Deserted Island, Dreamy Ex!

by Nicola Marsh

  ‘Pros?’

  His fingers dug into the straps anchoring his backpack, the thought of Kristi anywhere near some of the sleazebags he’d toured with making him want to punch the nearest tree.

  He only just caught her mumbled, ‘More like amateurs.’

  He should leave well enough alone, had no right to delve into her past. But some curious demon egged him on, demanding answers he knew he wouldn’t like.

  ‘Old boyfriends?’

  ‘Old fiancés.’

  Her feet picked up speed while he stood rooted to the spot, shock ricocheting through him.

  ‘Whoa!’

  She stopped, turned, her face in shadow. ‘What? You need a rest already?’

  Broaching the short distance between them, he whipped off her hat.

  ‘What I need is to hear more about these fiancés, plural?’

  She shrugged, her expression carefully blank. ‘I was engaged. Twice.’

  She said it as if she’d been to the grocery store, twice, as if it was of little importance, a mundane occurrence, as boring as picking up a loaf of bread.

  While he still reeled from the shock she snatched her hat out of his hand, rammed it back on her head.

  ‘Any other questions?’

  ‘Why didn’t you go through with it, both times?’

  He held his breath. What was wrong with him? Did he expect her to say because of him? Did he want her to?

  That would be a bloody nightmare, something he couldn’t bear to have on his conscience: that she’d once cared so much for him she couldn’t go through with a marriage to another guy.

  ‘You really want to know why?’

  She flipped the brim back on her hat, raised an eyebrow in challenge, as if taunting him to admit the truth.

  That while he wanted to hear her answer, it also terrified him.

  Squaring his shoulders, he nodded. ‘Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.’

  Staring directly into his eyes, she said, ‘With Avery and Barton, I mistook caring for love. And I’d never settle for anything but love. An all-consuming, blinding, passionate, no-holds-barred love.’

  The scoffing sound he made had her smiling, a smug, patronising smile, as if she pitied him.

  ‘Let me guess. You don’t believe in it.’

  ‘Damn straight. No such thing.’

  Shaking her head, she said, ‘I’ve seen it firsthand. Believe me, it exists.’

  And he’d seen the exact opposite firsthand: a bitter, twisted version of the embroidered emotion love, the likes of which still left him reeling and avoiding it at all costs.

  He waved away her explanation. ‘Where? With your friends? People think they’re in love, go all soft and soppy, spouting it to anyone who’ll listen, but behind closed doors they probably hate each other’s guts and take it out on those around them.’

  Something in his voice must’ve alerted her he spoke from experience as he silently cursed his wayward tongue.

  This was about her, damn it, not him.

  ‘You never talk about your past.’

  Yep, she’d honed in on the one area that was off limits, to everyone.

  ‘There’s a reason why it’s called the past. It needs to stay there.’

  This time he kept walking, leaving her standing in the dust, but not for long. He should’ve known she wouldn’t give up so easily.

  ‘My parents had the perfect marriage.’

  ‘No such thing as perfect.’

  He didn’t break stride, ignoring the twinge of guilt as she all but ran to keep up with him.

  ‘Their love was amazing. Eyes only for each other. Totally besotted. It’s the type of love I want.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ he said, all this talk of love and marriage almost as unpalatable as the thought of her loving two jerks called Avery and Barton enough to want to marry them.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘Any special someones over the last eight years?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Too bad.’

  He heard the underlying hint of glee in her tone, stopped and faced her.

  ‘You sound happy about that.’

  ‘None of my business.’

  She waved a hand in front of her face, as if shooing a fly.

  ‘Bet you would’ve been jealous if I had been.’

  The amusement in her eyes faded, her mouth drooped. ‘We’ve already established I cared back then. What do you want to do, ram the point home?’

  ‘Hey, I was joking.’

  He laid a hand on her arm and she shrugged it off, stepped away.

  ‘Yeah, that’s you, a regular joker.’

  She stormed ahead, leaving him more bewildered than ever.

  Women.

  If they didn’t have to reach the top of this hill to complete the hiking challenge and do a bit of preening in front of the cameras, he would’ve headed back to camp.

  As he contemplated doing just that a scream pierced the air and his heart stopped as he saw the most infuriating woman on the planet go down in a heap ten metres ahead.

  ‘Krissie!’

  His knee gave a protesting twinge as he dumped his backpack and sprinted to where she’d gone down in an ungracious crumple. ‘You okay?’

  Sending him a withering glare, she winced as she moved her leg.

  ‘Do I look okay?’

  ‘Here, let me help.’

  ‘Don’t touch it!’ She screamed as he reached out to assist her up.

  ‘Your knee?’

  ‘Ankle,’ she snapped through gritted teeth, pain twisting her mouth, her face pale.

  ‘I need to check it out.’

  ‘Let me guess. You can add medico to your many talents.’

  ‘That’s Dr Malone to you,’ he said, relieved when his lame humour elicited a wan smile. ‘Where does it hurt?’

  ‘Here.’

  She pointed to the outside of her ankle, sporting a sizeable swelling already.

  ‘Can you point your foot?’

  She managed some degree of movement, cringing. ‘Hurts like the devil.’

  ‘Side to side?’

  She cried out as she inverted her foot, made a grab for it and he stilled her arm with a touch.

  ‘You’ve strained your lateral ligaments.’

  His fingertips traced the swelling, gently probing, as he watched her face for reaction. ‘Not broken, thank goodness.’

  ‘Bet that would’ve sent Elliott’s ratings skyrocketing.’

  ‘Stuff the ratings. I’m more concerned about you.’

  ‘Careful. Concern could be confused with caring. And we both know you don’t do that.’

  ‘You’ll live.’

  He released her ankle, ready to spring up and flee as he usually did when emotions entered the conversation.

  But something in her expression, an underlying vulnerability, a valiant bravado as she struggled to hide her pain, had him sinking back down to sit beside her, his heart sinking along with his body.

  He’d known it would come to this.

  All his denials, to her and himself, stood for jack in the face of this woman and what she brought to his life and what she made him feel.

  ‘What do you want me to say? That you’re right?’

  He threw his hands up in the air in surrender. ‘Fine. I care, damn it, I care. Happy now?’

  ‘Getting there.’

  Her radiant smile reached out to him, touched him in a way he’d never thought possible.

  ‘Admitting that doesn’t mean—’

  ‘Shut up, Malone.’

  She placed a hand over his mouth, her palm begging to be kissed. ‘Quit while you’re ahead.’

  What was it about this woman that made him forget everything, made him forget why he couldn’t feel, made him forget the pledge he’d made all those years ago?

  As her hand slid from his mouth, along his jaw, and came to rest on the back of his neck before she tugged him forward and plac
ed a soft, tender kiss on his lips, he knew.

  She made him feel like a better man.

  When he was with her, everything seemed brighter and shinier and lighter. It had been like that between them eight years ago and not much had changed.

  The connection they shared was way beyond physical attraction; exactly why he’d done his best to deny it.

  What if he didn’t fight so hard?

  Would that be so terrible?

  ‘Stop thinking so much.’

  He smiled against her mouth, eased away to stare into her sparkling blue eyes. ‘Shouldn’t that be my line?’

  ‘No, your line is “where do we go from here?”’

  ‘Right.’

  Despite the banter between them, she’d honed in on what he was thinking.

  Where did they go from here?

  They had one night and one day to survive on the island, before back to reality. Was he prepared to start a relationship when he knew it couldn’t go any further than casual dating? Would Kristi be up for that?

  Her admittance of feelings for him first time around and her recent revelation of waiting for the perfect love should be enough to make him swim back to the mainland.

  It didn’t need to be so complicated. He’d be upfront from the start so she’d be under no false illusions. They’d date, have fun, nothing too heavy.

  But what if she didn’t go for it?

  ‘First up, we go straight back down this mountain so I can tend to that ankle.’

  Her eyes narrowed, not buying his brush-off for a second. ‘How exactly do you propose to get me down there? Piggyback?’

  ‘One better.’

  Before she could argue he swept her into his arms, hoisting her in the air as he stood.

  ‘Put me down, you great macho idiot. You’ll ruin your knee!’

  ‘I’ve been lifting weights ten times heavier than you,’ he said, tightening his grip behind her knees as she started wriggling. ‘And quit that, otherwise I’ll drop you, you’ll bruise your butt, and I’ll have to tend to that too.’

  Her mouth opened, closed, her lips compressed while her eyes sparked rebellious fire.

  ‘You’re enjoying this.’

  ‘Damn straight.’

  He couldn’t look her in the eye, what with her face—and lips—within kissing distance, so he tightened his grip under her knees and concentrated on making it down the hill with his precious cargo.

  To give her credit, she stopped wriggling and tightened her hold around his neck and for a crazy second he wanted to hold her like this, protect her, cherish her, for ever.

  See, he knew admitting he cared was a dumb idea. Now he’d acknowledged the chink in his emotional armour, who knew what else he’d be forced to admit?

  Such as how dating would be fun but being truly involved, emotionally invested, could change his life.

  ‘You can put me down now.’

  Distracted by his worrying thoughts, he’d made it down the last of the incline and reached their huts.

  ‘Not ’til I get you in bed.’

  Her choked sound had him chuckling. ‘So I can tend to that ankle properly.’

  ‘No need to clarify. I knew what you meant.’

  Bumping the door to her hut open with his butt, he backed into the one-room abode, careful not to hit her head on the way through.

  He paused on the threshold, his chest giving a painful twinge at the irony of holding this woman in his arms as he crossed into a room with the intention of getting her to bed.

  ‘Don’t worry, there were no vows involved.’

  Another thing that scared him. She could read his mind, always could, seemed to know him better than he knew himself.

  ‘And there never will be, not in this lifetime,’ he said, crossing the sparse room to gently deposit her on the bed. ‘Now sit tight while I grab some ice.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  She saluted, her eyes twinkling, her mouth curved into a tempting smile and, suddenly, that ice wasn’t a bad idea. Not for her ankle though. There were parts of him in desperate need of cooling.

  ‘Lucky there are no cameras in here,’ he said, rummaging through the mini freezer for ice, wrapping cubes in a tea towel and heading back to the bed.

  ‘Nothing to do with luck.’

  She winced as he elevated her foot with a rolled towel and settled the ice pack over the swelling. ‘Having cameras out there for a few hours a day is bad enough. No way would I have done this if they were in my face twenty-four-seven.’

  She shuffled forwards, rearranged the pillows behind her back, before sagging against the headboard. ‘I’m not some media hound who loves the attention.’

  ‘And I am?’

  Shrugging, she plucked at the horrible brown chenille bedspread. ‘There must be other ways to get publicity for the centre. Maybe you miss being in the spotlight?’

  Silently cursing, he stood, started pacing the room, belatedly realising she was studying his every move.

  Dropping into a chair nearby, he crossed his ankles, leaned back, hands clasped behind his head, his posture deliberately relaxed when nothing about this situation was remotely relaxing.

  He didn’t want to discuss how much he missed the spotlight or why. Kristi was too perceptive, too good at seeing right through him, and if he gave her a glimpse into his insight who knew what she’d uncover?

  ‘You’re in PR, you know what grabs kids’ attention these days. Media. Social networking.’

  ‘Hence our blogs and Twitter. Yeah, I get that. But why this? Why you? There must be directors and counsellors and any number of staff who could raise the profile. What do you get out of it? And don’t tell me it’s the prize money, because a hundred grand would be pocket change to you.’

  The truth hovered on the tip of his tongue before he swallowed it, the lingering urge to unburden a sign of how close he’d come to blowing it.

  She couldn’t learn the truth, not all of it.

  ‘Nothing too complicated. I just wanted to squeeze as much free publicity for the centre as possible. You know how much prime-time TV ads cost. Worth every second I’m here.’

  ‘Very noble of you.’

  Her eyes narrowed, assessing, and, while she didn’t probe further, he knew by the astute gleam she hadn’t entirely bought his story.

  ‘Speaking of the cameras, we need to do a Twitter update. I’ll grab my phone.’

  Eager to escape, he strode to the door.

  ‘Jared?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  With his hand on the doorknob, he paused, glanced over his shoulder, surprised by the vulnerable edge to her voice.

  ‘Thanks for taking care of me.’

  Thanks for caring about me, was what she really meant and, with a terse nod, he bolted.

  Twitter.com/Stranded_Jared

  Admitting the truth can’t be good.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Stranded Survival Tip #10

  Don’t hang a ‘Sex instructor: First lesson free’ sign on your hut.

  KRISTI’S BLOG, DAY 6

  Hiking challenge didn’t happen. Made it a quarter of the way up a very slight slope before my klutz gene kicked in and I fell. Didn’t help my pride it happened while storming away from Jared in a huff. Though wasn’t all bad. Got him to admit he cared. Shock, horror!

  On the downside, that’s another challenge I’ve fluffed so I’m two from four. For my newfound fans reading this, please don’t bail now. I need your continued hits! Keep the faith. I’m going to win this comp if I have to swim back to the mainland to do it. Maybe could feed my opponent to the sharks while I’m at it?

  JARED’S BLOG, DAY 6

  So much for plan to keep distance from Kristi. While her sprain better, she’s still hobbling around and I can’t abandon her. Cooking her dinner at her ‘place’. Will make sure she’s comfortable then leave.

  Must repeat that last word several times for good measure, for I’m having decidedly ‘un-leave-worthy’ thoughts…


  ‘YOU make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.’

  Kristi patted her stomach and Jared’s gaze followed the movement, lingered, before he leapt from the table on the pretext of clearing dishes.

  ‘I’m a man of many talents. Didn’t you know?’

  She grunted a response and he wondered what it would take to get her to lighten up.

  He’d been cheerful over dinner, flippant, had aimed for casual, fun, wanting to give her a glimpse of how good they’d once been together without all the heavy stuff they’d discussed the last few days.

  For he’d come to a decision while he’d carried her down that mountain.

  He’d already admitted he cared.

  He enjoyed being with her.

  He wanted to get to know her again, to date when they got back to Sydney.

  But how to convince her when he’d done everything in his power while on the island to hide the real him, to evade her questions, to keep up the pretence that he hadn’t changed from that young, fun-loving guy?

  He had one night left. He’d make it count if it killed him.

  While he rinsed the dishes, she wriggled around on the hard wooden dining chair, tentatively moving her ankle propped on another. Thanks to regularly changing ice packs and elevating it, the swelling had decreased significantly.

  She could probably hobble on it, but with him attending to her every whim, where was the fun in that?

  Sneaky? Too right. He liked having her dependent on him, having her ask him for help. It soothed his macho soul and went a small way to making up for the last few days.

  Another reason he wanted tonight to be special. He had no idea where things stood between them once they returned to Sydney and if the next twenty-four hours were all he had with her, if she didn’t go for his dating plan, he’d make every second count.

  Stacking the dishes on the side sink, he dried his hands, bending over to grab a tea towel to do so, and heard a muffled groan.

  Maybe she was in more pain than she’d let on. Yet when he straightened, turned, her gaze hastily shifting from his butt, he knew her sound had more to do with the tension buzzing between them than any sprain.