Heart's Paradise (8 page)

He struck out to the edge of the water, the last thing he needed was to let the fantasy build to frustration. Driftwood had washed ashore, and also surprisingly, a big blue cooler, along with plastic bottles. Random refuse washed in from the populated islands. At least Jonathon hoped the cooler owner hadn’t sunk somewhere offshore.

“Might be of some use.” Phoebe walked over to the cooler and tapped it with her foot. “It’s heavy, I think there’s something inside it.”

“Might be hiding a dead body,” he joked. He cleared his throat when she didn’t respond to the jibe. “Well, the audience will probably want to be in on this.” He strode back to the hut, finding the small headbands half-covered with sand, laying near the salvaged turtle shell. Luckily they weren’t required to wear them while sleeping or during bathroom breaks.

He picked them up, brushed them off, then hit power ‘on’. Their lights popped on, they’d somehow managed to survive the squall.

He donned his. “Last night, we rode out one hell of a storm,” he narrated for the audience. “I thought for sure we were goners, but we survived. Today, we’ve found some gifts washed ashore, including a cooler that might come in handy.”

He returned to the cooler, handed Phoebe hers, and she put it on. She dropped to her knees and rocked the cooler back and forth. “It’s really heavy. I can feel water sloshing inside, but there’s definitely something solid in it too.”

Not long before leaving for the island, Jonathon had watched a movie about a serial killer who kept his victims’ heads inside a blue cooler. Perhaps loss of sleep brought the mental image vividly to mind.

Phoebe grabbed the lid then hesitated, and the fact she seemed nervous didn’t help his anxiety any.

“You want me to open it?” he asked. He started to reach for the cooler, but she batted his hand away.

“No. There was a movie not long ago… I’m sure there’s nothing in it but maybe some fish.”

Jonathon held his breath. Phoebe threw the lid open. The odor of rotting flesh hit him, and he stumbled back, covering his face with his forearm. Phoebe had turned away as well, looking ready to gag.

“Oh God, that’s rank,” he said, grateful his stomach was empty. The smell of the salvaged turtle shell wasn’t nearly as awful as the cooler.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll want this after all.” She staggered to her feet and walked away from it. “I was right, it’s fish. We’d need bleach, and I’m not even sure that would get the smell out.”

They both retreated upwind of the rotten fish as gulls swarmed in, already squabbling over the disgusting breakfast Phoebe had uncovered for them.

“I’ll make us some sandals after I finish the lobster traps,” she said when they’d returned to camp. “We’ll need shoes when we hike inland for our next drop. Why don’t you see if you can get us something to eat? Coconuts for now, then I’ll go find something from the ocean.”

He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, determined to prove he wasn’t completely useless. Granted, his partner had years more experience than he did, but nonetheless, he could find sea urchins or maybe spear a decent-sized fish for their meal.

“I’ll take care of today’s food, you can work on the traps.”

She lifted her eyebrows, an expression of doubt which set him on edge. He had learned a few things about spear fishing and come hell or high water, he’d prove it to her. He walked over, grabbed his machete, and set about making himself a decent spear. When he had a long stick sharpened to a deadly point he walked back to the ocean and waded out into the surf. He moved slowly, staring into the crystal clear water. Fish darted this way and that, too small to mess with, but they nipped at his legs.

A large gray shape swam into view, and for a split second he thought it was a shark. His heart jumped into his throat until he realized it didn’t have the right fin shape. He carefully lifted his arm, then the spear shot out in a blur—and completely missed its target. The large fish was nothing more than a silver flash as it took toward deeper water.

Jonathon growled and waded to a new spot until waist deep. The sun beat down on his skin, and he felt the sting of sunburn on his shoulders and the back of his neck. He ignored the discomfort, determined to prove himself. Another large silver fish came into view. Once more he thrust his weapon, and the fish was long gone before the spear tip ever broke the surface of the water.

“Damn it!”

He stubbornly tried for another hour, until a headache pounded in his temples, and the sun and salt felt like fire on his sunburn. He gave up his ill-fated breakfast attempts. He swallowed over the bitter lump of pride as he made for shore. They’d have to settle for coconut meat, and he’d have to deal with Phoebe’s disapproval. He dove beneath the waves, letting the warmth soothe the worst of his headache and aggravation with failure.

When Jonathon broke the surface and stood up in the shallows, he found Phoebe staring at him, her gaze feeling like the sensual scrape of fingernails on his flesh as it raked down him. She caught her plump bottom lip between her teeth as she zeroed in on his crotch. He glanced down, finding the wet fabric of his briefs left little to the imagination. His heart jumped into overdrive. With just a look she’d aroused him more than any woman had in years.

They stared at one another, trapped by the moment. A tenuous thread of desire stretched between them and he dared not move lest it snap. He wanted to cross the hot sand, grab Phoebe up, and bury balls deep inside her. Hear her high-pitched cries of lust as he drove into her over and over. The silent vow he’d made to himself hours before seemed impossible when her large brown eyes shone with the same need he felt. Jonathon took a step forward. Then two, three, four...watching her closely, wanting her to welcome him, but at the same time wishing she’d turn away and show the restraint he didn’t possess.

Then Phoebe blinked and turned her back. He deflated as disappointment and relief flooded through him. She walked over to the shade of a tree as he left the water. By the time he reached her, she already had several coconuts on the ground. She hacked off the end of one, handed it to him while avoiding his gaze, then opened one for herself. He tipped it to his lips, drinking the fluid within, letting it wet his parched throat.

“We’ll need fresh water again before long,” she said.

“I’ll get it, I saw a couple of bottles washed on shore I could use.” At least he could do one thing right today.

Chapter 6

Phoebe couldn’t shake the shame she felt with what she’d done with Jonathon.
What the hell’s wrong with me?
Sure, she’d been terrified of the storm. Since childhood they’d made her nervous. When he’d held her during the worst of the squall she’d been grateful for the security of his arms. That part she could justify. An innocent need to feel safe and protected when she was usually the protector.

What had followed was another story. Her weakness had been thrown in her face yet again. She’d always considered herself a strong and independent woman, and being unable to control her baser wants with Jonathon was an ugly thing. Being effected by his charm...fine, she could write that off to a lame love life. Raising a daughter and working long hours didn’t invite many dating opportunities. Having a great big make-out fest was something entirely different.

And who was she kidding, she would’ve gone all the way with him if he hadn’t had the sense to put the brakes on. One tiny moment to be grateful for, God knew she didn’t need to risk another pregnancy. This time she couldn’t blame youth and alcohol for rash behavior.

She shoved her hair out of her eyes. The humidity and saltwater had left it frizzy, and she couldn’t keep the layers contained in a braid or bun. With every slight shift in the breeze loose strands tickled her nose and cheeks. One more annoyance to add to the day, along with sand flea bites that left her scratching her legs.

“I can do this,” she mumbled to herself. “I’ll do it for Sarah.”

Thoughts of her daughter left her miserable in a whole different way. Phoebe toyed with her colorful good luck bracelet. She missed her child so much it hurt. A constant ache buzzing in the background of everything else. With Jonathon gone to find water, she sat down and gave into a few tears of frustration. How on earth would she spend the next couple of weeks with the man? Her fickle hormones made her a fool around him.

When he’d returned from his spear fishing attempt, the sight of him walking from the ocean, water streaming down his perfectly sculpted body, had taken her breath away. The wet boxer briefs had clung to him, an erotic thrill to the already tempting view. He’d become a god rising from the deep. A young Poseidon coming to claim a human conquest. And what an easy conquest if he would’ve taken her in his arms.

She shook the memory away as her face heated and her pussy tightened. She gnawed at pieces of coconut, watching the gulls fight over the cooler down the beach. When she finished the coconut, she decided to find something more substantial to eat in the ocean. She grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, walked to the beach, and waded out into the warm shallows.

The clear surface made it easy to see to the bottom, and she walked slowly until she found one of the black prickly creatures she was searching for. She reached down and plucked the sea urchin off the coral, stuffed it in her bag, and continued on.

Her skin grew tender where the sun had kissed it to a deep pink, and she finally gave up her quest and headed back to shore with only five sea urchins to show for her effort. She ate two of them raw, enjoying their salty sweet taste, and saved the other three for Jonathon. His larger size needed more calories. Then she set to work on her lobster traps. The weaving was meditative, and she soon forgot all her earlier troubles. When Jonathon returned, she felt almost happy as she showed him her first basket trap. He took it, turning it this way and that.

“Wow, great job,” he said.

Silly pride swelled inside her over his approval, and she shrugged, uncomfortable beneath the warm caress of his gaze. “It’ll do. I’ll finish the other one, and this evening I’ll go set them.”

He handed her a filled bottle, one of the many empty bottles washed onto the beach by the storm. She took a sip from it, finding the drink pleasantly cool.

“Thanks,” she said, handing him the cloth bag. “This is all I could find, but it’ll give you a protein boost.”

He took the bag, peeked inside, and grinned. “A gourmet brunch.” He settled on the ground across from her and popped the first sea urchin open, eating it the same way she had with his fingers. “Yum. All we need are a couple of mimosas.” He licked his lips after the first bite, and her heart rate kicked up a notch over the sight of his tongue.

Phoebe forced her attention back to her weaving, and much to her chagrin, Jonathon moved closer, watching her fingers, which suddenly fumbled with the weave, and she found it hard to concentrate.

“You’re good with your hands,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her nerve endings. Her skin prickled with his nearness. His words hinted of more than just basket weaving.

Her breathing hitched, and she cleared her throat. “I practiced this before I left for the island.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I’d say it takes some natural skill too.”

She couldn’t handle him so close any more than she could deal with the double meaning to his words. “Why don’t you look for some dry kindling? We can’t eat sushi for every meal.”

He seemed reluctant to leave, but after several long seconds, he stood, brushing his hands together. “It’s probably a lost cause, but I’ll do my best.”

She heard the humor in his voice, but she didn’t dare look up. After he left to find the tinder, she quickly finished the last lobster trap then got to work on a couple pairs of sandals. Made from bark and palm leaves, they weren’t fashionable, but they’d protect their feet for the upcoming hike through the interior of the island. The shoes didn’t take as long as the traps, so she was soon left with nothing to do but fidget.

Her island partner returned and settled in to build a fire. Jonathon worked a bow drill, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he tried in vain to get the damp tinder to cooperate. She sipped more water, standing in the shade, trying to decide what to do next. Their shelter needed to be fixed. It leaked like a sieve, and she didn’t want to spend another miserable night should it rain. Phoebe collected new palm fronds and carried them to the hut.

She resisted the urge to micromanage Jonathon’s bow drilling skills, and worked a while on the roof and walls of the shelter. After another twenty minutes, Jonathon gave a disgusted snort which sounded so much like Sarah’s it made Phoebe gape.

“I think I’ll take the lobster traps out.” His ever-present smile had faded to a meek flicker. “Maybe I’ll get that right.”

She almost reached out to give him encouragement and comfort like she would have her daughter. Jonathon had already burned out, she saw it in the dull look in his eyes. If he called it quits, it might make her island days easier. Then again, a second pair of hands had come in handy.
Yeah, like they had last night…
Phoebe frowned at the intrusive inner voice. She couldn’t change what had happened the night before, but she could make sure it didn’t happen again.

Phoebe stared over his broad shoulders, the play of muscle beneath skin fascinating as he walked away from her. His loose confident stride was brisk as he snagged the traps as he went by. Jonathon waded into the surf then dove beneath the lapping waves, disappearing from view.

She let out a long breath. Her roommate in college had once told her a woman always held a flame for the man who took their virginity. She hadn’t believed it, had spent years denying it, yet Phoebe recognized the truth now.

But why? she questioned.
I barely know him.
Perhaps it’d been her emotionally vulnerable state which had let him inside to a place she kept closed off to most everyone save Sarah, Cybil, and her friend Barb. The fragile section of her psyche leaving her wary of anyone and everyone who could, might, or maybe hurt her in some way. Jonathon had shown her kindness the night in the fraternity house. His attitude toward dating appeared fickle at best, yet he also seemed capable of opening his heart in a way she couldn’t imagine ever risking.