The Wedding Adventure. Melissa McClone
us on a deserted island and make us compete against each other for rewards.”
“Henry would never pit us against each other.” Confidence laced each of her words. “There’s no way that would happen.”
“Maybe not, but, we need to be prepared. Come on.”
Cade walked toward the lounge. The click of her ridiculous heels on the wooden deck told him she was following.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To raid the galley. We have to be ready for whatever Henry throws at us such as not giving us any rations.” At her blank stare, Cade clarified it. “Food. He might not give us any food.”
She pursed her lips. “Henry wouldn’t do that to us.”
Cade wished he had her confidence. “What if he does?”
“He won’t.”
She had so much trust in her friendship with Henry. Cade couldn’t afford such blind loyalty again. He headed down the stairs to the galley. Fortunately none of the crew milled about. “Without food we’ll have to eat bugs and worms and snakes and a whole lot of other nasty stuff.”
“Henry will give us food.” Certainty filled her voice. “I’ve never swatted a fly. How could he expect me to eat one?”
Cade didn’t have time to change her mind. “Fine, we’ll have food, but let’s bring a few extra things to eat.”
“You mean snacks?”
“Snacks, food, whatever we can fit in our backpacks.”
“My backpack’s full.”
“You’ll have to make room.” He struggled to keep his voice low and calm. Losing his temper would solve nothing and only bring attention to their whereabouts. “We don’t have much time. I can do this on my own, but I’d rather we did it together. Are you in, Sterling?”
She grinned. “I’m in, Armstrong.”
He hated that name, hated everything associated with it. “It’s Waters.”
“I’m sorry.”
He handed her a plastic bag and kept one for himself. “You stand guard first, while I go in. Then we switch. Got it?”
She nodded. “We’re going to make a good team, Cade.”
He doubted that, but as long as they survived until the end he didn’t care. “Let me know if someone is coming.”
“Will it work if I whistle?” She put her lips together and blew. It looked as if she was waiting for a kiss.
“A whistle is—” he dragged his eyes away from her puckered lips “—fine.”
More than fine coming from her lips, but he wasn’t going there. Not today, tomorrow or any time in the next two weeks.
“The two weeks are going to fly by,” Henry said to her and Cade as they rode to shore in a small boat. He motioned to the cove in front of them. “What do you think of your new home?”
Cynthia stared at the picture postcard island paradise. A movie set couldn’t have captured the lagoon with clear blue water, towering palm trees and a crescent of sparkling white sand any more perfectly. “It’s breathtaking.”
“Lucky us,” Cade said. “Our own Gilligan’s Island.”
“I get to be Ginger,” Cynthia said.
The boat stopped twenty-five feet from shore. Crew members unloaded two wooden crates and carried them to shore. As soon as they reached the beach, music played. Drums, chanting, an eerie flutelike instrument.
Cynthia looked around for the mysterious source. She noticed a boom box sitting near Henry’s feet and immediately felt better. For a minute she thought they were arriving at Fantasy Island. At least that would explain why Henry wore an all white suit like Mr. Roarke.
Henry rose. “Your adventure begins now. For the next two weeks, you will live on this island. There’s a radio for emergencies, but otherwise you are on your own. Basic provisions have been provided. The rest you will need to find, make or win. I’ll stop by on a regular basis to check up on you and play a few games.”
“What kind of games?” Cynthia asked.
“Games to challenge your ability to survive on the island,” Henry explained. “And you win prizes by playing.”
Cynthia clapped. “I love prizes.”
“That’s the spirit.” He grinned. “Ready to go ashore?”
Cade removed his shoes, slung his backpack over his shoulder and hopped out of the boat. As he waded to shore, he passed the crewmen on their way back.
“Go on,” Henry urged.
“I’ll get wet.” The beach wasn’t far, but her stomach knotted and she thought she might be sick at the idea of getting in the water. “I don’t want to get wet.”
“The water’s nice and warm,” Cade yelled.
“No.” Fear paralyzed her. She’d been caught in a riptide when she was eight. Since then she hadn’t been in the water except for sitting in a bathtub or a Jacuzzi. No one noticed she never swam. “The saltwater will ruin my clothes.”
“Come on, Sterling.”
Ever since their successful raids on the galley, Cade had called her Sterling. Cynthia worried he might have forgotten her first name. At this point her name didn’t matter, but she would ask Henry a million questions if it kept her out of the water. “Why does Cade keep calling me by my last name?”
“Men often call each other by their last names.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do I look like a man?”
Henry gave her the once-over. “Not in the slightest.”
“Thank you.”
“Get in the water, Cynthia,” Henry said.
So much for stalling. Think, think… “Have him carry me to shore,” she whispered.
“Brilliant idea. One I should have thought of.” Henry beamed. “Cade, carry her to shore.”
“What?” he asked.
“Carry Cynthia to shore,” Henry suggested. “That’s what a gentleman would do.”
Cade mumbled something about not being a gentleman, but Cynthia couldn’t hear his exact words. Still he dropped his backpack on the beach and waded back to the boat.
“Thanks,” she mouthed to Henry.
“I’ve done my part. The rest is up to you.”
By the time Cade reached the boat, he’d drawn his lips into a thin line. “The water isn’t deep.”
Cynthia had learned deep was a relative term. She forced a smile and batted her eyelashes. “Please?”
A beat passed. He nodded once.
“Thanks.” This time her smile was genuine. Not only had she maneuvered her way out of getting in the water, she was going to end up in Cade’s arms. It would be like the scene in Gone with the Wind when Rhett carried Scarlett up the stairs. Yes, a brilliant idea. Her first of many during the next fourteen days.
As Cade grabbed her backpack, she rose. Anticipation filled her. His hands clasped around her waist. A bevy of butterflies attacked her stomach. She waited for him to lift her into his arms. He slung her over his left shoulder like a Prada bag instead.
Staring at the water, she pushed herself up his back. “What—”
“You’re not as light as you look.” His hand clamped on the back of her thigh. “Stop wiggling