Phillip walked out of the water and made his way toward
the towels the crew had stashed nearby. He heard a phone ring. It was the first time he’d heard one on the island, since coverage
was terrible and international calling was an issue. He saw Steph stop mid-stride and dig in her backpack. She pulled out a sat
phone. She was always the first one to have a gadget. He won-
dered why he hadn’t thought to get one. Steph looked at the
number on the display, and her shoulders sagged. Then she an-
swered.
“Christopher?” The acoustics of the cliffs rocketed her
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voice at him.
Christopher. Her “agent”.
“I know. It just took me by surprise.” She was pacing slow-
ly back and forth in the sand, twisting a piece of her curly hair around her finger. She always did that when she was nervous.
“I know. I know. I don’t disagree with you. What?” She
covered her ear as if she were having trouble hearing him. She
suddenly looked around as if trying to make sure no one was
listening. Phillip rested back on his towel as if he were innocently sunbathing instead of eavesdropping on his ex-girlfriend’s
private phone calls. He was feeling decidedly creepy, but his
curiosity won out.
“Chris, you know how I feel about you.”
Phillip went from curious to outraged in one second flat.
That sorry son of a bitch must have told her he loved her. And
she was handing Christopher the same line of bullshit she had
him. He almost felt sorry for the tosser. Then he remembered the Music Video Awards.
They’d just cleaned house, winning three awards, and Da-
vid and Nathan wanted to celebrate at the after-party. Bret and
Scot were in Sydney doing some promo, so it was up to the three
of them to represent. They’d been doing tequila shots for about a half hour when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, expecting yet another obnoxious female advance. He was startled to see a tall stranger in an expensive suit glaring at him.
“I’m Christopher Hoult.” The man announced. Phillip had
stuck his hand out automatically. He’d been meeting people all
night, after all. Christopher looked down at Phillip’s hand and
huffed.
When he spoke again, his tone was cold and his speech
clipped. “I’m not here on a social call. I represent Stephanie Brier.”
Phillip’s hand fell to his side. The sound of her name still
emasculated him. Phillip squared his shoulders in preparation for 90
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whatever repercussions he was about to experience. The video
was all over the music stations and number one on their count-
downs across the board. Making the video had been incredibly
cathartic, and he still felt righteously indignant about Clive Richards rubbing his nose in his tryst with her.
“Is she filing a lawsuit? My lawyers assure me the video is
neither slander nor libel!” Phillip scoffed and promptly did an-
other shot.
“I’m her agent. Not her lawyer,” the man replied.
Surprised, Phillip turned to Nathan. “Hey, mate. It’s Steph’s
agent. Times must be hard if she’s thinking of working with Fury again.”
The man took a menacing step toward Phillip, and his smile
disappeared. Something about his stance and the way he looked
at Phillip spoke volumes about the dynamic of his relationship
with Stephanie. It was obvious that his concern for her was more than just professional.
“That video was unacceptable. I certainly hope the pain it
caused her it was worth the closure you so desperately needed.”
Phillip started to turn away from him toward his drink. He
didn’t need a behavioral lecture from someone who only knew
what Steph wanted him to know about the situation. “Toss off.
You don’t know anything about it.”
“Perhaps it’s time you learn to deal with your problems like
a man instead of an egotistical bastard.” Christopher’s hard eyes demanded respect. Phillip’s temper flared. He flashed back to
Callahan and didn’t enjoy another person interpreting his behav-
ior in the same manner.
“Maybe if Ms. Brier takes issue with the way I conduct
business, she should fight her own battles instead of sending her employee.” Phillip’s curt response was met with glowering ha-tred. No one looked like that in defense of his client. He was
most definitely sleeping with her.
“Maybe you should stop toying with little girls and face
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someone your own size.” Christopher was close enough that
when he spoke, his spittle hit Phillip’s cheek. Phillip wiped it off with the back of his hand and chuckled.
“You see anyone around here that’s my size, you go ahead
and send ‘em my way.” Phillip completely turned his back on
Christopher and took a step in the direction of the loo. He wasn’t expecting what came next. Suddenly someone had him by the
hair. He felt himself spun around and Christopher hauled back
and hit him in the eye with the full force of his body. Phillip was stunned by the impact of his soccer riot style punch. He realized as the second blow came that he’d seriously underestimated two
things. One, Christopher was a bezerker that obviously had some
street cred. Two, Christopher was clearly in love with Stephanie.
As Christopher hauled back for a third hit, Phillip went into
full-blown defense mode. He whipped forward and head-butted
him. Christopher stumbled backward with blood gushing from
his nose, and Phillip seized the opportunity, rushing him and
tackling him to the ground.
He saw a psychotic look in Christopher’s eyes as he lashed
out at Phillip again, this time landing a punch in his temple.
Dazed, Phillip knew he had no choice but to put him down. He
wasn’t sure how many times he punched Christopher before he
felt arms around him pulling him upward and backward. David
was screaming in his ear.
“Enough, Phillip, enough!” Fury’s security team arrived on
the scene and rushed the three of them to the limo. They were on the road by the time he realized just how badly Christopher
messed him up. He passed out, and when he woke, he was told
that he had a concussion and he wasn’t allowed to sleep for
hours. David sat vigil beside his bed and pestered him relentless-ly, lecturing him for fighting.
The blaring sound of the boat’s horn startled Phillip, yank-
ing him back to the present. He whipped his head in the direction of the wheelhouse to see Nathan doing God-knows-what with
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Saffron on the control panel. He rolled his eyes and turned back to where Stephanie still stood, one hand over her ear and the
phone to the other.
“This has nothing to do with him.” She sounded like a defensive teenager as the words tumbled from her lips. Phillip felt his heart gallop. Sounded like lover boy had a chip on his shoulder about some other guy. He could relate to that, too.
Steph put a hand on her bare hip and looked up at the sky.
“Chris: Have I ever done anything to make you not trust me?”
She turned and looked directly at Phillip and he was thank-
ful for his dark Ray-Bans. He just barely hear
d her next words.
“Phillip and I are done. You know how much he hurt me.”
For the next three minutes, he tried to control his breathing,
convinced he would hyperventilate. He could not believe that she had made him out to be the villain. Especially after her backstage whoring with Clive. Phillip thought back to Steph saying that
Christopher thought it was a “good business” for her to move to
Europe. Wriggling doubt began to take hold of him, and he won-
dered if this “thing” with Christopher was going on before he
proposed to her. He heard her say “I think you’re being way too
emotional about this. I’m not going to sit and psychoanalyze this right now. I’ll call you later tonight” and hang up. He saw her
put her phone in her backpack. When she turned toward the
steps, he stood and headed after her.
She disappeared into the rock face ahead of him, and he
quickened his pace, sliding between the two rock walls; she must have heard his foot falls, because she turned back. Upon seeing
him her entire face flushed. Though she was ten feet from him,
he could almost see the wheels turning as she realized the only
way out of the narrow passage was up the rickety ladder or
through him.
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Stephanie slipped into the crack in the cliff and looked
ahead at the frightening medal ladder that stood between her and the best views on the island. She could hear the agitation in
Christopher’s voice. Coming here without him had been a mis-
take. His insecurities about her past with Phillip were at an all-time high, and she wasn’t sure how to explain how laughable
that was since Phillip was openly hostile to her. Now here she
was, stranded on Fantasy Island, her bed less than 250 yards
from his. She had to admit, if the situation were reversed, she’d be concerned.
She trudged forward, psyching herself up for the climb. It
seemed that Phillip really had put her out of his mind. He’d
completely ignored her on the boat and when she had caught him
looking her way, he’d either seemed annoyed or repulsed.
Though she knew she had no right to feel glum about that, it
irked her, like a pebble in her shoe.
She heard something move behind her in the dark space,
and she spun around. When she saw Phillip approaching her in
the narrow passage, she blew out a loud, exasperated breath. He
whipped off his sunglasses, and his eyes blazed as he dropped
them to the ground. He continued in her direction, his jaw
clenched; and his aggressive movements caused her to step back.
“Still breaking hearts, I see.” His words dripped with angst,
and the hostile look in his eyes caused her to drop her gaze. She realized a second too late that she was staring at his clinging wet trunks. It was impossible not to admire the way they revealed the perfect v that pointed directly to his groin like a neon sign. She knew all too well what those trunks contained and blushing furiously, she snapped her eyes back to his face. “What’s your tally up to, love?”
“Huh?” Steph took another step back. She hadn’t a clue
what he was referring to and was having trouble deciding wheth-
er she was more afraid or aroused.
His eyes felt like daggers as they raked over her. “Tell me
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the truth, Steph. Were you already shagging Christopher and Clive while you were with me? Is that why you said no?”
Steph gasped and felt a volcano erupt inside her. “What the
hell are you talking about? I wasn’t with anyone else when I was with you!”
“You know how I feel about you,” he mimicked her, and
she realized he’d been listening to her phone conversation. “Do
you say that to all your boy toys or just to the ones foolish
enough to declare their love?”
Steph fumed and wracked her brain in an attempt to under-
stand why he’d be talking about Clive. Finding no concrete an-
swer, she succumbed to her anger.
“Fuck off, Kersey. I don’t know why the hell I ever got
mixed up with you.” Her voice was icy and deathly quiet. She
realized she was shaking with rage and despair. There was no
way in hell she’d let him see her cry. She turned and realized
he’d back her up right to the ladder. She reached out for the closest rung, when Phillip grabbed her wrist. Steph yanked it away
and turned on him, livid and ready for war. He was close enough
that she could see the sweat glistening on his new tattoo.
“Don’t—”she started, but his hand was in her hair, and with
a rough tug, he pulled her face up to his. His eyes held her captive, and she tried to pull away from him, but he shook his head and tightened his grip near the nape of her neck. As his face
inched toward hers, alarms clanged in her mind. She tried to tell him to stop, but her voice box seemed to be out of order. She
sucked in a breath as she felt his other hand grasp her cheek pos-sessively. His mouth claimed hers and slowly grazed, teasing
and taunting her. Finally, his lips rested firmly in place, and he nibbled her bottom lip.
“Phillip.” His name was all she managed before her hands
raked through his hair pulling his mouth down hard onto hers.
She felt her body slam back into the warm steel of the ladder as his tongue forced its way between her teeth, lapping at hers. She 95
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
pressed back into him, standing up on her tip toes. She needed to get closer to him somehow, aching to close any infinitesimal distance still existing between them. She’d missed his salty taste so badly it hurt. His hands were on her ass, and he effortlessly lifted her off her feet. She cinched her legs instinctively around his
waist. His hand released its vice like grip on her hair and tugged on the string at her neck. The pink material of her bikini fell
away and she felt his fingertips—calloused from hours of play-
ing guitar—gently pinch her nipple. Phillip growled, and the vi-
brations of it sent a shockwave of desire shooting throughout her entire body. That growl of his always did her in. He used to
growl like that in her ear when they were out in public, and she’d instantly be wet and ready to go.
Steph clung to him, desperate to have him inside her. She
feverishly ground against him, and her arousal spiked as she felt his hand slip into the back of her bikini bottom and squeeze her ass. She moaned desperately against his tongue.
Suddenly she felt him remove his hands from her. His
mouth vanished from hers, and he was pushing her thighs
downward off of him. Steph stumbled, nearly falling to the sand.
She blinked slowly, dazed by the sudden disconnect. Gasping for
breath and shaking violently, she searched his face for an explanation. His features were rigid and emotionless. He stepped back from her and cocked his head to one side.
“Now do you remember why you got mixed up with me?”
He turned and swept his sunglasses up off of the ground. Then
he vanished through the opening of the crevasse.
Steph felt her knees give way, and she slid down the wall.
Lust and anger overwhelmed her. She was too confused by their
interaction to know whether to scream or burst into tears. The
sound of voices from above snapped her out of her dazed state,
and she scrambled to get her top tied just in time to see an old woman in flip flops and
a muumuu appear on the ladder.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you ready to come up?” Madame
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Muumuu called down to her.
“Yeah.” She heard the trembling in her voice and hated
Phillip for it. She snatched up her backpack.
“Come on up. I’ll wait!” the woman replied. Stephanie
fiercely stepped forward. She discovered she wasn’t afraid to
climb the ladder anymore. What had seemed like a dangerous
proposition before was now a welcome escape.
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Steph waved to Cheyenne as the boat chugged away from
the beach. Though she couldn’t see her face from her vantage
point on the cliff, she knew Cheyenne was wearing a worried
scowl and probably popping a piece of nicotine gum in her
mouth. Steph had called her ten minutes before to say she was
staying behind for more photos and would find her way back to
the hotel. It wasn’t completely a lie; she did need more time at the beach. Mostly the thought of even looking at Phillip was un-bearable.
Cheyenne had started asking questions (damn journalists
and their inquiring minds), but Steph had cut her off.
“Just leave it alone, Cheyenne.”
“Steph. What the hell is going on?”
“I need some time alone.”
She’d spent an hour photographing the beach and kicking
herself for being such a little tramp. Her lips felt swollen and bruised from the intensity of their kisses. Remembering the ferocious way they used to greet each when they were still together, she felt like someone was squeezing her heart.
Desperate to get her mind off of Phillip, she joined
MuuMuu Mamma and her ancient husband Jorge on a trail hike
over to the next beach, Baia dos Porcos. MuuMuu was kind
enough to lend her a wide brimmed hat so that she wouldn’t end
up looking like a rock lobster by the end of the afternoon. She
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phoned her pousada and left a message at the desk for Cheyenne
that she’d be back later that night. That was when she decided to turn off her sat phone. She could not have a discussion with
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