Save the Last Dance (12 page)

Her body complained, of course. She ignored it. She was used to pushing it to its limits. At least ballet had given her that.

Every second with Finn counted, because now they were practically halfway through their week together. From now on, time would haemorrhage, slowly leaking away, until the helicopter appeared on the horizon to separate her from Finn. Possibly for ever.

Yes, it
should
be for ever. She knew that.

He had a fiancée to go home to, and seeing him back in the real world would just be too difficult, so she was going to go cold turkey once the filming was over. All she could have was this perfect little bubble of time with him, and have it she would.

It was day four and they had just climbed out of the shelter to start the day. First job was to get the fire started, using the wood they had collected and heaped up in readiness the evening before. Finn was trying to teach Allegra how to do it on her own. A useful skill, he'd said.

Useful for him, maybe, Allegra had thought.

She could imagine the outrage she'd cause amongst her Notting Hill neighbours if she decided to start a campfire in the leafy garden square outside her father's house.

That didn't stop her, though. She
wanted
to learn this. Not just to impress Finn, but to prove something to herself.

The materials were ready—tinder, kindling, larger logs for fuel—and she'd placed it all just-so, ready for an ember to ignite. Finn had declared it a perfect set-up. But could she get the knife and flint to generate a spark to set it all off? No, she could not. And it was driving her crazy.

She placed the flint on the tinder once again and struck the knife against it with force. Nothing. She wanted to scream.

Finn, who was crouching down beside her, laid a hand on her arm. ‘You're really close, but why don't you let me finish off?'

‘No!'

Whoops. That had come out a little more stroppily than she'd intended it to. She'd better get herself under control; the rest of the crew would be here shortly, and this was not how she wanted the world to see her—as a spoilt little princess having a paddy. Running away without telling anyone would have created that impression of her, anyway, and she wasn't about to do anything that might give the press fuel for
their
fire.

‘I want to do it myself,' she said, a little more graciously.

‘And I want to eat today,' Finn muttered good-naturedly, but he removed his hand from her arm and sat back down on the thick log they'd dragged beside the fire pit for a bench.

So she tried again. And again. And another twelve times after that.

Finn's tone was far too reasonable when he said, ‘You're trying too hard.'

She put the knife down and swivelled on her haunches to face him.

‘Yesterday you said I had to stop—and I quote—“messing around with it”. Make up your mind!'

When she'd finished snapping at him she clamped her mouth shut. What was wrong with her today? She couldn't seem to get a handle on her frustration as she usually did.

Luckily, Finn being Finn, he saw the funny side. And he didn't seem to be insulted in the least by her sulky outburst.

After a few more tries, she joined him on the log and handed the tools over. Then she propped her elbows on her knees and sank her face into her hands and watched him get to work. He made it look so easy. As if it was like breathing for him.

‘What I mean is—' Finn broke off as he concentrated on striking knife against flint. Sparks flew. Lots of them. Not something Finn McLeod was short of, obviously. Within a few seconds he was juggling a loose ball of dry grass and flames were licking through it, threatening to scorch his fingers. He dropped it carefully in the fire pit and began assembling the wood around it, talking as he did so.

‘I know it seems strange to put it like this, but I've always thought of fire as a living thing. Making fire is more than just following instructions; you need a bit of instinct, too—knowing just when and where to strike the flint, and how hard. Knowing when to trust the ember you've got and blow, or knowing it's not strong enough and the only thing that blowing would do is put it out.'

Great. Instinct again. Inner spark. The stuff Allegra was all out of. Maybe she'd never get this right.

She tried not to care about that as they fished and ate breakfast. She tried not to care when the film crew arrived and Dave pointed his all-seeing lens at her. Most of all she tried not to care when they took their daily hike through the thick vegetation to fetch water from the pool.

But she did care. A lot.

Because Finn had said
spark
was important, the thing you needed in spades if you were ever going to survive. And Allegra had the feeling she hadn't been surviving. Not even when she'd been back in London.

On their journey they walked past the tree stump that Finn had plucked the grubs from the other day. He looked over his shoulder and gave her a cheeky grin, raised his eyebrows in a question. She scowled at him and shook her head. The crew behind her chuckled.

But as she continued to follow Finn, Allegra began to consider something she'd forgotten—Finn McLeod thought she had
spark.
He'd said so.

He could be wrong, of course. Mistaken. But she'd eaten the darn bug anyway. Surely that had to count for something?

She desperately wanted it to.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it was all locked away inside and she didn't know how to get to it any more. Perhaps that was why she was so obsessed with creating fire. If she could do that, maybe she could believe she could take all the other things Finn had taught her home and put her mess of a life into order.

Or was that just a hopeless fantasy? As pathetic as yearning for a future with Finn. The dread plagued her all the way to the pool, cramping her shoulder muscles and tensing her jaw. Even the multitude of insect bites dotting her skin seemed to throb and itch more insistently.

After they'd filled their various containers, Finn suggested a detour back to the top of the island. Now they knew the way, it would only be another twenty minutes hiking. Allegra nodded and trudged after him. Maybe getting out of the oppressive heat and humidity of the jungle and standing in the fresh air and sunshine would improve her mood.

It didn't.

As beautiful as it all was, it didn't. She stood on the edge of the small cliff, staring out at the lush landscape, the shimmering sea, and it didn't help one bit.

‘Hey,' Finn said from right behind her, practically whispering in her left ear.

See? This proved just how off-kilter she was. She hadn't even sensed his approach.

‘You're as rigid as one of these rocks,' he said. And then he placed his hands on her shoulders and began to knead. Oh, my, he began to knead. Firmly. Smoothly. Expertly.

Allegra closed her eyes, glad none of the crew had a shot of her face, and stifled a whimper.

Was it better to pull away and deprive herself of this, never to have a hint of what it could be like, or would it be better to savour it while it lasted, even if it was sweet torture? She didn't know. And the indecision paralysed her body while making her head spin. And Finn's hands…? They were slowly turning her muscles to heated, sticky marshmallow.

Why had fate dangled him in front of her before pulling him away again? She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.

Her eyelids had drifted open a little and she spotted the small outcrop Finn had stood on the other day. She didn't decide to move; she just did. She ran to the little pointy bit of rock, planted her feet where his had been and let all the frustration and self-pity that had been building in her like a pressure cooker out in one long howl.

Time did something strange. She lost all awareness of how long it took the sound to leave her body, the air to vacate her lungs, and yet she became hyper-aware of the accompanying physical sensations—the heat at the back of her throat, the contraction of her intercostal and abdominal muscles, the way the air seemed to come from right down behind her belly button instead of her chest.

After all that noise, the following silence was thick and complete. She suddenly remembered where she was and—oh, no—who she was with. Was there any chance they'd been changing tapes while she'd had her moment of insanity?

She glanced round to find the entire crew staring at her, some of them with their mouths open. So she hitched her chin, tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear and fixed her eyes on the one solid thing in her universe at the moment: Finn McLeod. He was also staring, but his eyes were laughing and that did something strange to her.

‘You're right,' she said, surprising herself by sounding as cool and poised and elegant as a ballerina was supposed to. ‘I do feel better now.'

And then she began to vocalise what she saw in Finn's eyes. She began to laugh. No gentle, polite tittering, either. Big, helpless, gulping peals that made her feel dizzy.

Somehow Finn was standing beside her, joining her, laughing just as hard as she was. Before they'd fully recovered, he sputtered out a question: ‘You want to do that again?'

She nodded.

That was all he needed. He grabbed her hand and they both rose onto their tiptoes, threw their heads back and yelled.

Finn felt as if he could leap off the cliff and fly. Surely, with this soaring feeling inside it would finally be possible? Not even gravity could stop them. The wind would carry them and the warm thermals would buoy them up. He and Allegra could just close their eyes and dive off the cliff into the ultimate freedom. Because he knew he wanted her with him.

Look at her! Where had the clenched little ballerina he'd shared a helicopter ride with gone? Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were shiny. In a sudden burst of clarity he understood why some people paid hundreds of pounds just for the pleasure of watching her all evening.

He realised that even though he'd thought she was beautiful when she danced, he hadn't known anything. This was way better, because this time he wasn't just a spectator, but a participant. They'd joined together and she'd taken him with her on her leap into uncharted territory.

And, as the pounding of his heart subsided, as he watched her standing there, silent now, eyes closed, face to the sun, he realised something else—he very badly wanted to kiss her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

F
INN
 
was staring at her, shock written on every single feature, but it was quickly erased and replaced by a frown. Allegra's stomach felt as if it had plummeted to the bottom of the small cliff. Had she gone too far?

She must have done. Look at his face.

No one who knew the reserved, quiet, unapproachable Allegra Martin back in London would have believed she would have even raised her voice, let alone yelled until her throat was sore and then laughed like a crazy woman.

Maybe she was having a breakdown.

Yes, that must be it. How else could she explain running away to spend a week on a desert island in the middle of a production? And all the not-Allegra type things she'd done since?

But how could this be madness? How could this be wrong? She'd never felt so free. And if sanity was what she'd had before, she wasn't sure she wanted it back.

She looked at Finn. Instead of the confident, can-do-anything grin he normally wore, his mouth was slightly open and he was looking a little pale. Did he think that what she'd just done had wandered from
fun
into something…well, more
diagnosable?
Was that why he'd gone so quiet?

‘Finn, are you okay?'

No mischievous grin, no witty comeback. He merely nodded and turned to face the four men standing on the other end of the rocky peak. ‘Time we got back down to camp and started thinking about food for this evening.'

And then he scrambled down the rocky slope without waiting for her or the crew. It was almost a full two minutes before they caught up with him.

He was weird all the way back to camp, too. Didn't point out one edible or medicinal plant en route, or catch large wriggling insects and hold them up to the camera. Just kept walking until his feet met sand, and then he threw his boots off and marched into the sea, fully clothed.

Allegra put her hands on her hips and watched him swim furiously until he reached the little rock island with the tree on top, where he hauled himself out of the water and sat down under the sparsely leaved branches and stared out to sea.

Nobody followed him. Not even Dave. To be honest, from the way the crew were looking at each other and shuffling from foot to foot, she'd guess they were just as puzzled as she was.

Maybe she wasn't the only one going bananas.

He stayed on the island for half an hour. Until he felt a little bit closer to normal. If he hadn't had to worry about a filming schedule and a celebrity guest star, he might have stayed out there all night.

Where on earth had
that
come from?

One minute he'd been excited about his protégé's progress, about her courage to do something way beyond her comfort zone, and the next…?

Well, it hadn't been an eager student standing beside him, but a captivating woman, one who had so much more potential than she realised, and his testosterone had gone into overdrive. All she'd done was smile at him, and he'd been able to see the thrill of new experiences fresh on her lips, and he'd wanted to
share
it, to
taste
it.

And then he hadn't felt as if he was flying any more, but falling. Into a big dark hole with no way out. That was when he'd started running.

Whatever was going on here was definitely not a good idea.

He'd only just been dumped by his long-term fiancée. Chances were that this was probably just a rebound thing—a reflex. A long-buried caveman instinct to prove himself by finding another woman. Not very evolved, to be sure. But, hey, he was a guy. Not much he could do about that.

He stood up, brushed down the back of his trousers and looked back towards the beach.

It wouldn't be a good idea to pursue this
thing
with Allegra.

He had a job to do. And they were in each other's company every hour of every day for the rest of the week. Hothouse conditions. The result was spectacular, yes, but things were unnaturally accelerated in that kind of environment. There'd be no breathing room, no escape, if things got out of control. Better to leave well enough alone. For both their sakes.

That sorted in his head, he decided he was ready to go back to the beach and face the crew.

What about Allegra?
a little voice inside his head said.

What about her? She's a female of the species, yes. I've noticed that now. But I'm not so devoid of self-control that I can't spend time with her without behaving myself. All I can ever
share
with her is my skills, my training. And I can share the next three days on this island with her and that will be that.

Good luck with that,
the voice said.

Finn ignored it.

He jumped into the turquoise water and swam back to shore at a leisurely pace.

Allegra was collecting firewood. The rest of the crew seemed to be occupied, but the atmosphere was a little too incurious, a little too nonchalant. However, at this present moment, nonchalance suited him just fine, so he went with it.

Dave was the only one to show concern. Trust Dave. Couldn't he have grumbled about the unexpected jog through the jungle back to the beach?

‘You okay?' he said.

‘Fine,' said Finn, grinning. His face felt artificial. ‘You know me. I'm a bit of a loner at times, and I just needed a bit of solitude to recharge my batteries. All charged up now, though…' And then he surprised himself by dancing around like a boxer to prove it, even jabbed Dave playfully on the shoulder. What
was
he doing?

‘Yippee,' Dave said, returning to normal. He gave Finn a look that said,
Try that again, mate, and you'll be fish food.

‘Okay,' Finn said, clapping his hands together, aware his voice was very loud in his own ears. ‘Next thing we're going to do is take a more in-depth look at cordage, what kind of ropes can be made from the plants that occur naturally in a habitat like this.'

The crew mumbled out a sarcastic cheer.

Finn turned to the woman he'd avoided looking at so far, who was crouching on the ground, piling kindling for that evening's fire. ‘Allegra?'

His heart began to thump. Don't think about it, he told himself.

His smile stayed fixed on his lips and he managed to do just that. For a few seconds. Allegra looked up at him with those big, transparent, unblinking blue eyes. His gaze slid to her lips. She wasn't smiling with them now. Wasn't doing anything special at all with them, really. It should have been safe.

But all Finn could think about was how much he really wanted to taste and share.

Finn kept everyone busy all afternoon. They must have collected enough firewood to last them at least two days, and he wasted another hour trying—and mostly failing—to build a raft that fell apart and dunked him in the sea as soon as it encountered a big wave. The crew had found the whole episode highly entertaining.

He tried hard not to think if his celebrity sidekick found it funny. He was trying very hard not to think about her at all. But now and then he forgot himself and glanced in her direction. Each time he saw exactly the same thing: Allegra staring back at him with a hint of bewilderment in her big blue eyes.

In the end he decided to put those eyes where he couldn't see them—behind him—and suggested a trek to the other end of the island, where it sharpened into a point. When they'd stood on top of the hill, he thought he'd seen evidence of human occupation at some point, and he wanted to see if he was right.

He'd been spot-on.

There was a ruin there—a stone fort, it looked like. He guessed it had probably been built by the Spanish a few hundred years ago to fend off the pirates who'd wanted to steal their New World gold. Only one wall remained intact, about six feet high, in an L-shape. The rest of the structure had succumbed to the creepers and grass that had pushed between the stones.

He warbled to camera about the history of the area for at least half an hour, even though he knew Simon probably wouldn't use it. But when the sun started to dip in the sky he reluctantly made the call to return to camp. Once there, he stuck close to the camera crew until they escaped in their tiny white speedboat.

I'm not being cowardly, he told himself. I'm just being sensible. Better to put up a few barriers to protect himself—protect both of them—from one of his sudden and often irresistible urges. Having a dive-in-first, ask-questions-later kind of personality could be an asset in some survival situations, but when it came to relationships he'd learned the hard way that slowly and carefully was the only way to go.

The sun was now setting, and there was an awfully long time to kill before the crew returned in the morning. He poked the fire with a large stick and racked his brain for a plan. Thankfully, it didn't take long.

‘How do you fancy going for a walk?' he said, not looking at his sole companion, but concentrating on a glowing bit of timber he was bothering with his makeshift poker. Sparks flew and whirled up into the air.

‘A
walk?
'

‘Mmm-hmm.'

‘But it's dark,' she said. He could hear the frown in her voice. Knew her eyebrows had dipped in the middle as they always did when she was uncertain about something.

‘I have a plan,' he said, and then went about showing her just how easy it was to make a torch out of a decent-sized stick and some combustible material lashed to the top. Thank goodness, after this afternoon's mini-lecture on cordage, they had plenty of the stuff lying around.

He made a torch for each of them, dipped them in the fire long enough for them to billow bright flames, and then they set off across the beach towards the headland. Never had Finn been so glad his guest star was a woman of few words.

But as they neared the rock-punctuated sand at the end of the beach, Allegra opened her mouth and spoke.

‘I have a confession to make,' she said carefully. ‘I should have told you earlier, really, but at first home seemed so far away—both in time and space—but now I've suddenly realised I'm only days away from being back there again.'

‘Uh-huh.' That was right. Keep it light and non-committal.

‘Well…'

Allegra slowed even further. Finn didn't look at her face, but watched her feet make tiny, delicate dents in the sand.

‘I thought I'd better warn you that there might be a bit of fallout from me being a guest on
Fearless Finn.
Maybe not for you,' she added quickly. ‘But definitely for me.'

Finn was so intrigued he forgot he was trying not to look her directly in the eye. He stopped walking and turned to face her. ‘How so?'

Allegra looked down at her feet and traced a tiny precise arc in the sand with her big toe. ‘I did something stupid.'

Finn knew all about stupid. It was his speciality, his father used to say. ‘What sort of stupid? Locked your keys in the car stupid, or fallen off a cliff stupid?'

She sighed and her gaze flicked up to meet his. ‘Definitely the latter.'

He took a few steps up the beach until he was beyond the tide line, plunged the non-flaming end of his torch into the soft sand and sat down. He motioned for her to do the same. They sat about three feet apart, both facing the ocean, with their knees up, staring out into the darkness, trying to figure out where sea met night sky.

‘When I left I didn't tell anyone where I was going, and—' she swallowed ‘—I was supposed to be performing this evening.'

He swung round to look at her. She didn't mirror him but kept looking out into the inky night.

‘You ran away from home?' he said, his voice high and tight.

Her head snapped round and she glared at him. ‘I did
not
run away from home. That's the sort of thing kids do! I'm an adult and I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions, planning my own life…'

‘Listen, I'm not one to judge—I've made plenty of the fall-off-a-cliff stupid decisions in my life. And I have to say, for a first attempt, yours was pretty spectacular.'