He shook his head. "The electrical system is gone. "
"Right. That's what you have to tell them. "
"I can't tell them. I can't get through. I have no way to contact anyone. The radio is part of the electrical system, and the electrical system is gone. The radio is useless. "
Jenna stared at him. "Useless?"
"Nonfunctional. Out of order. Dead. "
"I don't believe it, " she said.
"Would I kid you about something like that?"
No, she supposed he wouldn't. Slowly the meaning of what he said began to sink in. "Then we're stuck here?"
'"Fraid so. "
"For as long as it takes for someone to spot the plane on the beach?"
"Looks that way. "
She swallowed. "How long will that be?"
"I don't know. Could be a day or two. Could be longer. "
"Longer?"
"A week. Maybe more. "
Jenna thought about the last possibility. More man a week could mean a month or two or five. If they were stuck longer than that, she would be significantly pregnant by the time they were found, and all that time, she would be without medical care. She didn't know what she'd do if anything happened to the baby.
"Can we survive here?" she asked nervously.
Spencer didn't look at all nervous, nor did he sound it. "Easily. We've got food. We've got shelter. We've got clothes. We've even got towels and blankets. "
"This is the hurricane season. What if it storms?"
"Then we'll sit it out This island has survived more storms than you and I can count. "
"But there's no one alive here. Maybe there's a message in that"
"There's no one alive here because there's nothing to do here. "
"What'll we do here?"
"We'll eat the food I brought We'll read the books I bought. We'll he in the sun. We'll swim. " His eyes suddenly sparkled. "I can think of a few other things we can do. "
Jenna could, too, and wanted to hit him for reminding her. It was inappropriate to be thinking about sex when their lives were at stake.
She considered telling him she was pregnant. He had a right to know. He had to share the responsibility for the baby's well-being. Then she realized that he didn't have to share the responsibility at all! Papers to that effect, signed by her, were in her lawyer's office. From the first, she had promised she would ask nothing of him but his sperm. She intended to stand by that promise.
So she wouldn't tell him about the baby because it wasn't his responsibility. And because it wouldn't make any difference to their chances for rescue. And because he would be furious that she'd deceived him.
"I should have flown Delta, " she muttered.
"Yeah, and you'd have arrived at my place and waited and waited, and I'd still be on this island. So which is better—" he stood "—being alone there waiting or being here with me?" He sauntered off, back in the direction of the plane.
In a fit of fury that was no doubt a legacy of the terror she'd felt during their landing on the beach, she yelled after him, "There, Spencer, I'd rather be there, and if you're so arrogant as to believe it's not true, you're deluding yourself!" She rose with her hands on her hips. "You and your plane have taken ten years off my life. I'll have nightmares about that landing for days, and now I have to worry about surviving to be rescued. Well, let me tell you something, when that rescue plane comes, I don't care if it does bring you the parts you need to fix your crate, I'm going back with the rescuers!" She was breathing hard, feeling emotionally strung out. When he kept walking, she yelled louder, "You're not only arrogant, you're sly. You conned me into flying with you. You wanted me to trust you, and I did, and where did it get me?" Even louder. "I'm stuck on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean with a man who spends his life living out his childhood fantasies! Grow up, Spencer! Life isn't all Spanish galleons, sparkling gold and sex!"
By the time she ran out of strength and breath, he had stopped walking. He stood with his head bowed for a minute before slowly turning. Just as slowly but with purpose, he started back toward her, and the closer he came, the more uneasy she grew. He looked furious. She was grateful that she stood on her rock, which gave her a small height advantage. Then she wondered whether even that would help. With his black hair strewn over his forehead, his brows drawn together and his jaw set in such a way that his scar seemed to pulse, he looked like an angry man, indeed.
Had her pride allowed it, she would have stepped back. But she was Jenna McCue, president and chairman of the board of McCue's. She was a woman of reason and, perhaps, momentary temper, but she was also the mother-to-be of Spencer Smith's child—even if he didn't know it yet—and she refused to cower. She tipped up her chin and met his gaze as bravely as she could.
Halting at the base of her rock, he stared at her for a minute. Then, before she realized what he planned and could ward him off, he ducked his shoulder and swung her over it. Stunned, she had to fight to catch her breath, but by the time she could launch a protest, he was striding boldly back to the plane.
Chapter 10
"Put me down!" she cried. "Spencer, you can't do this! Put me down!" He kept walking.
The blood was rushing to her head, making it feel thick and heavy. "I mean it, Spencer!" She clutched fistfuls of his shirt to keep from bouncing with his stride. "Put me down!"
His arm was an unyielding band behind her knees. It held her firmly and, at the same time, prevented her from kicking. Not that she'd have done that. She was suddenly very upset—upset that the plane wouldn't fly, upset that they couldn't call for help, upset that Spencer was angry, upset that she'd said such awful things. She was upset about the baby, too, because the last thing she wanted was to expose it to risk, but she had. It was her fault, all her fault If she hadn't lied to Spencer, he wouldn't have invited her south, and if he hadn't invited her south, they wouldn't be stranded on a uninhabited island with no rescue in sight.
Feeling dizzy and overwhelmed, she started to cry. She pressed her cheek to his back. "Please—Spencer—I'm sorry. "
The words were barely out of her mouth, when he bent forward and let her slip from his shoulder. When he saw her tears, he swore. He lifted her in his arms this time, and, while she pressed her face to his throat, carried her to the inland edge of the beach where the sea grass began. Palm trees grew there, curving upward. An umbrella of fronds spread at their tops, while their bottoms swirled around and broadened into inviting benches. Spencer straddled one, seating Jenna between his legs. He kept an arm curved around her, holding her close.
"Don't cry on me, angel, " he said in a gruff voice. "I can't take it when you cry. I swear, I'd rather listen to the chant of a band of headhunters than to hear that sobbing. Shh. Come on, Jenna. Shh. You've gone teary eyed on me twice before, once when you thought I wouldn't donate my sperm, then again when I told you I would, and both times the sight of those tears got to me. Now it's the whole shebang. But hell, I'm the one who should be upset. I'm the one who was called all kinds of names. "
"I know. " She brushed the tears away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you those names. I was wrong. " Her eyes filled again. She pressed her face more tightly to his shirt so that he wouldn't have to see.
Still gruffly, he said, "There's no need to be upset. We aren't in any danger. "
"We're marooned. "
"We're probably less than one hundred miles from Miami. "
"But we can't get there. "
"So? We're safe, and we have supplies. "
"But for how long? Oh, Spencer, if it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't be here. "
"How do you figure that? I was in New York, anyway. I had to fly home. "
"But you'd have ignored that dial, and you'd have gotten home just fine. The electrical system didn't blow out until you landed. The plane was flying well until then. You only took it down to prove to me what a cautious pilot you were. " When he didn't say anything, she said, "Isn't that so?"
"Yeah,
but it's water over the dam. I'm not upset we're here, Jenna. "
"But we could be here forever. " She had visions of giving birth to the baby on the beach without knowing what to do. She was a businesswoman by training, not a midwife. All the reading she'd done had dealt with getting pregnant, not giving birth. She hadn't been to the doctor since she'd missed her period. She certainly hadn't started childbirth classes yet.
"We won't be here forever, " Spencer scolded. "How do you know?"
"Because I know these islands. Planes fly over them all the time. Cruise boats sail past them. Charters work through these waters and put in at islands like this one for cookouts on the beach. "
"During hurricane season?" she asked skeptically.
"During every season if the money is right. Okay, if there's a hurricane brewing, they don't go. But there's no hurricane brewing this week, so someone will find us. "
"Before we run out of food?"
"We won't ever run out of food. Between bananas and fish, we have an endless supply. "
"Bananas?"
"In the forest. And I have brand-new fishing gear in the plane. "
Jenna figured a baby might like bananas, but there was no way it would like fish. She had hated it for the first twenty-three years of her life. Of course, she planned to breast-feed the baby for a good long time, and since she liked both bananas and fish just fine now, perhaps the issue of starvation was moot. Other issues were not.
"What about everyone back home?" she asked. "They'll assume we crashed. Can you imagine what that will do to Caroline, and your parents? And the company? They'll hold memorial services. " She moaned. "It would be awful. "
He gave her a squeeze. "Don't rush things, angel. Your people aren't expecting you back for two weeks, so they won't start worrying until then, and my people know not to miss me for a lot longer than that. I've disappeared before and shown up alive too many times for anyone to think twice, and that especially means my family. Caroline knows you're with me. " Jenna had told her they were spending some time together. "She'll assume I did exactly what I did—that I set down on an uninhabited island so that I could have you to myself for two weeks. "
Jenna wiped her eyes on his shirt. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that. "
"Why not?"
"Because they're sweet. But you're not supposed to be sweet. You're supposed to be a brash swashbuckler. "
His arms relaxed. "Sorry to disappoint you, angel. Hey, why don't you come exploring with me? I want to see what we're working with. Are you game?"
She raised her eyes. If Spencer was at all worried about getting back to civilization, there was no evidence of it on his face. He looked as though he'd merely stopped by the island for an afternoon's adventure. But then, adventuring was his thing. He was good at it. He loved doing it
To please him, she said, "Okay. "
He wiped the last traces of tears from her face and grinned. "That's my girl. " Helping her to her feet, he led her off down the beach.
They passed the plane with its engine open where he had been working. They passed a dozen palms like the one they had been sitting on. Spencer stopped occasionally to peer toward the thicker growth, but it wasn't until they'd reached the end of the beach that he led her in.
Jenna wanted the woods to be breathtakingly beautiful, which was the way woods should be, she reasoned, if one had to be marooned near them. But these woods weren't beautiful. She wasn't even sure she could call them woods. The shrubbery was about Spencer's height and nondescript. Other than the palm trees, she might have been back in Rhode Island.
As they advanced inland, however, things began to grow. The path started to steepen. The trees greened and spread skyward. Though Spencer held her hand, Jenna kept watch underfoot for vines that were easily tripped on. She also kept watch for snakes and other crawling things that, once seen, would surely keep her from sleeping. When Spencer saw the vigilant way she was walking and asked, she bluntly told him her fear. He assured her that there would be no snakes, and that if there were lizards about, they were harmless. As though to make his point, he indicated the disappearing tail of one such creature, which, he claimed, was more afraid of them then they could ever be of it Jenna wasn't so sure, but she nodded.
They walked on. Their sneakers made Utile noise on the forest floor, compared to the buzz of insects and the occasional cry of a bird. Spencer pointed out various forms of vegetation, but he seemed to be listening. When they came to a clearing, he broke into a grin. Victoriously he said, "I thought I smelled water. " Sure enough, the clearing was bisected by a tiny stream.
"Smelled?"
"It's distinct. " He knelt beside the stream, cupped a handful of water and sipped it. With his eyes, he invited Jenna to join him.
She was thirsty and very warm. Kneeling, she drank her fill of the clear, fresh water, then patted it to her face, neck, throat and wrists. It felt heavenly.
Spencer watched her. "It's hot in here. The air doesn't move as much as it does on the beach. Want to head back?"
"Not if you want to explore more. " She refused to slow him down, and, in truth, it felt good to walk. She would walk, rather than fly, any day. On this particular day, walking worked the tension of the flight and its premature landing from her body.
But Spencer seemed bent on turning back. "I'll explore more another time. I'm hungry. "
"You're always hungry, " she said, but looking at his long, lean shape through his clothes, remembering the feel of his bare body in the dark, she doubted he carried an ounce of fat.
"Aren't you?" he asked.
"Not always. "
"Are you now?"
"A little. " Actually, she was more than a little. She was famished. She wondered if it had anything to do with the baby and prayed that it didn't Their supply of food was limited. Despite Spencer's claim of unlimited bananas and fish, she was going to have to watch what she ate. If she ate wisely and as balanced a diet as possible, the baby would be fine.
The return trip to the beach seemed shorter. The fact that it was downhill helped, as did the breeze, which gusted toward them more often as they neared the water, lessening the effect of the heat.
Spencer declared himself chef. Claiming that certain of the foods he'd brought would only keep a short time without refrigeration, he made two overstuffed ham-and-cheese sandwiches—on croissants from a Manhattan bakery, no less, Jenna mused. For dessert, he produced a chocolate cake from the cooler, which also held six-packs of beer and Evian water.
"Boy, " Jenna said, studying the cooler and its contents, "when you get marooned, you do it in style. " And in style, they did it. They ate on a large beach towel beneath the shade of a cluster of palm trees whose fronds rippled in the breeze. The sound was as peaceful as the gently rhythmic one of the sea rolling onto the shore. Closing her eyes and listening, Jenna could almost forget that she was stranded on an uninhabited island for the indefinite future.
Almost. But not quite. Each time she thought of it, she felt renewed unease. It would be one thing if she knew she was here for, say, three days or even a week. She could handle that. But indefinitely? That was a frightening thought.
Spencer apparently didn't share her fear. As soon as he had had his fill of lunch, he stretched out on his back with his shoulder touching her thigh, laced his hands on his middle, crossed his ankles and went to sleep. He looked perfectly calm, totally relaxed and eminently content.
While he slept, Jenna studied him, as she had never had quite the occasion to do before. She admired his feet, which were bare now. Her gaze climbed his long, hair-roughened legs to his shorts, which lay on his lean hips in such a way that his sex was pronounced. Her eyes lingered there for a long time, before she dragged them over his T-shirt, which broadened with his chest, to his neck, then his face. The beginnings of a dark shadow had appeared on his jaw. She wondered whether he would shave while they were there. She wondered whether he would bathe in the ocean. She wondered whether he would have her cut his
hair when it grew shaggy and long.
But damn it, she wasn't a barber any more than she was a midwife. She had never been a Girl Scout She had never gone camping. When it came to outdoor things, she had enthusiasm but little experience. In that respect, the thought of what lay ahead in the next few days, perhaps weeks or months, was thoroughly daunting.
It galled her that Spencer didn't feel any of that He had simply eaten his lunch and gone to sleep as though he had nothing better to do. But he did! He could be working on the plane. He claimed he didn't have the parts to repair it, but maybe with enough tinkering, something would start He could try, at least.
And if he didn't want to work on the engine, he could be taking inventory of their supplies for the purpose of rationing. It was one thing to have huge sandwiches and chocolate cake on the first day they were marooned, if for no other reason than to boost their spirits. But if they continued to eat so freely, they might be very sorry two or three weeks down the road.
And if he didn't want to be taking inventory, he could be building a shelter. The plane might be fine for protection during a brief rainstorm, but they couldn't very well sleep there. They wouldn't be able to stretch out. For a prolonged period, they needed more room. She would go at it herself if she had any idea what to do, but she didn't. Roughing it was Spencer's specialty, not hers. But Spencer was sleeping as soundly as a child, and for the life of her she couldn't wake him.
So she brooded. She glared at his serene features and wondered how a man could so lackadaisically accept his fate. She shifted her gaze to the sea and scanned the horizon. Cruise ships passed by, he had said. Charters came for cookouts. But she didn't see anything that remotely resembled a boat, and as for airplanes passing overhead, the sky was clear blue and empty. It occurred to her that since they had landed nearly three hours before, she hadn't heard even a single drone of another airplane.
So much for airplanes flying overhead all the time!
And Spencer slept on.
Needing to do something, Jenna bounded up and started down the beach. She walked along the lip of the sand, just shy of the beach grass, where pieces of driftwood had gathered. She collected them until her arms were filled, then carried them back and formed a pile on the highest spot of sand near the airplane, where the tide wouldn't go. If a boat or a plane passed by at dawn, at dusk or during the night, they'd need a bonfire. Even a noncamper knew that. Spencer had matches. Now they had wood.
The Stud Page 14
