The Trouble With Paradise

by Jill Shalvis

  “Seven years?” Brandy turned and looked at Dorie with a raised brow that said holy crap, look at the meek one now. “Impressive.”

  Dorie agreed but kept the thought to herself, still a little uneasy at what she’d seen in Cadence’s eyes, because it drummed home the point that she didn’t really know any of these people . . .

  Or what they were capable of.

  By mutual consent, they walked into the forest to handle their business behind different trees, but when Cadence let out a little scream, both Dorie and Brandy came running, Brandy with a knife in her hands at the ready.

  Cadence pointed to a snake that slithered off into the forest, and sagged back against a tree. “Sorry, it startled me.”

  Knife gleaming, Brandy shivered wildly. “No problem. I hate snakes.”

  Dorie couldn’t take her eyes off the blade. Had everyone lost their minds?

  Since when had they all armed themselves?

  “Hey, check this out.” Brandy walked to a coconut tree and swiped the knife through the air, and a few coconuts came crashing down to the ground. “Man, that’s satisfying.” She did it again, bringing three more coconuts down. “This is what I should have done to my ex’s family jewels.”

  “So,” Dorie asked as casually as she could, “where did you get the knife?”

  “Oh, this?” Brandy flipped it around like a Japanese chef, then stuck it in the waistband of her tiny Daisy Dukes. “I’ve been carrying it for protection. Turned out I needed it more than I thought.”

  “Have you ever used it?” Cadence asked.

  Brandy’s smile faded. “Not lately, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  They all walked back, silent now, each lost in her own thoughts. Dorie was certainly lost in hers. She thought she’d known these women, but it turned out, they were still basically strangers. Not a comforting thought.

  Brandy kept fiddling with the tag on her top, which was a snug designer tee that read: I don’t mind that you are talking so long as you don’t mind that I’m not listening. “This thing is driving me crazy.” Pulling the shirt off, leaving her in a tiny red string bikini top, she yanked at the tag . . . and ripped a nice hole in the shirt. “Well, shit.” She thrust it into Dorie’s hands. “You’re a designer. Redesign.”

  They all sat on a large rock. Dorie set down her purse and ripped off the sleeves of the tee, then after a few more strategic tears began using her handy needle and thread.

  “Oh, yes,” Brandy said when Dorie tied her into her new halter top. “Very nice. You really ought to do this for a living, hon.”

  Yes. Yes, she should.

  When they came out of the forest, Christian was dragging more wood to the fire. He nodded to Dorie, who didn’t have it in her to just nod back. So she smiled. “Need help?”

  Moving wood, taking off your clothes . . .

  “I’m good.”

  Code for “don’t talk to me.” Got it. Luckily, Ethan had breakfast waiting, because nothing worked for awkward moments like a pile of food.

  “This is the last of the meats I had frozen,” Ethan told them, gesturing to the sausage and bacon, which he’d cooked over an open flame. “It all defrosted, so eat up.”

  Unsettling thought, eating the last of the protein. While they did, Denny stood up at the head of the group. “I thought I heard an engine this morning.”

  Everyone stopped eating and gaped at him.

  “So we’re going to divide and conquer. I’m going east. Ethan to the west, while Christian stays on the beach to keep the fire going for the smoke signal and to look after you.”

  “But what if we want to help explore?” Cadence asked.

  “No. Your only job is to sunbathe, rest, and relax.”

  “What if we don’t want to?” Cadence asked. “Relax, that is.”

  “Yeah. I’d like to explore,” Brandy pitched in.

  “Oh, no.” Denny shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

  “No offense, Denny,” Brandy said, “but you’re not in charge of us on land.”

  From across the fire, Christian dropped an armful of logs, and locked gazes with Dorie, giving her a little zing of sexual awareness.

  Damn it.

  Swallowing hard, she turned her attention back to the conversation at hand.

  “Sitting on the beach waiting to be rescued seems so passive,” Cadence said to Denny. “I think we should all go, if we want.”

  All? Dorie wasn’t in a hurry to hike/climb in the rain forest. “Maybe we should think about this—”

  “We want to go,” Cadence said. “All of us.”

  “Cadence, listen to me,” Denny said. “It’s going to be hot, sweaty, hard work—”

  “We’re going.” This from Brandy, in a voice of steel.

  New society, new rules, Dorie thought. Or maybe no rules at all . . . Fact was, they were all operating on sheer nerves at this point. And no matter how much she wanted to think otherwise, she was alone.

  Once again her gaze collided with Christian’s.

  He looked back, his expression shuttered, but she could see past that, to the man beneath. No matter that they’d knocked their good parts together, no matter that they’d decided not to knock those parts together again, she could trust him.

  Which meant she wasn’t entirely alone after all.

  Andy used a large stick to beat the branches away from his face as they walked. Ahead of him, Ethan did the same as he led them higher and higher up the rocky volcanic precipice.

  Behind them both, Dorie gasped for breath and tried to keep up.

  Andy slowed, and smiled at her. “You okay?”

  “Terrific.”

  Denny, Brandy, and Cadence had gone in the opposite direction, with Denny determined to find the source of the engine he thought he’d heard.

  Christian remained back at camp, manning the fire and watching for boats. He hadn’t wanted to, but Denny had insisted. Dorie had wanted to stay, too, but if she had, the condoms in her purse would be calling her name about now, so she’d gotten off her tush, telling herself the exercise would be good for her. “I hope the other group is okay. I’m worried about them.”

  “I’m worried about us,” Andy said.

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re on a deserted island. Because rescue hasn’t come. Because one of us is dead.”

  Her heart clutched. “We don’t know that.”

  “Do you really think he hung on this long?”

  “Maybe he was rescued.”

  Andy’s face said what he thought of those chances.

  Dorie swiped a scary-looking bug away. “What exactly are we looking for?”

  “A lux hotel, darlin’. With all the amenities of a real vacation.”

  Dorie huffed out a laugh, then tripped over a fallen tree, managing to catch herself before she fell. “I’ve got to get better shoes.”

  Ahead of them, Ethan kept walking, the distance between him and his two charges getting bigger and bigger. “Go at your own pace,” he called back.

  Her own pace would be on her butt on the beach, which she could have actually pulled off now that she was splinter-free. Thinking about how Christian had removed it by flashlight brought a surge of renewed embarrassment.

  Andy looked at her and stopped. “You’re awfully red. Let’s sit a moment.”

  “No, I’m good.” Pulling away, she walked backward, smiling at him, thankful he couldn’t read her thoughts—still on Christian, and how he’d kissed the spot. “Let’s just keep—”

  Andy’s worry turned to alarm. “Dorie—”

  “Going—”

  “Dorie, watch out—”

  Too late.

  She tripped over another fallen log and tumbled backward over the huge stump.

  NINETEEN

  She was on an island with a cabana boy leaning over her, the sun so bright she couldn’t see his face as he offered her a cool drink—

  “Dorie, wake up!”

  No, thanks. The cabana
boy shifted out of the sun, and turned into . . . Christian.

  Her heart warmed. Not just her good parts, but her heart. Huh.

  “Dorie, damn it, open your eyes.”

  She did, becoming aware of two things. One, she had a sharp pain in her head, and two, the face floating in front of her was blurry, the voice foggy because her ears were still ringing, but she smiled anyway because this made three times Christian had rescued her.

  “Dorie? Darlin’, say something.”

  Wait. No French accent. No low, husky voice that gave her warm fuzzies, but Andy, and his adamantly hunky smile and sweet eyes. Only . . . she blinked to make sure . . . his eyes weren’t looking so sweet at the moment, but . . . uh-oh. “Grandma,” she said weakly, “what big eyes you have.”

  He smiled tightly. The better to see you with, my dear.

  She swallowed hard. “And what big teeth you have.”

  The better to eat you with, my dear.

  With a gasp, she sat straight up, then cried out at the dagger of pain between her ears.

  “Jesus, Dorie, are you all right?” His hands settled on her shoulders.

  To hold her down and eat her with. Those big fangs would help, too. With a little scream, she scrambled backward, cringing at the quick movement.

  “Darlin’, don’t. Don’t move.”

  “What did you say?” she asked hoarsely.

  “Uh . . . don’t move?”

  “Before that. The eating me part.”

  The look on Andy’s face defied description. “Nothing about eating you.”

  When she blinked again, he looked the same as always. Too cute for words, his eyes normal, teeth normal.

  “You cracked your head,” he said, clearly worried. “Let me—”

  Unable to dispel the nightmare, she batted his hands away.

  Stymied, he sat back on his heels. “Dorie? Do you know who I am?”

  “Depends on whose teeth you’ve got at the moment.”

  “Uh-oh,” he said.

  “My head.” She clasped it between her hands. “I think it’s going to fall off.” She touched her neck, to make sure it wasn’t severed.

  It wasn’t.

  Unwilling to keep sitting on the ground, she stood, then cringed. “Oh, dear,” she whispered, her head spinning. Worse, so was her stomach, prompting her to go very, very still.

  “Oh, crap.” Andy leapt up, and out of her way, though she didn’t actually throw up.

  “I’m okay. I’m just . . .” She sat back down abruptly as her world continued to spin on its axis. “Going to sit right here for a minute.”

  “Good idea. Ethan!” Andy yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Ethan, where the hell are you? Dorie’s hurt!”

  So once again she’d shown her graceful side. Nice. Just like any minute now, she was going to show her ill side. She held her breath, willing to sell her soul to the devil rather than throw up in front of Andy.

  “Dorie? Talk to me.”

  “Watch your shoes.”

  He backed up again, but she managed to keep her breakfast down. “Stop the world,” she murmured. “I want to get off.”

  “Where the hell did Ethan go?” He slid his fingers gently into her hair, probing her scalp. “Ah, hell. You’ve got a huge goose egg here. Let me see your eyes.”

  She blinked at him. “Why?”

  “I’m not sure.” He stared into them. “But that’s the first thing the team doc does when we get hit in the head with a line drive.”

  Her stomach pitched as if she was still on the Sun Song in the storm, and she clutched at his arms. “It’s choppy out here.”

  “Oh, boy.” He slid his arms around her. “You’re screwed up, darlin’. Let me carry you back.”

  She wanted to say no, she was fine, except for one thing.

  She wasn’t.

  He pulled something out of her hair—a stick. And then another.

  “Get the bugs first.”

  “You don’t have bugs.” But he did pull out a leaf. “Hey, you don’t seem so tongue-tied now, right?” He smiled into her eyes. “Maybe we could give this thing another shot after all.”

  “I’m not tongue-tied because I’m going to throw up.”

  “You’re pale, but not green.” His worried eyes searched her features. “Your skin’s clammy and your eyes are glossy. But mostly, I’m concerned about the size of that lump.”

  “Really, I’m okay.” Probably. Maybe. Hopefully . . .

  The bush rustled again, bigger than before. Someone was coming. And not from the way Ethan had vanished, but from the direction they’d come from.

  Andy got to his feet, his back to her, protecting her. She stood, too, and then had to cling to him for support because she was on an invisible roller coaster. She really hoped it wasn’t a pirate, coming to pillage. “Get out your knife,” she whispered. “Or whatever you have.”

  “What?” Andy twisted around and stared down at her in shock. “I don’t have a knife.”

  So not everyone had armed themselves. Maybe he hadn’t felt the need, because he’d been the one to hurt Bobby.

  She set her forehead to his back, not because she wanted to touch him, but because she needed him to support her upright.

  From out of bushes came . . . the other group. Brandy, Cadence, Denny, and . . . and Christian?

  “Whew,” Brandy said, swiping her forearm over her forehead. “Hot shit today, huh?”

  “Too hot,” Cadence agreed. “We went west forever, and came to one great big hike straight uphill, which led to nowhere except a bigger, sharper, more unclimbable cliff. We decided to try your way, and found Christian. Gorgeous Grumpy Doctor here thought he heard a cry for help.”

  “Gorgeous Grumpy Doctor?” Christian repeated. “What the hell is that?”

  Dorie looked around for a hole to fall into. Oh, wait. She’d already fallen.

  “I want some answers,” Denny demanded.

  “Yeah? I want a shower,” Brandy told him. “And a massage.”

  “I want a real bathroom,” Cadence said.

  Christian didn’t say anything, he just came straight at Andy, then reached around him for Dorie.

  “It’s okay,” Andy said. “I’ve got her.”

  But Christian didn’t let go, and for a moment, just a very brief beat really, there was a silent tug-of-war over her.

  Dorie couldn’t believe it. Two outrageously handsome men wanted her.

  Her.

  And she was going to throw up.

  “Why are you green?” Christian demanded to know.

  “It’s my favorite color.”

  He pulled her close, then frowned down into her face. Without a word, he supported her while looking her over with a staggering intensity. “Que s’est produit?”

  “Um, what?”

  “What happened?”

  Before she could answer, thunder boomed, and they all jumped. A storm had moved in so quickly they hadn’t even noticed. As the clouds surged over the cliffs and opened up, Andy turned to Christian. “She fell.” He had to yell this over the next boom of thunder, and the sudden drenching rain. “Bumped her head!”

  Dorie went to nod in agreement. Not a smart move. A sharp pain that had nothing to do with the storm exploded behind her eyes. She heard a distressed moan—her own, she realized—and then her vision began to fade.

  She’d fainted once before, in the Shop-Mart as a matter of fact, after a particularly nasty bout of the flu when Mr. Stryowski had made her come back to work too soon. The same warning signs had come to her then, a clanging in her head, her vision fading out, a funny metallic taste on her tongue . . . She opened her mouth to warn everyone, but the only thing she managed was “uh-oh.”

  And then everything went black.

  Andy grabbed Dorie and sat on the ground with her in his arms. Christian sank to his knees next to them, pulling off his backpack to get to his first-aid kit, which he should rename the Dorie Kit. The rain was already moving on, and as he
shook the water out of his face, he let a quiet calm wash over him, the calm that came whenever he was needed in a work capacity.

  Because this was work, he reminded himself, and nothing more. “Dorie.”

  She didn’t move.

  Andy looked utterly shaken, though not shaken enough to stop him from touching her all over. He pulled his hand out from behind her head, his fingers dark with her blood, and went suddenly still. “My God. I didn’t realize she was bleeding a little.”

  “Great,” Denny said. “Just great.”

  “That’s not a little,” Cadence said, also clearly shaken. “Christian—”

  He was on it. He ran his hands up Dorie’s neck, feeling for injury there first before he carefully turned her head and found the source of the blood. An open cut, not deep enough for stitches, but oozing enough to look more shocking than it was. Still, in this heat and humidity, the chance of infection was extremely high. “Head wounds always bleed like a mother.” He grabbed some gauze and pressed it against the cut with some pressure.

  Dorie moaned but didn’t open her eyes.

  Andy looked down at the gauze, quickly going red with her blood, and went green himself. “Oh, God.” Closing his eyes, he let out a matching moan to Dorie’s. “Not so good with blood.”

  “Suck it up,” he directed the baseball star. “When she opens her eyes, she needs to see you looking calm.”

  Andy nodded but still looked green.

  Christian gently stroked Dorie’s hair away from the wound. “The cut’s superficial. The concern is the large contusion she’s sporting.” He looked up at Andy. “How long was she unconscious the first time?”

  Andy swallowed hard. His color still hadn’t improved, and Christian would guess he was close to passing out himself. Just what he needed. “How long, Andy?”

  “She wasn’t, not really. Just confused. She thought . . . I think she thought I was the big, bad wolf.”

  “Interesting,” Brandy said, looking Andy over speculatively.

  “Dorie,” Christian said firmly, touching her jaw. “Wake up.”

  Her still wet eyelids fluttered, and then opened, and he took a deep breath of relief. “Morning, Sunshine.”