Save the Last Dance (9 page)

A low, rumbling snort from behind her caused her to yank her head round. Dave was finding it all highly amusing as he caught every millisecond of her double-edged reaction with his big zoom lens. Oh, how she was learning to hate that object!

She turned her back on both man and camera. However, this meant the only other view open to her was Finn and his rapidly diminishing wardrobe. His shirt was already on the ground, revealing a broad and rather finely muscled back, and he had turned his attention to his boot laces. Allegra swallowed. After that the only items left would be his trousers and his—she gulped again—underwear.

She stood frozen to the spot, unable to move, unable to look away.

Why was she reacting like this? It wasn't as if she hadn't seen her fair share of unadorned male bodies in her line of work. And she'd certainly watched enough episodes of
Fearless Finn
to know that he had no compunction about getting naked if the situation called for it, but there had always been a little bit of post-production wizardry that had fuzzied out the…um…
essentials.
She suddenly missed that fuzzy square very much indeed.

Finn was out of his boots now and had pulled his trousers down to his knees. The sight of his thighs made Allegra's mouth go dry.

He paused and looked up at her. ‘Come on, then.' His cheeky grin turned her already parched tongue to sandpaper. ‘You'll go mouldy if you stay in those damp things.'

He stepped out of his cargo trousers and picked them up, along with his shirt, and then hung them out on one of the large bushes that circled their camp, making sure they were stretched out wide and facing the roaring fire.

Her heart rate began to slow a little. He was stopping at his underwear—at least that was how it looked for now. Part of her was relieved, but the other part? Well, it just…wasn't.

Once Finn had finished arranging his clothes on the bush he turned back to her. She discovered she was clutching at the front of her light cotton shirt, pulling the edges towards each other, even though it was still buttoned up.

What must she look like?

A timid child? A complete prude? Certainly nothing like the kind of impulsive, free-spirited woman who would appeal to Finn McLeod. The kind of girl who would smile back at the gorgeous hunk of man who had nonchalantly got half-naked beside her and was inviting her to do the same. The kind of girl who already
had
claimed his heart, she reminded herself.

Finn jerked his head towards the sparkling pale green shallows. ‘I'm going to wash off the helicopter, the storm and anything else that might be clinging to me,' he said. And then he bounded off down the sand and threw himself into the surf.

Well, she couldn't stand here getting damper and sweatier and smellier by the second, could she? If there was one thing she wanted—besides Finn McLeod—it was to feel clean again, and her island home was fulfilling every fantasy she'd had about it this morning. The sky was a painful crisp blue, the sand the colour of vanilla ice cream, and the sea…

Oh, how she wanted to feel that cool azure water on her skin, feel it gently stroking her limbs, easing her tension away.

She didn't allow herself to question what she did next. She just followed Finn's lead, threw her shirt and trousers on the nearest twiggy bush and, after a moment's hesitation, she peeled her vest top off, too, and hung it beside them.

The funny thing was she was used to stripping off frequently when there were quick costume changes backstage. Nobody had time to be shy then, and she honestly hadn't thought twice about it. She'd just done what had needed to be done.

But she wasn't in the wings or in a dressing room now.

And Finn wasn't one of her colleagues, used to seeing limbs and torsos as merely the machinery of his art.

She pulled herself tall and started walking towards the shore.

How strange. In her world, her lean muscles and understated curves were considered perfection, were envied even. But out here in the real world she was considered about as voluptuous as an ironing board. Dave's comment last night about Anya Pirelli had made that patently clear.

Perhaps that was why she'd been overcome by an uncharacteristic bout of shyness. Even though she knew it was impossible, that she knew he was already taken and just wouldn't look at her that way, a tiny contrary feminine part of her had wanted to impress Finn just a little bit with her toned limbs and graceful lines.

But Finn wasn't anywhere to be seen once she reached the water's edge. He'd obviously dived under. Allegra took the opportunity to submerge her body completely, even though the beach shelved gently and the sun-kissed water was only a couple of feet deep.

She closed her eyes for a moment, before walking herself deeper with her hands.

Oh, this was bliss. Perfect, perfect bliss.

When her fingers struggled to reach the bottom she opened her eyes again and began to swim, desperately, desperately trying not to notice if Finn had resurfaced or where he was.

It was no use, though. Even if he hadn't found her, if he hadn't burst from the water beside her, grinning, water running down his neck and shoulders, dragging her gaze to his powerful torso, she'd have known
exactly
where he was. The knowledge thrummed though her and made her legs shake. Unfortunately, this little mermaid was undergoing something of a species change. When Finn McLeod was around she was part woman, part jellyfish.

She let her quivering feet float to the bottom and made a pretence of washing herself, cupping her hands and scooping up the salty water before throwing it over her shoulders and back, and hoped fervently that her thumping heart wasn't making little ripples in the chest-deep water that Finn might notice.

Finn didn't notice.

He rolled onto his back and let himself float face up, his eyes closed, and kept himself steady with the odd flap of one of his outstretched hands.

‘Isn't this perfect?' he asked quietly.

Allegra stopped washing and stared at him. She couldn't help smiling herself as the warm sun beat down on her shoulders and the cool water lapped around her.

This man, he was so utterly different from her. He got the urge to do something and he did it, no matter if it was crazy or dangerous, or both. He didn't dither and second-guess himself. He made split-second decisions in high pressure situations and his gut instinct was always right. She let her breath out slowly, hoping his ears were far enough below the surface not to hear the ragged longing in it.

She held it again when his eyes popped open and he swivelled his head to look at her. She found an answering smile curved her face.

‘Yes, it is,' she replied softly, looking right at him. ‘It
is
perfect.'

The rest she left unsaid.

Finn clambered over a rock and then turned and thrust out his hand for his celebrity shadow to grab. ‘Not far now.' He pulled her up onto the ledge he'd jumped up onto, then turned to look towards the summit of the hill. ‘Once we're at the top we'll be able to get a better idea of the lie of the land.'

Allegra didn't answer. Her chest was moving rapidly and she put her hands on her hips.

It hadn't been easy going on their trek to the island's highest point. The hill itself was nothing compared to what he was used to climbing, hardly more than a bump, but the closer they'd got to the centre of the island, the denser the jungle vegetation had become. Even for him it had been tiring.

She'd kept up, though. Had hardly even slowed him down.

It had been Dave who'd done all the moaning, despite the fact the glorious morning had meant the rest of their small crew had been able to join them and he was now guaranteed something a little more comfortable than bamboo to bed down on that night.

Allegra, however, had done everything he'd thrown at her without a murmur. She hadn't even complained about the insect bites that were popping up all over her skin, and Finn was now hastily revising his earlier conclusions about this ballerina. Her training must be a lot more rigorous than he'd imagined, because the girl had stamina. And guts.

As for blowing away in a stiff breeze? Well, he was starting to suspect it'd take something akin to a typhoon to uproot this woman if she set her mind to staying put.

A few more feet and they were standing on a broad flat rock, partially covered in yellowish grass, that marked the island's highest point. He sucked in a lungful of air. Wow. The view was stunning. He glanced over his shoulder at the crew, hoping Dave and the extra cameraman were getting some good shots.

He'd known the location of the chain of islands they'd be visiting for this episode, but other than that he knew very little about this particular spot. It had been a conscious decision on the part of both him and the production team to leave him out of the location-scouting process. That way he really had to think on his feet and use all his skills when he reached his destination. As a result, this was his first chance to see just how big the island was and what natural features it was graced with.

Allegra was standing a few feet away, turning slowly on her heels, her eyes practically popping out of her head.

‘Can't beat this,' he said.

She shook her head solemnly. And then she looked right at him and gave him one of her rare smiles. Something about it reached down inside of him and he felt something like a champagne cork popping. He started to fizz with energy.

He could see it in her eyes—that she was sharing the adrenalin rush with him—that her pulse was quickening and the blood was rushing in her ears, and it reminded him of what it had felt like the first time he'd seen a view like this. How he'd been literally breathless. Somehow, knowing she was having the same rush, that first sweet taste of adventure, intensified the experience for him, too. Doubled it.

He ran to the edge of the large rock, where it rose up slightly and then dropped away suddenly for maybe forty feet into the jungle, and then he stood on his tiptoes, threw his hands out wide and yelled into the wind.

When he'd run out of breath he turned back to find the crew rolling their eyes, but Allegra…

Allegra laughed.

The sound burst from her, surprising her as much as him. She clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle it, but over the top of her fingers her eyes still danced.

Finn couldn't help but join her.

Well, blow him down if the suits back in TV land hadn't been right for once. Sharing this with someone who hadn't done it before
was
fun. It was amazing to watch her soak up everything he gave her like a sponge, to see her eyes widen in awe at each new revelation.

He ran over to her, grabbed her tiny hand and tugged her with him to the edge of the precipice.

‘Have a go,' he said, grinning at her. ‘There's nothing else like it.'

Her eyes sparkled, but she bit her lip and shook her head. Finn just laughed harder, the sound rumbling low inside of him and gathering momentum until it demanded to be let out. So let it out he did.

It seemed such a shame that Allegra didn't shout her joy out, too, that he whooped again and, as he did so, he tightened his hand around hers, hoping in some small way he was taking her with him.

Allegra plunged her canteen into the cool, dark pool of water and felt the warm air bubbles rumble to the surface. When she was sure it was full she lifted it out of the water and swung it to her lips.

‘No!'

Finn was through the draping ferns and beside her in a second, shoving the canteen away from her face with such force she almost dropped it. Shock must have been written all over her face, because his expression softened as he gently prised the canteen from her fingers and screwed its cap on.

‘It needs to be boiled first,' he explained.

Allegra didn't do anything but stutter. Shock had given way to awareness, and Finn McLeod was standing very, very close, his dark hair flopping over his forehead and his eyes full of delicious concern.

‘B-but, this…morning…'

He shook his head. ‘That was rain water. Different rules.'

She nodded, even though she didn't really understand. Finn had amazed her with his ingenuity that morning. After their swim he'd set about recovering their water containers—as well as their canteens and sections of bamboo he'd cut up to make long cups—that he'd placed strategically the night before. Each one had a large rolled up leaf sticking out of the top and she'd discovered they'd acted as funnels, the torrential rain filling every one of them. But in this heat and humidity, their water supplies had gone down very fast, and there was no knowing when it would rain again.

She looked at her canteen in Finn's hands.

She'd made a rookie mistake. One that, had she really been stranded on her own, might have been fatal. It only proved how much of a fish out of water she was here—and how much she needed Finn.

Maybe Finn
had
said something about not drinking the water, but she'd been too busy watching his face light up as he'd talked about navigating their way to the head of the creek he'd spotted from the top of the island to retain that information. It turned out the spring was not far from the base of the cliff they'd been standing on earlier. But they hadn't known that until they'd made a two-hour trip, first locating the creek and then following it upstream to its source.