Книга - All In The Game

All In The Game
Barbara Boswell


Nine years ago Ty Hale denied his heart when he drove Shannen Cullen out of his life.He never expected to see the blue-eyed spitfire again - especially as a contestant on a reality game show set on a deserted island. Now Ty, as chief cameraman, had to film her every move, yet all he wanted to do was cast his equipment into the sand and kiss the strong-willed beauty senseless.And while the attraction was mutual, Ty needed to be sure he was loved for himself, not his money; that's why he pretended he was no longer a millionaire. But when the truth was revealed, would Shannen forgive his deception or would Ty lose the love and trust he'd fought to rebuild?









“I’m Not Thinking About Your Twin Or The Game Or The Money, Shannen.”


He cupped her cheek with his hand.

Reflexively Shannen closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, letting the warmth of his palm envelop her. If she intended to tell him to leave, this was the time to do it, a small voice inside her head counseled.

“How can I think of anything else but you?” His voice was a low, seductive growl. He curved his other hand over her hip in a firm, possessive grasp.

Shannen’s eyes stayed closed. She didn’t want him to go, she achingly admitted to herself.

“Everything is so…unfinished between us, Ty,” she whispered.

“I think it’s time we altered that, don’t you?” Ty trailed kisses along the curve of her jaw. When his mouth finally, lightly brushed hers, she exhaled with a hushed whimper. It was all the invitation he needed to deepen the kiss. Shannen felt desire and urgency erupt inside her with breathtaking speed….


Dear Reader,

Wondering what to put on your holiday wish list? How about six passionate, powerful and provocative new love stories from Silhouette Desire!

This month, bestselling author Barbara Boswell returns to Desire with our MAN OF THE MONTH, SD #1471, All in the Game, featuring a TV reality-show contestant who rekindles an off-screen romance with the chief cameraman while her identical twin wonders what’s going on.

In SD #1472, Expecting…and In Danger by Eileen Wilks, a Connelly hero tries to protect and win the trust of a secretive, pregnant lover. It’s the latest episode in the DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS series—the saga of a wealthy Chicago-based clan.

A desert prince loses his heart to a feisty intern in SD #1473, Delaney’s Desert Sheikh by award-winning author Brenda Jackson. This title marks Jackson’s debut as a Desire author. In SD #1474, Taming the Prince by Elizabeth Bevarly, a blue-collar bachelor trades his hard hat for a crown…and a wedding ring? This is the second Desire installment in the exciting CROWN AND GLORY series.

Matchmaking relatives unite an unlikely couple in SD #1475, A Lawman in Her Stocking by Kathie DeNosky. And SD #1476, Do You Take This Enemy? by reader favorite Sara Orwig, is a marriage-of-convenience story featuring a pregnant heroine whose groom is from a feuding family. This title is the first in Orwig’s compelling STALLION PASS miniseries.

Make sure you get all six of Silhouette Desire’s hot November romances.

Enjoy!






Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire




All in the Game

Barbara Boswell








To Irene Goodman and Joan Marlow Golan,

whom I’d never vote off the island.




BARBARA BOSWELL


loves writing about families. “I guess family has been a big influence on my writing,” she says. “I particularly enjoy writing about how my characters’ family relationships affect them.”

When Barbara isn’t writing and reading, she’s spending time with her own family—her husband, three daughters and three cats, whom she concedes are the true bosses of their home! She has lived in Europe, but now makes her home in Pennsylvania. She collects miniatures and holiday ornaments, tries to avoid exercise and has somehow found the time to write over twenty category romances.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten




One


“Everybody ready to shoot another day in paradise?”

Tynan Hale, chief cameraman for the reality game show Victorious, assembled his crew for their daily briefing before heading from their camp across the island to the contestants’ camp.

“Paradise? Come on, Ty, no need to sugarcoat things for us. We all know what we’re really shooting is the seventh circle of hell,” kidded Reggie Ellis, a junior cameraman.

The crew snickered appreciatively. Ty grinned, too, though he guessed he probably shouldn’t encourage such irreverence toward the show and its contestants.

The Powers That Be—the network suits, the show’s creator, the sponsors, virtually everybody connected with Victorious—viewed their project with a seriousness usually reserved for nuclear weapons. No jokes or humor there.

Ty found the job of trailing around contestants on an island, hour after hour, filming their every word and action, to be sometimes interesting and/or irritating and/or dull, but hardly a matter of the gravest concern.

No wonder he would never be a member of The Powers That Be. Not only was his attitude all wrong, his family already had been there, done that.

And failed spectacularly. The family downfall had been such a public sensation that not a day went by without Ty Hale pausing to relish his current anonymity.

He paused to relish it now, while he and the crew loaded their equipment onto the boat to take them to the Victorious contestants’ camp. Here he was, Ty Hale, chief cameraman, good at his job but essentially a nonentity. It wasn’t the standard dream come true, especially in the entertainment industry, but it was certainly his.

And it was the name Hale that made it all possible. Changing his surname seven years ago—unofficially, though not legally, because that would’ve drawn attention to it—was the smartest move he’d ever made.

If anyone in the media were to know that he was actually Tynan Howe, son of the notorious former congressman Addison Howe, a member of the infamous Howe clan…

It wouldn’t happen, Ty assured himself, for possibly the millionth time. The contestants were the attraction and sole focus of fan and media attention. Nobody knew the names of the camera and editing crews, nobody was interested enough to learn who they were. Why should they? To the fans of Victorious, he was as invisible as his camera.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.



Every morning, as close to dawn as possible, the Victorious crew arrived by boat on the side of the island where the contestants dwelled in their makeshift camp. There was a shorter, more direct route through the jungle forest, but it was never used by the crew. That might’ve tipped off the contestants, who weren’t permitted to know how close they really were to the amenities of civilization in the crew’s camp. Plus, lugging all the equipment on foot via jungle pathways was impractical.

Ty eyed the contestants’ camp, a familiar sight to him after filming it all this time. It would’ve been considered a squalid setting if it weren’t located on a gorgeous island in the Pacific—and if the inhabitants weren’t in a voluntary contest to win a million dollars.

Those factors turned “squalid” into something else entirely, Ty had remarked—innocuously enough, he’d thought—to the show’s executive producer, Clark Garrett, who had coldly ordered him to “can the laughter.”

So much for small talk with the brass, Ty told his crew later. He hadn’t even been trying for laughs.

But though he mocked it, Ty did understand the network obsession with Victorious. After all, when the number of reality shows had proliferated on all the networks a few years ago, the TV-viewing public had tired of them. Audiences began tuning out in droves and ratings plummeted. Companies would no longer pay the exorbitant rates charged for advertising spots throughout the shows.

No advertising revenue meant no profits, the networks’ worst nightmare.

Eventually all the shows were canceled, no new ones were developed and the reality-TV craze was officially pronounced dead.

And then, one of the networks decided to resurrect the concept to schedule in the moribund Saturday-evening time slot. Ty knew that television executives assumed that nobody under ninety was actually at home watching network TV on Saturday night, but airing a test pattern was not acceptable, and even the worst sitcoms or dramas were expensive to produce.

So the new show Victorious was born. With a few variations, it was still pretty much a shameless clone of the original reality game show that had started it all. And with no star salaries and writers to pay, even the million-dollar prize money was deemed cheap.

Just right for Saturday-night television.

When Ty landed the job, he’d learned that Victorious was to be filmed and edited on location, a deserted island in the Pacific, for sixty-three days. Within the same week of shooting, the footage would be edited into a one-hour episode and then broadcast.

“It’s ‘truly live television,’” proclaimed executive producer Clark Garrett. “Or fairly close to it.” Clark hyped the fact that nobody, not even he, would know who won the million-dollar prize until just before the last show aired.

The sixteen participants, divided into two tribes of eight each and flown to the gorgeous tropical island, were all telegenic in their own way, some more than others. Currently, the cast was trimmed to six, after combining the survivors of the original two tribes into a single one.

Ty and the crew assembled their equipment while waiting for the remaining six contestants to straggle out of the mosquito netting and bamboo posts that served as their sleeping quarters. The contestants called it a tent, though Ty thought it looked more like a shredded parachute that had fallen out of the sky and landed on some random sticks of bamboo. He wisely declined to share this observation with the ever-testy Clark Garrett.

As usual, the crew filmed each contestant emerging from the tent, from earliest risers to sleep-in slackers. The order never varied from day to day. The Cullen twins, Shannen and Lauren, were always the first up and out; Jed was always last. Rico, Cortnee and Konrad, in varying order, appeared sometime after the twins and well before Jed.

The six had all been members of the same tribe initially and formed an unlikely but ultimately unbeatable alliance, always voting as a block and never against each other. They’d survived while everybody else was voted off the island.

With the crew’s camp Internet access, satellite dish and daily newspaper drops, Ty knew that the Final Six had become subjects for water-cooler discussions in offices on Monday morning all over the country. Watching Victorious before going out on Saturday night had become the newest fad in the coveted eighteen-to-thirty-four demographic age group, and the network execs were giddy with joy.

He was also aware that the contestants had no clue that ratings for the show had skyrocketed, and the media buzz about each participant was in high gear. The six were isolated from any contact with the outside world and unaware of their new fame.

Ty wondered how much the exposure would affect them, how they would change when back in the real world. He’d wager that it would and they would. He’d learned that lesson only too well from the glare of the Howes’ media coverage.

He pointed his camera at the twin sisters splashing water on their faces in their morning wake-up ritual at the small freshwater spring, an idyllic spot where the beach blended into the jungle opening. He was well aware that the twins had found the spring themselves while exploring the island in the first few hours after their arrival, making them heroines to their tribe. Fans speculated that the game-winning alliance had begun then and there.

“Who’s your favorite contestant?” asked Heidi, the young production assistant, who stood beside Ty as he was filming.

She asked that question every day or two, more to alleviate boredom than from any real desire to know, Ty suspected. Still, he wasn’t about to give out that information, not to anyone.

He said what he always said, remaining scrupulously neutral. “They all have their good and bad days.”

“Well, my favorites are the twins,” said Heidi.

“You and a lot of others.” Ty remained noncommittal, as usual.

“Identical twins are a novelty on any show,” Heidi pointed out, not for the first time. “And according to TV Guide Online, these two are incredibly identical. Wow, like, how true! We’ve been filming them for weeks, and nobody here can tell them apart yet. Naturally, the viewers can’t, either.”

“Naturally,” Ty echoed dryly. It was true, though. Twenty-six-year-old Shannen and Lauren Cullen were virtual mirror images.

“What would it be like to look like that? And be in duplicate?” Heidi wondered aloud. “They’re so pretty,” she added matter-of-factly.

What could he do but nod in agreement?

The Cullen twins were pretty. Very pretty. Striking brunettes with thick, shoulder-length dark hair and big blue eyes fringed with black lashes. With their youth, their fair skin and delicate bone structure, they had no need for makeup. An application of sunscreen, a quick swipe of the brush through their hair, and the twins were ready to face the day—and the camera crew and the challenges to stay on the island till the end and win the million-dollar prize.

That only one person could win, and that perhaps one twin might have to vote against the other, was an observation made frequently by the program’s host, Bobby Dixon, often referred to as Slick Bobby by the Victorious contestants. To his face. But while on camera, Bobby’s deep-dimpled smile never faltered.

Ty filmed the next contestant who crawled out from the tent. It was Cortnee, a self-described “aspiring superstar,” who was using her stint on Victorious as a showcase for her singing and dancing talents. At twenty-two, blond, curvaceous Cortnee was the youngest contestant on the island.

Next came Rico, charismatic, energetic and twenty-five, who also aspired to stardom. His singing and dancing talents equaled Cortnee’s. Often the pair entertained their fellow contestants with impromptu duets and dances.

And for those viewers not enthralled by the performances, there was always Shannen’s stare of irritable impatience to look forward to. Ty always turned his camera on her during a spontaneous Rico and Cortnee number and lingered on her scowl.

Her exasperated mutter, “On no, not again!” was on its way to becoming as much of a highlight as the act itself.

The “evil twin,” “the cranky one,” Shannen was dubbed on the Web sites devoted to dissecting each episode and each person on the island. Lauren was the “good twin,” the nice, sweet one. Not that anybody could tell the sisters apart physically. But “Spitfire Shannen” distinguished herself from “Lady Lauren” every time she raised one dark brow, enhancing the power of her steely signature glare.

Then there was muscular, handsome Jed, twenty-eight, who boasted a résumé including adventure guide, which he proved by excelling in every physical challenge. He spent most of the time in a minimum of clothing, keeping his sculpted body well oiled with the bottle of emollient he’d chosen to bring as his luxury item.

And finally there was Konrad, the oldest of the group at thirty, a former convicted felon who’d arrived on the island sporting a shaved head with a tattoo of a snarling wolf spanning his back. He had other tattoos, on his chest and both arms, all of vicious animals or birds of prey. Konrad spoke in a growl and had never smiled once during the episodes filmed.

His first remark in the first episode—“I paid my debt to society and I want to go straight. If I win, I will. But if I lose, well, I learned plenty in prison to become a world-class burglar. Good skills to fall back on”—had been widely quoted on the Internet discussion boards, drawing both disapproving and admiring responses.

Ty withheld judgment, wondering if Konrad was actually serious. Was the burglary remark a threat? Or was he merely playing to the audience like Rico and Cortnee, though in a very different way?

Everyone, including the crew, agreed that these contestants shared a definite chemistry. Viewers speculated endlessly about the off-camera goings-on based on the contestants’ on-screen behavior.

Had the twins and/or Cortnee slept with Rico and/or Jed? Had Rico and Jed slept together? It was unanimously concluded that no one would get physical with Konrad.

The crew did their own speculating about such matters, Ty sometimes joining in, striving for an air of nonchalance about the whole thing. His name was enough of a secret to keep around here; there was certainly no need to introduce his other secret, which would be even more significant to the Victorious crew.

However, there was one person right here on the island who knew both his secrets.

One word while the cameras rolled—while he made them roll!—and the horrible media circus that had propelled the Howes into the worst kind of fame could start all over again.

And one word about his previous relationship with Shannen Cullen could probably get him fired.

But Shannen didn’t give him away, and Ty began to think that perhaps she didn’t remember him, after all. It was a definite blow, particularly since he’d admitted to himself long ago that he would never forget her. Seeing her again after long years apart only affirmed her visceral imprint on him.

It would be a fitting irony that she’d forgotten him, a Howe’s just desserts, Ty decided wryly. So he came to accept that when Shannen Cullen glared at him, raising that dark eyebrow of hers as he pointed the camera at her, it was nothing personal. Shannen glared at everybody behind the cameras. He wouldn’t delude himself that she was singling out him for any special animosity.

But he couldn’t help singling her out. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her—nor could he keep his camera away from her for long. Luckily, she had a twin sister, which seemed to make the film time equal, since nobody else could tell the twins apart.

Tynan had no trouble differentiating Shannen from Lauren. He knew “his” twin instantly, at first glance every time, whether the sisters were alone or together. There was no way to explain how, he just knew.

Despite his determination to be different from the other members of his family, it seemed that he was as foolish and dysfunctional as any other Howe, Ty mocked himself. How like a Howe to develop an unhealthy fascination with the very person who could wreck the normal, productive life he’d worked so hard to create.

But his unhealthy fascination with Shannen was not new. Worse, it was as urgent and powerful as it had been nine years ago. More so because now she had become the woman he’d thought she was, back when she had been just a girl.

He’d wanted her then, but he wanted her more now.

And he couldn’t have her. Not then and not now.



Being chief cameraman had its perks, one of them being his own private tent in the camp. It was not as large as Bobby Dixon’s or Clark Garrett’s abodes, of course, but definitely more spacious than the tents that the assistant camera crew had to share. The editing team were likewise housed according to their positions, while the production assistants shared the most cramped quarters, befitting their slavelike status.

The crew had knocked off filming early at eight o’clock tonight, on Clark’s orders. By the time Ty returned to his tent from the dinner provided by the catering service, it was almost dark.

The sunsets in the region were nothing less than spectacular, and during his first days on the island, Ty had been dazzled as he filmed them. Now he scarcely glanced at the colorful sky as he called good-night to Reggie and the others.

He’d passed on the invitation to play cards, to monitor the Internet, to watch TV from the satellite dish and all other group activities. He wanted to get to bed early; he was tired and hadn’t been sleeping well.

Too many nights in a row he’d awakened from particularly vivid dreams of Shannen Cullen, dreams that left him frustrated when, technically, he should’ve been replete. It was humiliating to be betrayed by his own body this way. He was thirty-four, not seventeen!

Spending hour after hour filming Shannen, watching her every move yet being unable to approach her, was taking its toll on him, Ty decided grimly. He was on his way to becoming unhinged….

He spied the note on his pillow as soon as he entered his tent. It was written on stationery with the network logo imprinted on the top, and he reached for it, more than a little bemused.

Nobody left notes for others in their tents; that was just too summer camp. Which undoubtedly explained its origins. It had to be one of the crew’s practical jokes, probably hatched by the production assistants, Ty surmised. Despite being run ragged by everyone involved with the production, those kids never seemed to run out of energy. And they were into playing pranks, though until now, the gags were directed at one another. Now it seemed that they’d moved up to the senior ranks, Ty thought wryly.

His eyes widened at the sight of the unmistakably feminine handwriting. Then he read the note….

It was a joke—it had to be!

He thought of his brief conversation with Heidi today about the Cullen twins. Was that the beginning of the setup? How else to explain this note, signed “Shannen,” ordering him to meet her tonight at a very specific location?

Ty couldn’t even summon a laugh at the jest. To him, it wasn’t funny—it was appalling! Had he given himself away? He thought he’d remained impeccably indifferent to Shannen Cullen while filming her, but had some of the staffers seen through him?

He wouldn’t go, of course. The best way to react to such a practical joke was to blow it off.

But what if this note actually was from Shannen?

The renegade thought leaped into his head and took hold. He tried to dislodge it with logic. How would Shannen get hold of network stationery, for starters?

Perversely, he was able to answer what should have been an unanswerable question. If she’d found her way to the crew’s camp—to his tent!—swiping a piece of official stationery would be a piece of cake.

Should he go to the trysting place tonight?

Of course he shouldn’t!

Ty spent the next two hours debating what to do and finally decided that he would go. And he decided, as well, that when he saw one of the PAs—Heidi or Debbie or Adam or Kevin—he would laugh heartily and then accuse whomever, girl or guy, of having a fervid crush on Jed. Or Rico or Cortnee. Or even Konrad. Then he would write the PA in question notes every night, allegedly from the “crush.” He’d let Reggie and the rest of the camera crew in on the joke.

He would make the lives of those bratty production assistants a living hell for daring to notice his attraction—okay, maybe it was closer to an obsession!—with Shannen Cullen.



“So you actually showed up.”

It sounded more like an accusation than an observation. Shannen was glowering at him. The brilliance of the full moon illuminated her face as clearly as studio lighting. The air was thick with the exotic scents of tropical plants and the piercing calls of nocturnal birds.

Ty wondered if his eyes were popping out of his skull. Was it possible for his heartbeat to skyrocket this high and still sustain life?

But Shannen was the epitome of cool, just as she was during the days of filming. No eyes popping or thundering pulses for her at the sight of him, so Ty carefully maintained an imperturbable facade of his own.

He shrugged. “I have to admit I was surprised to find your note requesting me to meet you here,” he replied, his voice equally casual. “I’m curious. How did you manage to—”

“I managed to, okay?” Her blue eyes flashed.

“Okay.” He waited for her to tell him the reason why she’d demanded this meeting.

And though he had tactfully rephrased it as a “request,” it was not. It had been a demand, and they both knew it. The demanding tenor of the note was one of the main reasons he’d decided it had to be a practical joke. Shannen Cullen wouldn’t order him to meet her.

And yet it appeared that she’d done exactly that, because here she was.

Here they both were.

Shannen said nothing.

Silence stretched between them. It occurred to Ty that she was waiting for him to speak first. And that no matter how long the silence lasted, she was prepared to outwait him.

Ty heaved a sigh. “You’re strategizing, aren’t you? Can you stop playing the infernal game for just a few minutes and—”

“Play the game or be played. Isn’t that how it goes?” she challenged, her tone mocking. “Well, since you see me as a master strategist, can you guess what my alleged strategy is?”

“Time to check your ego, honey. I didn’t say I saw you as a master strategist.”

She shot him a fierce look of contempt, a look that would’ve sent a more cautious man running. But Ty had never been particularly cautious, so he stayed where he was.

“Definitely not a master,” he reiterated. He was pleased he’d gotten under her skin, at least a little. “Your ploy is right out of Strategy 101, the course for beginners. You believe you’ll gain an advantage if I have to ask why you demanded this meeting.”

This time he not only used the correct word, he emphasized it. Just a bit of his own simple strategy. Plus, he was certain it would annoy her.

It did. “Don’t call me honey! And it was a request, not a demand. A polite request,” she added loftily.

“Not going to concede an inch, hmm?” He laughed, a peculiar lightheartedness flooding him. “Just like old times.”

“Are you trying to be ironic?” She fairly spat the words at him. “If you are, it’s not working. Oh, just forget it! Forget that I wrote that stupid note and—”

“Suppose I willingly and knowingly succumb to your masterful strategy instead. Why did you politely request to meet me here tonight?”

Shannen took a deep breath and averted her eyes. “I…I want you to stop following me around,” she said sternly.

It was a jaw-dropping moment that left him totally nonplussed. “You’re joking,” he murmured uncertainly, for neither her tone nor her expression held even the hint of a joke. “Or maybe you’re trying to be ironic? Given the circumstances of—”

“You know exactly what I mean,” she snapped.

“I certainly don’t. And let’s not forget that you demanded to see me tonight. It’ll be interesting to hear you rationalize how I followed you when you set up this meeting yourself.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. She was furious.

He grinned, unable to resist baiting her further. “Would it be gameworthy of me to point out that I have a job to do, and you have a role, so to speak, which makes—”

“This goes beyond any job or any role, and you know it,” she said. “I’ve seen the way you watch me. You’re always staring at me, always filming me. Don’t bother to deny it.”

“Ah, in addition to your many other charms, you’re also paranoid…little girl,” he added pointedly.

She picked up his point instantly. “I am not a little girl, you…you—”

“Condescending, self-righteous jerk?” he suggested. “Oh yes, I remember that, Shannen. I remember everything. But I wasn’t sure that you did, not until I got your note tonight.”

He didn’t bother to add how he’d decided the note was bogus. He was too elated that it was real.

“You thought I didn’t remember you?” For a moment Shannen looked genuinely surprised, but she quickly resumed hostilities. “Well, I do—and it’s obvious that the description still fits you. You’re still condescending, you’re still self-righteous and you’re still a jerk!”

“How would you know? This is the first time we’ve spoken since—”

“A tiger never changes its stripes,” she said. “Or is it a leopard who doesn’t change its spots? Oh, who cares! I know I can—”

She abruptly stopped speaking when he advanced toward her.

“You can what?” He stood directly in front of her, towering over her.

The aroma of saltwater and sunscreen, mixed with an alluring scent all her own, filled his nostrils. “You can what?” he repeated huskily.

She swallowed. “I…I forget.”

“How about this, then? You can prove you’re not a little girl anymore?”

Her eyes widened as he slowly lowered his head toward her. His hands were at his sides and he made no attempt to hold her in place or restrain her in any way.

She could easily have stepped aside or pushed him away; she could’ve ordered him to go back from her or made a threat that would have sent him on his way.

But she did none of those things. Slowly Shannen raised her arms to encircle his neck. Their gazes locked and held for a long moment. He watched her eyelids flutter shut as he touched his mouth to hers.

What began as a light, tentative caress of his lips against hers quickly turned into something else entirely. There was nothing light or tentative about the hot, hungry coupling of their mouths.

Ty murmured something unintelligible as her lips parted to welcome his tongue inside.

Shannen pressed closer, twisting restlessly against him, opening her mouth wider in sensual invitation. He accepted, deepening the kiss, thrusting his knee between her thighs and molding her to him, his hands smoothing over her, possessively, eagerly learning every curve.

The kiss went on and on, desire building, passion burning. Ty slowly lowered her to the ground, pulling her on top of him. His fingers nimbly opened the clasp of her halter top, freeing her breasts. His hand cupped one soft milky-white breast, and he groaned with pleasure.

A split second later, he was lying on the sand alone. Shannen had pulled away from him and jumped to her feet with disorienting speed.

“No!” she exclaimed, fumbling to close the clasp he had so effortlessly undone. Her dexterity didn’t equal his and she gave up, holding the halter together with one hand.

Ty rose slowly, almost painfully, to his feet. “Let me help you with that.”

She backed away from him as if he were radioactive. “Go away! I…I told you to keep away from me.”

“Yes, you did.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “But your message was—hmm, how can I put this tactfully?—mixed.”

She flushed scarlet, the bright moonlight highlighting her color. “You’re a snake!”

“I’ve been called worse.” He ran his hand through his dark hair. “Anything else?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing here or who you’re pretending to be or why, but I don’t trust you!”

“Thanks.” Ty chuckled softly. “And let me return the compliment. I don’t trust you, either.”

Shannen turned and stomped away from him, still clutching her top with one hand, using her other hand to smack away the hanging vines and lush foliage that dared get in her way.

Ty stood watching until she disappeared from view.




Two


“Do you think we’ll get mail-in-the-tree today? Or a visit from Slick Bobby with some kind of instructions?” Cortnee asked during her rigorous aerobic workout, which she performed daily on the beach. Today she wore her tiniest bikini, the neon-pink one. “We haven’t had a victory contest or a food contest this week.”

Konrad, Rico and Jed gathered on the beach in various positions of repose, watching Cortnee. The twins were there, too, Lauren braiding her hair into a thick plait, Shannen tying strings to three makeshift bamboo fishing poles.

“I checked the tree for mail earlier and there wasn’t anything,” Shannen reported. “Why don’t one of you guys go check it now?”

“Later,” said Jed.

“And we’re almost out of bait,” continued Shannen. “Somebody should go to that place farther down the beach and see if more clams have washed up. That’s the best bait on the island.”

“Later,” murmured Rico.

“We can check for tree mail and then swing down for clams after we fish, Shannen,” Lauren suggested.

“I just thought maybe someone else would like a chance to do the daily errands around here,” murmured Shannen, adding tersely, “for a change.”

“Remember how those idiots in the other tribe ate some bad raw clams instead of cutting them up for bait?” Konrad sniggered. “Man, were they sick! When they tried to hang on to the rope in that tug-of-war between the tribes, they fell flat on their faces.” Clearly, it was a fond memory for him.

“Our tribe won every single contest, forcing the other tribe to keep voting off their own till they were all gone,” observed Jed. He began idly doodling in the sand with a stick.

“We won all the contests, so our tribe was able to stay intact a long time, and it’s mainly thanks to you, Jed,” Lauren said, her voice filled with admiration.

Jed nodded his head. “True.”

“Partially true,” corrected Shannen. “You forgot to add that you couldn’t have done it alone, Jed. I didn’t hear you say that all of us did our part to win, either. Did you forget that we’re a team?”

“Jed isn’t a team player—he doesn’t want to share credit for anything,” Cortnee called between deep breaths. “He really believes he does everything better than anybody else.”

Jed opened his mouth to speak, but Rico beat him to it by sighing heavily, gaining the attention of the cameramen. “I just want to say that I don’t miss the other tribe because I barely knew them, but I do miss Keri and Lucy from our tribe.” Rico sighed again. “I really bonded with them. They were probably some of the best friends I ever had in my life.”

“You voted them off the island without blinking an eye, Rico,” Shannen pointed out.

“Untrue!” protested Rico. “Maybe it looked that way because I hid my pain so well, but I’ve been torturing myself for getting involved in this unholy alliance with you guys. You made me turn against my friends!”

His face a portrait of agony, Rico stared soulfully into the camera that had been turned on him the moment he began to speak. He pouted when the camera abruptly shifted to Shannen, who was now baiting the hooks, frowning in concentration.



“Cut to the evil twin. Nice move, Ty,” junior cameraman Reggie Ellis whispered to Ty, who was filming Shannen. “Makes for good TV. She looks distinctly unmoved by Rico’s brooding torment. Like she’s remembering how Rico was the first to suggest that they ‘vote off those schemers Keri and Lucy because they’re allied against us.’ The viewers will remember, that’s for sure.”

“Rico wants to show the talent agents who’ll be watching that he has range,” Ty said dryly. “That he’s not just a song-and-dance man.”

“Yeah, he’s good at brooding and backstabbing,” Reggie observed. “The kid does have that slightly sleazy manner about him, too. A handy survival trait in showbiz.”

“I can see Rico winning an Oscar someday. Unless he decides to run for political office instead,” murmured Ty. “He’d do well in that arena, too.”

Having completed her task of baiting the hooks, Shannen looked up and saw Ty filming her. She shot him a withering glare before looking away.

“Looks like she’d enjoy baiting those hooks with pieces of you, Ty.” Reggie guffawed. “Y’know, for somebody who volunteered to be on this show, she sure hates having the camera on her. I think I’m starting to be able to tell which twin is which, just from that. Lauren doesn’t pay any attention to the camera, but Shannen looks as if she’d like to shove it down your throat.”

“You noticed that, too?” Ty was casual.

Reggie nodded. “We’re not the only ones to wonder. I logged onto the Internet last night, and there’s a debate going on as to why the twins auditioned to be on this show in the first place. Especially since Shannen looks eternally ticked off because she’s here.”

“Remember their interview tapes? Both twins said they did it as a lark,” said Ty.

He didn’t add that he wondered himself why the Cullen twins had auditioned for the show. The “for a lark” reason didn’t ring true to him. Nine years ago Shannen’s behavior had been quite purposeful. Filming her every day here on the island didn’t contradict his impression that she was a person who rarely made an unplanned move.

But there had been nothing calculated about that hot kiss they’d shared last night. It had been as impetuous as it was passionate. Ty tried to tamp down his nascent arousal.

“Maybe Lauren did it as a lark, but Shannen doesn’t strike me as the lark type.” Reggie chuckled. “If we’re talking birds, she’s more of a shrike. You know, the one that impales its prey on a stake. Oh, Ty, quick, pan over to Cortnee. She has her back to us and is touching her toes. Every red-blooded male in the audience is gonna love that. And she’s wearing that pink thong bikini that almost caused a meltdown on the Internet the first time she put it on.”

“You can have the pleasure of filming her, Reg. I know you’re one of Cortnee’s top fans. I’ll keep my camera on the twins and Konrad. Looks like they’re going fishing.”

Each carrying a primitive bamboo fishing pole, Shannen, Lauren and Konrad walked briskly into the ocean. Ty followed close behind, camera whirling.



“Do you think we should go out in the rowboat?” asked Lauren as the surf broke around their knees. “We might have better luck catching fish in deeper water.”

“Yeah, but then we’d have the fun of swimming with the sharks when that leaky old tub sinks,” growled Konrad. “Remember when those two idiots in the other tribe took the boat out and it went down like a stone with them in it? Had that big dramatic rescue ’cause they couldn’t swim. You know Slick Bobby and Clark Garrett woulda rather seen them drown. And now they claim the boat’s fixed, but I don’t buy it. They’re still hoping to get lucky with a fatal accident.”

“That’s entertainment for those two human piranhas,” Shannen pointed out.

“Never mind the boat, then, let’s try our luck right here,” suggested Lauren, casting her pole. “Oh, don’t look now, but we’re on camera again. I was sure the whole crew would stay on the beach filming Cortnee. Doesn’t she do her jumping jacks after touching her toes? None of the guys want to miss that.”

“Gets old when you see the same stuff day after day.” Konrad shrugged. “Me, I’d rather hang out with you two, even though I don’t know which the hell is which.”

“Konrad, how gallant!” Lauren smiled sweetly.

Shannen turned her head to see Ty standing less than a foot behind them. She swung her fishing line at him, clipping him with the clam bait.

“Oops.” She snickered. “So sorry.”

“You’re only sorry that your aim was off.” Ty turned off the camera. “You meant to smack me in the face with the clam guts. But you missed, Shannen,” he added, saying her name with alacrity.

“You’re sure I’m Shannen?” She looked ready to whip the pole at him again. “How do you know I’m not Lauren?”

“Could be, you know,” Lauren chimed in. “We’re dressed exactly alike. Denim cutoffs, red bandanna triangle tops. The only difference is that one of us has a braid and the other has a ponytail. Can you be sure who styled her hair which way?”

“You two play that twin stuff for all it’s worth,” said Konrad, with respect. “No wonder. Two people looking exactly the same…talk about messing with minds! If I had a twin in the lineup with me, nobody could ID me. Because it might be my twin, y’know? I could’ve beat the rap every time.”

“We’ll keep that in mind if we decide to go in for a life of crime, Konrad,” said Shannen.

“I don’t have a problem telling them apart.” Ty moved closer to Shannen. “This is Shannen. Unquestionably.”

When she took a step backward, he advanced, knowing she would force herself not to retreat again. She would view that as a tactical error.

He was right. She stayed put.

“Remember the rules? The crew isn’t supposed to interact with us in any way.” Shannen’s fingers clenched the pole tightly, and she stayed as still as she could, despite the unsteadying waves rising and breaking around her. “You’re supposed to be invisible. So shut up and film, Tynan.”

“Who’s to know I’m not? From on shore, it looks like I’m filming the three of you out here.”

“How do you know his name, Shan?” Lauren was puzzled. “We weren’t introduced to any of the crew. Clark and Bobby said to think of them as part of the camera equipment and forget they’re human.”

“Which isn’t hard to do, in his case,” Shannen sneered.

“You dodged the question, babe.” Konrad studied her curiously. “How come you know his name?”

“Maybe she made a good guess. Am I right, Shannen?” Ty’s bland tone contrasted sharply to his baiting smile.

“As a matter of fact, you are. I read a book about names, and Tynan means ‘condescending, self-righteous jerk,’ so I immediately guessed he must be a Tynan.” Shannen met and held his gaze. “An obvious fit.”

“If Cortnee was out here, she’d say, ‘What did the book say that Cortnee means?’” Konrad laughed.

It was a startling moment. Shannen recovered first.

“The first time Konrad laughs, and you aren’t filming, Tynan,” she scolded. “You’re not doing your job. I ought to tell Slick Bobby next time he oozes by so he can pass it on to Clark. Then you’ll get fired.”

“But you won’t tell, will you, Shannen?” Ty leaned down to wash off the bits of clam that clung to his bare shoulder. Like the other cameramen, he rarely wore a shirt during the long days of filming in the sun. He was bronzed and muscular.

Shannen quickly looked away from him, staring instead into the sparkling clear water.

“How do you know my sister won’t tell on you?” demanded Lauren, her eyes darting from Shannen to Ty and back again.

“Because I read the same name book that she did, and Shannen means ‘not a snitch,’” said Ty.

“A bitch but not a snitch,” amended Konrad.

Lauren stamped her foot. “My sister is not a bitch! You should apologize to Shannen right now, Konrad.”

“He doesn’t have to, I’ve been called worse names than that.” Shannen stole a glance at Ty. When she found him staring at her, she looked away again. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’m sure whoever called you…worse names, regrets doing so, Shannen,” Tynan said quietly.

“I’m sure I don’t care, Tynan,” she retorted. “Sticks and stones and all that.”

“Y’know, that’s just crap,” Konrad said vehemently. “Some of the names I got called as a kid made me a helluva lot madder than getting whacked with any stick. And in the joint, you better watch your mouth—you get what I’m saying? You diss somebody there and you’re dead meat. It’s worse than punching him out.”

“That’s an interesting point.” Ty raised his camera. “Would you say that again when I turn the camera back on?”

“Sure.” Konrad looked pleased. “Uh, should she say the bit about sticks and stones before I say it?”

“Yeah, that’s good.” Ty nodded. “Shannen?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Shannen said crossly. “You aren’t directing a movie, and we’re not supposed to rehearse our lines. Get out of here, Tynan. Go back and film Cortnee.”

“Hey, I made an interesting point,” argued Konrad. “It should be on TV.”

“I’ll give you a lead-in, Konrad,” Lauren volunteered. “Okay, Tynan, ‘Camera, action, take one,’ or however that drill goes.” She tilted her head, her expression suddenly wistful. “Shannen, remember how the kids at school used to call us freaky clones? And Gramma told us to say, ‘Sticks and stones may break our bones but names will never hurt us.’”

“Who called you freaky clones?” demanded Konrad. “Just tell me who and when I get back I’ll break every bone in their—”

“Nobody ever called us that.” Shannen heaved an exasperated sigh. “It was just Lauren’s cue for you to say your—oh, turn off that camera, Ty. This is ridiculous.”

Ty turned off the camera. “Makes you really respect directors, doesn’t it? Imagine doing take after take after take of the same botched scene.”

“Acting is harder than I thought,” admitted Konrad. “Care to try it over again?”

“No!” Tynan and the twins chorused.

The four of them looked at each other and laughed. They immediately lapsed into silence, nonplussed by the unexpected moment of camaraderie.

“I got a fish!” Lauren suddenly shrieked, hanging on to her bamboo pole, which was waving and twitching. “I bet it’s big, it’s really strong! Help!”

Tynan turned on his camera to film Lauren clutching her fishing pole as it swayed precariously, back and forth and around. Konrad reached over and took hold of the string, swinging it out of the water. The fish on the primitively fashioned hook went flying into the air.

“Get it! Get it!” cried Lauren.

Konrad did, catching the impressive-size fish with his bare hands.

“That was so quick!” marveled Shannen. “Like watching Gramma’s cat reach up and nab the bird who’d made the fatal mistake of flying onto the porch while he was napping there.”

“Except we can eat the fish,” said Lauren. “That bird incident—yuck, it was so gross!”

Ty’s lips quirked. He caught Shannen’s eye and found her looking at him. Both immediately turned their attention back to Konrad and the fish.

“I think I’ll turn off the camera until that fish is officially pronounced dead,” said Ty.

“Feeling queasy, Ty?” taunted Shannen. “You didn’t seem to have any qualms filming us drinking snake blood in that over-the-top victory contest a couple weeks ago.”

“The snake blood scene was sexy in a vampire-ish sort of way, to quote a TV critic,” said Ty. “But nobody is going to find strangling a fish sexy in any sort of way.”

“That’s disgusting!” scolded Shannen.

Ty wondered if she was referring to him, snake blood or fish strangulation.

“The fish is dead,” announced Konrad.

Ty resumed filming.

“This fish would make a decent-size meal for two people, maybe even three, but we’ll only have a few mouthfuls each if we split it six ways,” said Konrad. “So let’s not.”

“It’s only fair to share it with everybody,” insisted Lauren.

“We could outvote her.” Konrad turned to Shannen. “Two against one not to share.”

“My stomach wants to go along with you, but my better instincts tell me that Lauren is right.” Shannen sighed.

“Better instincts? More like idiotic instincts,” Konrad muttered, then added a few unintelligible growls as they trooped back to shore.

Cortnee was so delighted to see the fish, she squealed with joy and hugged Konrad and the twins in turn.

Rico and Jed tried to look happy but weren’t altogether convincing.

“Their smiles are so fake, I’m surprised their faces haven’t cracked,” observed Shannen to no one in particular. “They want to be the heroes, but you can’t catch anything, lounging around on the beach all day.”

“Told you it was stupid to share,” Konrad needled her.

Ty noticed that Reggie had moved closer to film the group, and he turned off his own camera. “Shannen.” His voice was lower than a whisper, but Shannen heard.

“Don’t talk to me,” she warned, her voice even quieter than his.

It was a warning Ty didn’t heed. “Meet me tonight. Same time and place as last night.”

“No!” She looked alarmed. “I can’t! I…I—” She was truly rattled.

“Be there,” said Ty, and moved away from her.

“Shannen, what’s wrong?” Lauren called out to her.

Shannen looked up to see Reggie, a few feet away, filming her.

Lauren was staring at her, confused. “You look—you don’t look happy, Shan.”

“Maybe she’s jealous because she wasn’t the one to catch the fish,” mocked Jed.

“Maybe I’m not happy because I expect you’ll try to grab yourself some glory and insist on cooking the fish yourself,” Shannen countered. “Thereby rendering it inedible.”

Jed took instant umbrage. “I’m a damn good cook. I even contributed a recipe that I invented myself to the Living off the Land cookbook.”

“What was it, how to barbecue roadkill?” Konrad snickered. “Step one, you pick it off the side of the road. Step two—”

“It was how to make elk stew,” Jed inserted disdainfully. “And—”

“Whatever,” snapped Cortnee. “Just don’t get anywhere near this fish!”

“He’s only had a few cooking…mishaps here on the island.” Lauren tried to make peace.

“You mean disasters, not mishaps,” corrected Rico.

“I’ve never cooked a bad meal,” Jed said huffily. “You’re all just a bunch of picky eaters.”

“Jed’s already proved that he doesn’t know the difference between cooking something or cremating it,” Shannen said flatly. “I vote that he not cook the fish.”

“I’m with you, twin,” said Rico.

“Me, too,” said Konrad.

“You’ve got my vote,” said Cortnee.



“Are we seeing cracks in what has previously been a staunch and solid alliance?” Bobby Dixon asked in his smiling, smooth soliloquy, filmed a mile down the beach.

A light breeze ruffled his thick hair and he smoothed it down with his hand, dimpling deeply.

“Tonight, after the victory contest, these six survivors, who have stuck together from the very beginning, will have to vote out one of their own.” His voice took on a note of urgency and suspense. “What shifts of allegiance will occur to form new alliances as we count down to five and then to the Final Four? Who has what it takes to be Victorious?”



Later the six contestants gathered around the fire, eating the fish cooked by the twins.

“That was great,” Rico said expansively, patting his washboard stomach. “If the food is as good at that diner your family owns, I’m heading there as soon as we’re off this island.”

“Shannen and I have been short-order cooks since we were in junior high,” said Lauren. “Of course, it’s much easier at home, because we don’t have to catch the food ourselves.”

“Well, no matter what you hear, the food in prison isn’t bad,” Konrad interjected. “And you get more of it than one lousy fish split six ways.”

“I’m still hungry,” wailed Cortnee. “Having only a couple bites of fish and a blob of wretched rice is like being on a starvation diet.”

“I cooked the rice and it wasn’t wretched, it was fine,” snarled Jed.

“It really wasn’t wretched at all,” Lauren hastily agreed.

“Uh-oh, look what’s headed our way.” Shannen was the first to spy Bobby Dixon strolling down the beach toward them, wearing his immaculately pressed khaki slacks and matching safari shirt.

“He looks so neat and clean all the time, I can’t stand it.” Cortnee groaned. “It’s been how long since we had a hot shower? And washing your hair in the ocean is really bad. There’s a reason why saltwater shampoo was never invented.”

“Wouldn’t it be thrilling to see Slick Bobby look less…dapper?” Shannen flashed a naughty smile. “It might even take my mind off being hungry out here all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’ll never happen.” Rico heaved a disgruntled sigh. “We’ll stay hungry as long as we’re on the island, and Bobby will stay clean. You just know he has his clothes cleaned and pressed every day over in the crew’s camp. And somehow he never sweats, no matter how hot it is.”

“Makes you wonder if the guy’s human,” murmured Shannen. “I’ve had my doubts. Those dimples of his look like computer animation.”

“I bet Slick B would sweat if we poured fish guts over him,” said Konrad, staring moodily into the bean can holding the fish remains. They’d saved the can from their first days on the island, to use as a container.

“Anybody want to try it and see?” Rico asked eagerly. “Cortnee? Twins?”

Shannen laughed. “You’re evil, Rico.”

“Hello, all.” Bobby joined them, dimpling at the camera. “No mail-in-the-tree today. I brought the contest requirements to you in person.”

“Watch out, Bobby. They’ve hatched this juvenile plan to drench you in fish guts,” Jed called out.

Konrad scowled. “Anybody know what that stoolie is talking about?”

The others shrugged and shook their heads.

“I do know that Jed is a rat.” Cortnee sniffed. “And if he didn’t win every contest and get himself immunity, I’d gladly vote him off.”

“You can dream, but it’s never going to happen, baby-cakes.” Jed positioned himself so his sculpted body had full camera advantage. “And keep in mind that we’re no longer a team anymore. Now it’s everyone for himself—or herself, as the case may be.”

“Jed is right,” agreed Bobby. “It’s everyone for him-or herself, and the contest today is a rowboat race. All six of you will take turns rowing out to the crew’s boat and back.”

He pointed to the large boat anchored about a hundred yards out in the sea. “The one with the fastest time, of course, wins immunity in the council vote tonight.”

“Have I ever mentioned that I crewed in college?” Jed began his warmup exercises. “And kayaked down the Colorado River when the white water was at its highest and fastest?”

“Kayaks are for sissies,” scoffed Shannen. “Lauren and I rode the white water at its highest and fastest using rubber duck floatees.”

Shannen glanced up to see Tynan and Reggie chuckling behind their cameras. She pretended not to notice them, turning her attention to Rico and Cortnee, who were also laughing at her joke. But when she looked over at her sister, Lauren wasn’t even smiling.

“Are you okay, Lauren?” asked Shannen, concerned. Lauren looked so…cross? Shannen almost did a double take. Was Lauren angry about something? But what?

“Sure.” Lauren smiled slightly, shrugging. “I’m fine, Shannen.”

“Hey, Jed, my man, since you’re so sure you’re going to win, would you mind letting us five losers go before you?” Konrad asked with unusual servility. “You know, to build up the suspense and all?”

“I don’t mind going last,” said Jed. “Although I can’t guarantee suspense, because the outcome will never be in doubt. I’m going to win.”

“Yeah?” With mercurial speed, Konrad’s expression turned to disgust, and he suddenly picked up the can of fish guts and tossed it at Bobby.

But Bobby was on the alert, thanks to Jed, and deftly jumped aside. “That was uncalled for, Konrad!” Bobby was peeved. His clothes, however, remained pristine, as if he’d just picked them up from the dry cleaner’s. “You could be disciplined for—”

“Disciplined for a little food-fight fun?” Shannen cut in. “Where’s your sense of humor, Slick B? Anyway, this isn’t high school, and you can’t ‘discipline’ anybody.”



The crew snickered. Bobby Dixon’s off-camera behavior as a prima donna had earned him no friends among them.

“That chick has a righteous attitude,” said Heidi. “She doesn’t put up with anything from anybody.”

“She never has,” murmured Ty wryly. “Since she arrived on the island,” he was quick to add.



Ty and two others remained on the beach filming, while cameramen Reggie and Paul were stationed on the crew boat, to film the contestants racing to it. Bobby Dixon was also on the boat with a large stopwatch to record the times. The production assistants were scattered in both locations.

Cortnee went first and threw herself down on the sand on her return. “I’m so tired I could faint. That awful rowing took more energy than playing the lead in my senior-class musical.” She wiped away tears with the back of her hand.

Rico went next, then Lauren and then Shannen.

“Well, that was hellacious,” Shannen groaned, sitting down between Lauren and Rico after her own long row. “My arms feel like they’re going to fall off, my hands are getting blistered and I’m exhausted. Not to mention hungrier than ever.”

She looked into the camera and met Tynan’s eyes. “I’m going to bed right after the council meeting, no matter what.”

Slowly Ty turned his head from one side to the other. He mouthed the word “tonight” and watched her jaw drop. Clearly, she was not expecting such obvious interaction with him.

But nobody noticed except her. The others were ignoring the camera and cameraman to watch Konrad push the rowboat into the water.

“I said I’m going straight to bed tonight,” Shannen repeated, giving Ty her most forbidding grimace. “Nowhere but my own bed.”

“You girls should’ve done what Konrad is doing,” said Jed, who was standing nearby, watching Konrad in the rowboat heading out to sea. “You should’ve saved your strength and taken your own sweet time, like him. He knows I’m going to win, and since every other score is irrelevant, why wear yourself out?”

He swaggered off toward the water to wait for Konrad to return with the rowboat.

“I hate Jed,” Cortnee said fiercely, watching him walk off. “He thinks he’s so hot. Did you know he slept with both Keri and Lucy? They each tried to get him to switch his alliance from us to them, and he let them think he would. I wanted to tell you all, but I didn’t think the time was right. Till now.”

“He slept with both of them?” Lauren gasped. “Cortnee, are you sure?”

“I heard them, I heard everything.” Cortnee shuddered. “They were right outside the tent on my side and I’m a light sleeper. I wake up at the slightest noise.”

“Do you hear people get up during the night to, um, well—you know?” Shannen was not her usual frank self.

“Uh-huh. I heard you or your sister get up last night to—” Cortnee laughed. “No need to be shy, we’re among friends—to use the facilities.”

“I can’t believe Jed would use Keri and Lucy for sex,” said Lauren. “If he did, he would’ve switched his allegiance from us to them, and he didn’t. He was loyal and he stuck with us all this time. You…you must’ve misinterpreted what you were hearing, Cortnee.”

“I know exactly what I heard,” insisted Cortnee. “Believe me, I didn’t misinterpret a thing.”

“The man is slime.” Shannen scowled.

“And the reason why Jed didn’t switch from us to them is because we five were the stronger choice,” Rico pointed out. “Loyalty had nothing to do with it. Too bad we’re stuck with him now. He’ll keep winning every contest for immunity, and we’ll get kicked off, one by one.”

“We made our version of a deal with the devil. Now it’s time to pay.” Shannen looked over at Ty. “Gramma always says, ‘If you let the devil into the cart, you’ll have to drive him home.’ And she wasn’t talking about hitchhiking in biblical times.”

Ty grinned broadly. Shannen lifted her chin and turned away.

Konrad joined the group after his long, slow turn in the boat race. He looked downright cheerful. “So, tonight we vote out Jed. Everybody cool with that?”

“If only!” Shannen gingerly moved her aching arms and flexed her fingers again. “But Jed’ll have the fastest time and win immunity so we can’t vote against him. We five will have to vote out one of us. Jed is going to be the winner in this game, I think that’s screamingly obvious.”

“Speaking of screaming.” Konrad cocked his head. “Do I hear some?”

“I don’t hear anything.” Lauren looked around. “Even those screeching monkeys are quiet for a change.”

Seconds after she’d uttered that declaration, a scream pierced the tranquil air. All heads turned in the direction of the ocean.

Jed was standing in the boat, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“That was definitely a scream,” Shannen said dryly, turning toward Konrad. “A primal one. Is there a scorpion in the boat with Jed or something?”

“It looks like Jed is trying to throw handfuls of water out of the boat.” Cortnee looked confused. “Why isn’t he rowing?”

“Too bad he doesn’t have a bucket,” said Konrad. “Lots easier to bail with a bucket than with your hands.” He surprised everybody by roaring with laughter.

“The boat’s sinking!” exclaimed Rico. “Look, it really is! In another couple minutes, Jed is going to be in the ocean.”

“Oh, poor Jed!” cried Lauren.

“Yeah, poor poor Jed.” Konrad laughed harder. “Good thing Mister Wilderness Guide is such a strong swimmer, huh?”

“Good thing,” agreed Shannen. “Because the rowboat is history. All that’s left is an oar. Well, Konrad did say it was a leaky old tub.” She shot a quizzical glance at him.

They all stared out at the lone floating oar and at Jed, two far-off blurs in the sea.

“Everybody!” Cortnee cried. “I just thought of something. Since the rowboat sank, Jed won’t be able to complete the contest. He won’t get immunity. One of us will have the fastest time and one of us will win immunity!”

“It won’t be me,” predicted Konrad. “I was really slow out there.”

“We noticed.” Shannen said dryly. “There were times when we couldn’t see you at all, you were slouched down so far in the boat. You have an interesting way of rowing, Konrad. And you’re good at predictions, too, it seems,” she added, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Konrad bowed from the waist.

For a few more minutes they all watched Jed swimming toward the crew’s boat as the waves broke over him. There wasn’t a trace of the sunken rowboat.

Later, a soaking-wet Jed was returned to shore in the dinghy from the crew boat. He stomped into camp with accusations of sabotage and demanded another chance in another rowboat.

As the cameras continued to roll, he threatened to sue the show and the network and everybody on the island, especially Konrad, if he ultimately won the game.

Bobby Dixon was unmoved. “Sorry, Jed. The rules of the game plainly state that do-overs are never allowed. There’s no proof of any wrongdoing, and the cameras were on the rowboat at all times.”

“On the rowboat, but not on Konrad!” argued Jed. “He got himself out of sight and did something to make it sink, I know he did. He cheated!”

“Not winning is obviously difficult for you, Jed, but you must accept it and move on like everybody else,” Bobby said unctuously. “In today’s contest, the fastest time was Rico’s, and he wins the immunity statue.”

Bobby handed Rico the foot-high painted wooden totem pole that looked as if it had been purchased at a roadside souvenir shop.

“This is the first time in the game that anybody but Jed has won that thing,” said Shannen. “No one can vote against Rico tonight. Gee, I wonder who everybody will vote off the island?”




Three


The full moon had waned only slightly, so the bright path through the tangle of vines and low-hanging branches was as easy to follow as it had been last night. Shannen slowly, carefully made her way, as familiar with it by night as by day.

She had thoroughly explored this island during the long daylight hours, looking for food and anything else that might be useful to their group. She’d easily slipped off alone, when the cameras were fixed on groups of the others.

With Lauren unwittingly serving as a decoy, Shannen’s absences went unnoticed. Since the twins weren’t always side by side, as long as one of them was in view, who was to say which sister it was? That sort of fungibility sometimes bugged Shannen, but not on this island, not in this game.

Especially since her solo wanderings had provided her with quite a bit of useful information, some of which she didn’t share with anybody. Like the undiscovered shortcut to the crew’s camp on the other side of the island and the secluded palm grove where she was now headed.

Shannen’s heart began to thud heavily.

She’d slipped away from camp tonight, wondering if Cortnee had heard her leave. But there was nothing questionable about someone getting up and heading off “to use the facilities,” Shannen reminded herself.

Cortnee hadn’t been suspicious last night; plus, she wouldn’t know whether it was Lauren or Shannen who’d left on either night.

Certainly the last thing anybody would suspect was that practical, logical, no-nonsense Shannen Cullen was sneaking off to meet the chief cameraman. Not even Lauren, the person who knew her best in the world, would ever fathom that.

But then, there were some things that not even Lauren knew about her twin.

Nine years ago, in the throes of rebellion and intense first love—she’d often wondered how much one had fueled the other—Shannen had stopped sharing every single thought and feeling with Lauren. Her wild passion for Tynan Howe had been the biggest secret she’d ever kept. Deliberately, she hadn’t even mentioned his name to her twin.

And though she’d gloried in her secret love, when it was over—after he’d ended it—the price she had paid was enduring her heartbreak alone. For the first time in her young life, Shannen hadn’t had loyal Lauren to share her pain, thereby halfing it. Another grudge to hold against Tynan Howe, and she’d held fast to it.

Yet now, though supposedly older and wiser, here she was repeating her mistakes—the rebellion against the rules, the secrecy from her sister—and with the same man!

What was happening to that practical, logical and no-nonsense character she’d spent years honing? Why was she sneaking out at midnight, like the recalcitrant teenager she’d once been, to meet Tynan Howe? Again!

Nine years ago he had insisted he was too old for her. In her calmer moments back then—and since—she might even have seen his point and agreed. She might’ve dreamed of a day when she was out of high school, out of her teens, and had reached whatever age Ty deemed “old enough.”

But her age wasn’t the sole reason cited by Tynan as to why they couldn’t be together. It was those other, far more hurtful reasons he had supplied—the reasons she came to believe were his true reasons—that still resonated within her.

Well, she was of legal age now, and thanks to the multiple Howe scandals, Tynan was not quite the “catch” he once had been. Not that she wanted to catch him, Shannen quickly assured herself.

She didn’t for many reasons—the current, main one being this game they were playing, on opposite sides of the camera, making Tynan Howe off-limits to her.

It was déjà-vu all over again, as the saying went.

If their clandestine meetings were discovered, she would undoubtedly be kicked out of the game, in full camera view, of course. Clark Garrett and Slick Bobby would want to milk every dramatic possibility.

Lauren would feel so betrayed by her twin’s secrecy, both past and present, and the cameras would record her reaction to it all. Shannen flinched at the thought of wounding her sister.

Furthermore, if she were eliminated now, how long would Lauren last without her in the game? From the time they were little, Shannen had felt compelled to protect Lauren, to make sure no one took advantage of her more naive twin.

Would Konrad, Rico and Cortnee gang up on Lauren if her more formidable sister were gone? Being legitimately voted off the island was one thing, but foolishly getting herself kicked out of the game was unacceptable.

Unexpectedly she and Lauren had come this far. Why throw away a possible chance to win?

Though it would be wonderful to win the top prize, just making the final four would be okay, too, Shannen told herself. Being one of the final four meant a cash prize, with each runner-up—the third, the second and, finally, the first—making more in turn.

Were she and Lauren both to make the final four, the payoff would be considerable. That was not something to be lightly dismissed.

The Cullen twins hadn’t turned over their lives to a prime-time game show for the hell of it. They needed the money—the family was counting on them.

As for the risk Tynan was taking meeting her…

Well, keeping his job because he needed his salary wouldn’t be a concern for him. Whatever their transgressions, the Howes must still be rich. After all, during the entire time the Howe family had been under the full glare of the media spotlight, one story that had never appeared was their plunge into poverty.

Ty probably wouldn’t even lose his job. Wasn’t it a universal truth that men rarely paid the same price for breaking the rules that women did? And, of course, Tynan was a Howe, whose family knew a thing or two thousand about rule breaking.

Victorious concerns aside, Tynan Howe was emotionally dangerous to her. Any man who could effortlessly turn back the clock nine years and transform her into her impetuous young-girl self was a must to avoid.

Unfortunately, Shannen couldn’t seem to stay focused on all the practical, logical no-nonsense reasons why she should keep away from him. She kept getting distracted by other thoughts.

Like his name. He wasn’t even using the name Howe. She’d realized that the first day they had all arrived on the island. There were no introductions to the crew, but when she’d seen Ty among them—after getting over the initial stunning shock—she had paid close attention. And heard him called Ty Hale.

Hale, not Howe. Scrapping Howe for Hale didn’t surprise her nearly as much as the fact that he was working as a television cameraman. After all, the Howe name was no longer a proud symbol of wealth, achievement and privilege. The family had dragged it through so much mud, it had become a stigma.

But Tynan had gone to law school. He’d been a senior law student at West Falls University Law School when they’d met. She knew he’d taken and passed the state bar exam. The names of graduates passing the various state professional examinations always were proudly published in the university newspaper.

Since when did a lawyer work as a cameramen on a network game show? Tynan Hale, attorney at law, made more sense than Tynan Hale, working-stiff cameraman, didn’t it?

She wanted to know; she wondered every time she looked at him behind that camera. Which was nearly sixteen hours a day. The omnipresence of the camera crew was annoying enough, but having Ty always there had reawakened feelings she thought—she’d hoped!—had died.

Not so. Never had she been so aware of anyone in her life—except during their last go-round nine long years ago.

So why didn’t you ask him all those pertinent questions last night, Shannen? she silently chided herself. Instead, she’d ended up in his arms within minutes, after making that pathetically lame excuse of why she had risked meeting him.

Why had she risked meeting him in the first place?

No use pretending she didn’t know the answer to that one. Seeing him every day, all day… Having him so near yet so totally out of reach…

The tension built and burned inside her. Unaccustomed to passivity, she couldn’t stop herself from taking action.

Oh, who was she kidding? Shannen exhaled an impatient sigh, unable to talk herself into the convenient self-deception. Taking action and losing control were too very different responses, and she knew which one had prevailed last night.

Memories of last night whirled through her head, making her wince. Tynan had accused her of strategizing by using silence. Thankfully, he hadn’t known she’d been struck dumb by the sight of him, by the tantalizing prospect of being alone with him. On a tropical island late at night, both of them legal, consenting adults.

Her imagination raced to places that made her blush.

It was definitely to her advantage that he believed she was cool enough to plot and plan and play a game. Now all she had to do was keep up the pretense.

It wouldn’t be very hard to do, Shannen pep-talked herself, as she slowed her pace. She wasn’t a giddy schoolgirl anymore, she was a mature woman known for her competence and self-control.





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