flashed from their cameras. Paparazzi loved him as of late, and he gave them his biggest grin as he passed. They dogged along behind, shouting his name and asking questions he ignored. Madison waved and blew kisses over her shoulder, while Chrissy tightened her hold on his waist and stumbled along.

He helped Chrissy into the cramped confines of his BMW’s backseat, and Madison took shotgun. He closed the passenger door and patted the top of the sports car, a recent purchase and one of the company’s new electric models. His father had come undone when he’d spied it, which had been a silly temper tantrum in Jonathon’s opinion. They were an old Texas oil family, making their living for generations on drilling, and the money they had now would last him and his four older sisters indefinitely if invested wisely. If his old man knew he’d taken a chunk of his own share long ago and put it toward green energy interests, he’d probably be disowned.

He weaved through heavy Saturday night Dallas traffic until he spotted a questionable restaurant close to the outskirts of the city that seemed absolutely perfect. The area neared where gang activity had picked up, which of course added much more to his interest. A degree in cultural anthropology had left him fascinated with people outside of his inherited social circle. Those he’d grown up around all seemed cookie-cutter after a while, just like the obnoxious homes they lived in clustered around exclusive golf clubs.

He parallel parked, climbed out of the car, and walked around to retrieve his two dates. He inhaled the odor of old grease and fried wontons as he let Madison out, then helped Chrissy from the back seat. She staggered forward, nearly falling, but the two of them managed to drag her inside the restaurant. People gawked as they took a table in a corner.

“Why can’t we go someplace nicer?” Madison whined, scowling at patrons and décor alike. She folded her arms over her small, pert breasts barely hidden by the thin material of her flapper style dress. “Like Benny Robert’s? I hear it’s the place to be seen. Everyone who’s anyone goes there.”

An elite Dallas club and hotbed of snobs and wannabes, Jonathon thought. “But this is where the interesting people are, baby,” he said instead. “The place with the culture and unapologetic faces.”

Unapologetic was right, they were getting everything from curious stares to downright menacing scowls. Chrissy giggled and slumped forward, scrunching up the paper tablecloth and knocking over the vase with a plastic flower in the center of the table. A server came over, giving them an almost accusatory look. Yeah, Jonathon had to agree, they stood out like sore thumbs with their formal attire, and chances were most recognized him from TV or magazines. Perhaps the man thought they were mocking the establishment, which he wasn’t. He genuinely preferred being out in everyday places that didn’t require social status or a dress code.

He ordered for the three of them—egg rolls, egg drop soup, Hunan beef, orange and sweet and sour chicken, along with waters. Chrissy wavered in her chair, Jonathon wanted to get her hydrated on something besides more alcohol. The way she looked now, she was a lost cause as far as his other plans went.

“Interesting?” Madison asked, picking up their previous conversation after the server left. “How is this smelly place interesting? Who knows what rating the health department gave it. We’ll have food poisoning, just wait.”

Jonathon hid his amusement behind a cough, while a group of women at a nearby table cast her frowns. Tattooed and rough around the edges, they had a gangbanger look. The last thing he needed was Madison’s loud voice starting a brawl.

“Tell me about your trip to Paris,” he said in distraction.

Her mood lightened considerably as she launched into the story. When their food arrived, she stuck her nose up at it, but Chrissy perked up enough to dive into her portion. She downed half a plate of egg rolls while her sister described all the designer labels the two of them got to wear on the French catwalk.

His cellphone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, noting a text from a former college girlfriend out in Hollywood he’d kept in touch with.

I got the most amazing news! A couple of producers want you in a reality show called Paradise. Got the call a few minutes ago, get in touch.

Before he could digest what he’d read, the worst possible thing happened. “I don’t feel well, Jonny,” Chrissy muttered.

He turned to her just as Madison squeaked out an “Oh no!”

Chrissy vomited her dinner all over the paper tablecloth.

Chapter 2

“A bow drill is my favorite way to start a fire in a survival situation when I don’t have a flint handy.” Phoebe glanced over her students’ faces and smiled, looking for anyone who might be confused, but didn’t want to speak up. She believed understanding her classes was important for anyone who enjoyed the outdoors. If lost, they’d be able to fend for themselves until help arrived. “You can make them with a simple stick, some dry tinder, and a length of sturdy line, leather, sinew, or even your own braided hair.”

The class looked on as she put together her bow drill then kneeled before the flat plane of wood she’d stripped of bark and nestled in dried grasses. She demonstrated the sawing motion needed to get a coal started. Students clustered closer, oohing and ahhing as she worked. Phoebe grinned, happy with their rapt attention and interest, despite the small group. Class size had been shrinking in the passing months. Phoebe worried what another year might bring. Wilderness guiding wasn’t nearly as lucrative as the sudden interest in survival training.

Sweat beaded on her top lip and her arm ached, but soon a tiny waft of smoke drifted up with the friction between the two wood pieces. She lowered herself and blew a soft breath over the coal, breathing life into the fire. Orange flames licked up, devouring the dried grass. Several students clapped as she sat back on her heels and wiped sweat off her forehead.

“It takes practice and muscle, but you’ll get the hang of it,” she said to her class. “Any questions?”

Several hands shot up. In the background, a new woman had joined them. The stranger stood apart from the others, watching closely. Phoebe waved her over, but the woman shook her head, returning her grin. After answering the class’s questions, she dismissed them for an hour long lunch. Afterward she walked over to greet the newcomer.

“Are you here for training?” Phoebe asked.

“Not exactly,” the woman said, flashing a huge smile. “I’m Shawna Jones, and I’d love a few minutes of your time if you have it.”