Gwen's life had always gone according to plan. One exception--and here he came now. Like a Viking riding a dragon-headed longboat, Dr. Christian Benson crouched in the enemy raft.
Shirtless.
His sun-bronzed chest gleamed with sweat. Biceps strained and corded with each dip of his oar. Morning light suffused the mist rising from the ocean's surface and glinted off the gold that flecked Christian's cinnamon eyes. Gwen blinked. Squinted. Blinked again.
When the producers of Stranded, the latest reality TV spin-off, warned her to expect the unexpected, they weren't kidding. What was he doing here? They'd cast twelve contestants from over ten thousand applicants. Both she and Christian had been independently selected? Impossible. And yet...thar he blew, only a few feet away.
The tendons in her neck strained from craning forward. She fought to steady her knees, which rolled with the rocking sensation of the dock beneath her feet. A merciful breeze, lightly scented with ginger, cooled her scalded cheeks. Her gaze darted from the dizzying sight of the man--the myth--to the group of strangers who posed against the lush colors of the island like tourists photoshopped onto a too-perfect tropical background. But Gwen couldn't keep her eyes off Christian's face for long. He was so close now she could see the fine golden hairs of his lashes, shadows flicker across his over-square jaw. A forgotten yearning tightened the muscles below her solar plexus. Her heart rate accelerated enough to burn the extra calories from a chocolate bar.
When Christian's team crashed their vessel into the newly constructed dock, fear joined lust, braiding through her, cleaving her heart from reason. Gwen pulled in a deep breath for composure, but she knew she'd never be able to lie to him. Soon enough he'd learn the truth, and when he did, God help them both. She had but one hope: After all this time, there was a chance he wouldn't recognize her, at least not right away.
"Hello, Gwen." Christian's voice wafted through the air in slow motion, draped its familiar caress around her shoulders, seeped through her skin and tied a noose around her heart.
He spoke and thirteen years fell away. It only took a heartbeat to lay bare a truth as unrelenting as the ocean that stretched endlessly around them.
She was his.
Always had been. There wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Gwen told herself it didn't matter. It couldn't matter. She was here to win the one-million dollar prize. Besides, she'd ruined her chances with Christian long ago, and this time around she had someone else's heart to protect. She didn't dare let her guard down.
With a shrill whistle, their host, Nicholas Savage, signaled the start of Stranded's very first challenge--a breath-holding contest. Jarred from her reverie, Gwen plunged beneath the indigo waves. The scrape of coarse fibers stung her palms as her hands skimmed down down down the guide rope. A ring of cool purity raced over her body, contracted around her like a sucking mouth. Her ears popped and roared from the hard silk of the ocean pressing over, under, around her. Moments later, her burning lungs screamed their warning. She wouldn't last long. But with so much at stake, she couldn't give up. It wasn't long before the lack of oxygen began to erode her memory and reason; time and place ceased to exist, and in that moment, drowning was the dream--only he seemed real.
She saw herself with Christian, their life together as it could've been, if only he'd made different choices. No. If she had. All at once, against her will, her body fought its way to the surface. As her rich red blood flowed back to the brain and dumped its welcome load of oxygen, Gwen realized the others had come up for air first. She'd won the first immunity challenge. In so doing, she'd saved not only herself but her entire group from that evening's elimination. Her teammates chanted her name in celebration while her foes eyed her warily.
"Congratulations, Gwen." Christian's baritone rumbled through her, resurrecting the young girl who loved him.
"Thanks." The noose cinched tight around her heart. She needed to get control of herself. She was a woman in her thirties, not a naive kid.
Legs braced wide, hands fisted at his sides, Christian leveled a darkened gaze at Gwen. She returned a fierce glare, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing his presence threatened to turn the Rock of Gibraltar back into a simpering schoolgirl. But her head was spinning. In a vain attempt to steady herself, she reached out her arms just before she lost her center of balance and hit the ground. A crushing pain pounded the back of her head, tunneling her vision into muddy green waves that carried her back in time.
###
Gwen surveyed the College of Medicine waiting area and shuddered. Suits--nothing but suits as far as the eye could see. All of them permutations of black. But it wasn't a funeral. It was tradition. One of many that would soon become as much a part of her life as her mother's goodnight kiss, though none of them would be either gentle or sweet.
She stumbled and tugged at the charcoal-colored linen skirt, which kept riding up and catching on her nylons. Gwen preferred pink, and she hated pumps, but she wasn't about to ruin her chances of getting into medical school. No one ever got in without wearing that somber uniform. Reverently, she pressed her palm against the chilly tiles of the corridor, then followed Christian into the stairwell.
So these were the hallowed halls of medicine.
The walls were so high they made the way seem narrow and confining. The air--so pure it almost seemed absent. For some reason she'd expected the place to smell of antiseptic, like a hospital, but there was no fragrance at all here. The fluorescent bulbs illuminating their path put out a bright, white, sterile light. If she'd known it was going to be such a long walk, she would've worn comfortable shoes.
Gwen had just finished her last admission interview, and Christian was giving her the grand tour. He was young, good-looking and talkative. The kind expression mediating his hard, masculine features tugged at her heart. His laugh echoed off the walls, filled the empty space, eased her nerves. She liked this funny, giant of a boy with unkempt yellow hair.
Peeking up shyly at his brown eyes--gold glitter on plush velvet--she gulped, and then forced her attention back to the tour. Gwen wanted to savor the experience of walking around in the Health Sciences Center, a place she hoped to inhabit someday soon. But Christian stole her attention, wisecracking the whole way.
She didn't get all of his jokes, but she laughed anyway. She figured they must be kind of inside ones, understood only by that elite and privileged group known as medical students. Medical students, future doctors, people who would someday save lives. And this gorgeous guy was one of them. Funny, brilliant and well...she could hardly breathe.
"Only one more flight of stairs to go." His gaze slid up and down the row of tiny mother-of-pearl buttons on her gray silk blouse.
She became acutely aware of her breasts rising and falling far too rapidly. Surely he'd pretend not to notice. He'd been polite enough up until now.
"You got a heart condition?" His eyes x-rayed the silk. He quirked an eyebrow.
Gwen's hands darted up to cross over her chest, covering as much as possible. Her chin jutted high. "No. Of course not." Then, realizing how foolish she must look, she dropped her arms and confessed, "I'm nervous."
"I make you nervous?" Up flew the other eyebrow.
"Yes--I mean no!" She should've gone to charm school. All her friends had gone to charm school, but Gwen had gone to science camp and as a result had no clue how to extricate herself from an embarrassing conversation with a devastatingly handsome boy.
Just when she thought there was no way to preserve her dignity, Christian rescued her. "Know what surgeons use for contraception?"
She shook her head.
"Their personalities." He tweaked her nose and slanted a lopsided grin in her direction. "I don't suppose you're one of those rare finds who doesn't know she's beautiful?"
"I'm not..." her voice trailed off. His gaze locked onto her face. She felt weightless, like she was floating in a zero-gravity chamber. Trying to remember which direction she'd curled her hair that morning, she met his eyes. "Thanks," she said. Then, just for a second, neither one looked away.
Around the corner, Christian paused. "This is the anatomy lab. Before you go in for the first time you're supposed to meet with your new student support group. Discuss any fears you might have about dead bodies. The administration is really into that kind of thing. They think if they're sensitive to you, you'll learn to be sensitive to your patients."
"I've heard this school is different, treating you humanely in order to keep you human." Realizing she was now ogling his chest, Gwen snapped her gaze downward...to his long, powerful legs. She tried to think about medicine, tried to think about anything except his muscular arms, his healing hands, the way his broad shoulders stretched his cotton t-shirt.
"My opinion...they overdo it. No use coddling the new recruits. I can take you in now if you want. My lab partner is in there working on our cadaver. We're on the head and neck."
Gwen's heart slammed against her ribcage. She'd never seen a corpse. Her underarms were just beginning to dry and now this. Squaring her shoulders, she said, "Count me in," and followed him through the door. Straight in front of her was Christian's friend.
He presided over a severed head!
When she came to, Christian had placed a wet paper towel on her forehead and was stroking her face. "Hey...hey, Gwen...I'm really sorry. You okay?" The warm tones in his voice soothed. Concern etched lines around his eyes, softened their arrogant expression. The kindness in his face, suddenly deep and unfiltered, drew her inexorably to him.
An acrid odor stung her nostrils as a boom box twanged Two Dozen Roses. "What stinks?" Gwen asked. She stood up elegantly, smoothed a fist of black curls off her face and popped them back into a plastic barrette. Then everyone laughed--except the head.
"That's eau de formaldehyde. You'll get used to it."
As he led her toward the stairwell, Christian reached out to her. "Give me your hand," he said. "I'd hate to be responsible for you falling twice in one day."
Too late, she thought.
###
"Too late for what?" Christian was squatting over her, peering into her bewildered eyes. He removed his wet bandana and patted the damp cloth onto her forehead.
It took a moment for Gwen to realize where she was, who she was, and that she meant nothing to the man hovering over her. Not anymore. "What do you mean?"
"I don't mean anything. You're the one who said it."
"What?"
"You said 'too late'. In fact, you said it twice."
Gwen lifted her head in confusion. "What stinks?"
"Ammonia. They tried to revive you with smelling salts."
She struggled to her feet.
"Take it easy. You took a pretty good whack to the brain." Christian's hand cupped her elbow. She brushed it away, but not before a shock of electricity nearly knocked her down again.
"I fainted? It must've been from holding my breath so long." Well, it must have.
Christian's face opened up with a big handsome grin, a smile so genuine it would've stolen her heart, had said heart still been in her possession. "Or maybe...you're just the same old Gwen. Can't keep your feet under you whenever I'm around."
"And you're the same old Christian--just as full of yourself as ever." She only meant to tease, but her words came out wrong. She wouldn’t have spoken such harsh words to a stranger. Oh no, Gwen always took great care with the feelings of strangers.
Christian's shoulders shrank back, recoiled from the careless blow of her words. His pupils contracted--almost imperceptibly dimming his bright eyes. In a sanctuary lit by the glow of one thousand candles, a cold draft snuffed one single flame. Gwen wanted to burrow her face against Christian, tell him how glad she was to see him, but her feet slid backwards, widened the chasm between them.
I didn’t mean it. The words silently clawed her throat. She dropped her head and a wet rope of hair fell across her face.
He reached across the chasm, tucked the soggy curl behind her ear, and said softly, "Well, now that we've established neither of us has changed, you won't mind if I leave you on your own. Your mental status is obviously back to normal, and I see another damsel in distress."
"I'm no damsel." She bit out the words through gritted teeth in order to keep her voice from quavering. "You want to be a knight in shining armor. You should go over there." She hitched her chin toward the statuesque redhead limping down the beach. Tanya must've slipped on the wet dock.
A personal trainer and motivational speaker, Tanya was the strongest of the women. It would be a setback for Gwen's team if she were hurt. Gwen suddenly envisioned Christian's palms closing around her teammate's perfectly shaped alabaster leg. "Never mind, I'll go."
But he'd already turned away, and she had to sprint to catch up with him. By the time she did, Christian was kneeling in front of Tanya, fondling her ankle. Well, maybe he was palpating her ankle for tenderness, but he seemed to be taking his sweet time.
"I don't think it's broken, but you'd best stay off it, at least for today." Christian gathered Tanya in his arms, carried her over to the others and set her down gently.
"Thank you, sir," Tanya's chest thrust forward.
"My pleasure." Christian glanced over his shoulder and smirked at Gwen who followed on his heels.
"What a gentleman." Tanya narrowed her eyes at the men on her own team. Turning to Gwen, she whispered just loudly enough for Christian to hear, "When the teams merge, that man is mine."
