Save the Last Dance: The Ballerina Bride / Invitation to the Boss's Ball

And then one night after a performance, when she’d been too hyped up to sleep, she’d switched on the television and clapped eyes on Finn McLeod, and that had been that.

Teenage crush. Big time.

Except most teenagers didn’t get the opportunity to do anything but stare at a poster on their bedroom wall. If they were lucky, they might catch a fleeting glimpse of their crush outside a theatre or a TV studio. They certainly weren’t offered the chance to spend a week alone with him on a desert island.

And there lay the problem.

Crush and opportunity had collided, and now she was reaping the consequences. Unfortunately, sleep was nowhere to be found and in the silence and darkness consequences were hitting her fast and hard in the middle of her forehead.

She breathed out slowly and lay very still.

She’d done it now. There was no going back. She’d have to live with those consequences. Even the fact that Finn McLeod thought she was a hopeless substitute for the hot tennis player who should have been lying beside him in the shelter instead of her.

In the midst of all the doubts and fears swirling inside her, something happened. Something small hardened. A tiny seed. A kernel of determination and perseverance. The very thing that had helped her survive ballet school and the early days of the company and had rocketed her to where she was now.

She’d show him. She’d ace every task, follow every instruction to the letter.

Come morning, she’d show Finn McLeod—and the surly cameraman—exactly what she was made of.

CHAPTER FIVE

A NOISE startled Allegra from a shallow sleep. She’d been dreaming of being made to walk a tightrope over a deep, dark chasm, only the tightrope had morphed into an endless succession of bamboo poles. Somewhere below her she’d heard Finn McLeod, urging her to jump, telling her he’d catch her, but he’d been hidden in the darkness. She’d had no idea where he was or how far down she’d have to fall before he saved her, so she’d just kept walking the bamboo poles until her feet had throbbed and her soles had bled.

She sat up quickly—too quickly—to rub her feet and check they were okay, but the unexpected discovery of a heavy hiking boot where she’d expected to find tender flesh meant she jammed one finger backwards in an awkward direction and had to stifle a yelp of pain.

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. Those boots made her feet feel like foreign objects. Heavy and dull and stiff. None of the clothes she was wearing—bar her underwear—were her own. Not the cargo trousers stuffed into her backpack or the shorts, vest top and beige long-sleeved shirt she was wearing now. The decision to come had been so last-minute and she’d had nothing remotely suitable in her wardrobe, so the production company had kitted her out. Sparsely.

Consciousness returned enough for her to glance around and orient herself—not that she had totally forgotten where she was. The poles beneath her were a too-constant reminder for that.

She was alone in the shelter, and outside it was light. Not too bright, but definitely light. Carefully, very carefully, she bottom-shuffled her way to the edge of the shelter and peered out.

Oh, wow.

This morning the beach looked a totally different place. The sand that had seemed a dirty beige yesterday was now a shimmering pale gold, and the churning grey sky had melted into the soft blue of a baby’s blanket. She was still cold, though. They’d made their camp at the fringes of the jungle, where sand and earth met, and the long shapes of the trees reaching down the beach meant the shelter was still shrouded in shadow.

Her legs were as stiff as if she’d done three performances of Swan Lake back to back, and they creaked as she swung them over the edge of the shelter’s sleeping platform and let the weight of her boots pull her feet downwards onto the sandy earth.

She stretched a little—an unbreakable habit from her training—stood up and walked away from the shelter, further down the beach, wondering where her fellow castaways were. There were footprints in the sand leading off to the right and then curving towards the jungle, but none coming back the same way.

She was completely on her own. Nobody to tell her how to behave or think or even move. There was a whole beach of virgin sand, swept clean by the morning’s tide, waiting for her. She could lie down and make sand angels if she wanted, or cartwheel down to the shore and plop into the sea.

She didn’t, of course.

After staring at the vast expanse for a few seconds, she turned and followed the footprints, placing her feet carefully inside the larger dents in the sand.

She hadn’t paid too much attention to her home for the coming week the evening before. Too busy trying to get the shelter up to worry about the scenery. Their camp was on a wide strip of sand that filled almost all of a gently curving bay with low rocky headlands at either end. At the left edge of the bay, maybe only thirty feet out to sea, was a small island. Well, a large rock, really. But its top must have been above the high tide line because a small tree grew on top, giving just enough shade for some scrubby grass to flourish underneath.

Away from the shore, the land was covered with dense green vegetation, and rose gently until it peaked in a rocky hill. Not exactly mountainous, but with the lack of any other geographical features, it seemed enormous.

It struck her that she didn’t even properly know where she was—except the surf on the beach was the Pacific and the nearest land mass was Panama.

She stopped walking and turned on the spot. Where had Finn and the cameraman got to?

Even though the rising sun was now starting to warm her face she shivered. Her clothes were still damp from the night before and her stomach was very, very empty. It was beautiful here, to be sure, but she had a sudden overwhelming sense of her own vulnerability.

She was saved from pondering a slow and nasty death from starvation by a crashing sound. She’d reached the end of the tracks in the sand now, where they disappeared into the undergrowth, and before she could decide whether she should freeze or run, Finn burst through the bushes and was standing before her, dragging what looked like half a dead tree behind him. Dave appeared a few seconds later, puffing and muttering things under his breath that she was glad she couldn’t hear.

‘Great! You’re up,’ Finn said, and smiled at her.

She nodded, suddenly unsure of what to say. The whole of the English language was at her disposal. All she had to do was pick a word. And what did she do? She nodded. Pathetic. But there were too many words. There was too much choice, and faced with so many overwhelming options she’d backed away and chosen nothing.

‘First things first,’ Finn said, marching back towards the camp, obliterating his own footprints as he went. ‘We need to build a fire and get warm, and we need to worry about food and water.’

Worry? Allegra almost laughed out loud. When did Fearless Finn worry about anything? He seemed to be glowing with strength and health and confidence this morning, as if the night battling the elements had revitalised him somehow.

She sighed and scurried after him.

No wonder the TV cameras ate him up. No wonder a whole army of women back home had linked themselves on the internet through blogs and social networking sites and referred to themselves as ‘Finn’s Fanatics’.

But the camera didn’t catch all of him. It didn’t catch the raw energy that pulsed from every pore, the sense that anything and everything could and would happen around him, even—as the show’s tagline hinted—the impossible. It definitely didn’t catch the way his throwaway smiles turned a girl’s knees to chocolate.

Allegra flicked a look across at Dave. While she’d been admiring the rear view of Finn dragging the tree across the beach, he’d trained the camera back on her.

She wanted to growl. Instead she swallowed.

Cameras might not catch all of Finn, but she knew they were very good at catching all sorts of things that people didn’t think they’d given away, and the last thing she wanted was the camera noticing her noticing Finn. That would be far, far too humiliating.

Finn watched carefully as Allegra struck his knife on the flint he’d given her. Not even a spark. And there wasn’t likely to be one if she kept stroking that knife against the flint. The fluffed up coconut husk underneath would never catch light. It was her first go at something like this, though—that much was obvious—so he bit his tongue and sat back on his haunches and watched. For now. She’d get it eventually; she just needed to find her own rhythm with it.

Far from moaning about being cold and damp this morning, she’d hardly said a word. She’d just stared at him with her doll’s eyes, listening intently to every word that had dropped out of his mouth about tinder and kindling and fuel, and then she’d helped him gather exactly the right stuff, no further guidance necessary. And when he’d explained how to build the fire, she’d watched and then reproduced, following his instructions to the letter.

Far from being a diva, this little ballerina was turning out to be a pleasant surprise.

The only thing lacking now was a spark.

She paused her efforts and glanced up at him, a questioning, slightly panic-laced expression in her eyes. It was the first time that morning he’d seen her show any emotion at all.

‘In the wild places of this planet, fire is everything,’ he said quietly, and her eyes grew the tiniest bit wider and rounder. ‘Without fire, we couldn’t survive. We need it to purify the water, to cook, to provide protection and warmth. I’ll give you plenty more opportunities to learn, but for now I think we’re cold enough for me to take over.’

She blinked and her chin rose an almost imperceptible amount.

Finn let a half-smile pull one side of his mouth upwards. A little bit stubborn, too, this girl. Good. She’d need that if she was going to pass the challenges this week would bring—especially the final surprise challenge he put all his celebrity guests through in the new programme format.

She handed the knife and flint over to him and he set about starting the fire.

‘Actually, there’s one thing that’s even more important than fire in survival situations,’ he said.

The coconut husk was smoking now. He picked the ball of fluff up and blew on it gently, coaxing the flame to life. Making a fire took practice, but it also took instinct—knowing exactly the right time to trust the almost invisible sparks to do their job, when to blow, how hard and for how long.

A tiny orange flame sprang from almost nowhere, and he turned the ball of fibres in his hand, letting it grow, and then he placed it gently on the fire pit they’d created and starting stacking the kindling around it. He couldn’t help himself; he had to smile. He always got a kick out of this, no matter how many times he did it. He glanced up at Allegra and found her smiling back at him.

At least, he thought that was Allegra. The soft, barely-there smile completely transformed her, lighting up her face more than the growing flames could have done.

Ouch.

He dropped the twig he’d been holding and sucked at his fingers. The flickering heat had got a little too close for comfort. That didn’t happen very often any more. He obviously hadn’t been paying proper attention. Time to get back to the subject in hand.

‘More than anything—more than survival skills, plant knowledge, physical strength or navigational ability—the thing that keeps us alive out here where mankind doesn’t normally dwell is spark.’

‘Spark?’ she said, lines in her forehead banishing the curve in her mouth. ‘Isn’t that the same as fire?’

He shook his head as he shuffled back and reached for some larger branches and put them on the fire. ‘No. I mean the spark inside. That something…that flicker of human spirit that keeps us from giving in, that keeps us struggling for the next breath. If you’ve got that, you can survive against the odds, even if you are stuck in alien territory.’ He shrugged one shoulder. ‘The survival training makes it easier, but with spark nothing is impossible.’

She nodded, but she didn’t look very happy about what he’d said. In fact, that eager, open look she’d been wearing since they’d crouched down to build the fire disappeared.

‘You mean something like soul?’ she said quietly, her eyes fixed on his face.

‘That’s it.’

She looked at the sandy earth beneath their feet. And then she stood up and walked a few paces further down the beach and looked out to sea. Her arms came around her front and she hugged her elbows tightly.

Hmm. Maybe this compliant-seeming woman had more of the touch of the diva about her than he’d first imagined. He shrugged to himself and chucked another log on the now roaring fire. He wasn’t pandering to it, though. She’d have to learn that quick-smart as well.

‘The next important thing to do is to get dry,’ he said over his shoulder. And then, just because he couldn’t resist, ‘It’s a real morale booster.’

She twisted her neck to look back at him, and then she turned and walked up to the blaze, extending her arms until they were rigid and flexing her palms back.

Finn gave a chuckle. ‘You’ll spend all day trying to dry those clothes like that.’ And then, as the little ballerina’s eyes grew the roundest and bluest he’d ever seen them, he began to strip off.

Well, it seemed her prophecy that anything could and would happen when Finn McLeod was around hadn’t been far off the mark. Allegra wasn’t sure whether to pull up a metaphorical chair and enjoy herself, or slink off into the shelter to protect them both from embarrassment.

A low, rumbling snort from behind her caused her to yank her head round. Dave was finding it all highly amusing as he caught every millisecond of her double-edged reaction with his big zoom lens. Oh, how she was learning to hate that object!

She turned her back on both man and camera. However, this meant the only other view open to her was Finn and his rapidly diminishing wardrobe. His shirt was already on the ground, revealing a broad and rather finely muscled back, and he had turned his attention to his boot laces. Allegra swallowed. After that the only items left would be his trousers and his—she gulped again—underwear.

She stood frozen to the spot, unable to move, unable to look away.

Why was she reacting like this? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen her fair share of unadorned male bodies in her line of work. And she’d certainly watched enough episodes of Fearless Finn to know that he had no compunction about getting naked if the situation called for it, but there had always been a little bit of post-production wizardry that had fuzzied out the…um…essentials. She suddenly missed that fuzzy square very much indeed.

Finn was out of his boots now and had pulled his trousers down to his knees. The sight of his thighs made Allegra’s mouth go dry.

He paused and looked up at her. ‘Come on, then.’ His cheeky grin turned her already parched tongue to sandpaper. ‘You’ll go mouldy if you stay in those damp things.’

He stepped out of his cargo trousers and picked them up, along with his shirt, and then hung them out on one of the large bushes that circled their camp, making sure they were stretched out wide and facing the roaring fire.

Her heart rate began to slow a little. He was stopping at his underwear—at least that was how it looked for now. Part of her was relieved, but the other part? Well, it just…wasn’t.

Once Finn had finished arranging his clothes on the bush he turned back to her. She discovered she was clutching at the front of her light cotton shirt, pulling the edges towards each other, even though it was still buttoned up.

What must she look like?

A timid child? A complete prude? Certainly nothing like the kind of impulsive, free-spirited woman who would appeal to Finn McLeod. The kind of girl who would smile back at the gorgeous hunk of man who had nonchalantly got half-naked beside her and was inviting her to do the same. The kind of girl who already had claimed his heart, she reminded herself.

Finn jerked his head towards the sparkling pale green shallows. ‘I’m going to wash off the helicopter, the storm and anything else that might be clinging to me,’ he said. And then he bounded off down the sand and threw himself into the surf.

Well, she couldn’t stand here getting damper and sweatier and smellier by the second, could she? If there was one thing she wanted—besides Finn McLeod—it was to feel clean again, and her island home was fulfilling every fantasy she’d had about it this morning. The sky was a painful crisp blue, the sand the colour of vanilla ice cream, and the sea…

Oh, how she wanted to feel that cool azure water on her skin, feel it gently stroking her limbs, easing her tension away.

She didn’t allow herself to question what she did next. She just followed Finn’s lead, threw her shirt and trousers on the nearest twiggy bush and, after a moment’s hesitation, she peeled her vest top off, too, and hung it beside them.

The funny thing was she was used to stripping off frequently when there were quick costume changes backstage. Nobody had time to be shy then, and she honestly hadn’t thought twice about it. She’d just done what had needed to be done.

But she wasn’t in the wings or in a dressing room now.

And Finn wasn’t one of her colleagues, used to seeing limbs and torsos as merely the machinery of his art.

She pulled herself tall and started walking towards the shore.

How strange. In her world, her lean muscles and understated curves were considered perfection, were envied even. But out here in the real world she was considered about as voluptuous as an ironing board. Dave’s comment last night about Anya Pirelli had made that patently clear.

Perhaps that was why she’d been overcome by an uncharacteristic bout of shyness. Even though she knew it was impossible, that she knew he was already taken and just wouldn’t look at her that way, a tiny contrary feminine part of her had wanted to impress Finn just a little bit with her toned limbs and graceful lines.

But Finn wasn’t anywhere to be seen once she reached the water’s edge. He’d obviously dived under. Allegra took the opportunity to submerge her body completely, even though the beach shelved gently and the sun-kissed water was only a couple of feet deep.

She closed her eyes for a moment, before walking herself deeper with her hands.

Oh, this was bliss. Perfect, perfect bliss.

When her fingers struggled to reach the bottom she opened her eyes again and began to swim, desperately, desperately trying not to notice if Finn had resurfaced or where he was.

It was no use, though. Even if he hadn’t found her, if he hadn’t burst from the water beside her, grinning, water running down his neck and shoulders, dragging her gaze to his powerful torso, she’d have known exactly where he was. The knowledge thrummed though her and made her legs shake. Unfortunately, this little mermaid was undergoing something of a species change. When Finn McLeod was around she was part woman, part jellyfish.

She let her quivering feet float to the bottom and made a pretence of washing herself, cupping her hands and scooping up the salty water before throwing it over her shoulders and back, and hoped fervently that her thumping heart wasn’t making little ripples in the chest-deep water that Finn might notice.

Finn didn’t notice.

He rolled onto his back and let himself float face up, his eyes closed, and kept himself steady with the odd flap of one of his outstretched hands.

‘Isn’t this perfect?’ he asked quietly.

Allegra stopped washing and stared at him. She couldn’t help smiling herself as the warm sun beat down on her shoulders and the cool water lapped around her.

This man, he was so utterly different from her. He got the urge to do something and he did it, no matter if it was crazy or dangerous, or both. He didn’t dither and second-guess himself. He made split-second decisions in high pressure situations and his gut instinct was always right. She let her breath out slowly, hoping his ears were far enough below the surface not to hear the ragged longing in it.

She held it again when his eyes popped open and he swivelled his head to look at her. She found an answering smile curved her face.

‘Yes, it is,’ she replied softly, looking right at him. ‘It is perfect.’

The rest she left unsaid.

Finn clambered over a rock and then turned and thrust out his hand for his celebrity shadow to grab. ‘Not far now.’ He pulled her up onto the ledge he’d jumped up onto, then turned to look towards the summit of the hill. ‘Once we’re at the top we’ll be able to get a better idea of the lie of the land.’

Allegra didn’t answer. Her chest was moving rapidly and she put her hands on her hips.

It hadn’t been easy going on their trek to the island’s highest point. The hill itself was nothing compared to what he was used to climbing, hardly more than a bump, but the closer they’d got to the centre of the island, the denser the jungle vegetation had become. Even for him it had been tiring.

She’d kept up, though. Had hardly even slowed him down.

It had been Dave who’d done all the moaning, despite the fact the glorious morning had meant the rest of their small crew had been able to join them and he was now guaranteed something a little more comfortable than bamboo to bed down on that night.

Allegra, however, had done everything he’d thrown at her without a murmur. She hadn’t even complained about the insect bites that were popping up all over her skin, and Finn was now hastily revising his earlier conclusions about this ballerina. Her training must be a lot more rigorous than he’d imagined, because the girl had stamina. And guts.

As for blowing away in a stiff breeze? Well, he was starting to suspect it’d take something akin to a typhoon to uproot this woman if she set her mind to staying put.

A few more feet and they were standing on a broad flat rock, partially covered in yellowish grass, that marked the island’s highest point. He sucked in a lungful of air. Wow. The view was stunning. He glanced over his shoulder at the crew, hoping Dave and the extra cameraman were getting some good shots.

He’d known the location of the chain of islands they’d be visiting for this episode, but other than that he knew very little about this particular spot. It had been a conscious decision on the part of both him and the production team to leave him out of the location-scouting process. That way he really had to think on his feet and use all his skills when he reached his destination. As a result, this was his first chance to see just how big the island was and what natural features it was graced with.

Allegra was standing a few feet away, turning slowly on her heels, her eyes practically popping out of her head.

‘Can’t beat this,’ he said.

She shook her head solemnly. And then she looked right at him and gave him one of her rare smiles. Something about it reached down inside of him and he felt something like a champagne cork popping. He started to fizz with energy.

He could see it in her eyes—that she was sharing the adrenalin rush with him—that her pulse was quickening and the blood was rushing in her ears, and it reminded him of what it had felt like the first time he’d seen a view like this. How he’d been literally breathless. Somehow, knowing she was having the same rush, that first sweet taste of adventure, intensified the experience for him, too. Doubled it.

He ran to the edge of the large rock, where it rose up slightly and then dropped away suddenly for maybe forty feet into the jungle, and then he stood on his tiptoes, threw his hands out wide and yelled into the wind.