And one big disadvantage.
After about a week, he tackled the problem that was troubling him. “Ree, it’s not that I’m not grateful—”
“Oh, dear, more of your ‘bitching.’”
“—and it’s not that I’m not loving our time here, because I am.”
“I can tell,” she said, smiling and pointing at his groin. He’d decided nudity was the way to go as well, but had saved his boxers and T-shirt . . . for what, he wasn’t sure.
“Stop that, I’m being serious. But Ree, how long are you going to stay with me? Don’t you have a family . . . people worried about you?”
“No.”
“So you’re just going to . . . I mean, I might never get rescued.”
“Are you suggesting I just swim off and leave you?” she said, aghast.
“Well. Uh. I don’t want you to leave—”
“I thought you liked me.” Oh, Christ! Was that—it was! A tear was trickling down her left cheek.
“Ree! I do like you, I adore you, I worship you!” He pulled her into his arms and, luckily, she decided to be pulled (he had estimated that she was at least twice as strong as he was). “But this isn’t any kind of life for you. I’m just saying I don’t expect you to give up everything to stay on this little spit of sand for God knows how long.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
“All right, all right. Quit cryin’, will ya?” He was in a near panic. He hadn’t thought she had tear ducts! “I’m glad you want to stay, okay? It’s just . . . something that’s been on my mind for a bit, that’s all.”
So that was settled, and things went on as they had: idyllic and fun and lots of sex.
For a while.
Chapter 15
About a week later, Ree came striding out of the waves looking distracted and carrying five fish.
“Run into trouble?”
“Not . . . exactly.”
“What’s that mean?” he said, spitting the fish.
“I think—I think I heard someone. One of my folk.
So I—so I called him.”
“Oh.”
“Perhaps he can aid in your rescue.”
“Oh.” He thought that over for a second. “Jeez, thanks! I guess it’s a long shot, but thanks for trying.”
“Mmmm.”
She was distracted the rest of the morning, and although he got the shock of his life when a man with vivid green hair and purple (purple!) eyes strode out of the waves, Ree only looked resigned.
“Greetings, Reanesta,” he said in a deep baritone, naked as a newt. “Were you calling me? I am Jertan.”
“Yes.” Instead of shaking hands, they sort of clasped each other’s elbows. “Thank you for coming. This is my—my friend, Con.”
“Hello, Con.” Jertan looked curious and (odd, given that he was a good three inches taller and at least thirty pounds heavier, all of it muscle) even a little wary. Con reminded himself that the Undersea Folk (for so Ree called them) were new to walking up to ordinary folks. “Are you the biped Conwin Edmund Conlinson?”
Con felt his eyebrows arch in surprise. “Yeah.” He stuck out a hand and Jertan shook it carefully. Con took his hand back, relieved none of his fingers had been crushed. “How’d you know?”
“Why, many bipeds are searching for you! They fear you have been lost forever. When I see,” he added, with a sly look at Ree, “that you are in fact doing quite well for yourself.”
“Watch it,” he said mildly.
Jertan grinned, showing the same startlingly sharp teeth Ree had. “I will indeed. In fact, I will return to my home on the mainland and give them the coordinates of this island.”
“That’s—thanks.”
“Our people must learn to get along,” Jertan said carelessly. “Reanesta, may I be of further assistance?”
“No, Jertan,” she said colorlessly. “It was kind of you to come.”
“Courtesy to my folk is no kindness. I am going now,” he said, and without another word turned and walked back into the surf.
“You guys really aren’t into saying good-bye, are you?” he asked, watching the guy disappear into the waves.
Ree shrugged.
“Well!” he boomed with false cheer. “You’ll be rid of me in a few days. That should be a load off your mind.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Pretty soon you’ll be free, and I’ll be back on TV.”
“Yes.”
Then why did he have such a sick feeling in his stomach, and why did she look so strange?
Chapter 16
The rescue boat showed up three days later. Reanesta watched it, wondering if she might vomit. Could she be carrying Con’s pup? She’d been ill the last few mornings, but it was too soon to tell—and frankly, just the thought of Con disappearing forever was enough to make her feel ill. And she would fight a thousand great whites before trying to keep him on the island when he so obviously wanted to get back to his life. His show.
His stupid, silly survivor show. Survivor! Ha!
Con was waving madly, having hurriedly dressed in his shorts and shirt. The large boat honked twice in response, anchored, and then she could see men preparing to lower a smaller boat into the water.
“I don’t want them to see me,” she told him quietly. “I will leave now.”
“Wha—now? Now now? But I wanted to introduce you to my crew!”
“I,” she replied, “do not wish to see them.”
“Oh.” He rubbed his jaw, which was sporting a reddish brown beard after all this time. “Like that, huh? Done with your little pet project, now?”
She didn’t know what he was talking about. He was the one who couldn’t wait to leave. “I will not be back,” she said, and turned to leave.
“Wait!” he snarled, snatching her elbow. She coolly considered breaking his wrist and decided that would be unusually—what was the word? Bitchy. “Jeez, you just can’t wait to get out of here, can you? I gave you the chance last week! You said you wanted to stay with me.”
“And you,” she said coldly, “love your show more than you love any living creature.” Couldn’t he see her pride? Didn’t he understand she couldn’t ask him to give up his life to stay with her? “Now remove your hand, before I remove your lungs.”
He let go of her like she was hot. “Fine,” he snapped. “Thanks for saving my life and for all the sex.”
“You are most welcome,” she replied icily and walked around to the far end of the island where the small boat couldn’t see her, and when she hit the water it was a great relief because the salt water nicely camouflaged her tears.
Chapter 17
Con! Babe! We’re all set to start shooting for sweeps. Your comeback is going to be the lead for the week. We’ve already sold all the ad time,” Alan, his producer, burbled.
“Super.”
“Con! Babe! You’ve been moping ever since we picked you up off of that godforsaken island.”
“Don’t call it that,” he snapped. “It was a very nice island.”
“Con! Babe! What is your damage? Although thank heavens you finally shaved; that mountain man look was just too awful.”
“Nothin’,” he muttered. They were lounging in his trailer, it was six days later, and he was belatedly realizing that leaving Ree behind was the biggest fucking mistake he had ever made—and that included getting his sorry self shipwrecked in the first place. “Got a lot on my mind.”