Trial Run: Addicted To Love Romance Collection (10 page)

The beach was far behind them now, and Amelie was beginning to tire. The fact that she was barefoot didn’t help, though Rob didn’t have shoes either, and he was making good progress with seemingly no effort.

She leaned against an ironwood and lifted one leg up; the lack of contact with twisted roots and hardened brush vegetation was soothing. She repeated the process with her other foot. Rob was hacking at something with the small hatchet. When he came back into view, he had a bunch of vines looped around his arm.

He took a look at her, then came nearer.

“Tired?” he asked.

Amelie nodded.

“Do you want to head back?” She bit her lip in apprehension; they had traveled far enough that she was wondering whether she might get lost. Another night alone in the wilderness was not so high on her wish list. Rob smiled. “Don’t worry, I marked the trees on the way down. Look here. See? Right at eye level, you’ll see these notches. You’ll be all right. The beach is not so far.”

“Okay,” she answered, though she would have preferred to have his company. Unfortunately, her pride didn’t allow her to admit that she needed him, so she lifted her chin up like the big, brave girl she was, and even managed a smile. “You want me to take that back?” she asked, pointing to the vine.

“That would be helpful. Thank you. It would give me more scope to collect other useful things.” He passed her the tangled creeper and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. She’d rather it had been on her lips.

“I won’t be long,” he assured her. “I want to catch us some fish for dinner.”

She didn’t ask how he was hoping to achieve that; as far as she knew, tickling fish only worked in rivers.

The button mangroves were magnificent, she realized, when no one was rushing you and you could take your time to stop and really look at things. Take this one, for example. Pretty, pink, little ball-like fruit swamped the sunny side of a tall bush to her right. Farther back, she could see the yellow flowers of a tree – an elder, she thought.

She made slow progress, partly because of her sore feet, and partly because she stopped often to check for Rob’s notches. About an hour after they separated, she decided to stop and sit down for a while. There was no rush, was there? And if Rob decided to head back, he would probably find her if he just followed the path he’d last seen her on. She rubbed her feet gently as she sat, enjoying the view.

Her gaze fell on a bush she recognized, right in the middle of a patch of Ram’s Horn. She knew it had edible fruit, but couldn’t quite see from this distance if they were dark enough to be considered ripe, so she stood up gingerly and walked over.

Breakfast had been sparse – just two chocolate-flavor cookies Rob had saved for her out of the two ready-to-eat meal packs the night before, and some coconut flesh; the crabs were ruined – what a waste! She blushed, remembering exactly why they’d turned to coals after sitting too long on the fire.

She’d gone without proper food for far too long, and she was hungry. Slowly, hesitating for a second, she bit a nick into the tough skin and sucked the flesh of the fruit of the seven-year apple tree out. It reminded her of liquorish – not her favorite flavor – but it was food all the same. She braved through a second one, then had another look around. A Dolly Plum was hiding behind a tall Poinciana. There was so much goodness to find in the bush, if only you didn’t rush through it, she thought, deciding on the spot that she would bring Rob back there the following day and give him some lessons in recognizing edible wild fruit.

Amelie gathered as many of the fruit she recognized as she could carry, and was very proud of herself when she managed to find the trail of notched trees once again.

Her feet were sore and blistered by the time she broke through the last line of casuarinas and sea grapes, and made it to the shelter.

Rob had a good idea of the size of the island now, and what it held, and it seemed ideal for his purposes. There was no sign of civilization, but he wasn’t particularly concerned about that. If they were careful, two people could live on an island like this one indefinitely, not that they were planning to do that. Jason would begin searching for them in a few days. All Rob had to do was keep the two of them alive for fourteen days. Easy.

All right, not entirely easy. Falling for Amelie’s charm this morning had complicated things somewhat, though he didn’t regret the experience. It wasn’t like she was interested in a long-term relationship, anyway. She was too independent to settle down.

His pace slowed as he reflected on his feelings about Amelie. She could be lovely and sweet, passionate like a tigress – as she’d proved earlier in the day – but also a bit of a stuck-up snob who was clearly crumbling into a sobbing mess at the first sign of trouble.

She didn’t like ready meals – ha! The woman had never known hunger, obviously. Hardship sharpens one’s logic and puts things in perspective far better than having everything ready for the taking ever could. And then, she’d been so adamant she wanted to explore the island, find the locals and get help… only to give up within yards from home. No matter what image she was trying to project, she was only female, and therefore weak.

Satisfied with his assessment of Amelie, he found an outcropping of rocks jutting out into the ocean – just perfect for fishing. He pulled out of his pocket the tiny loop of fishing line and attached one of the ten hooks he’d secreted in the first aid kit to one end. Ten minutes later he was sitting comfortably, at peace with the world, waiting for the fish to bite.

Wispy clouds were chasing each other on the horizon as Rob stepped out from the thicket and onto the beach. Amelie was nowhere to be seen. Had she gotten lost on her way back? He wouldn’t put it past her.

He dropped the four small fish and some other items he’d collected by the side of the fire, then pushed aside the leaves shading the shelter’s entrance and gasped. Amelie was slumped on her side, a pool of vomit a few inches away from her face. She was shivering and her eyes were closed, but she was breathing.

Aw, hell! Again? What had she done this time?

He felt her body for breakages – nothing. Her eyelids fluttered and she sighed, but didn’t speak. Slowly and gradually, he pulled her shoulder back and turned her face up, so he could see her face. A sheen of sweat covered her skin. That was not good. Not good at all.

As fast as he could, he gathered up all her clothes and piled them and her empty bags by the side of the shelter, then leaned her against them, supported her torso, and brought a coconut shell full of water to her lips. A little water trickled into her mouth through her slightly parted lips and she swallowed convulsively.

“Amelie, talk to me,” Rob said, worried. He shook her a little and she jerked her knees up and rolled to her side, where she proceeded to dry heave. There was nothing in her stomach. Only a thin trickle of saliva made it out through her parched lips.

Rob lay her back gently again and sat down beside her. Taking advantage of her more aware state, he proceeded to question her.

“Sweetheart, look at me. I’m here. Look into my eyes. Can you focus?”

Her eyes wheeled around until she found him.

“Good. Good girl. Now stay with me. Tell me, did you eat anything since we parted company?”

She nodded, barely a weak bob of her chin.

“Can you describe it to me? Was there just the one thing, or…”

Her eyes focused on something past his shoulder. There was a new pile of fruit by the fire. He went to get one of each type, then returned to her side. Holding them up one by one, he asked, “Was it this one?” until she nodded.

The innocuous-looking fruit didn’t look like anything he’d seen before. It was shriveled up and brown on the outside, the skin tough and looking almost impossible to bite through. He frowned at the thing a minute longer before he asked, “So… did you swallow it whole?” He turned to survey the puddle of vomit. It was completely smooth; no lumps to give him any clues.

A small smile stretched her lips. Had he said something funny?

Amelie’s smile got bigger. She liked his confusion, did she? Clearly, she wasn’t too ill to laugh at him.

He threw the fruit toward the fire and it landed in the ashes. Good riddance.

“Can you swallow a drink?” he asked.

“I can try,” she mouthed.

Rob helped her sip some water, then lay her gently back down. He felt her hand sneak inside his, but he didn’t want to be trapped sitting there, watching the princess sleep. She’d have to get over whatever she did this time all by herself. Of course, he’d be around, keeping an eye on her, but she didn’t need to know he was concerned. Nothing like a little reality check to rattle some sense into her brain.

So he shook his head and took his hand away. Her face puckered up, as if she was trying not to cry. Oh, no, he wasn’t falling for that.

“I have a lot to do, Ammy. I need to make a spear and try my hand at fishing in the shallows, and then I’m going to attempt to get some of those younger coconuts down. The electrolytes will do you a world of good. Plus, now that the rain has stopped, we can’t allow the drinking water to run too low, so I’ll have to see if I can improvise some stills.”

She nodded and closed her eyes in resignation, but he caught sight of a tear sliding across her cheek just as he was getting up. He left the shelter before her sorry expression could ensnare him, and concentrated on doing what a man did best – hunting and gathering.

And whether Miss Ammy, the princess, liked what was on the menu tonight or not, he would make sure she ate something, provided she could keep it down. That way she wouldn’t be tempted to supplement her diet with rotten-looking stuff she scavenged from the jungle.

That wasn’t an unreasonable request, was it? And if she refused? Well, he’d have to think of a suitable punishment.

Determined, he got to work on his fishing spear. Whether he caught fish in the shallows or not, he didn’t want to have to explain to her just yet how come he’d thought of packing a bunch of fishing hooks and line for a boat trip that wasn’t expected to go wrong.

When Amelie woke up, Rob was sitting by the fire, whittling away at a lump of… something. A wonderful aroma issued from the fireplace and made her stomach rumble.

Her eyes drifted over to the puddle of vomit, as she raised herself up on an elbow, but the sick wasn’t there anymore. It looked like her personal sexy nurse knew a thing or two about hygiene, after all.

He caught her movement. “I found some gourds. They’ll make good storage containers for water,” he said, lifting the gourd he was working on to show her.

Amelie moved over to her knees. “What’s that wonderful smell?” she asked as she pushed herself to her feet… and promptly crumbled back to the ground.

“Ow!” she shouted, surprised at the burning pain slicing through her feet.

Rob dropped his work and rushed to her side. He picked her up and sat her by the side of the fire. “What hurts?” he asked.

“My feet are on fire!”

He lifted her feet to his lap to examine them. Amelie could see the soles of her feet had reddened in places. What had caused it? It was unlikely eating the wrong sort of fruit would make a rash appear on her feet.

“You must have stepped on something… some irritant… Was there any poison wood where you picked these fruit?”

“I didn’t see any. I know what poison wood looks like. Though I did have to fight my way through a thicket. You’d think I would have noticed.”

“Not if it was under your feet.” Rob sighed and stood up to get the first aid kit. “You have a lot of blisters. Not sure what we can do to soothe them.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t feel anything until now,” Amelie said, confused. “I mean, I could feel my feet getting sore, but…”

“Your stomach must have been bad if you didn’t notice your feet burning up,” Rob muttered, up-ending the shallow container between them.

“Mmmm, yeah, that was not pleasant,” she agreed.

It was the understatement of the century, but she didn’t want to look like a whining child, not when she still needed to convince him – and Jason, with Rob’s help – that she could cope on her own.

“Not a lot of useful stuff in here, unless… Aha!”

Rob pulled out two little packages, about the size of a towelette. ‘Burn and sting relief,’ she read, twisting her head sideways.

“You think that will work? It’s not like I’ve walked through fire. I would have noticed that.”

Rob chuckled and made a ‘you sure about that?’ face at her, but she raised an eyebrow back at him and he went back to stuffing the spare medication back into the kit.

“Maybe not,” he said, grabbing hold of her left ankle with an iron grip, “but no one said the burn had to have been caused by fire. I was going by the look of those sores and your description of the pain. Seemed logical.”

Amelie let Rob treat her feet – not a comfortable sensation, but not particularly painful, either. The man had such a soft touch… when he wanted to. Her core still throbbed at the memory of another sort of touch he’d applied to her skin earlier in the day.

He made sure she was comfortable and waited on her all through the evening, like a faithful servant. No wonder he kept calling her a princess. She felt like one.

Dinner was delicious – fish steamed inside clam shells – and she ate almost half of the portion reserved for her. Rob made a face, but didn’t push her to eat more, for which she was grateful. She did drink all the coconut water he’d set aside for her.

They spent a few comfortable hours watching the sunset and reminiscing about their youth, along with telling each other stories from the years they’d spent apart.

When he’d placed her feet onto his lap, to check out the red welts, Amelie felt self-conscious.

“Very attractive,” she joked, trying to pull away.

Rob laughed and held tight onto her ankles. “Seriously? You worry about what the soles of your feet look like? Anyway, the redness is almost gone now. We were lucky.”

“Haven’t you learned anything in Hollywood?” she retorted. “People are constantly judged by the image they display. You can’t afford a moment of weakness, of not looking your best.”

“Well, yes, actually, I have learned a lot. One thing stands out: the most attractive people are never the best-looking ones.”

“I’m not sure whether you’re trying to tell me that I’m nice, or that I’m ugly.”

Instead of an answer, his lips descended onto hers. He carried her under the shelter, making sure her feet didn’t touch the sand, then laid her down and lay down alongside her.

“Way to wriggle your way back into the penthouse,” she whispered, breathless, feeling slightly awkward all of a sudden.

“I have my methods,” he answered, and began peeling her clothes off. When she was lying naked in front of him, he looked her up and down with a serious expression, then let out a long sigh, closed his eyes and shook his head.

Was he disappointed? A flash of anxiety flickered through her body. “So, what’s the verdict?” she asked.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he began, and his eyes opened slowly to lock on hers. “But you are beautiful.”

She felt her smile spread over her face and grow into a huge grin as he began to place soft butterfly kisses all over her skin, muttering between them, his lips barely leaving her skin, to form words. “Absolutely flawless, perfect, sweet, sensuous, a temptress, stunning, gorgeous, delightful, exquisite…”

Amelie giggled. “All right, all right, I get the picture. You like me.”

“I haven’t finished yet,” he said, placing two fingers over her lips. “Magnificent, desirable, my personal siren, irresistible, mouthwatering…”

He was kissing the corners of her mouth at the time, so she took advantage of that and trapped his lips with hers, effectively stopping his speech. When he came up for air, he complained, “You made me lose my train of thought.” She giggled.

Rob settled cross-legged by her side, his fingers stroking lazy patterns over her breasts, her collarbones, her neck and jaw. “Can I stay?” he asked, fire smoldering in his gaze.

Amelie turned over on her side, to stare at him the way he was looking at her only minutes earlier. His eyes darkened the more time passed, and worry began to crease his brow.

Finally, she let him out of his misery. “You may stay. But your clothes must go.”

His shorts landed outside the entrance before she’d finished speaking.