Authors: Olivia Starke
When Jonathon crawled from the hut he found Phoebe working hard on a fire. Morning mist clung to the ground, drifting between the trees, highlighted in spots by shafts of light from the sunrise. The air smelled of damp earth, and wood, with the astringent hint of surf. In his everyday life he rarely viewed a sunrise, unless he’d been up all night. Then it was usually with tired eyes through a bedroom window. Maybe he’d move his evening runs to the mornings, he’d developed a taste for them. Much like he’d developed a taste for the sexy brunette huddled over a stack of tinder—he’d always considered himself a sucker for blondes.
He grabbed a water bottle, wishing for something strong like coffee to get rid of the cobwebs clinging to the corners of his mind. He rinsed his mouth with the tepid liquid before swallowing several mouthfuls. “What’s the plan for the day?” he asked.
She lifted her gaze from the flint, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. Another rainy day followed by a damp humid night had left the tinder hard to work with. “Hunt for food,” she replied. “Sugar apples, coconuts, but some meat would be nice.”
“Right.” He rubbed his hand over his hair, knocking sand loose. God, would he ever get rid of it all? He’d love a good long, cool shower to wash it away. A shower with Phoebe so he could watch the soap and water make love to her skin… He cleared his throat and adjusted the waistband of his boxer briefs. The cotton had stretched, and judging by the ripped abs he now sported, he’d lost weight. “I’ll look for another snake.”
“No,” she said quickly. She wrinkled her nose in an adorable way, and tugged up the new bandeau top she’d made after he’d destroyed the first one. It had to work hard to contain her incredible breasts. “Not snake, please.”
“I’ll see what else I can dig up then. Maybe a bird or something.”
He might be able to ambush an unsuspecting bird like Phoebe had the sea gull. Jonathon had gone fishing with his dad over the years, but he’d never taken to hunting. After a few excursions to the Rockies for elk, he’d found he preferred a warm ski lodge and a warmer woman to a cold hunter’s cabin with a hunting buddy. Killing the snake had been purely accidental. He’d hacked at some limbs with his machete, trying to move through them, and the thing had tumbled out with its head neatly sliced off by his sharp blade. And he had to admit he’d squealed in a very un-masculine manner when it’d plopped onto his foot.
“Leave the main course to me,” he said.
Phoebe nodded. “Once I get a fire going I’ll gather the rest.”
Her lips were stained red by all the berries they’d already eaten, making them look utterly kissable. Unable to resist temptation, he leaned down and kissed her mouth. She tensed, and when he pulled back he saw her berry red lips set in a stern frown. He cleared his throat again, suddenly uncomfortable. She turned her attention back to the flint, and he had the feeling he’d been dismissed. Rejection was a bitter pill to swallow, so he left her alone, trying to reason she was frustrated with the fire, or the island, or sunburn, or mosquitoes. Anything except for him.
He left camp and spent the better part of the morning trying to find a solid meal. Birds chirped and fluttered overhead, out of reach. Sea gulls watched him closely, as if reading his thoughts, squawking loudly anytime he paused and looked their way. After a while he even searched for bird eggs, but came up empty-handed after climbing up to check out a couple of nests.
By the time the sun shone brightly overhead, he felt defeated enough to start looking for another snake, or even a lizard. Grubs were an option, but he hadn’t reached that level of desperation. He caught a glimpse of scales within a cluster of ground ferns, but it quickly vanished when he approached. Apparently word had gotten out about the great hunter prowling the jungle.
Jonathon snorted. Great hunter? He couldn’t catch fish when they’d camped on shore, and now he couldn’t hunt out a tiny lizard. What kind of man couldn’t provide even a meager meal? Phoebe had taken on the majority of the work, and he wasn’t proud of that.
He was a city boy and needed the conveniences of take-out and delivery to survive. Dallas had an incredible burger joint buried in a section of the city known more for strip clubs. He thought fondly of the older place which had once been nestled between more reputable businesses. He’d stumbled upon it while out with some buddies for a bachelor party. His stomach growled loudly as he imagined a juicy burger dripping with sautéed onions and cheese.
A Primitive Survival Rating of 6.2 said nothing once he’d been thrust out in the real world of survival. And it was a big slap in the face to his ego.
What he
could
do was make things awkward between him and Phoebe. Last night, they’d chatted, laughed, and made love. But at some point between last night and this morning things had gone sour between them. Another downhill track on the rollercoaster making up their relationship, and he blamed himself. Maybe he’d pushed things too hard. Or not hard enough. Suddenly he found himself analyzing and second-guessing everything he’d said the day before.
Hunger, thirst, and the heat got to him as did the claustrophobic island interior. He finally gave up and walked back to camp, finding Phoebe chewing on a piece of coconut next to a small campfire. At least she’d managed to win her battle with the damp wood. He saw the brief flash of disappointment on her face when she noted his empty hands, but remained blessedly silent on the matter. With his foul mood, he didn’t want a huge argument to add to the day.
She offered him a coconut half, and he took it with a
thank you
. The smell of it alone made him frown in disgust.
“Maybe we should head back to our old camp on the shoreline,” he suggested, anger with his failure gnawing away at him as he chewed through the coconut. “At least there we have a shot at crabs and urchins.”
Phoebe nibbled another bite of coconut, only throwing him a brief glance. “If we do that we’ll have to hike twice as far to our next drop. Plus, that’ll break the show rules. We have to stay at these drop points.”
“We’ll have an easier time with food though. I don’t think the show wants us starving.”
“Food that barely sustained us for our trek,” she countered. “We’re better off foraging for what we can here. We’ll find enough to get us by.”
His temper wavered on a razor’s edge—hunger, his failure at supplying meat, the flat tone of Phoebe’s voice. He glared at the top of her head because she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “So coconuts, a few berries, and God damn snake meat, that’s better than crabs, clams, and sea urchins?”
Her nostrils flared. She lifted her gaze, her dark eyes glittering in challenge. “What did you think this would be, Jonathon? Some flippant vacation with a woman as side entertainment? Maybe you did know about those condoms after all?”
Hadn’t they already had this fight? The words hit a sensitive place inside him, and hurt worse than it should have. His face burned, and he balled his hands. He kept his voice low, even as hers had been. “Condoms you’ve been as grateful for I think. Maybe
you
had a hand at getting them into my bag, eh? Who are you, Phoebe Heart? An actress? Some mystery woman I ran across once upon a time who’s held a grudge?” He got to his feet, dropping the coconut. “Some woman the producers found to fuck with my head?”
Some woman they paid to fuck me for ratings?
Cybil Heart was a wild woman who pandered to bad publicity, so why should her own flesh and blood be any different? The thought had all the staggering impact of a kick in the gut. An epiphany he couldn’t stomach, and he sucked down a ragged breath.
“I’m no one,” Phoebe replied. “We’re strangers. We always have been.”
Her voice had grown small, and the glitter of anger had been replaced by a sheen of tears. They pooled then spilled from her big soft eyes, tracing a trail through dirt that smudged her cheeks. He’d never been able to handle a woman’s tears. Not his sisters’, his mother’s, his nieces’, girlfriends’, friends’… He’d fall over himself trying to fix their pain. Tears were his weakness, he could be bullied and easily used by them. Phoebe’s were dangerous.
His chest squeezed until he couldn’t get air into his lungs. She looked down, looked lost, looked vulnerable and weak against the jungle backdrop. Instead of going to her, taking her in his arms, and apologizing for anything and everything he could think of, he turned his back to her and strode into the trees.
Chapter 12
It shouldn’t hurt like this.
The fight wasn’t important, yet it took several minutes to stop crying after Jonathon stormed away. Phoebe sniffed, wiping tears off her cheeks, annoyed with herself over the breakdown. Exhaustion, lack of food, and hit-and-miss sleep left her emotional, she reasoned. Anywhere else but the island, and she wouldn’t want to fall apart after seeing the anger in Jonathon’s eyes. With little effort she recalled how his silver gaze also looked while hot with desire, which was part of her problem. And she’d decided to step back and assess what exactly was going on between the two of them as soon as she’d woken that morning nestled next to him.
Goose pimples broke out over her skin, and warmth washed through her as images popped to mind of everything they’d done. How many times now had they had sex? Each time had felt wonderful, incredible—an unforgettable experience. Like she’d found some secret part of herself she’d lost, a missing piece she hadn’t even missed until Jonathon took her into his arms. Phoebe had been determined to keep it to sex, she didn’t want to consider making love to him. But with everything she felt inside—the softening of her heart, the longing, the wishing for more—could she honestly say it had stayed only sex?
Carrying a flame after a one-night fling nearing twelve years past left her at a loss. Was she really so pathetic and needy?
Or am I desperate to give Sarah her father?
She felt helpless and hopeless as she analyzed the question. Was it solely physical attraction on her part, or did she indeed hope to “hook” Jonathon and provide Sarah with what she, herself, had been denied? And had been denying her daughter since birth. How could she ever trust him with her daughter?
Their daughter.
Guilt nagged her. After spending time with him, he seemed kind and gentle, but she didn’t
really
know him. Great sex didn’t exactly tell her what kind of person he was in normal life. Even though he was attentive, patient, and saw to her needs before his own…
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. No doubt sex had clouded her judgment. God, she was so mixed up, and she questioned her mothering skills. Cybil had her good moments, which Phoebe had borrowed, but the majority was learned as she went.
Phoebe grabbed the camera off the ground, having snatched it off after the fight, and stuck it back on her head. The show would have to give her some amount of privacy. Already, they’d seen an embarrassing amount. God, she’d become her mother. Phoebe buried her face against her knees but held back a new rush of tears. She stayed like that for a long while, listening for Jonathon’s return. Birds chattered, gulls squawked, frogs and insects sang love ballads. The palm leaves rustled as an ocean wind carried over the canopy top, but barely touched her skin.
The muggy air left her sticky and wishing for a shower, even if it came from above. The dark blue sky offered no hints of rain. Phoebe shoved stray hairs out of her face, rose, and walked to a large puddle near the shelter. It’d collected mosquito larvae. Fresh water would soon be an issue if they couldn’t find another clean source, not to mention the explosion in the mosquito population at their camp. Worries she didn’t have the energy to dwell on. Using one of the drop bags she’d torn into rags, she took a sponge bath, which did little to make her feel clean. Not that simple soap and a good scrubbing would fix her woes. What she needed was thousands of miles away.
“Sarah, I miss you so much,” she said aloud, running her fingertip over her good luck bracelet. “I’m doing this for you.”
Sarah, the magic in her life that could fix anything. No matter how dire the situation, how dark the day, her daughter’s smile, her eyes, the way she laughed so easily brought sunlight to Phoebe’s heart.
Her underwear bagged and she tugged them back into place. The band of her bra had loosened too. She’d lost several pounds over the week. Before the show, Phoebe had put on ten pounds in preparation, but the weight was falling off quicker than she wanted. Back home losing ten pounds wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but here it meant the loss of needed reserves of energy.
She had to admit the shoreline did sound more appealing than being beneath the canopy of the trees. It was cooler where the breeze could reach them, while clams and crabs offered a reprieve from coconut meat. Not many protein sources would be easily found where they were, and their next drop would be at another stop within the island. They had two weeks left before they could make their way to the eastern shoreline.
She wholeheartedly agreed with her partner about wanting easier food, but she wouldn’t risk breaking the long contract she’d signed to do the show. By the time she’d initialed every page she’d felt like she’d offered up her soul. Maybe she had? Cybil often said she’d sold her soul for her music. Phoebe had offered hers for a spot on a cheap reality show.
Phoebe let out a big sigh and munched on a sugar apple. The juice slid down her chin, and she rubbed it away with her forearm. A ham and cheese omelet sounded good. Her mouth watered over the thought. She closed her eyes and lost herself to the food fantasy. Bubbly cheddar cheese oozing from the omelet center. Huge chunks of ham and green peppers mixed in. A big cup of hazelnut flavored French roast coffee on the side.
She shoved the rest of the fruit in her mouth, hating the flavor. She stared at a log, thinking about the grubs and worms the wood might provide, then dismissed the thought as quickly. She’d put bugs off until life or death demanded it.
After the meal she worked a while on the shelter, weaving a few more fronds along its walls before putting down fresh ones on the ground inside. The old ones had gotten ripped and bunched during her and Jonathon’s love play. The memory left her pussy tight; she longed for Jonathon’s arms, his lips, tongue, and hands. No one had ever driven her so crazy with lust. He had an ability to hit all her hotspots and had found many more.