Trade

by Lane, Tabitha A

  Without looking left or right Max headed straight for the reception desk. She looked different from the last time. Her long slender legs were covered by serviceable khaki cargo pants, and she wore sturdy hiking boots on her feet. A buff colored, cotton shirt was open at the neck, revealing a white tank underneath.

  Sholto drained his coffee and stood up.

  She must’ve caught his movement from the corner of her eye, because she raised a hand in greeting, said something to the reception clerk and walked over.

  “Hi.” Her mouth curved in a smile. Instinctively, she leaned in and brushed her lips across his cheek.

  “Good to see you.” He’d been thinking for days about being alone with her. Dreams of walking on soft sand, peeling off their clothes to walk into the sea had quickly become X-rated, naked explorations of each other’s bodies. The touch of her mouth on his skin fired those dreams back to life in an instant. Would she look the same as he imagined, bare and wet?

  Being alone with her would be torture if he had to keep his distance.

  She stepped back and stared up at him.

  Her face was scrubbed of makeup. Her hair was fastened into two braids, and she wore no jewelry, not even a watch. Very few women could pull off that look, but she looked fresh, young and gorgeous. Excitement sparkled in her eyes and seemed to surround her as a tangible thing.

  She handed over a small backpack. “These are all the things you’re allowed to take to the island.” A larger bag lay on the floor next to her. “These are mine.” She grinned. “I have way more stuff because I don’t have anything to prove, I’m just along for the ride. Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes. The hotel stowed my luggage, and locked my documents in the safe.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

  She grinned. “Are you sure you want to do this? This is your last chance to back out.”

  “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  She hefted the larger bag, rejecting his offer to carry it for her. He walked by her side out of the hotel. The heat hit him instantly, wet heat laden with humidity. He tanned easily, but… He cast a glance at Max, noting her pale skin.

  “We need to cross the road.” She reached for his hand. “What?” Her head tilted to the side. “You’re frowning.”

  His fingers curled around hers as they stood at the side of the busy road. “You’re so fair—you’ll burn up under the sun without some protection.”

  “I have sunscreen, but you’ll have to be careful. The rules were clear: you can only bring the items Smith had. Jasper made one exception, the script, so you can be prepared for the audition at his hotel when we leave the island. Of course, if we manage to find salvage on the island, we can use that too.” She looked left, then right, and stepped into the road, tugging him along with her. “They’re waiting for us at the harbor.”

  The moment they’d crossed the road she let go his hand.

  “So you’ve done this sort of thing before.”

  She shot him a glance. “Yes, I did a month’s survival training with Abe Kingston, but I’ve been camping out and living off the land with my father since I was a kid.”

  “Isn’t he a clergyman?” He remembered some vague connection to her and the church from their schooldays.

  She shook her head. “My father was an accountant. By the time I started school he’d retired.” She spotted his surprised look. “He was a lot older than most of the dads at school. He’s eighty now. My mother is the church connection—she’s the vicar.”

  “Unusual.”

  “Oh, I was unusual at school okay. Older parents, daughter of the vicar, handmade clothes…I was never going to fit in.” She didn’t look upset about it. “I love being a grownup so I don’t have to deal with that shit any longer.”

  They were walking along the pier now, toward a sleek white speedboat. A man seated inside waved, then jumped out onto the weathered planks before them. “Miss Max?”

  She nodded.

  “Welcome!” He waved a hand to the boat. “I’m Adam. I’ll take you to the island.”

  *****

  The heat of the sun beat on the top of Max’s head. The speedboat sped through the clear, pale green water, churning up lacey white foam in its wake. Sholto sat close to her on the burgundy leather bench, so close their legs touched. His legs were parted, and his hands rested on his thighs.

  She swallowed, and swiped her tongue over her dry lips, tasting a trace of salt.

  In the week since they’d met, she’d managed to convince herself the attraction couldn’t have been that powerful, that her memory must be faulty. But she’d been wrong. She dealt with men on a daily basis, rich men, powerful, attractive men, but none of them made her tingle with awareness as Sholto did.

  She edged away from him a fraction and trailed her hand in the water.

  There was a touch on her arm. She turned to find Sholto leaning close. “How far is it to the island?”

  “Apparently the trip will take about an hour.” The sea was dotted with islands. “The island we’re visiting is private and uncharted. No one will find us there.” She unzipped her bag and pulled out a heavy satellite phone. “Jasper conceded that we should have this for emergencies, and I have a spare charged battery in reserve. We shouldn’t need it though. Nine days is barely long enough to get into trouble.”

  “I don’t know about that…” Sholto’s grin made her knees weak.

  “We won’t get into trouble. This is business, remember?”

  “There’s no reason it has to be just business, though, is there?” He spoke quietly, so the boat captain couldn’t hear. “We’re both adults, and we’re attracted to each other.” He stroked a hand down her arm.

  Max stared at his mouth, then glanced up to see him watching, amusement evident in the green depths of his eyes. Eyes the color of the water they sped across.

  “You won’t try to deny it, will you?”

  “I’m not denying it.”

  His eyebrows rose.

  “But you and I are no good for each other. I’m not the sort of woman you need.”

  His mouth curved in a grin. “Oh, I think I’d have to disagree with you there.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’re precisely what I need right now.” His lips brushed her neck. A soft caress, but one that filled her with heat.

  Right now. That was the operative phrase, wasn’t it? A temporary affair—a momentary diversion. A chance to slake the desire that had taken her over since he’d come back into her life, and a chance to safely lower herself back into the casual dating pool. It didn’t have to mean any more than that. She could pretend outrage, but she’d made an appointment with her doctor and had a contraceptive implant inserted in her arm just in case she decided to sleep with him in the next few days. If she denied she wanted him she’d be the biggest hypocrite in the world.

  “So your plan is that the moment we’re alone we rip each other’s clothes off and fuck?”

  Satisfaction trickled through her at the look on his face. She’d shocked him.

  “Crude—but yeah, it crossed my mind.”

  “Just because I’m there, right? The only woman for miles.”

  His arm snaked around her and he pulled her close. “Not because you’re the only woman for miles. Because I’ve been hard for you since I touched you at the premiere.” His mouth lowered, bringing his face so close, it blotted out the sun, and narrowed her world to him, and him alone. “Kiss me.”

  He could have just touched his mouth to hers, but instead, he gave her the choice. For a split-second, Max considered. She could keep her distance. Reject him with a smile. Or…

  Screw it. A tiny movement and the die was cast. She tilted her chin, and leaned in to press her mouth to his. With a groan, his lips parted and his tongue invaded. His hand cupped her face, holding her in place as he kissed her more thoroughly than anyone ever had. Her eyes were closed, blocking out every other form of stimulus. She felt as though she was on a surfboard, speeding through the water
at the whim of the elements. Carried away on a wild ride over which she had no control. She wanted to be closer, wanted to climb up and straddle…

  “Melati Island!” shouted the captain.

  Max pulled back with a gasp. She’d forgotten where they were—that they weren’t alone.

  The hand cupping her face fell away, and instead, Sholto curved his arm around her shoulders. “Wow.”

  He wasn’t talking about the island. His gaze was firmly on her reddening face.

  *****

  The island was so small it looked as though it could be traversed in a day. White sand. Clear water. Picture postcard. The speedboat slowed as it travelled over shallow water, then Adam cut the engine. The splash of waves lapping against the hull was the only sound.

  Adam leaped into the crystal water, and tugged the boat to shore. Max took off her shoes, grabbed the bag, and stepped into ankle deep water. Sholto did the same. Fine sand stuck to his feet as they walked from the water. He breathed in warm air, redolent with the scent of salt, of trees, of damp leaves and the dark jungle interior.

  “Thank you, Adam.” Max shook the man’s hand.

  “No problem, Miss Max.” Adam pointed to a large rock with a white blaze painted on top. “This is the meeting place. In nine days, I’ll be here to pick you up. I’ll make a noise.” He took an air can bullhorn from his pocket. “You’ll hear it all over the island, but better to be close by, just in case.”

  She nodded.

  “The phone’s working?”

  She rooted in her bag and checked the satellite phone. “Yes.”

  “Okay.” Adam thumped Sholto on the back. “Have fun!”

  He waded back to the speedboat, fired up the engine, and in a few moments was just a speck in an ocean of blue.

  Sholto wanted to kiss her. To wrap his arms around her, and take her on the sand. But Max was a flurry of activity. She started away from the beach, toward the point where the jungle met the sand.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “We’ll set up two camps.” She was all business. “I don’t know how high the tide comes.” She stopped to examine a wavy line of tiny shells. “I guess about here, but we should make camp higher, just in case.”

  She was cute in Sergeant-Major mode, so he let her take charge and followed her into the shade of the tree line.

  She dropped the bag and examined the ground. “Okay, let’s set your camp here.” She picked up a dry branch, palm leaves curled and brown, and swept the ground with it. “First, we need to make sure there are no insects lurking where you’re going to sleep.” She pulled two lethal looking long, slender machetes out of the bag, and handed one over.

  “Did John have one of these?”

  She nodded. “He found one abandoned on the island. This parang is new, so it’s sharper than the one he found, but it’s within our guidelines.” She walked to a nearby tree and slashed off a leaf frond. “We’ll use these to make your shelter.”

  “And yours.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve brought a tent.”

  “Oh, you have, have you?”

  “Like I said, Kincaid, it’s your fantasy, not mine. Mine includes a nice dry tent, whisky and hard candies—which I won’t be sharing.”

  He frowned. “Or eating in front of me, if you know what’s good for you.”

  She laughed. The woman was a goddamn tease.

  He looked up at the sky—it must be mid-afternoon by now. “We need to find a source of water, check out the island, and find some food.”

  She considered for a moment. “Okay, watch carefully. I’ll start you off on shelter building. First we split the leaf.” She cut the rib, and pulled the two halves apart. “Then we weave the fronds together, to form a rain barrier.” She handed him half the leaf and demonstrated how it should be done. “You keep doing that, and I’ll cut some bamboo for the support structure.”

  “I can do that.” Slashing bamboo won over weaving leaves, any day. He was strong, whereas she looked as though chopping bamboo would do her in.

  She raised an eyebrow. “As can I. Don’t give me any of that sexist bullshit.”

  “It’s not as though I’m holding a goddamned door open for you. I just thought you’d appreciate—”

  “Your superior brawn?” She softened the words with a smile. “Look, I know exactly what I’m looking for. How long I need the segments to be. I could waste time showing you, or we could work smart. Which means I get the bamboo, and you weave.” She flipped back one of her braids. The sun glistened in her hair. She ran a hand down her khaki pants. “Okay?”

  “Okay, deal.” Sholto sank onto the ground and started to braid the leaves.

  “When you’ve done those, could you cut another couple from the tree? We’ll need to create a base.”

  “Sure.”

  “Great.” With the parang gripped tight, she walked into the jungle.

  The woman was a veritable chameleon. At the premiere, she’d been classic Hollywood glamour: perfect hair, smooth, tanned skin, long polished fingernails and perfect makeup. Wrapped in a dress that accentuated her curves. At his hotel, she’d been business Barbie, hair down, subtle makeup, heels high enough to showcase her legs, but low enough to walk across the room without stumbling. And today she would give Lara Croft a run for her money.

  Today’s Max was unadorned, strong, and capable.

  He was hot for all three of them.

  Which was why he’d broken the rules. There was no way in hell he would be stuck on the island for nine days with enforced celibacy thrown into the mix. The kiss on the boat had revealed she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she might like to pretend. She’d set the ground rules by insisting on separate sleeping quarters, but if she should change her mind, he was prepared.

  Weatherly hadn’t had condoms. But he hadn’t been marooned with a gorgeous blonde either.

  Sholto checked the thigh pocket of his pants. The ribbon of condoms was still there, safe in case they were needed. If not, she need never know.

  By the time she returned dragging branches behind her he had woven an impressive pile of leaves. He got to his feet and walked over to help. Tendrils of hair were damp, and her face was flushed.

  “I found a few strong sticks from a different tree so didn’t bother with the bamboo.” She dropped all the branches except one. “I’m sharpening the end to form a spike.” She slashed at the branch with the lethal looking knife, then spiked it into the ground at a 45° angle. She did the same with another few branches, forming two parallel lines, which intersected at the top.

  “Now all we have to do is fasten this long stick across the top to form the roof. We’ll lash the leaves to the sides and the shelter is done.”

  Simple, straightforward, and effective. “How will we fasten them?”

  She pointed to a pile of leaves awaiting processing. “We need to separate the midribs and tie them together. Coconut leaves are very strong, we can use them to make twine.” As she spoke, she started to strip the leaves.

  Chapter Six

  He was a fast learner she’d give him that. He observed her methods, and before long the shelter was complete.

  “What’s next?”

  “Food, water, and a thorough investigation of the island.” The air was hot and humid. Her shirt was sticking to her back, so she stripped down to her sleeveless T-shirt. The ocean looked inviting, and right now all she wanted was to undress and go for a swim, but that could wait. She picked up the bag and slung it over her shoulder, and jammed a hat on her head. “Bring your machete.”

  He walked next to her as they checked the shoreline. “There are no predators on the island so we don’t need to worry about our personal safety.” She glanced over. “Some of the other islands have monitor lizards, but they never made this one. Food wise, we’ll have to survive on fish, coconut and whatever else we can find.”

  She noticed something half hidden in a pile of detritus washed up by the waves, and detoured to it. “There’s a plastic
bottle.” She picked it up. It was a two-liter bottle—a soda bottle which may have been discarded from a passing boat. It hadn’t been in the water long, the plastic was still viable and it was intact. “We can use this.” She shoved it into the bag.

  Over the next half hour, they found other things to add to their collection: an old piece of rope, nylon fibers bleached and fraying from the sun’s glare. A thick shard of metal with a jagged edge. A large, flat shell, with a mother-of-pearl interior.

  Her throat was parched, and her lips dry. “We need to find water.” Even though the hottest part of the day had passed, the sun still beat down. She touched a hand to her exposed shoulders and found them hot. I shouldn’t have taken off my shirt. Her sensitive skin already felt itchy under the sun’s glare.

  “You should cover those with something.” He started to unbutton his shirt, then took it off. “Here, put this over you.”

  “You need that to protect you.”

  “Too late.” He stopped, leaving her no option but to stop too. His skin, unlike hers, was tanned. “I won’t burn. I never do and right now you need this more than I do.” He draped the shirt over her shoulders.

  She breathed in his scent. He was close enough to touch. “I thought maybe they’d airbrushed your abs on for the movie,” she murmured.

  “Nope. I earned these, all eight of them.” He took her hand and placed it on his rippling stomach. “See? A hundred percent real.”

  Resisting him was going to be completely impossible. There was no point in even trying. Besides, what reason did she have to deny herself something is she so desperately wanted? It wasn’t love—it could never be love, not with a man like Sholto. But she’d liked him once. Once, they’d been friends. And the look in his eyes, the way his body leaned in to hers assured her the attraction was mutual. So she let her fingers do what they wanted. They traced every muscle, and when she was done she flattened her palm over his belly button.

  He was so still it was as though he was carved from granite. He made no move, and didn’t even seem to be breathing. Eventually, she looked up into his eyes. The teasing expression had vanished. His emerald eyes blazed with heat. “Be careful, Max. I might want to touch you back.”