Tempted By The Hero

By early afternoon, she was covered in sweat and dusted in a fine coat of sand. She felt satisfied with their accomplishments. She tried not to wish for a shower and clean clothes, but she was only human. She was a woman who enjoyed looking presentable. They shared the last of the water, eyeing each other.

“Need a break?” he asked.

“I need a bath.”

“I need one more,” he said in a gruff voice.

She smiled her agreement. Between the two of them, he was sweatier and dirtier. They went to the waterfall to refill the bucket. She wanted to strip off her dress and stand under the cool spray.

He had another idea: “Let’s walk through the cave.”

She didn’t want to explore the dark interior, but she nodded, because she was curious about the other side. The cave was spacious, with water dripping from the cathedral-like ceiling. At high tide, the floor was completely submerged in water. As they moved away from the entrance, the light faded. She followed close behind Logan, taking careful steps. She couldn’t see anything. She imagined sea kraits twining around her ankles. When her bare toe grazed a slippery object, she almost jumped out of her skin.

“What was that?”

“That was my foot. You stepped on it.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Do you want me to carry you?”

She shook her head and urged him forward, gripping the crook of his arm. The water level rose above her knees. Then it dipped again, and they were on dry sand.

Beyond the cave’s exit, which was obscured in vines, there was another little cove with a secluded stretch of sand. It was similar to the beach they’d slept on the first night, surrounded by rock cliffs and largely inaccessible.

Logan studied the cliffs with interest. “We can get to that other waterfall from here. Maybe I can find some more eggs, or another breadfruit tree.”

She followed his gaze, considering. She wasn’t eager to hike again, but she wouldn’t mind foraging for food. She was a chef, and he was hungry. They both were. His instincts were to protect her, and hers were to feed him.

He walked around a boulder in the middle of the beach to gain a better vantage point. “Whoa!”

“What is it?” she asked.

“Buried treasure.”

It was a sand-colored plastic storage trunk, about four feet long, half-submerged in the sand next to the boulder. Logan dropped to his knees and tried to pry the lid open with his knife. It was locked, and wouldn’t budge.

“Did someone leave it here?”

“It probably fell off a boat and floated here.”

After about ten minutes, he managed to pick the lock. The lid sprang open, revealing a treasure trove of waterlogged supplies. There was a large canvas umbrella, two full-size deck cushions, two beach towels, two life vests, a kayak paddle, a diving snorkel with a mask and a yellow rain jacket.

“This is a huge score,” he said, holding up the mask.

She helped him remove the deck cushions. They’d make perfect sleeping pads as soon as they dried in the sun. He swished his hand through the water in the bottom of the trunk and fished out a pink nylon bag. After a cursory glance, he handed it to her.

She gasped as she examined the contents. One pair of black bikini bottoms, size medium, with adjustable strings at the hips. One oversize T-shirt, white with a pink flamingo. One empty water container. One bottle of sunscreen, SPF 50.

Every item was like a precious diamond. She hugged the bikini bottoms to her chest, blinking away tears. There was no top, but she didn’t care. She’d have paid a thousand dollars for a pair of fresh panties. Half a bikini was a godsend.

“I told you we’d have good days here,” he said softly.

She nodded her agreement, sniffling. If someone had told her a week ago that she’d be weeping with joy over a bag of hand-me-downs, she wouldn’t have believed them. A week ago, she couldn’t have imagined feeling this way about anything.

Or anyone.

She wouldn’t have survived without Logan. He’d been her rock from day one. He’d stayed positive during their days at sea, and he’d pushed her beyond her physical limits on land. She hadn’t realized she was strong enough to keep pace with a Navy SEAL.

She hung up the wet towels and clothes to dry in the sun. “How far do you think that trunk drifted?”

“Not far,” he said. “I’m surprised it didn’t sink as soon as it went overboard. Maybe it came off a boat that was anchored nearby. Maybe it drifted a few miles. Either way, it hasn’t been here long. There’s hardly any deterioration.”

The words were music to her ears. Human beings had been near this island before. Surely someone else would cruise by, and they’d get rescued. She hopped up and did a series of leaps on the beach, flying across the sand. Then she turned to face him. He was watching her with quiet awe. Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths.

It was too late to worry about getting attached to him. It had already happened. She’d turned over a new leaf today, and set aside her fears about the future. Maybe something else had shifted inside her, as well. When he looked at her like that, her heart skipped a beat, and she stopped thinking about getting rescued. She started thinking about making the most of their time together.

Was it really so bad, being stranded with a smoking-hot survival expert who made her pulse race with excitement? The real world was a difficult place, full of stress and strife. This island was a remote paradise, ripe with possibility. She’d never felt more alive than she did right now, right here, with him.

“I haven’t done that in years,” she said.

“You don’t look rusty.”

She laughed, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. She felt rusty and out of shape, but he didn’t know any better. He stared at her for another few seconds, his face taut. Then he started walking toward the cliff. She grabbed the nylon bag and followed him. It was an easy climb, and a short hike into the jungle interior, but the heat under the canopy was sweltering. She’d forgotten how humid the air was here, compared to the pleasant breeze at the coast.

On the way there she found a taro plant, which had edible roots, like yams. They dug up several and tucked them into her bag. In the same area, there was a tree with lime-sized fruits. Logan plucked one and chopped it open. Several smooth brown nuts were nestled inside the fleshy white pulp.

“These are chestnuts,” she said.

“Safe to eat?”

“Yes, but you have to roast them first.”

They collected as many as they could carry, tucking them into her new bag. They’d have roasted chestnuts and taro for dinner tonight. It wasn’t coconut crab, but the meal would suffice. She was glad they’d explored this side of the island.

As they got closer to the waterfall, the jungle teemed with life. Logan had to draw his knife to slash through a thick section of foliage. Over the buzz of insects and birdsong, she heard the telltale sound of rushing water. He cut away a tangle of vines, his forearms flexing. Then they reached a clearing.

It was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. A twenty-foot high waterfall tumbled into a sky-blue pool. Rocks lined the shore. Mossy cliffs framed the falls on both sides. She dropped her bag and stood at the water’s edge, speechless.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He peeled off his shirt, dropped his pants and waded in. Although he’d lost weight in the past week, he hadn’t lost muscle. Every ridge and angle was sharply defined. His shoulders looked wider, his biceps harder. He dove under the water and came back up, sweeping a hand over his hair. Although she’d seen him shirtless on a daily basis, she still drew in a ragged breath at the sight of his wet torso.

“Are you coming in?” he asked, seeming puzzled.

“My dress,” she stammered.

“Take it off. I won’t look.”

After he turned around, she pulled the dress over her head quickly. She kept her panties on and held one arm across her breasts, tiptoeing forward. He didn’t look, not even when she submerged her entire body with a soft splash. He kept his back to her and swam toward the waterfall to drink from it.

She stayed near the middle of the pool, reveling in sensation. The water was wonderfully cool and refreshing. It felt like heaven against her overheated, moisture-deprived skin. After days of harsh sun and saltwater residue, it was practically a spa treatment. She dipped her head under the surface to soak her tangled hair.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression guarded. “Drink from the waterfall, not the pool.”

She nodded, venturing into deeper water. She couldn’t touch the bottom in some places. When he retreated from the falls, she swam forward to drink. The cascade made a sleek curtain of water to duck into. She stuck her head under the stream, rinsing her hair of sand and debris. He floated on his back, eyes closed.

He wasn’t watching, so she removed her panties under the water. She wanted to burn them. Instead she scrubbed the lacy fabric and tossed the wet bundle on the shore. Those panties were well suited for a hot island night, but completely inappropriate for hot island days. They’d been giving her a nonstop wedgie.

With a sigh of relief, she washed from head to toe. She felt like a new woman, squeaky-clean and free of constrictive clothing. Too free, perhaps. She was acutely aware of her nudity, and of Logan’s proximity. The fact that he wasn’t steady-boyfriend material didn’t matter anymore. They’d survived together, against all odds. Her body had decided that it wanted to celebrate life. She wanted to float on her back, like he was. She wanted to expose her breasts to the sunlight. And to him.

He turned toward her, as if he could sense her desire. She straightened in the water, lifting her wet hair off her neck. Her nipples flirted with the surface. His eyes darkened at the subtle invitation.

But the only move he made was to wade out of the water, grab his shirt and start scrubbing it against a rock. She enjoyed the play of muscles in his shoulders and the cling of his boxer shorts against his taut backside. He washed his shirt with vigor, his jaw clenched. Then he rinsed the fabric and wrung it out, biceps bulging.

Lord have mercy.

“We should go,” he said in a curt tone.

She blinked the stars from her eyes, with some difficulty. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to climb him like a tree.

He put on his pants, giving her an impatient look. “Are you ready? I’ll turn around.”

Her stomach clenched with disappointment. He wasn’t interested. She didn’t think he’d missed her signals. He wasn’t that clueless. She also didn’t think she’d misread him, an hour ago. He’d stared at her like he wanted to rip her clothes off and take her on the sand. Now that she was naked, he turned his back.

She waded toward the shore, stunned. She wasn’t a vain woman, and she didn’t consider herself irresistible, but she’d never been rejected before. When she offered a man her goodies, she expected him to jump on it.

To her chagrin, tears flooded her eyes. She felt vulnerable and exposed. She was trembling with embarrassment as she rose from the water. She chose her footing carefully on the slippery rocks along the bank. As she bent to pick up her panties, a centipede scuttled across the fabric. She hopped back and let out a little shriek of surprise.

He looked over his shoulder. “What...”

The question trailed off as he got a full frontal view. Before she could cover herself, he jerked his head the other direction. She donned the damp panties, flustered. Then she slipped into her stained, wilted dress.

“You did that on purpose,” he said.

“Did what?”

He turned to face her, his neck flushed. “You know I want you,” he said through clenched teeth. “You know you have a beautiful body, and I was already aching for a taste of it. Now I have to deal with that mental picture every time I close my eyes?”

She gaped at him in disbelief. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You think I planted a centipede to flash you? You’ve lost your damned mind.”

“You didn’t have to scream.”

“Screw you,” she said, still shaking.

He threw his hands out, frustrated. “I can’t!”

She didn’t ask him why not, though the question was on the tip of her tongue.

He tucked his knife into his belt and picked up the nylon bag. After a few deep breaths, he seemed to collect himself. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m on active duty. We aren’t two survivors who just happened to get stranded together. I’m a SEAL, and you’re a civilian. You were kidnapped because you were mistaken for my client. I have to treat you the same way I’d have treated Maya O’Brien.”

“That’s crazy.”

“It’s reality. I take my professional responsibilities very seriously.”

“But you’re not my bodyguard! I didn’t hire you.”

“I have ethical obligations, regardless. I took an oath to assist my country and its citizens in the event of an international emergency or terrorist attack. There’s a strict code of conduct on the clock and off. I can’t touch you.”

“You already have,” she said, remembering the kiss on the beach. He’d called a halt to that encounter, but he’d also started it.

He dragged a hand down his jaw, unable to dispute her.

“Look, it’s cool. I get what you’re saying. You don’t want to take advantage of the situation, because we’re not partners. We’re not equals. You’re a big-shot SEAL, and I’m a helpless baby bunny.”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

She held her palm up to halt any further explanation. “I appreciate you being on the level. Now I know where we’re at.”

“You’re twisting my words around.”

“And you accused me of screaming for attention.”

Instead of getting more defensive, he gave in, conceding her point. “That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

She accepted his apology with a stiff nod. He tossed his wet shirt over his shoulder and picked up the nylon bag. Apparently the conversation was over. They walked away from the waterfall in silence. Now she understood why he’d been keeping his distance, but she didn’t feel any better. She didn’t want him any less. They were stuck here in this wild place, and they couldn’t even do what felt natural.

When they got back to the beach with the storage chest, he handed her the bag of taro and chestnuts. The cushions were still a little damp, but the towels and clothing were dry. He carried most of their new gear through the cave and back to the shelter. Then he picked up his spear and headed to the tide pools.

While he was gone, she roasted the chestnuts and boiled the taro root. The turtle shell worked like a charm. He returned from the hunt empty-handed, which didn’t surprise her. If he thought they were going to feast on crab and lobster every night, he was going to have to manage his expectations better.

After dinner, she ducked behind a tree to change her clothes. The T-shirt was soft and cozy. It covered her from neck to midthigh. The bikini bottoms weren’t quite the right size, so she adjusted the string at each hip.

They sat in front of the fire for at least an hour. She watched the flames flicker. He worked on another spear, his head bent low. Then it was time to turn in. He placed the deck cushions on top of the bamboo pallet. The life jackets doubled as pillows. She crawled in next to him with a towel for a blanket.

The shelter was warmer and more comfortable, but sleep was as elusive as ever. She’d overreacted earlier. She’d asked him to be honest with her, and he had been. He’d said he was aching for a taste of her.

How was she supposed to ignore the heat between them, knowing that? They shared a sleeping pallet. She couldn’t avoid his company, or turn off her desire. She also couldn’t deny her feelings for him. They were depending on each other to survive. He’d been caring and supportive. She’d opened up to him about her grandfather. Their connection went deeper than physical attraction, and that made him even harder to resist.

He shifted beside her, equally restless. “I do think of you as a partner,” he said. “You’re not helpless. I value your contributions.”

“I know. I was just mad.”

They were both silent for another moment.

“I didn’t scream on purpose,” she said.

“I know. I was just...stupid.”

She smiled at this apt descriptor.

“I meant what I said about treating you with respect and acting like a professional. But it’s more than that. I feel like I let you down.”

“How?”

“I let you get kidnapped.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” she said, speaking from experience. She’d blamed herself for her grandfather’s death for fifteen years. It was the nature of witnessing an accident you couldn’t stop.

“It’s my job to protect you.”

She sighed, but didn’t argue.

“Also, I don’t have any condoms.”

This practical concern gave her pause. She hadn’t even thought about it at the waterfall, and she’d always insisted on safe sex.

“You’re not...on anything?”

“No.”

He let out a pent-up breath. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You went to the bar without any condoms?”

“I wasn’t planning to meet anyone. Then I saw you.”

“What were you going to do when we got back to your cabin?”

“I was praying I had one in my luggage. I couldn’t remember what I’d packed.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I thought you’d be prepared.”

“In my defense, it was supposed to be a work trip.”

They smiled at each other in the dark. Her heart twisted inside her chest. She reached out to hold his hand. He took it, twining his fingers with hers. They couldn’t act on their desires, but they didn’t have to be at odds. They could still be friends, and partners.

“You didn’t let me down,” she said. “You’re the reason we’re alive right now.”

“You’re the reason we’re not starving.”

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

Chapter 11

He slept later than usual and woke up groggy.

For the first time in a week, or however long they’d been stuck together, he wasn’t eager to rise and shine. The shelter was downright cozy with the new cushions. Cady was cuddled next to him, her hair a fluffy cloud of dark curls. He was warm, but he wasn’t comfortable. His knee ached from overuse, and he had a raging hard-on.

A vivid mental picture of her naked body sprang into his mind. He’d seen everything. Every inch of her, sleek and supple and dripping wet. Her perfect tits, topped with ripe brown nipples. Her flat belly and gently curved hips. The sweet little triangle between her thighs. He hadn’t lied when he said he was dying for a taste of her. Maybe he was just hungry, in general, but she looked delicious.

Smothering a groan, he got up and climbed out of the shelter. He studied his ravaged hands in the harsh daylight. Even if he had the privacy to take care of his own needs, there would be no physical release for him until his palms healed. These blistered, cut-up mitts would feel like sandpaper.

She emerged from the shelter, stretching her arms over her head. She was wearing that soft T-shirt, with the new bikini bottoms. Both garments flattered her curves. She joined him by the smoldering ashes, yawning. When she walked away, his eyes followed her ass. She bent over the water bucket to fill a coconut shell cup.

He returned his attention to the fire, poking it with a stick. He didn’t think she was trying to tease him. It was just that they’d spent every moment together since the kidnapping. They’d become comfortable with each other. She wasn’t self-conscious about her body, and she often seemed unaware of his gaze.

The chemistry was still there, of course. She’d proved that yesterday.

He hadn’t expected her to issue such a blatant invitation. He’d thought sex was off the table for the duration of this adventure. When she’d given him that come-hither look, her breasts half-exposed, he’d almost swallowed his tongue.

It had been so hard to turn his back. So hard.

They had bananas for breakfast, as usual. He only ate two. He didn’t want bananas. He wanted something else, and he wasn’t going to get it.

“What’s on the schedule for today?” she asked.

His mind swam with pornographic images. He blinked them away. “I want to finish the spear I started last night, and try out that snorkel. We should build up this triangle. I also need to scout a location for a signal fire.”

“Where would you make it?”

He glanced around, considering. “A high point is ideal, but it also has to be accessible. If it takes too long to get there, I can’t light it in time to signal anyone.”

“Maybe we should conserve energy.”

It wasn’t a bad suggestion, considering how little protein they’d had. “We need to eat before we do anything else.”

“How are your hands?”

He made a noncommittal sound. They were worse, not better, but the spear he was working on required dexterity. The bandages got in the way, and kept his hands moist. He preferred going without.

She wandered off to gather wood and look for washed-up treasures on the beach while he finished his spear point. She added some rocks to her SOS triangle. He kept his head down, determined not to stare at her.

“Can I borrow your knife?” she asked.

“For what?”

“I want to make a top out of this.” She held up a narrow strip of torn canvas from the umbrella.

Instead of giving her his knife, he cut two holes in the material, where she wanted them. Then he sharpened two sticks and attached them to his spear point, forming a trident. This type of spear was a lighter, more agile tool. He stabbed it into the sand a few times to test its strength. When he was confident in its durability, he looked for Cady again. She was wearing her bikini briefs, with the canvas band across her breasts. She’d used her dress strap to secure it at the middle of her back. Her hair was neatly braided, tied with vine cordage.

He studied her with guarded eyes. She was adapting to their environment, even embracing it. She was a fighter, not a bystander. He admired that. He’d meant what he said about valuing her contributions. Having an equal partner took some of the pressure off, but it didn’t reduce the sexual tension. He couldn’t unsee her wet, naked body.

“I’m going to the tide pools,” he said.

“Can I come with you?”

He shrugged, even though he’d rather be alone. Before they left, she grabbed the nylon bag and put a few things inside it. He brought the snorkel and both spears. If he didn’t catch anything, he’d have to adjust his strategy. Maybe he’d make some basket traps. That meant putting off his other projects, because providing food was the top priority.

He was hungry. Always hungry. The gnawing emptiness had become his constant companion, along with unfulfilled desire.

As soon as they reached the tide pools, he stripped down to his boxers. They rode low on his hips. He’d probably dropped a full pants size. He was leaner than he’d been in years. Life on this island had robbed him of everything but muscle and bone.

Her hands met his shoulders, spreading cream on his skin. “You need sunscreen. You’re already burnt.”

Although her touch discomfited him, he allowed it. When she came around the front to put sunscreen on his face, he clenched his jaw in irritation. It was awkward as hell, being treated like a little boy while fighting a very adult male reaction. He jerked away before she was finished and picked up his trident.

He was being rude, but he needed space. He strode toward the water, taking ragged breaths. He couldn’t stop fantasizing about those soft hands on his erection, stroking up and down. She was too familiar with him, too physical. Although he understood the basic desire for human contact, he felt like a pressure keg. If she wanted to touch someone, she was going to have to touch herself.