Breaking the Rules (2 page)

Another incoming wave sent Claire to her knees. Her fingers grasped sand as she crawled forward to a place where the water lapped gently, then receded. She sat, shivering and licking salt from her lips, shaking her head to sling strands of hair from her face. Tentatively, she reached out “Help!” she yelled again. “Someone…help me!”

Sounds she’d taken for granted before, night sounds, ocean sounds, amplified. The hiss of the wind…the growling surf…a trickle of water alongside the place where she sat. She sensed a presence even before she heard a shuffling of feet. “Hello? Is someone there?”

“I’m here,” a man answered. “Are you okay?”

His voice sounded quiet as the distant thunder. Claire realized he stood beside her, so close she might touch his leg if she reached out. She pressed her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them. “I need help.”

“Are you hurt?”

The words came to her from eye level, indicating he knelt beside her. Claire drew back, cringing, embarrassed by her nakedness. “Please…don’t look at me.”

His laugh was short, baffled. “How could I?”

She swallowed a sob, her dignity as bruised as her skull by his comment. “I bumped my head. I…I think I’ve gone blind.”

“You’ve what?”

“I think I’m blind.” A wave lapped around her. Her teeth chattered harder. “I…I was swimming. When I came up for air, I couldn’t see anything. I still can’t.”

The man’s sudden laughter had a new fear clawing its way into her mind. Of all the people who could’ve found her, she had to get the island maniac. He might be a sadist…a rapist…worse. “I’m okay. You can go now.”

“But you’re hurt.”

Claire let go of her legs, dug her fingernails into her palms, scooted backward. “Please I’d like to be alone.”

“You’re not blind,” the man said. “We’ve had a blackout. Probably because of the storm. The entire island must’ve lost power. There’s no light anywhere.”

“But I can’t even see my hand in front of my face! It can’t get that dark, can it? We’d have to be in a cave.”

“This island’s miles from civilization. And the clouds camouflage any natural light.”

Relief swept over Claire. The lunatic made sense. She rubbed her palms up and down her thighs. “You didn’t have to laugh at me. I made an honest mistake.”

“Sorry. You must’ve been scared to death.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Mitch Talbott.”

“I’m—” Claire stopped short of speaking her name. She had stepped beyond the contestants’ boundaries, breaking a show rule. The fact that he was here, too, told her he was probably affiliated with
Eden’s
production in one way or another. That was, unless he, too, was a contestant and had wandered too far. But she couldn’t take that chance, wouldn’t risk being kicked out of the game, leaving James here alone with a harem of willing women. “Just call me Amphitrite,” she blurted. “You know, Poseidon’s wife? Goddess of the sea?”

“I think you mean Aphrodite.”

“No,” Claire said, “Aphrodite is the goddess of love and beauty.”

“Maybe so, but I seem to recall that she was born from the sea foam of Uranus’s genitals. And since you just sort of washed up here on shore—”

“I think I’d rather be Poseidon’s wife than some goddess born from the sea foam of…” Claire paused. Talking about genitals, even mythological ones, with a strange man she couldn’t see didn’t seem the wisest course of action. “Just take my word for it; the name’s Amphitrite.”

“Okay. Aphrodite who?”

Claire was too tired to argue mythology any longer. If he preferred Aphrodite, why should she care? Her mother’s maiden name popped to mind. “O’Malley,” she said

He cleared his throat again. “Well, Aphrodite O’Malley, I’d shake your hand if I knew where it was.”

“Don’t touch me!”

“Whoa! I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know that.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “It is sort of strange, isn’t it? Meeting and carrying on a conversation with someone you can’t see?”

“It’s more than strange.” Claire squinted, turning her head one direction, then another. “Have you ever seen anything so black?”

“Only Sadie.”

“Sadie?”

“My sister’s Labrador retriever. She’s as black as she is good-natured.”

Claire relaxed some. The madman liked animals. That was a good sign. And he smelled of shaving cream. Clean. Fresh. No cologne. Considering the circumstances, she guessed she couldn’t blame him for laughing. Besides, his tone, his manner, everything about Mitch Talbott suggested he was harmless and friendly. And sane. Now if she could only find her way to the palm tree where she’d dropped her suit before the electricity revived.

“So,” she said, “do you have any idea how we might get back to the resort?”

“I’m staying in one of the cabanas just down the way.”

“So you’re part of the crew?”

“Yeah…a cameraman.”

A cameraman.
Claire folded her arms over her breasts. Was he on duty or off tonight? Could he have followed her here? “Oh, really,” she said slowly. “I’m starting not to notice the cameras anymore. They blend in with the scenery.”

“Guess we’re doing something right, then. We’re supposed to try our best to stay inconspicuous.”

Claire pressed her knees together. Had he been so
inconspicuous
that she hadn’t noticed him tailing her from the resort? Had he watched her as she… “Which cameraman are you? Maybe I’d recognize you.”

“I’m the good-looking one.”

“Ah…” She laughed.
A maniac with an ego.

“If we can make it to my quarters, I might be able to rummage up a flashlight or some candles. Then you can see for yourself what I look like.” He paused for several beats before adding, “And I can get a look at you, too.”

Claire’s breath caught. Something about the change in his voice on those last words bothered her. “It’s not far, is it?” she asked cautiously. “To your cabana, I mean. When I went into the water, the crew’s quarters were right behind me.”
Could he have been right behind me, too? Him and his trusty camera?
Her heartbeat kicked up. “Where were you before the lights went out? At your cabana?”

“I was finishing up my shift.”

“So you weren’t at your cabana?”

“No, not yet. I was headed that way.”

“But you weren’t there yet?”

He laughed. “What’s with the interrogation? Do you have something to hide?”

“No, I don’t,” she fibbed. “It’s just that I left my bag under a palm tree. I need to find it.”

“You drifted. We’re a ways away now. But no one’s going to find your stuff in the dark. Us included. Let’s try to make it to my place. I’ll be happy to look at your things when the lights come on.”

She blinked. “What did you just say?”

“When the electricity comes on, I’ll be happy to look for your bag. Until then, I’m sure it’ll be safe.”

Maybe so,
Claire thought,
but I won’t.
“I don’t care.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m going to try to find it.”

“Fine,” he said, still sounding too amused for her comfort. “I’ll help you, but I think you’ll change your mind after we get started and you understand what we’re up against. If I could find a flashlight or candle, we could try to make it back to the main area of the resort. But otherwise it’s too far and risky. It’ll be tricky enough finding my place.” He paused. “Here. Take my hand.”

Sensing he reached for her, Claire leaned back. She cringed at the thought of which bare body part he might encounter if he touched her. “Wait! I mean…let me.”

“I promise I don’t bite.”

“I know that. It’s just, well, I’m claustrophobic.”
And naked.
“This darkness makes me nervous.” She lifted an arm toward the sound of his voice and came in contact with what felt like a shoulder beneath a starched shirt.
Strange beach attire.
She’d felt softer sandpaper.

“There you are,” Mitch said, taking her hand in his,

She was pulled to her feet as he stood. “Well, Mr. Talbott, will you lead the way, or should I?”

“Call me Mitch. Mr. Talbott makes me feel ancient.”

Claire felt too close to him, too aware of his deep, almost intimate tone of voice. Now it wasn’t the breeze or nerves that caused her to shiver. “You don’t sound old.”

“I’m thirty-four.”

“Ahh,” Claire said, her throat going dry. “Then I was wrong. You’re a decrepit old geezer after all.”

“So what I have here is a rebel,” he said, laughing. “You’ve sneaked off to see if you can get away with something that’s strictly forbidden by your
Eden
contract.”

“I didn’t intend to cross the line. I just needed some space. The game…it’s starting to wear on my nerves. All those strangers…the egos. I needed to get away for a while.”
And I was hoping that, instead of you, James would follow and find me in the nude.

A moment of silence stretched between them. Claire waited, feeling his presence as though it were a touch.

“I feel the same way,” he said quietly. “And I’m not one of the competitors. But risking your place in the game is one thing; risking your safety is another. You really shouldn’t swim in the ocean at night. Especially not alone.”

“Believe me, I’m old enough for a midnight swim without a chaperon.”

“No one’s that old, Ms. O’Malley.”

“I’m a very good swimmer.” The nerve-tinged sound of her own laughter surprised her,

“Good swimmer or not, swimming alone in the ocean at night, especially when a storm’s threatening, is dangerous.”

“I felt like being a little dangerous tonight.”

“Okay, then. Since you’re a daredevil…” Mitch gave her arm a tug. “Come on. Let’s give this a shot. I’ll go first since I’ve walked the route recently. Ready?”

“Lead the way.”

Claire shuffled along behind him, worrying over what would happen if he made a sudden stop and they collided, worrying even more that the lights would come back on before she found her suit. She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life, so completely exposed. The rain-tainted breeze swept over her wet skin, teasing her nerve endings. She tried her best not to shiver but couldn’t restrain the reaction. Even her goose bumps had goose bumps.

“Cold?” Mitch asked.

She flinched. “Why would I be?”

“You’re shaking. I could put my arm around you.”

“No!” Her heart jumped to her throat. “You’re imagining things. I’m warm as can be.”

She told herself she should swallow her pride, tell him she was naked, ask for his shirt. She started to do just that, but the words stuck in her throat. What did she really know about Mitch Talbott? True, she liked the reassuring sound of his voice and the solid, secure feel of his hand around hers. But for all she knew, he might very well be the lunatic she’d first thought him to be.

“So,” Mitch said, “do you like to hang out on the beach when you’re at home, too?”

“Hang out?” She swallowed, her gaze instinctively lowering to her chest. She’d hung out on a beach or two in her life, but never quite like this. “Prairie—the town in Texas where I live—is landlocked. A lake’s about the best we can do when it comes to a body of water.”

“I see.”

They traveled another few feet. “This isn’t working,” Mitch said. “I feel like I’m about to run head-on into something. I’d do better if I had both hands out in front of me. Here.” He placed her palm at his waist. “Hold on to me.”

Claire didn’t argue, though she felt ridiculous walking choo-choo style behind him down the beach. Then there was the matter of his waist. Not a pinch of fat beneath that cardboard-textured shirt. Though she told herself to get a grip, steamy pictures of Mitch’s possible appearance strolled a lazy pathway through her imagination.

A quick flash of lightning split the sky over the ocean, providing a brief glimpse of Mitch’s back. She was right—the shoulders were broad, but the body beneath was lean, almost lanky. He stood at least four inches taller than her five-foot-nine-inch frame.

Darkness again. His hair. What color was it? Dark brown or maybe black. She didn’t catch a long enough look. She told herself she shouldn’t care, anyway.

Mitch reached for her wrist, came to a halt and turned. “That was too close for comfort,” he said, his voice strained. “We shouldn’t mess around with that lightning striking so close. At least it did the trick, though. I know where we are. It’s a straight shot to my cabana.”

Claire dug her heels into the sand. “My bag. I need to find that tree.” She had the distinct feeling Mitch Talbott was counting to ten, the way her father used to do when she’d pushed him to the limit.

“Several trees line this beach. Groping around in the dark, trying to find the right one, isn’t my idea of a fun-filled way to spend the night. Or a safe way, for that matter. You hear those waves?”

As if on cue, one crashed nearby. Water swallowed her feet and rose all the way to her knees before receding. The tug of the undertow had her stumbling.

Mitch grasped her wrist tighter, steadying her. “The tide’s getting stronger,” he continued before she could answer him. Slowly he led her farther out of reach of the waves. “Our best bet is to make it to my place.”