by Lori Wilde
“But you can fix it, right?”
She blew out her breath. “I don’t have the proper equipment to repair a broken cable.”
“Could you jerry-rig it?”
“Possibly, but I don’t know if I can repair it to the level that I trust a jerry-rigged cable to get us very far.”
“We could shoot for Island de Providencia.”
“With miles of nothing but ocean between here and there. If we have to land in the water...”
He jabbed a hand through his hair. “What else can we do? You said we probably couldn’t raise an air tower on the radio.”
“No, but when a plane flies over, we can contact them and have them radio for help.”
“So all we can do is wait for an aircraft to fly over?”
“Yes. I will still try to competently rig the cable, but I don’t recommend holding your breath.”
“Either way, it could take days before we’re rescued?”
“That’s correct.”
He muttered a curse word.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m just frustrated by the circumstances.” He pulled a palm down his face.
“You could look at it this way. Maybe the universe is trying to tell you it’s time to reevaluate your life.”
He stared at her as if she’d suggested he start wearing crystals and chanting “om.” She’d merely been trying to help make him feel better about the situation. She wasn’t all that happy about being stuck here any more than he was. Her family would be frantic.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way I live my life.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” she backpedaled. They couldn’t seem to have a conversation without conflicting with each other. “I’m not accusing you of anything.”
But he wasn’t listening. Apparently, she’d pushed one of his hot buttons.
“I’m the American dream,” he declared.
“But you’re not in America now, are you?”
“I sure as hell wish I were,” he said and stalked off into the darkness.
7
HE SHOULDN’T HAVE snapped at Sophia. She’d simply been trying to help him gain a better perspective on things. Gibb knew that. He also knew she was right and that’s what irritated him. Lately, his life had taken on a sameness that gnawed at him—work, work and more work. To escape the feeling, he worked even harder, but things seemed to be falling apart. First the spies, then the jam-up on the patent grant and now Scott’s defection because he didn’t want, in his words, to be consumed by work the way Gibb was.
He was already a billionaire. What was he trying to prove? That he could be richer than everyone?
Being a billionaire wasn’t much help to him now when he couldn’t even summon a plane to fly him out of here. He paced toward the shore, stared off at the ocean glimmering in the moonlight. Who was he really?
“Gibb?”
He turned to face Sophia.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “You weren’t wrong.”
She was so beautiful standing there, representing everything he did not have—freedom, fun, happiness.
“So all that glitters is not gold?” she whispered.
“I don’t have fun anymore. Tonight, cooking hot dogs over a campfire was the most fun I’ve had since...”
Well, when was the last time he’d had real fun? Sure, he got a thrill from driving his Bentley fast down the Pacific Coast highway, but when was the last time he’d done that? And while it was thrilling, it didn’t make him feel like a kid again the way being with Sophia did.
“We seem to be butting heads at every turn,” she said.
“I know. I don’t want it to be that way. I like you, Sophia. I really do.”
She grinned at him. “You want to make s’mores?”
What a smile.
It made him want to lasso the moon, pull it down from the sky and gift it to her on a platinum platter. Except Sophia didn’t need all that. She was happy just as she was. How did a person get to be so happy?
She held out her hand to him and he took it. Just like that the fence was mending.
In two minutes they were making s’mores and laughing as gooey chocolate and marshmallows dripped down their chins. Sophia flicked out a delicious pink tongue to lick away the chocolate. Gibb’s body reacted instantly and he could not take his gaze from her face.
She caught him watching her. “Oops. That was sloppy.”
He moved closer.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Probably making a big mistake,” he said.
“Wh—”
But she got no further. He gathered her into his arms and kissed those lips he’d been aching to kiss since the minute he’d first stepped into her plane two weeks ago. He’d ignored the attraction because he’d been with Stacy, but he could deny it no longer. His desire for Sophia was off the charts. It wasn’t going to lead anywhere. It couldn’t lead anywhere. He didn’t have any condoms, but he simply could not go the rest of his life without knowing what it would feel like to kiss her.
Her lips parted and she sank against his chest with a sweet little moan.
Gibb swallowed the sound, swallowed the chocolatey, graham cracker taste of her. Her lips were soft, pliant and sweet. He held her cradled in his arms, exploring her with equal parts of wonder and desire. He felt so alive, so vibrant.
It’s just the situation. You’re stranded. Alone. It’s an adventure. But in his heart, he knew it was more than that. She drew him to her with a magnetic pull he couldn’t begin to explain, didn’t want to explain in case it ruined the moment.
Hey, he was living in the moment. When was the last time he’d done that? Had he ever done that?
She tunneled her fingers through his hair, clearly enjoying this as much as he was. He had not misread the signals. She was into him, too.
“Sophia,” he murmured her name around their joined lips. “Sophia.”
Her scent filled his nose, so sultry and feminine. With her tongue she tentatively traced his lips. He met that wicked little tip with his own tongue, sending things moving faster. He pushed past her parted teeth and explored the dimensions of her mouth. The finest wine in the world did not taste this rich, this satisfying.
Gibb’s body responded fully, his erection growing hard against her thigh. He could not hide how much he wanted her. In fact, he did not want to hide it.
“Oh,” she said breathlessly.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “We’ll stop. I just couldn’t live one second longer without tasting you.”
“What if...” She pulled back, her smile wide and inviting. “What if I wanted more than a kiss?”
“Do you?” he asked huskily.
“I... Yes...”
“We shouldn’t.”
“I know. I have a boyfriend and you have a girlfriend and I’m not a cheater.”
“Neither am I, but this thing we’re feeling...”
“It can’t go anywhere,” she whispered. “Not beyond this island.”
“Why not?” he asked, feeling suddenly desperate. Why was he feeling so desperate? The need inside him had caught him off guard, stunned him. He couldn’t think. All he could do was feel and he wanted to feel what it was like to be inside her.
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“I could never be with a man like you. Not for anything more than a good time.”
“Why not?”
“Ticos are all about family and you are not all about family.”
“I could be.”
She shook her head.
“Maybe. I’ve never tried. I want to try with you.”
“You are not thinking clearly. You don’t even know me.”
“I know I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman.” His heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear himself speak. Where was th
is coming from? Why did he feel so out of control? And why did being out of control feel so good?
“You would soon realize I do not fit in your world. Can you imagine taking me to one of your high-society events? I have no idea what’s the right fork to use or what to wear in the company of—”
“Do you think I care about stuff like that?”
“You do care about stuff like that.”
“How can you say that? You barely know me.”
“My point exactly. We hardly know each other.”
“What we’re feeling has to mean something.”
“I think it means we would have a very good time in bed.”
“Nothing more?”
She shook her head again.
Why did his stomach feel so hollow? “Where do we go from here?”
“Let’s get some sleep,” she said in a shaky voice. “As soon as it’s first light I will get to work on the plane and see if I can jerry-rig the cable so that it’s strong enough to get us to Island de Providencia.”
“And then what?”
“You take a plane to Key West to stop your friend from marrying the woman he loves, and I get El Diablo repaired properly and fly home.”
“And after that?”
She met his eyes. “There is no after that.”
Gibb swallowed. She made good sense. But there was one problem with that. All his life he’d done the sensible thing. The right thing. On the surface, it had served him well, but it had also brought him here. To this point where he was wondering precisely what his life was all about.
Maybe that’s what this feeling for Sophia was. A reaction to the choices he’d made, the realization that without someone to share his life with, all the hard work, all the money in the world didn’t mean a thing. Maybe that’s why he really wanted to stop Scott from getting married. He didn’t want his buddy to find the happiness that had escaped him, because if he did, Gibb would be completely alone. For all these years, he’d dated women who only wanted him for what they could get from him—beautiful women that made for pretty trinkets on his arm but had no substance. And when he met Sophia, he knew instantly that she had substance. She was a woman who made her own living, a woman who was happy in her own skin, a woman who was deeply loyal to those she loved.
He stepped away from her. “Too bad,” he said. “I think we could have had something special.”
* * *
WHAT HAD HE meant by “we could have had something special”? Special sex? Or special something else?
Sophia lay on her back on the blanket beside Gibb, staring up at the starry sky. The fire had burned down to nothing more than warm, glowing embers. She should never have kissed him back, but it had been so worth it. The man could kiss. No doubt about it. Sophia touched her lips.
That was the problem, of course. If he’d been a terrible kisser she wouldn’t be awake long after midnight, mulling it over.
She cut her gaze at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing rhythmic. Was he asleep?
What was this special thing? It was lust to be sure, but there was a strong undercurrent of something additional—something deeper, more mysterious than lust. What was it? The feeling wasn’t easy camaraderie like what she had with Emilio. Judging from the way Gibb made her feel—hot, breathless, achy all over—it was something far more complicated.
But they’d only been together for twelve hours. What kind of feelings could develop in twelve hours? Sure, they’d been watching each other for two weeks. Covertly flirting with lingering glances and sly smiles, but it had been nothing more than that. These last twelve hours had escalated things between them to an entirely other level.
Maybe it was the crash landing? Emergency situations had a way of bringing people closer together. Maybe that’s what this was. They were dependent on each other and had only each other. It created a bond that would otherwise not have been created.
Oh, why had she let him kiss her? She could have stopped it. One palm planted against his chest and a firm “no” would have halted everything. Now, she knew precisely what she’d been missing in the romance department.
A whimper escaped her lips. What had she been thinking? Now she wanted more, more, more.
You weren’t thinking. Just like you weren’t thinking when you agreed to fly him to Key West.
He’d been staring out to sea, shoulders straight, hands clenched into fists, and she dumbly walked over to him full of apology and concern.
Instantly, she was afraid he hated her, but when he turned around and she saw that sheen in his eyes, she’d known it wasn’t anger. In fact, it was why he was so prickly when he was around her—he was fighting an attraction he didn’t want to feel. He didn’t dislike her, not at all. In fact, it was the opposite. He’d been turned on.
By her!
He was as taken with her as she was with him. So much so that he’d crossed the line of propriety when Sophia knew he’d never have done so if it hadn’t been for being alone on a deserted island. Yes, maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her, but she most certainly shouldn’t have encouraged it. If she’d drawn a line in the sand, he would have backed off.
Instead, she’d melted in his arms quicker than warmed chocolate and hot marshmallows on a graham cracker.
When his lips met hers, a mist of lust and unbelievable passion had curled around her brain, coaxed her forward into a “what if” dream. What if she were his girlfriend? What if they were to become a couple? What if he was as sensational a lover as he was a kisser? The things he could show her! The places they would go!
Stop it. The dream wasn’t real. What was she thinking? He was a billionaire and she was nothing but a simple bush pilot. That kiss had wrecked her reasoning.
Honestly, though, how could she regret that moment with him? She might never be kissed like that again. He kissed the way she wished Emilio kissed. Kissed the way handsome men in telenovelas kissed—deeply, passionately, heartfelt.
Overhead a shooting star crossed the sky and before she knew what she’d done, Sophia made a wish, a wish for so much more than a single kiss.
That’s when it occurred to her. Exactly how much trouble she was in. They could be stuck here for as long as a week, with no one else around, nowhere else to go, nothing to do but pretend their sexual attraction didn’t exist...surrounded by a hypnotic ocean, the sweet fragrance of jungle flowers.
A week?
If they were here a week there was no way on earth that Sophia would be able to keep her hands to herself. Not when the sexiest man alive was lying right next to her.
* * *
STRONG RAYS OF sunlight jerked Sophia awake at dawn. For one disoriented minute, she forgot where she was. Blinking, she sat up, pushed her hair out of her face and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
Her gaze strayed to the spot beside her and then she remembered—the plane crash, eating s’mores, kissing Gibb Martin, everything.
But now, she was alone.
Where was Gibb?
Alarmed, but trying not to panic, she leaped to her feet, searched around for her shoes and found them off to one side of the blanket. She’d lain beside Gibb on that blanket, dreamed of making love to him.
Where had he gone?
Footprints in the sand led toward the forest thicket. Maybe he’d left in search of coconut, bananas or mangos for breakfast. Sophia followed the footprints until they disappeared into the trees.
She stepped past the coconut palms to the green fronds of banana trees and resurrection ferns, past tightly wrapped bromeliads. The farther she went, the thicker the vegetation grew. There were mango trees filled with plump fruit, tall ciebas stretching for the sky, strangler trees and the medicinal smell of eucalyptus. Moss and lichen slicked the forest floor covering the craggy outcroppings of rock.
The jungle was alive with activity. Colorful birds twittered from the trees. She spied a blue-gray tanager, a pair of crimson-fronted parakeets and white winged doves. A bevy of buzzing hummingbirds flitted from one brig
htly colored flower to another. There were heliconia, pink torch ginger, passionflowers and bougainvillea. Butterflies and moths fluttered about. She recognized thoas swallowtails, a banded peacock, zebra longwings and giant sphinx moths. A red-eyed tree frog stared at her from a banana leaf and she spied a lungless salamander as it scuttled near her feet.
Sophia held her breath. So beautiful! It was an island paradise that rivaled the beauty of Costa Rica. A wave of homesickness hit her and then she heard the sound of water rushing over rocks. A sound she heard every day of her life except for the year she lived in California with her aunt’s family.
A waterfall.
The noise drew her deeper into the forest. Maybe Gibb had come into the jungle looking for food, heard the waterfall and decided to make for fresh water.
And even if he hadn’t, a quick shower in the cool water sounded heavenly, especially since her hair and clothes smelled like smoke from their campfire.
She trudged through the thick undergrowth. Living in Cordillera of Tilarán, she was accustomed to the humidity, but the altitude of her volcanic mountain home kept the heat at bay. Here, already, it was at least eighty degrees and the day had only just begun. She longed for the ocean breeze that couldn’t reach this far into the dense tropical landscape. But the island wasn’t that big. She had to come upon the waterfall soon.
She paused to take a break, plucked a ripe banana from a tree and ate it for energy. Sweat beaded her forehead and she swiped it off with the back of her hand. She resumed her walk, the increasing sound of the waterfall drawing her nearer.
She skirted a strangler tree, pushed through a clump of ferns taller than she was and there it was.
The waterfall.
With a very naked Gibb Martin standing beneath it.
Sophia’s mouth dropped open. A punch of pure animal lust hit her low in the belly. He was more magnificent than she’d ever imagined.
His back was to her.
Unbidden, her gaze slid down the full length of his body, starting at the top of his dark head and slipping over the sharp angles and honed muscles of his exquisite frame. His shoulders were broad, his waist lean.
And his butt was so impressive she bit back a whimper of desire. She crouched, not wanting him to see her. She wanted to feast her eyes on him to her heart’s content.
