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The next morning, she stood by the hotel’s reception, her suitcase and a small backpack at her feet. Her eyes felt gritty and she suppressed a huge yawn with the back of her hand.
She hadn’t been able to sleep the previous night.
Despite the ridiculously huge bed, with its crisp white sheets and numerous feather pillows, she hadn’t been able to stop her mind racing. Outside the balcony windows, cicadas had chirped loudly, and below that the air conditioner had hummed.
She’d tossed and turned, bashing down her pillows with her fist, trying not to look at the digital display of her clock, which counted down the minutes until her alarm went off at six a.m. She’d known she needed to be fresh for the morning, but every time she’d glanced at the clock, the number of hours of sleep she’d be getting kept getting smaller, and oblivion hadn’t come. It had been her last night in a comfortable bed for almost a week and she had barely slept. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
She’d been instructed only to bring what would fit in the backpack—the same sort she’d take if she was out on a daytrip. Despite this, she’d been told she needed to vacate her room. Promises that the rest of her luggage would be put in storage had followed—the show wasn’t prepared to fork out five nights for a luxury hotel room just to house her belongings.
In a few hours, she’d be deposited in some remote area with only Tyler Janson for company. The thought made her shiver. She remembered his intense eyes, the cut jaw with just a hint of dark stubble, the sheer size of him. How would it feel to be held against that body, to feel so small and fragile and curvy in comparison to his broad, hard plains?
Charlie forced the thoughts away.
She had dressed in khaki shorts and a black tank top. The shorts were short enough to show off her slender, tanned legs, and she’d chosen a top that would look the part while still managing to show off enough cleavage. Funnily enough, she no longer cared about the film crew catching her with too little clothing, but instead cared about what Tyler Janson would make of her outfit. On her feet, she wore a simple pair of flip-flops. She’d pulled her blonde waves up into a ponytail which sat high on her head.
She wished she could have brought her phone or iPad, but she’d been instructed that no electrical equipment was allowed. She had to rough it with none of the securities of contact to the outside world or any other entertainment.
Charlie tapped her foot, pursed her lips, and checked her watch. Where was everyone? They should be here waiting for her, not the other way around.
Movement drew her attention, and Agatha came rushing across the foyer from the elevator, looking flushed and harried.
“Sorry, sorry!” she declared, holding both her hands up in surrender. “I know I’m late.”
“It’s not like you to sleep in,” said Charlie, taking in her disheveled state.
“Sorry,” she said again.
Only a minute later, Harry Bournmouth appeared. “Good morning, Agatha,” he said, his eyes flicking down the older woman’s body.
Agatha flustered and preened under his attention.
She looked between them and the penny dropped.
Oh God, no. Charlie’s stomach churned and she had to physically stop herself from wrinkling her nose in disgust. It was too early for those sorts of thoughts and she hadn’t had anywhere near enough coffee. Gross.
She looked around hopefully for Tyler, but he was nowhere to be seen. Her stomach dipped in disappointment. He has to be coming. He’s supposed to be looking out for me.
“Where’s ... umm ...” She wasn’t sure what to address him by. “Mr. Janson?”
Harry gave a dismissive wave of his stubby hand. “Oh, he’s already gone to the airfield. He needed to do some checks on his equipment before they loaded up, or something like that.”
“Oh, right,” she said, hoping she seemed as though she was enquiring out of politeness sake rather than particularly interested in his whereabouts.
The hotel had called them a cab, and it waited outside.
They climbed into the vehicle, Harry up front in the passenger seat, Charlie and Agatha in the back.
Charlie drummed her fingers on her thigh.
“Nervous?”
“Huh?” She glanced over at her agent.
“You seem uptight.”
“Unlike you,” she quipped. “You seeming particularly relaxed. Get up to much last night?”
Agatha laughed and smoothed her hair. “Oh, you know me. I kept busy.”
“I’m sure you did,” she muttered. Hypocrite. And after telling me not to screw the staff!
The city sped by, and before long the cab pulled into a small private airstrip. The plane was tiny, only one engine and seating no more than eight, not including the pilot. Her stomach churned at the idea of getting on such a small aircraft.
Standing at the bottom of a set of metal stairs leading up to the cabin, Tyler waited, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He held his shoulders back, his square chin raised. A large backpack was strapped across his back.
They walked across the airfield toward the plane. Tyler’s eyes scanned down her body, and she felt herself pull back her shoulders and suck in her already tiny stomach.
“Tyler,” Harry said, extending a hand toward him. Tyler shook his hand but his eyes didn’t leave Charlie. Excitement raced through her afresh. Was he checking her out so openly? She didn’t think she’d ever had a man regard her with such intense concentration.
“They’re not going to be any good,” he said with a frown, looking down to her footwear. “Don’t you have anything sturdier?”
That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. She thought he’d been checking her out, not criticizing her outfit.
“Umm,” she said, heat rising to her face. “I have some workout sneakers.”
He gave a curt nod. “Those would be better.”
“But won’t my feet get hot?”
“If we have a lot of walking to do, you’re going to prefer to have hot feet than ones covered in blisters, insect and snake bites, and sliced to shreds by rocks.”
“Oh, right.” Her cheeks colored again. Wow, this guy had a way of making her feel like a useless twelve-year-old. She quickly pulled off her bag and changed her shoes. Knowing Tyler probably wouldn’t approve, she unclipped one of the straps of her bag and hooked the flip-flops onto the front of her rucksack. Despite what he said, she still thought she’d need them.
Movement diverted her attention away from Tyler’s hot body and cool comments. Three people strode across the runway toward them—two men and one woman. Charlie recognized the woman as Ella Dresden, the presenter and commentator for Celebrity Survivor. Every time Charlie screwed up on the show, Ella would be the one who’d point it out to the several million people watching.
From the equipment the two men carried, Charlie assumed they were the camera and sound man.
Ella was also blonde, like Charlie, though older, in her early thirties. She wore too much make-up, something Charlie suspected she must have done for the cameras—her clear skin and bright eyes not needing all the foundation and mascara. The other woman approached with a smile and a confident stride to her walk. Her smile widened as she caught sight of Charlie and spread further at the sight of Tyler, though she showed none of the self-conscious spluttering Charlie had displayed upon meeting the ex-Marine.
“Miss Charleston,” she said in a warm tone, her hand extended. “How lovely to meet you. I’m Ella Dresden.”
Charlie smiled, suddenly a little awestruck. “Yes, I know.” She shook the other woman’s hand. “It’s great to meet you, too.”
Ella’s eyes flicked to the producer, her smile fading. “Hello, Harry,” she said, her voice somewhat cooler.
Immediately, Charlie felt herself warm to Ella.
Harry gave her a curt nod. “Ella.”
Clearly there was no love lost between them. Charlie wondered what had happened. Had Harry tried to hit on the presenter, only to be swiftly knocked back?
Ella turned her attention back to Charlie. “So, are you ready for all of this?”
Charlie grimaced. “As I’ll ever be.”
Ella’s gaze ran over Tyler’s big, hard body and her eyebrows arched, a glint in her eye. “It looks like you’ll be well taken care of.”
Charlie deliberately tried not to look at Tyler. “Yeah, I hope so.”
“Well, as I’m sure you already know, we won’t be landing with you, but I always do a pre-drop off interview on the plane, and of course the camera crew will want to film your initial reactions.”
“But the rest of filming will be hidden cameras,” she confirmed.
“That’s right. Only Mr. Janson will be accompanying you from the plane.” She looked to Tyler and gave him a nod, which he returned.
Charlie’s stomach churned, for more than one reason. A couple of things the presenter said ran back in her mind. “Hang on a minute. What do you mean you won’t be landing with me?”
Harry stepped in. “You see, Charlie, you’ll be parachuting from the aircraft.”
She raised her hands in defense and shook her head. “Oh, no. Definitely not. I don’t even really want to go up in that thing, never mind jump out of it.”
“You’ll be perfectly safe. Tyler has done this a hundred times before.”
She suddenly realized the thing she had assumed was a backpack strapped to his shoulders was actually the parachute—the only thing between her surviving and plummeting to her death.
They wouldn’t allow it, she told herself. It must be safe. The show would be shut down if they lost a celebrity doing one of these things.
She finally allowed herself to look directly at Tyler. “Is that true?”
His dark, serious gaze fell on her. “Of course. You won’t need to do a thing. I’ll strap you against me, and I’ll be the one who does the jump.” For the first time, a hint of a smile played on his full lips. “You’ll simply be along for the ride.”
The way he said that sent a shiver running through her, condensing deep at her core. She imagined being strapped against his hard body, his chest and hips pressed tightly against her back ...
Her agent’s voice broke her from her reverie. “You’ll be perfectly safe, Charlie.” Agatha gave her a stern glare. “Stop making such a fuss.”
“I don’t see you offering to jump out with me,” she shot back.
“I’m not the one everyone wants to see.”
“Yeah, the one everyone wants to see make a fool out of herself,” she muttered.
With the formalities over, the group climbed the set of small metal stairs and boarded the aircraft. The plane only sat eight, with Harry and Agatha sitting up front, behind the pilot’s seat. Charlie and Ella took the next two seats, with Tyler directly behind Charlie. She felt his presence burn into her back. At the back of the plane sat the sound and camera men.
Was she really going to have to jump out of this plane with Tyler strapped to her back? What if she did something totally humiliating, like start to cry or even throw up? Oh, God, she’d never get over the mortification.
No, no, no. You’ll be fine, she reassured herself. Just close your eyes and imagine you’re somewhere else.
The pilot climbed in—a local man in his forties. He twisted around in his seat and smiled at his passengers. “Everybody ready?”
Charlie gave a nervous smile. “Sure.” The others made positive noises around her and they all clicked themselves into their seatbelts.
Though the plane was tiny and only a single engine, it started up with a roar that was almost deafening, the whole of the aircraft vibrating beneath her. The tang of diesel assaulted her nostrils. The plane began to move, taxiing into position on the runway. She experienced a rush of g-force as they built up speed. Then there was a moment of weightlessness, her stomach left behind, as they soared into the air.
Charlie dared to peer out of one of the small, porthole windows, and her stomach lurched again as she watched the city and surrounding countryside grow smaller and smaller. Cars like ants, the occasional skinny cow, small clusters of houses. They headed out to sea, the ocean stretched beneath them, the crystal blue marked with white horses and the occasional boat.
The roar of the engine lessened to a dull roar as they reached a cruising altitude and the plane leveled off.
Charlie realized her fists had been clenched, her nails pressing half ellipses into her palms. Her hands felt hot and sweaty and she surreptitiously tried to dry them off on her shorts.
“Are you okay, Miss Charleston?” The deep voice came from behind her right ear, close enough for his hot breath to warm her skin. She twisted in her seat to find Tyler staring at her.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” She risked a smile. “And it’s Charlie.”
He gave a curt nod. “You’ve gone pale.”
“It just never seems right that a tin can should be this high up in the air.”
“I’m here to take care of you,” he said, his words causing her breath to catch.
Her voice came out as a whisper, drowned out by the noise of the plane. “Thank you.”
She twisted back around in her seat to find Harry staring at her. “Are you ready to answer some questions before we get there?”
The camera and sound men jumped into action at his words, the fluffy sound buff appearing right above her head, the camera held up to catch both her and Ella.
She forced a smile. “Sure.”
Ella gave a winning smile at the camera and then looked back to Charlie. “Charlie Charleston, we’ve seen you on numerous red carpets, we’ve seen you out in the finest restaurants, and of course we’ve seen you partying in the best clubs, so how are you feeling about spending the next five days away from these luxuries?”
Charlie tried to answer as honestly as she could. “Pretty terrified, right now, Ella.”
The presenter gave a perfect laugh. “I’ll bet. And what do you think your biggest challenge will be?”
“Getting any sleep,” she replied, thinking about how badly she’d slept the night before considering she’d been in the most comfortable of beds. “I tend to suffer from insomnia as it is.”
“Oh, I can sympathize with that—”
Suddenly, the plane dropped a hundred feet. Screams and yells of surprise filled the small space, and Charlie let out a shriek of her own. Her stomach lurched, feeling like she’d left it behind, somewhere overhead.
“Nothing to worry about, everyone,” the pilot called back. “Just a little turbulence.”
Ella gave another winning smile, though Charlie noticed the other woman had gone pale beneath her layer of makeup. “So what’s your greatest fear about the next five days?” she continued, ever the professional.
“All the bugs,” Charlie admitted. “I hate pretty much anything that moves if it has either six or eight legs, so I’m probably going to spend the next five days shrieking and making a total fool out of myself.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” Ella said, though Charlie knew that was exactly what they were all hoping she would do. “Have you ever been in any survival situations before?”
Charlie laughed. “Oh, God, no. I’ve never even been camping.”
The plane dropped again, falling out of the sky for a split second before leveling off. The screams weren’t as loud as before, but everyone began to cast nervous glances at one another.
“Sorry, folks,” the pilot called over his shoulder. “I’m not sure what happened there. I think the engine—”
His words were cut off as the plane dropped again.
“Oh, shit!” The swear words escaped Charlie’s lips.
The pilot got on the radio. “Tower, this is Sentosa one-three-seven-seven declaring Pan-Pan-Pan. Requesting immediate return to airfield.” He listened to the response and then leaned back slightly toward his passengers. “This isn’t looking good, everyone,” he yelled. “I suggest you strap yourselves in. We might be in for a bumpy landing.”
Landing? Charlie risked a glance out of the window. The blue of the ocean spread beneath them. Only a couple of spots of green marked out the tiny islands in the distance. Where the hell is he planning to land?
The engine stuttered beneath them, becoming ominously quiet.
The plane started to plummet.
The small aircraft screeched through the air, throwing Charlie back in her seat with the g-force. The metal seats rattled in their casings, and anything not strapped down flew past her. Charlie screamed, her hands gripping the armrests as though they could save her.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday,” shouted the pilot into the radio.
The engine came back to life again, and the pilot pulled hard on the steering column, forcing the plane back up and ending its freefall. Charlie allowed herself to breathe, though her heart hammered in her chest.
But Tyler didn’t strap himself back in—instead he did just the opposite and unclipped his belt and stood, his huge bulk dwarfing the interior of the small aircraft.
“Tyler!” Harry’s voice came, stern and afraid. “What are you doing?”
“It’s my job to make sure Miss Charleston is safe.”
Charlie turned at his words. “What? What do you mean?”
“If this plane goes into a nose dive, it’ll plunge straight beneath the sea and drag us down with it. Now might be our only chance to get out.”
“What? Is this some kind of setup?” She stared around in horror at the frightened and panicked faces. Surely this wasn’t happening?
He leaned over her, unclipped her belt, and then grabbed her by the top of her arm and pulled her to her feet.
“No, wait!” Ella cried. “What about the rest of us?”
“I’m sorry, but my job is Miss Charleston.”
He pulled her against him, her back pressed into his chest. With several deft movements, he pulled straps over her shoulders, and between her thighs, not even giving her the chance to consider being embarrassed at the proximity of his hands to that particular area.
Tyler struggled forward, forcing Charlie to move with him. He reached the exit, ignoring the shouts of ‘wait’ and ‘what are you doing’ from the others.
The plane wasn’t pressurized, so he could open the door. He wrenched the emergency lock, sliding the door back. She gulped, wanting to cry. Then the engine cut again and she screamed, almost falling. But his strong arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her close, and the engine thrummed back to life again.
“No, no! I can’t do this!” she cried. Her voice was snatched away by the air ripping past them.
“We have to. If we don’t go now, we’ll be too low and I won’t have time to open the parachute.”
He was right. They were already distinctly lower in the sky than they had been.
She managed to glance back at the terrified faces she was leaving behind. Agatha reached out for her. Ella shook her head in disbelief. The men were all now silent and pale-faced.
And Tyler jumped.