UP In Flames - Lori Foster

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thought occurred to her, and she yelled over the storm, “How do you know which way to go?”

      “I’m guessing.”

      “What!” He mumbled something she couldn’t hear and his chin bumped her bottom, then he shouted, “The guidebook, remember? I figure we’re still somewhere between the Keys and Marco Island. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

      She thought to question him further but decided against it. Talking was too difficult at the moment, and her teeth were chattering too badly to make good sense anyway. It was easier to trust him and let him take over.

      But when it seemed like an hour had gone by and her lips were numb from the cold rain, she began to panic again. He could well be swimming them farther out into the Gulf, rather than inland. There could be whales as well as sharks, maybe even giant eels— She jumped when he reached up and touched her cheek.

      “Almost there, Mel. How’re you holding up?”

      For a moment she couldn’t believe what he’d said, then, incredulous, she asked, “Almost where?”

      “Shore. Look ahead.”

      He had better eyes than she if he could penetrate the sheet of rain, but when she looked as hard as she could, she thought she could see the outline of land. Her breath left her in a whoosh, and her heart began racing. “Where are we?”

      “Damned if I know. But if it’ll be solid beneath my feet, then it’s good enough for me.”

      Absolutely. She wanted out of the water and she didn’t care where. With a deep breath to fortify her, she released her death grip on the raft. Her knuckles hurt, her fingers felt stiff, but she extended her arms and began paddling.

      “Good girl. We’ll get there, Mel. You’ll see.”

      She kept paddling, but she closed her eyes, too, saying a silent prayer. Please, please, please let me live long enough to put my feet on land again.

      Almost ten minutes later, her prayers were answered.

      CHAPTER TWO

      When she realized Adam was standing, she almost cried with relief. She wanted to slide off the raft to make it easier for him, but the rain had let up and she could see more clearly. The land they approached looked ominous with an abundance of skinny, mangled palm trees, some practically hanging in the water, and spreading, spidery mangrove trees, making the island look more like a scraggly forest. The ocean floor was visible, and what she saw scared her to death. Shells, small fish, water weeds. She curled a little more tightly on the raft.

      “Do you think there’s...anything in the water?”

      At first Adam didn’t answer, just kept trudging forward, dragging her along. Finally, with weariness evident in every word, he said, “Nothing’s bit me yet.”

      Just the thought made her squeamish. A few more feet, and Adam walked past her, going the rest of the way to shore and collapsing onto his back.

      Alarmed, Mel realized the raft couldn’t very well be dragged in with her on it, and if she didn’t move, she’d float right back out to sea. Not that he seemed to care.

      Mustering her courage, she jumped off the raft—and sank as deep as mid-shins. The water was so shallow, Adam couldn’t have pulled her any farther along.

      Disregarding her blatant cowardice even as she carefully surveyed the shallow water, she attempted to act blasé, to hide her fear. She grabbed the raft and pulled it behind her as she waded out of the water.

      Her strappy little sandals were long gone, and her toes sank into the white sand. Her skirts, made to wrap twice around her waist, were sadly tangled, sticking wetly to her thighs, hindering her every movement. She stopped to shake them loose, to squeeze out some of the water, but it was useless. They clung to her like a second skin. She plopped down on the fine sand beside Adam. He didn’t move.

      His eyes were closed against the now gentle rain, his clothes every bit as ruined as hers, his mouth tight. And still he looked incredibly gorgeous.

      All the old feelings of inadequacy swamped her. For as long as she could remember, Adam had been vital, outgoing, easily the center of attention whenever he entered a room. And she’d been a fading wallflower, crippled by her vulnerability and shyness. When she’d seen him on the boat, she’d begun reviving plans to show him how she’d changed, to prove she wasn’t the little girl he probably remembered with pity. She’d thought to wait until they’d docked, change into something more sophisticated and then approach him.

      Instead, he’d approached her, taking her totally off guard, and she’d behaved like an idiot. “Adam?”

      “Hmm?” He looked a little pale, his mouth pinched.

      “Are you all right?”

      “Just dandy. I always take an hour-long swim to get the old blood pumping.”

      Her eyes narrowed. Just like him to be so sarcastic at a moment like this.

      But then she realized he had to be worn out. To her shame, she hadn’t helped him a bit. She looked at him again and considered apologizing, but couldn’t decide how. He was still her high-school nemesis, yet now he was her hero, as well. The circumstances had her grinding her teeth.

      She looked around, up and down the shoreline, and saw nothing but bent and twisted trees, sand, a few pelicans. The island wasn’t large by any stretch, and she wondered how it would fare if the storm returned. “Adam...”

      He groaned and reached up to rub at his head. “Talk softly, okay? I’ve got a ringing headache.”

      She lowered her voice appropriately. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

      “Not a clue.”

      She looked around again. It was a safe bet they weren’t on Marco Island, so it had to be one of the smaller islands. She started to stand, her intent to locate people, houses, anything that looked even remotely domestic or civilized. But Adam caught at her arm.

      “No, don’t wander off. I don’t want to take the chance we’ll get separated. Just give me a few minutes and we’ll start exploring together.” He said it all with his eyes closed, and her concern for him doubled despite her resentment of the situation.

      Sinking into the sand, she looked him over. He lay on the shore like a starfish, arms and legs spread, his posture one of complete exhaustion. His tie remained tight around his throat, his bag still attached to his belt. Melanie figured the least she could do was try to make him comfortable, to prove he no longer cowed her. And he had jumped in after her, had kept her safe. If it hadn’t been for him, the sharks—she gulped—probably would have had her for lunch. Though she hadn’t actually seen any sharks, she was still certain they were there. And if nothing else, his presence had given her immeasurable comfort.

      She reached for the strap on his bag, but before she could get a good grip on it, his fingers bit into her wrist.

      His eyes opened and they pinned her, hot and intense. “What do you think you’re doing?”

      Uh-oh. Melanie remembered those eyes from high school, so compelling, so sexy. Adam Stone had always had the ability to turn females into mush. Though he’d been poor and oftentimes dangerous, women had gravitated to him in hordes. But she’d resisted. She’d had little choice. His only interest in her had been spite.

      “I was going to move your bag and undo your tie.”

      “Why?” The visible signs of exhaustion momentarily left his body, and he looked ready to attack.

      She made a sound of disgust. “You look miserable, that’s why.”

      “Like you care?” He snorted. “Aren’t you the same woman who just a while ago was ready to bite off my face?”

      She blushed, annoyed that he’d point that out. Damn him, how did he constantly do this to

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