Agatha’s foot hit her ankle and Charlie forced her head up. She purposefully tried not to look at the incredible specimen beside Harry.
The tubby man didn’t so much as crack a smile. “We’ll see about that.”
Swallowing hard and fixing a smile on her face—the one she reserved for the cameras—she rose and offered a hand to Harry. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Mr. Bournmouth. I’m really excited about us working together.”
He took her hand and then dropped it again, his grip limp and sweaty.
“Hmmph,” the man said, his gaze immediately leaving Charlie’s face to flick down to her breasts. She wished she’d worn something a little less revealing than the light yellow, strappy sundress, and fought against the compulsion to wrap her arms across her chest. “I guess you’ll make good television,” he said. “I don’t want any of those big, kaftan type outfits though. It’s skimpy bikinis, cut off shorts, and crop tops only.”
Charlie’s cheeks flared afresh. Surely this guy wasn’t telling her the only reason she’d been chosen to appear was for her body?
At least it means you’re going somewhere hot, a little voice in the back of her mind whispered. She gritted her teeth at her own internal monologue. Even her sub-conscious was shallow.
“I can be practical as well,” she insisted, wanting to be noticed for more than just a tight waist and a good rack. “I once put together a television stand when my handyman let me down.”
She felt the eyes of the beefcake on her.
Harry’s eyebrows bobbed up and down, one corner of his thin lips twitching.
“Impressive,” he smirked.
Charlie balled her fists by her side, resisting the urge to slap the smug prick.
Agatha stepped in. “Don’t worry, Harry. Charlie will wear whatever is needed.”
“I’m not getting naked on camera,” Charlie muttered and was rewarded with another narrow-eyed glare from her agent.
“No, of course not,” Agatha said, a warning tone to her voice. “I’m sure that isn’t what Harry meant.”
The two women glared at each other, but Harry didn’t confirm or deny his position.
“Well, since we won’t have much need for furniture in the wild,” said Harry, “this is Tyler Janson, ex-Marine and the man who will be in charge of your safety for the next five days. He will, of course, be off camera, but he’ll advise you in basic survival techniques and be there for you should you get into any trouble.”
Finally, Charlie forced her attention to shift to the man she now knew was called Tyler. Her insides melted; even his name was sexy.
Tyler fixed her with serious, dark eyes and extended a hand. “Ma’am,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. He held her gaze for too long, as if staring right into her and reading her thoughts. Her insides dissolved into a puddle of mush and her legs went weak. She thought if she took his hand, she might actually melt.
She forced herself together and took his hand. A complete contrast to Harry’s, this man’s grip was firm, warm, and dry. The sheer size of him made her own hand appear tiny, like a child’s, and with her five-feet-two inch frame, he towered at least a foot over her. He could literally pick her up and sling her over his shoulder.
She shivered at the thought. Her eyes traced from the back of his hand, up to a strong wrist and well-defined forearm.
Wherever the production team decided to land her, she’d be alone with Tyler Janson.
The stage would be set for her even before they landed—with remote cameras placed, some of them hidden, all around the area. The final setup was basically like a Big Brother house, but somewhere remote, and of course she wouldn’t have the luxury of housemates to chat to. She’d hoped by the fact they’d flown her to Singapore that it would be somewhere hot. If she was in a five star hotel in Alaska right now, she might be worrying even more. Suddenly, since Tyler’s arrival, Harry Bournmouth’s suggestion of bikinis and short-shorts didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
No, no, no, she reprimanded herself. No men. All they did was sell their story to some crappy tabloid and break her heart. Since the last time, when a guy she’d trusted actually took photographs with his camera phone of her sleeping naked, and the next thing she’d known, she’d woken up to find them plastered everywhere, she’d sworn off men. That sort of scandal was the last thing she needed right now.
Tyler lowered his chin and cleared his throat, and Charlie suddenly realized she was still holding his hand. She dropped it.
“Oh, crap!” she exclaimed and then immediately covered her mouth with her hand. She really needed to learn how to stop her thoughts coming directly off her tongue.
“So,” continued Harry, “we’ve chartered a small plane to take you out first thing tomorrow morning. There will be a camera crew with you on the flight, but they’ll be leaving you at your location. As you know, the idea of this thing is that it’s just you, surviving alone.”
“Except for Mr. Janson,” she said in a hurry.
“Call me Tyler, please,” the other man said, his eyes never leaving her face.
She swallowed, hard. “Tyler, of course.”
“Yes, Tyler will be with you the whole time, but you’ll be given a number of situations where you’ll be expected to act alone. The audience wants to watch you struggle, not watch you have everything done for you by someone else.”
“No, of course not,” she said. Did he actually think she was stupid? “I’m more than capable of helping myself.”
He looked her up and down and said, “Hmmm. Anyway, although Tyler will be edited out of the show, except for at the very start, you must always do as he says. He’s in charge of your safety, so if he says jump, you jump.”
Was it her imagination, or did she just see the ghost of a smile on Tyler’s face? If so, it was the first she’d seen so far. Did he like the idea of getting to tell her exactly what to do?
A frisson of excitement burst inside her, rippling through her body, at the idea of him bossing her around. Clearly it had been far too long since she’d had a man.
“So if everything’s in order then ...” said Agatha, taking charge, “we’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Of course,” said Harry.
She gave Tyler a small smile, and he nodded at her in response. The two men turned to leave, Charlie watching Tyler’s tight butt move inside his jeans, the muscles beneath his shirt rippling as he walked away. She waited until they’d vanished out of view and then collapsed on the wicker couch.
“Charlie?” Agatha’s voice was stern.
“What?”
“No screwing the staff.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, trying to sound innocent, but heat rushed to her cheeks once again. Why did her body always have to betray her?
“Don’t give me that.”
She shrugged. “He’s really not my type.”
“What, tall, dark, and ridiculously buff? He’s everybody’s type! Even Harry would probably do him, given half the chance.”
“Anyway,” she said, trying to appear innocent, “there are cameras everywhere.”
“Don’t give me excuses, just tell me you’ll keep your hands off him. I saw the way he looked at you too. He’d clearly jump you if he had the chance.”
“Really?” She couldn’t help the little hint of hope in her voice, but Agatha shot her down with a glare.
“I mean it, Charlie! This isn’t about your sex life, it’s about getting the rest of your life back on track. Don’t mess this up!”
Chapter Two
The next morning, she stood by the hotel’s reception, her suitcase and a small backpack at her feet. Her eyes felt gritty and she suppressed a huge yawn with the back of her hand.
She hadn’t been able to sleep the previous night.
Despite the ridiculously huge bed, with its crisp white sheets and numerous feather pillows, she hadn’t been able to stop her mind racing. Outside the balcony windows, cicadas had chirpe
d loudly, and below that the air conditioner had hummed.
She’d tossed and turned, bashing down her pillows with her fist, trying not to look at the digital display of her clock, which counted down the minutes until her alarm went off at six a.m. She’d known she needed to be fresh for the morning, but every time she’d glanced at the clock, the number of hours of sleep she’d be getting kept getting smaller, and oblivion hadn’t come. It had been her last night in a comfortable bed for almost a week and she had barely slept. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
She’d been instructed only to bring what would fit in the backpack—the same sort she’d take if she was out on a daytrip. Despite this, she’d been told she needed to vacate her room. Promises that the rest of her luggage would be put in storage had followed—the show wasn’t prepared to fork out five nights for a luxury hotel room just to house her belongings.
In a few hours, she’d be deposited in some remote area with only Tyler Janson for company. The thought made her shiver. She remembered his intense eyes, the cut jaw with just a hint of dark stubble, the sheer size of him. How would it feel to be held against that body, to feel so small and fragile and curvy in comparison to his broad, hard plains?
Charlie forced the thoughts away.
She had dressed in khaki shorts and a black tank top. The shorts were short enough to show off her slender, tanned legs, and she’d chosen a top that would look the part while still managing to show off enough cleavage. Funnily enough, she no longer cared about the film crew catching her with too little clothing, but instead cared about what Tyler Janson would make of her outfit. On her feet, she wore a simple pair of flip-flops. She’d pulled her blonde waves up into a ponytail which sat high on her head.
She wished she could have brought her phone or iPad, but she’d been instructed that no electrical equipment was allowed. She had to rough it with none of the securities of contact to the outside world or any other entertainment.
Charlie tapped her foot, pursed her lips, and checked her watch. Where was everyone? They should be here waiting for her, not the other way around.
Movement drew her attention, and Agatha came rushing across the foyer from the elevator, looking flushed and harried.
“Sorry, sorry!” she declared, holding both her hands up in surrender. “I know I’m late.”
“It’s not like you to sleep in,” said Charlie, taking in her disheveled state.
“Sorry,” she said again.
Only a minute later, Harry Bournmouth appeared. “Good morning, Agatha,” he said, his eyes flicking down the older woman’s body.
Agatha flustered and preened under his attention.
She looked between them and the penny dropped.
Oh God, no. Charlie’s stomach churned and she had to physically stop herself from wrinkling her nose in disgust. It was too early for those sorts of thoughts and she hadn’t had anywhere near enough coffee. Gross.
She looked around hopefully for Tyler, but he was nowhere to be seen. Her stomach dipped in disappointment. He has to be coming. He’s supposed to be looking out for me.
“Where’s ... umm ...” She wasn’t sure what to address him by. “Mr. Janson?”
Harry gave a dismissive wave of his stubby hand. “Oh, he’s already gone to the airfield. He needed to do some checks on his equipment before they loaded up, or something like that.”
“Oh, right,” she said, hoping she seemed as though she was enquiring out of politeness sake rather than particularly interested in his whereabouts.
The hotel had called them a cab, and it waited outside.
They climbed into the vehicle, Harry up front in the passenger seat, Charlie and Agatha in the back.
Charlie drummed her fingers on her thigh.
“Nervous?”
“Huh?” She glanced over at her agent.
“You seem uptight.”
“Unlike you,” she quipped. “You seeming particularly relaxed. Get up to much last night?”
Agatha laughed and smoothed her hair. “Oh, you know me. I kept busy.”
“I’m sure you did,” she muttered. Hypocrite. And after telling me not to screw the staff!
The city sped by, and before long the cab pulled into a small private airstrip. The plane was tiny, only one engine and seating no more than eight, not including the pilot. Her stomach churned at the idea of getting on such a small aircraft.
Standing at the bottom of a set of metal stairs leading up to the cabin, Tyler waited, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He held his shoulders back, his square chin raised. A large backpack was strapped across his back.
They walked across the airfield toward the plane. Tyler’s eyes scanned down her body, and she felt herself pull back her shoulders and suck in her already tiny stomach.
“Tyler,” Harry said, extending a hand toward him. Tyler shook his hand but his eyes didn’t leave Charlie. Excitement raced through her afresh. Was he checking her out so openly? She didn’t think she’d ever had a man regard her with such intense concentration.
“They’re not going to be any good,” he said with a frown, looking down to her footwear. “Don’t you have anything sturdier?”
That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. She thought he’d been checking her out, not criticizing her outfit.
“Umm,” she said, heat rising to her face. “I have some workout sneakers.”
He gave a curt nod. “Those would be better.”
“But won’t my feet get hot?”
“If we have a lot of walking to do, you’re going to prefer to have hot feet than ones covered in blisters, insect and snake bites, and sliced to shreds by rocks.”
“Oh, right.” Her cheeks colored again. Wow, this guy had a way of making her feel like a useless twelve-year-old. She quickly pulled off her bag and changed her shoes. Knowing Tyler probably wouldn’t approve, she unclipped one of the straps of her bag and hooked the flip-flops onto the front of her rucksack. Despite what he said, she still thought she’d need them.
Movement diverted her attention away from Tyler’s hot body and cool comments. Three people strode across the runway toward them—two men and one woman. Charlie recognized the woman as Ella Dresden, the presenter and commentator for Celebrity Survivor. Every time Charlie screwed up on the show, Ella would be the one who’d point it out to the several million people watching.
From the equipment the two men carried, Charlie assumed they were the camera and sound man.
Ella was also blonde, like Charlie, though older, in her early thirties. She wore too much make-up, something Charlie suspected she must have done for the cameras—her clear skin and bright eyes not needing all the foundation and mascara. The other woman approached with a smile and a confident stride to her walk. Her smile widened as she caught sight of Charlie and spread further at the sight of Tyler, though she showed none of the self-conscious spluttering Charlie had displayed upon meeting the ex-Marine.
“Miss Charleston,” she said in a warm tone, her hand extended. “How lovely to meet you. I’m Ella Dresden.”
Charlie smiled, suddenly a little awestruck. “Yes, I know.” She shook the other woman’s hand. “It’s great to meet you, too.”
Ella’s eyes flicked to the producer, her smile fading. “Hello, Harry,” she said, her voice somewhat cooler.
Immediately, Charlie felt herself warm to Ella.
Harry gave her a curt nod. “Ella.”
Clearly there was no love lost between them. Charlie wondered what had happened. Had Harry tried to hit on the presenter, only to be swiftly knocked back?
Ella turned her attention back to Charlie. “So, are you ready for all of this?”
Charlie grimaced. “As I’ll ever be.”
Ella’s gaze ran over Tyler’s big, hard body and her eyebrows arched, a glint in her eye. “It looks like you’ll be well taken care of.”
Charlie deliberately tried not to look at Tyler. “Yeah, I hope so.”
“Well, as I’m sure you already know
, we won’t be landing with you, but I always do a pre-drop off interview on the plane, and of course the camera crew will want to film your initial reactions.”
“But the rest of filming will be hidden cameras,” she confirmed.
“That’s right. Only Mr. Janson will be accompanying you from the plane.” She looked to Tyler and gave him a nod, which he returned.
Charlie’s stomach churned, for more than one reason. A couple of things the presenter said ran back in her mind. “Hang on a minute. What do you mean you won’t be landing with me?”
Harry stepped in. “You see, Charlie, you’ll be parachuting from the aircraft.”
She raised her hands in defense and shook her head. “Oh, no. Definitely not. I don’t even really want to go up in that thing, never mind jump out of it.”
“You’ll be perfectly safe. Tyler has done this a hundred times before.”
She suddenly realized the thing she had assumed was a backpack strapped to his shoulders was actually the parachute—the only thing between her surviving and plummeting to her death.
They wouldn’t allow it, she told herself. It must be safe. The show would be shut down if they lost a celebrity doing one of these things.
She finally allowed herself to look directly at Tyler. “Is that true?”
His dark, serious gaze fell on her. “Of course. You won’t need to do a thing. I’ll strap you against me, and I’ll be the one who does the jump.” For the first time, a hint of a smile played on his full lips. “You’ll simply be along for the ride.”
The way he said that sent a shiver running through her, condensing deep at her core. She imagined being strapped against his hard body, his chest and hips pressed tightly against her back ...
Her agent’s voice broke her from her reverie. “You’ll be perfectly safe, Charlie.” Agatha gave her a stern glare. “Stop making such a fuss.”
“I don’t see you offering to jump out with me,” she shot back.
“I’m not the one everyone wants to see.”
“Yeah, the one everyone wants to see make a fool out of herself,” she muttered.
Dangerous Encounters: A Romantic Suspense Boxed Set Page 24