by Nicola Marsh
He still had the power to shake her to her very foundations.
Him, a guy who couldn’t commit, who didn’t do emotions, who had the audacity to tell her, ‘Don’t go getting any ideas.’
The bloody cheek of the man!
Stifling the urge to bop him on the nose, she lowered her tone to silky smooth.
‘So what you’re saying is you want me for my body?’
His intense gaze slid down her body, bold, provocative, setting her alight and almost ruining her determination to take a stance.
But this was too important and no way in hell would she let him get away with it again. Eight years was a long time to wise up and now she’d finally had her say she had no intention of succumbing to his fall-back, fail-safe charm.
When he met her eyes again, his wicked grin sent a shot of pure lust licking along her pebbled skin, leaving her resolve shaky.
‘Yeah, I want you.’
Hoping he couldn’t see her shift slightly thanks to the sudden wobble in her knees, she took hold of his hand.
‘Here’s a tip.’
She placed his hand on her hip. ‘If you want this.’
She raised his hand and placed it directly over her heart, desperately trying to ignore how it pounded at the touch of his hand near her breast. ‘You first have to go through this.’
Surprise parted his lips before he clamped them shut and snatched his hand. With a shake of his head, eyes wild, he took a step back, drew in a breath, several.
She’d never seen him so rattled and the fact he’d reacted like this confirmed what she already knew.
No matter how aloof or cool he liked to pretend to be, something more than attraction simmered beneath his cool exterior.
When she’d given up hope he’d answer, he finally said, ‘I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t you get that?’
Squaring her shoulders, she went for broke.
‘A little late for that, don’t you think?’
The horror crinkling his face almost made her laugh.
‘Are you saying you’re in love with me again?’
‘Hell, no!’
Her vehement refusal had his mouth twitching.
‘I meant you’ve already done that. I think I can survive anything you throw my way these days.’
‘Even if all I want is a fling?’
She’d never settle for anything remotely like a fling but for a tiny, infinitesimal second, she almost wished she would.
‘You’re a smart guy, you figure it out.’
She touched his chest directly over his heart, lightly, a brush of her fingertips that jump-started her own and had him leaping back as if she’d electrocuted him.
He turned on his heel and strode away as fast as his long, athletic legs could carry him.
She should’ve been sad, hurt. Instead, a satisfying vindication had her smiling as she noted every rigid, resistant line of his body.
Jared could verbally deny any hint of emotion between them but he couldn’t hide his body language.
She’d seen the same tension in his shoulders, his hands, his face, every time he walked out on the court. He’d given his all to tennis, had played like a man possessed, as if he had something to prove each and every game.
It was what had made him the best, had propelled him to the number-one world ranking and kept him there for years.
He reserved that tension for what he cared about, what he was passionate about and, right now, despite all his protestations, he still cared about her.
The scary thing was, did she really want him to do anything about it?
Jared stomped back to his hut, his bung knee getting a thorough workout while he all but ran across the sand. Away from Kristi and her damn home truths.
It wasn’t enough she’d kept him up most of last night, her accusation that he was emotionally invested in Activate resonating for hours.
Uh-uh, now she had to go and rehash the past with her own scathing brand of honesty.
It stung. All of it.
Until now, he’d explained away his actions during their break-up—if only to himself—as justified.
She’d taken a light-hearted fling and read more into it. She’d started to cling and make demands he’d had no hopes or intentions of fulfilling. She’d made that outlandish ultimatum, asking him to choose between her and his career. All her fault.
Or so he’d told himself all this time.
When the reality was something entirely different.
Maybe he’d been young and stupid and driven to succeed at the only thing he was truly good at, the only thing that had ever garnered attention from his folks, but he could’ve handled their break-up differently.
All the self-justification, all the excuses in the world, couldn’t change the fact he’d been scared, terrified in fact, of how she’d made him feel in such a short space of time.
Being with Kristi had been easy, comfortable, yet filled with a constant buzz that he’d only ever emulated by winning his first Grand Slam title.
She’d made him feel good about himself, as if he could achieve anything. And how had he repaid her? By walking out on her without a backward glance.
When she’d made that demand on the phone during their last phone call he’d given her a quick brush-off, mumbling his obligations to his fledgling career, bade her a trite ‘all the best’ and hung up.
She’d deserved better.
And now, discovering how much she’d invested in them back then opened up an old wound thought healed. At best, he owed her an apology.
Swiping a weary hand across his face, he turned back, hoping she’d hear him out.
When he reached the beach, she’d vanished. Following her footprints in the sand, he picked up the pace, finally catching her near a rocky outcrop overlooking Sydney city in the distance.
‘Krissie?’
She turned, her mutinous expression at odds with the tracks of dried tears running in parallel lines down her cheeks, and something inside him broke.
Even when he’d dumped her on the phone, she hadn’t cried. Called him a few choice names, but not a hint of a sob in sight. She’d let him off the hook easily, too easily. Time to make amends.
Wrapping her arms around her middle—to ward off the cold or him, he wasn’t sure—she thrust her chin up in defiance.
‘Figured it out already, huh?’
‘You said I was a smart guy. Why do I feel so dumb?’
She didn’t budge an inch, remote, unobtainable, as he silently called himself every kind of fool for hurting this special woman.
‘You tell me.’
He took a step forward, held out a hand, which she ignored.
‘I owe you an apology.’
‘For?’
Damn, she was magnificent. From the top of her wind-tousled wild hair to the bottom of her inappropriately designer-clad feet, every inch of her screamed pride.
She wouldn’t let him off easy this time. Uh-uh, this time she’d make him grovel.
‘For being a coward. For being dense. For treating you appallingly when we broke up.’
Her mouth softened a fraction and he pushed the advantage.
‘I could use the excuse I was young and stupid but the truth is, no matter how brilliant we were together back then, I would’ve run from commitment. It just wasn’t the right time.’
Understanding shone from her eyes, blazing with a jumble of emotions he had no hope of deciphering.
‘You weren’t the only one who was young and stupid.’
Her arms fell to her sides, her shoulders relaxed and loose. ‘That horribly cringe-worthy ultimatum I gave you was just plain wrong. I put you in an impossible position.’
‘Yeah, you did.’
He tempered his comment with a soft smile, buoyed when she smiled right back.
‘I’m sorry, Krissie. Forgive me?’
This time, he wouldn’t offer her his hand in the hope she’d take it. Instead, he snagged her hand, held on tight despite
her slight tug of resistance.
‘I’ll think about it.’
His smile widened. ‘Good. While you’re thinking about it, want to take a walk?’
Kristi fell into step beside Jared, little rockets of sensation shooting up her arm and into orbit the harder he squeezed her hand.
They shouldn’t be doing this, strolling along a moonlit beach, hand in hand. It reeked of romance and she’d given up on that with this man a long time ago.
His apology had softened her, had gone some way to assuaging the resentment lodged in her heart, but she couldn’t throw away all her reservations at once.
Jared wanted a fling.
He’d virtually said as much with all that talk of sexual attraction and possible flings. All very cut and dried and easy for him; flirt a little, get physical, walk away at the end. As if she’d ever agree to that! Once was enough.
‘I’ve been thinking about what you said.’
His low tone shattered the companionable silence, shattered the illusion that for a moment they were two people in perfect sync taking a lovely stroll along a deserted stretch of sand.
‘Yeah?’
He stopped, leaving her no option but to do the same, giving her opportunity to slide her hand out from his, and she took it.
‘About me being invested in the rec centre.’
‘And?’
‘You’re right.’
He shook his head, his tortured expression revealing he was none too pleased with the admission. ‘It was about the money at first, giving something back. But seeing all those partially disabled kids in rehab, then the street kids around the Cross when I was scoping sites, really got to me.’
‘That’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
She touched his arm, trying to convey her admiration, her respect. Many sporting stars financially supported kids’ foundations but not many took the time to attend personally, let alone spend a week on a deserted island for publicity.
Pain contorted his features before he carefully blanked them, forced a smile.
‘We’re just full of confessions tonight.’
It was her turn to feel uncomfortable. He might have unburdened himself, but she still had a few secrets up her sleeve, secrets she had no intention of confessing.
‘I’m glad you can talk to me.’
She held her breath as he reached out, his fingertips grazing her cheek in the softest caress. ‘I always could.’
But you still left anyway.
It would always come back to that. No matter what he said now, or how far she was willing to forgive him, she could never forget the fact he’d left her.
Battling a surge of heat to her cheeks, she shrugged and turned away on the pretext of staring at the view of Sydney in the distance.
‘I guess some things don’t change.’
He touched her shoulder and she clamped down on the urge to lean into him. ‘We’ve both changed. Maybe the real question is have we changed enough to move on from the past?’
He used the royal ‘we’ when he meant her. Had she changed enough to move on from the past, from what they’d shared, from what they’d lost?
Taking a deep breath, she met his curious gaze head-on. ‘Honestly? I don’t know.’
‘Okay, then.’
She had no idea if he’d agreed with what she said, if he was okaying her right to be honest or her right to indecision.
What she did know was the longer they stood here, almost toe to toe, tension crackling between them, the harder it was for her to not say ‘screw the past’ and jump feet first into the present.
His gaze slid to her lips, lingered, and she inhaled sharply, her lips tingling with expectation.
‘Have you figured out what you want?’ she blurted, her insides trembling along with her resolve as he leaned towards her, inch by exquisitely torturous inch, lowering his head, the heat radiating off him scorching.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, her head tilting ever so slightly to receive his kiss.
When he rested his forehead against hers and murmured, ‘Damned if I know,’ she couldn’t agree more.
Twitter.com/Stranded_Jared
Get me out of here.
Twitter.com/Stranded_Kristi
Have really started to dig this place. Purely for the scenery, of course.
CHAPTER NINE
Stranded Survival Tip #9
Want to humiliate him on camera? Ask him to hold your purse.
KRISTI’S BLOG, DAYS 4–5
Elliott will be lapping this up. Jared has ensured we spend every waking hour in front of the cameras the last two days. An avoidance technique, obviously. Doesn’t want a repeat of our little confrontational conversation during the camping challenge. Might start calling him Ostrich Boy…burying his head in the sand and all that.
What he doesn’t understand is that he can’t avoid me for ever. And the cameras are on timers so if I plan my ambush just right…he doesn’t stand a chance.
That, or hog-tie him and drag him to the camera-safe locations on the island.
Of course, I’d get the whole tying-up thing on camera first. Wouldn’t that make for interesting TV? Would definitely score points in the prize-winning stakes.
He may have the muscles to erect a tent better than me but I definitely nailed the swimming challenge. And I caught five fish to his measly two in the fishing challenge.
I rock!
Show me the money!
JARED’S BLOG, DAYS 4-5
Only two days to go.
I’ve made it through Wimbledon semi-finals with back spasms.
I survived a five-set marathon to win the US Open, twice.
I can do this!
(By the way, aren’t girls supposed to be squeamish about baiting hooks with live bait? Can’t believe she out-fished me! I’d rather lose the hundred grand than let the boys discover I got whipped with a rod by a girl!)
IT WASN’T in Jared’s nature to sulk. But that was exactly what he’d been doing since that little revealing chat with Kristi two days ago.
She’d loved him.
And he’d broken her heart.
He’d seen it in her wounded expression, the vulnerable glimmer in her eyes, and the more she’d pushed him for answers he couldn’t give, the more he’d rebelled, desperate to push her away.
Hell, if he’d known how cut up she was about their break-up he never would’ve agreed to have her here on the island. He would’ve made Elliott choose an unknown, someone he had no hope of sharing a spark with.
And that was what annoyed him the most; the fact that all the denials in the world didn’t change the fact that he was still attracted to her.
Just attracted?
Therein lay the kicker.
As long as he convinced himself it was a purely physical thing, an attraction for a beautiful woman, he could handle this, though deep down he knew better.
He might have grown up avoiding reality, doing his best to lose himself in tennis, but the longer he spent with Kristi, the longer he got to hear her sweet laugh and spar with her and try to elicit those amazing, uplifting smiles she did so well, the harder it was to deny the truth.
That she was right.
He was invested.
And not just in the rec centre.
‘You ready to go down in another challenge?’
He stopped, wiggled his backpack higher, hands on hips. ‘You just got lucky.’
She held up her hand, counted off her triumphs. ‘In the water. While fishing. About to add reaching the top of this mountain first.’
‘You think?’
‘I know.’
Her self-righteous smirk had him wanting to cross the short distance between them and kiss that smug smile right off her gorgeous face.
‘Pride before a fall and all that.’
She waved away his corny cliché. ‘Let’s just get this show on the road so I can cement my place as the virtual winner.’
He laughed at her audacity, a small part of him
hoping she’d win. If he won he’d planned on donating the money to the centre anyway and in the grand scheme of things it wouldn’t make much difference considering how much he’d already invested.
But for her to be here, putting up with everything he threw at her, she must really want the money, bad.
He shifted, winced at a slight stab in his reconstructed knee, unprepared for her quick shift from cocky to concerned, the flare of pity in her eyes obvious as her gaze zeroed in on his leg.
‘You sure your knee can hold up to this?’
‘I’m fine.’
His annoyed grunt could’ve been misconstrued for pain, but the only ache giving him any grief was the one in the vicinity of his heart.
He’d tried to stay away from her the last few days, tried to ease back into polite small talk and away from anything too personal, but, damn, he missed their closeness, missed seeing her tentative smiles as she slowly opened up to him again.
She narrowed her eyes, dropped her gaze to his knee before pinning him with an accusatory glare.
‘Make sure you tell me if you need to rest.’
Hitching his backpack higher on his shoulders, he said, ‘You’ll be the one begging for a rest.’
Her mouth twitched at his quip as he silently pleaded for one of her brilliant smiles.
‘You sportsmen are all the same.’
She fell into step beside him, trudging up the gentle incline, the twang in his chest having little to do with the increasing gradient and more to do with her being involved with other sportsmen.
‘Speaking from personal experience?’
‘Uh-huh.’
She didn’t elaborate, tugging her ghastly floppy flamingo-pink hat lower so he couldn’t see her face bar a few shadows.
