by catjohnson
“Oh, my God. Four miles. We’re going to be stranded on this tiny island forever and no one will ever find us. Then we’ll die.”
“Gillian.” Her eyes glazed over with fear. She wasn’t listening anymore. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair. “Some of the Channel Islands are this small. It’s a good sign. It means we may be just where I hope we are. We could be less than sixty miles off the coast.”
“Sixty? Without a working engine on the boat it may as well be six hundred.” Her voice rose.
“Shh. It’s going to be fine.” He held her closer.
“You keep saying that.” Muffled by his chest, her voice shook.
“Because it’s true.”
“You don’t know that.”
Her whole body began to tremble beneath his fingertips. The other girls had all broken down last night while Gillian had stood strong. He’d suspected it was only a matter of time before the stress got to her. That time had come. He held her tight as she gasped against him.
When she finally quieted, he pulled her far enough away so he could look directly into her tear-stained face. “Tomorrow you can go back to worrying if you want, but tonight you and I are going to feast on steak and champagne. Okay?”
She dragged in a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“Put some more sunscreen on. Your nose is getting red.” Jamie tapped the tip of her nose with one finger.
Fresh tears welled in her eyes and her laugh contained a tinge of hysteria. “No fresh water, but plenty of sunscreen. Great. At least if we’re going to be stranded and die from lack of water, we’ve got all the niceties.”
His heart broke for her. He’d never let them die on this island. His survival skills were good enough to keep them alive as long as it took for them to be rescued, but she was obviously frightened. He conjured a smile and worked to keep things light. “I agree. There’ve never been more fortunate castaways than us.”
She still looked doubtful.
“Gillian, we’re going to be fine. I promise.” They’d just have to make the best of the time they were there. Thoughts of the condoms in his drawer helped him flash an actual smile for Gillian before he pushed his bawdy desires aside, for the moment anyway. “Come on. I smell rib eye steaks burning and I prefer mine cooked rare.”
Being the non-drinking designated driver at a party could be a bummer, but being the only person sober among a group of drunken castaways on an island could be an even more trying experience. Jamie was part lifeguard, part parent, making sure no one drank themselves into alcohol poisoning or drowned when they tried to go skinny-dipping.
Then again, it did offer some entertaining moments. Watching both Brandon and Reilly get shot down when they tried to hit on the two bridesmaids was one of the highlights of Jamie’s evening. So was having Gillian, tipsy and tired but definitely not stupid-drunk, fall asleep on his shoulder as they sat on a blanket a safe distance from the fire pit. He had to admit that a signal fire could be just as romantic as any other.
He smothered the guilt for wishing they’d been stranded here alone, instead of with the wedding party. It was important for Gillian to have her sister near her. They needed each other now, but he really liked the idea of having her all to himself.
Visions of stripping Gillian out of her clothes and making love to her on that blanket ran through his head. Glancing at her face beneath the flickering light of the flames, he sighed. Smart, beautiful, caring, and hot as hell. How had he gotten so lucky that she’d even looked twice at him? Forget about the fact that she actually not only liked him, but was attracted to him physically too.
Thinking of the few blissful minutes he’d enjoyed being inside her had him hard again, not for the first time that day, in spite of the trauma of being stranded. His cheeks heated, and it wasn’t from the nearby fire, when he thought about getting hard when she’d cried in his arms. Men like Brandon and Reilly were the kind that got turned on by hysterical women. Apparently, he was just like them. Though it wasn’t just any woman. It had been Gillian in particular.
Jamie needed to get her to bed. Tomorrow would be a big day for everyone. He would figure out where they were, once and for all. That would entail using the navigational charts and compass onboard now while the stars were still visible in the night sky and he could use them for a reference point. It had been a long time since astronomy club in high school. He hoped he hadn’t forgotten everything he used to know. Then tomorrow he had to either find fresh water or begin plans for making and storing it, just in case.
As much as he hated to do it, he had to get up. He jostled the warm bundle at his side. “Gillian.”
She stirred and snuggled closer, making him grow harder. Jamie smothered a curse. How easy would it be to crawl into bed with her and forget all about his responsibilities? He doubted Gillian would mind. They’d practically set the bunk on fire with sparks from the chemistry between them before the storm hit.
Damn storm. “Gillian. Time to go to bed.”
Groaning, she shook her head. “Comfortable here.”
“I know, but you’ll be more comfortable in a real bed.” So would he, with her, but that wasn’t in the cards for tonight.
Finally, he got a sleepy, slightly inebriated Gillian upright. He threw another log onto the fire then steered her toward the yacht. He grabbed one of the flashlights he’d found earlier and lit their way to the stairs.
Down below, he put her to bed—his bed again since Rob and Julie seemed to have drunkenly claimed her room as theirs. Not that Jamie was complaining. In fact, it gave him more incentive to get done what he needed to so he could climb beneath the covers with Gillian, even if it was just to sleep.
Wishing his hard-on would go away, he pulled the covers over her. She’d dropped her shorts and shirt, and crawled onto the mattress in just her bra and underwear. That was enough to have him throbbing.
“I’m going up top to do a few things. I have to take the flashlight with me. Will you be okay here?”
The light from the fire came through the porthole so she wouldn’t be in total darkness, and he needed the flashlight to navigate his way in the interior hallway.
“Are you coming back?” Even with the sleepiness obvious in her voice, she still wanted him there with her. Though that was probably more from fear than desire. He couldn’t blame her. The whole situation was scary, which made it even more inappropriate when he had to wrestle his mind away from thoughts of Gillian, his bed and those condoms in the drawer.
Jamie pushed a lock of hair from her face. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”
Eyes closing, she nodded. “’Kay.”
As Gillian drifted back to sleep with soft steady breaths, Jamie let himself out of the stateroom and crept down the hall. The unmistakable sound of what he would really like to be doing now came from inside Rob and Julie’s room.
Cringing, he hurried past. Not only did he not want to be a pervert and listen to his best friend having sex, the noises brought to mind thoughts of doing that with Gillian and nearly had him turning back around to go be with her. There was no time for that now. He had things to do.
He’d located some navigational charts during daylight. Now, up on deck with compass, charts and flashlight laid out before him, Jamie prayed he’d be able to determine where they were. More, he hoped they were exactly where he suspected.
Chapter Seven
Gillian came into consciousness slowly as things began to fall into place. The storm. The island. Jamie.
He lay pressed up behind her now, snoring softly. She could get used to waking up next to him.
The effects of the champagne began to hit her, and she swallowed away the dryness in her throat. Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, as if she hadn’t brushed her fuzzy-feeling teeth in days. She didn’t remember brushing them the night before when Jamie had put her to bed so it really had been a full day. She’d have to go to her own stateroom and get her toothbrush.
Then the oth
er reality crept back into her mind. The water situation. Terror gripped her and she couldn’t lie still any longer, even if she was enjoying being near Jamie. She slipped from beneath the covers carefully so she wouldn’t wake him and got out of bed. She located her shorts and shirt and pulled them on.
Gillian crept down the hallway lit only by the sunlight streaming down the staircase, and made her way to the galley. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and tried again not to panic. Eight people. Only a week’s worth of bottled water. She pushed down the fear building inside her.
The water was barely above room temperature as it slipped down her parched throat. The fridge had already begun to lose its chill. Holding her breath, Gillian opened the freezer and quickly tested the temperature inside with her hand before slamming the door shut to keep what little cold air remained inside. The leftover meat was in there. They’d have to eat as much of that as they could today before it spoiled. The lettuce, berries and melon in the produce drawer of the fridge wouldn’t last much longer either once they got warm.
Then what?
She began a thorough search and inventory of the remaining cabinets. They were packed with cans and bottles, but nothing they could survive on for the long haul. Peanuts. Potato chips. Caviar. Cocktail olives and onions. Vodka. Vermouth. They could set up a hell of a martini bar, but as far as feeding a group of eight for an undetermined amount of time? Not so much. They would have been better off stuck on some fishing trawler than on this rich guy’s yacht. At least then, she’d have hope for large stores of corned beef hash or canned ham. Something of substance that wouldn’t rot in the heat.
Rob had been planning on pulling into port during the week so they could refuel and pick up fresh produce. That wasn’t happening now.
“Good morning.”
Gillian jumped, startled by Jamie’s voice behind her. She turned toward him. “Hi.”
He took one look at her face and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“My pitiful poker face gave me away again?” She forced a smile as he came closer and ran his hands up and down her arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
“Yeah, though I’m thinking it might work to my advantage in a game of strip poker.” He waggled his eyebrows and made her laugh. “Seriously, what’s the matter?”
“The freezer’s already getting warm. We’ll have to finish off the meat and fresh fruit and vegetables before they go bad. The only other stuff here…” She swept her hand to indicate the open cabinets and let out a big sigh of frustration. “Let’s just say we could host a nice cocktail party, but that’s about it.”
“I told you, I can find us plenty to eat. In fact, I’ll make you a full meal of island bounty today just to prove it to you. Okay?”
Seaweed and some strange mollusks? Yummy. Her face must have shown her distaste.
Jamie rolled his eyes. “It won’t be that bad.”
She eyed the cabinets. Perhaps if she ate Jamie’s island gourmet cuisine after some vodka. “Okay.”
“You don’t believe me, but that’s fine. You’ll see.” He shrugged.
“I guess I will.” Or starve. She tried to hide that thought so he didn’t think she was ungrateful for his effort.
Jamie leaned past her and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge for himself. “Did you find more bottled water?”
“One unopened case in the cabinet. That’s it.”
He glanced out the galley’s porthole. “There are dark clouds on the horizon. I’m going to set up some fresh water catches before I head out exploring.”
Her stomach twisted. “You don’t think you’re going to find water, do you?”
His gaze locked on hers. There was regret in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure I won’t. I didn’t get a chance to tell you, you were sleeping when I got back to the stateroom, but I did some work last night and now I’m fairly certain I know where we are.”
“Where?” Her fear of his answer warred with her desire to know.
“San Miguel Island. It’s part of the Channel Islands National Park. The good news is we’re only about fifty-five miles off the coast of Ventura. The bad news is, if I remember my facts correctly, there’s no fresh water on San Miguel.”
“Oh, my God.” Her hand found the counter for support.
Jamie reached out and smoothed the frown from her brow with his thumb.
“There’s nothing to panic about, Gillian. Given where we are, we won’t be here that long. They’ll be looking for us and there’ll be ship traffic nearby. Most of the other islands not part of the park are heavily developed and there’s a big military presence in this area.” He laughed. “We’re just lucky this isn’t fifty years ago. The military used to use this island for bombing practice.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “That’s comforting.”
“Bad joke. I’m sorry.”
Gillian shook her head. “It’s okay.”
“Wanna help me?” Jamie raised a brow and waited.
Fifty-five miles to the mainland and no fresh water source. She sighed. Keeping busy could only help take her mind off his supposed good news. “Sure, I’d love to. How?”
“Did you find any large pots or containers in here? We can use the tarp I saw up top, and even some of the rain slickers onboard. I’ll set them up to catch the rainwater and funnel it into catch basins. We can store it for later in case we need it.”
So much for his confidence in the fact they’d be found soon. If he was setting up a way for them to catch fresh water, he was getting them ready for the long haul.
Gillian swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I found a bunch of ice buckets.”
He laughed. “That figures, considering all the champagne onboard. They’ll work. Speaking of champagne, I guess no one else is awake yet after the amount of alcohol I watched being consumed last night.”
“Yeah, I think they’ll all sleep for a while.” Not that they’d be much help anyway. She and Jamie would handle what needed to be done. Stomping down the fear, Gillian headed for the cabinet where she’d seen the silver buckets.
With Jamie’s knowledge, they all just might survive this thing. She couldn’t let herself believe otherwise.
Chapter Eight
“It’s so ugly.” She pressed her lips tightly together, as if to block the entry of anything unpleasant between them.
Jamie couldn’t hide his smile at Gillian’s expression. “Then close your eyes.”
It would be too easy to get lost in those eyes, so he wrestled his attention back to the task at hand, getting Gillian to eat.
Nearby, the dance of the natives stranded with them continued as the others consumed more steak and, of course, alcohol, which only made for more idiotic behavior. Jamie had purposely positioned their little picnic meal away from them so they could have privacy. Julie was upset, afraid they wouldn’t get rescued in time for the wedding, which meant Rob was upset too. He was with her inside her stateroom, so Jamie and Gillian were on their own with the feast he’d harvested for them.
The furrow between her brows deepened. “Are you sure it’s edible?”
“Yes. Not only is it edible, sea urchins are prized in certain parts of the world.” Figuring he needed to distract her, he launched into all he knew about sea urchins. “The best time to gather them is at night under a full moon.”
Her gaze darted to the luminescent orb above them. “Like tonight.”
He smiled. “Like tonight. Some islanders drizzle them with olive oil and a dash of vinegar.”
Luckily for him, the galley was very well stocked. As he spoke, he did what he described, preparing the raw sea urchin he’d opened for her with the oil and vinegar. With a kitchen towel wrapped around his left hand to protect him from the spines, he used the tines of the fork in his right to lift out the colorful little sections of flesh. He didn’t dare elaborate and tell Gillian the edible part was actually the hermaphroditic creature’s gonads. Some things were better left unsaid.
“What do you do for a living?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re stalling.”
“No. Well, yes, but I really am curious. You know more about everything than anyone else I know.”
“I know a little bit about a lot of things. That doesn’t mean I know everything about everything. I’m a professor in the anthropology department at the University of Chicago. Since we’re playing question and answer, what do you do?”
“I’m a boring old accountant.”
“You’re not boring or old.”
“I’m so boring I had three years worth of vacation days stored up because I never do anything or go anywhere. That turned out to be lucky, though, since I’ve used them so I could help my sister with the wedding.”
“Lucky indeed. Now enough stalling. Are you ready?” He held the fork up.
She wrinkled her nose. “You first.”
Jamie sighed dramatically while rolling his eyes and was rewarded with a smile from Gillian. He slurped down the custard-like fish then licked his lips. “Mmm. Good. Your turn now.”
Gillian watched him closely, as if waiting for him to keel over or blow up like a balloon.
“I think you’re lying to me about how it tastes.” She squinted at the small pile of spiny creatures he’d caught.
“Only one way to find out.” He picked up another urchin, prepared it the same way he had the first and lifted the loaded fork.
She hesitated a beat and then her lips parted and she waited for him to feed her. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the golden food enter her mouth. His eyes never left her while she swallowed. Then her pink tongue appeared and licked those luscious lips and he had trouble swallowing himself. “Good?”
“Not as bad as I thought.” She shrugged.
“Glad to hear it.” He finally remembered to pull his hand with the fork back from her. “Ready for some kelp salad?”
Gillian laughed. “Sure. Why not.”
Earlier, he’d made a dressing for the sea kelp with ingredients he’d found in the galley, and then put the salad into bowls. She took it now, poking at it with another fork. “It looks kind of normal, I guess.”