Island Heat (A Sexy Time Travel Romance With a Twist) by Jill Myles Page B
Authors: Jill Myles
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trail we’d taken to get here that I began to get a glimmer of understanding. He was going back and sweeping our trail with the strong scent of the plant, in order to throw any predators off of our smell. I thought of my bloody foot, and the alarm he’d shown when he realized I’d been bleeding for some time, and I felt chagrined. I hadn’t even realized it would be an issue, but I guess I’d made a lot more work for my poor Tarzan.
I leaned over the branch and watched him work until he was well out of sight, and I wondered how far he’d backtrack. Probably to the last stream we’d crossed, I thought. Now that I’d stopped moving, I felt drowsy, and I rested my cheek on the knobby bark of the thick tree branch. It’d be a while before he returned if he was going that far back. The last stream I remembered crossing was well over a few hours back.
I fell asleep for a time. I wasn’t sure how long I was out, but the next thing I knew, I was drooling on the tree branch, my legs and arms were locked tight around the tree-limb itself and smarting from remaining in one uncomfortable position, and there was the world’s biggest caterpillar crawling up my arm.
Like an idiot, I screamed and shook my arm violently. The caterpillar took a few good shakes to dislodge. It landed back on the branch a few feet away from me and started inching forward again.
Oh, hell no. I was not dealing with mutant-sized bugs in addition to everything else. I glanced over at the nearest branch over me, but it was too far out of reach. Glancing once more at the deadly caterpillar, I decided to shimmy down a level and see where that took me.
I reached the new branch after about five minutes of careful maneuvering. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as my last branch, and part of it was rotted away, and the knothole where my leg would rest looked like it was full of equally disgusting, slimy insects. I imagined spiders the size of Dobermans and decided that maybe I’d lurk on the ground for a few.
It took a few minutes to get back to the ground, but once I was there, my makeshift bandage fell off like I’d never tied it in place, and I spent another chunk of time trying to rig the damn thing to stay back on my foot. Salvador would have a heart-attack if he’d knew that I’d left the tree. No sense in adding to his anger by showing him I’d undone all his hard work as well.
My bandage floppy and falling to pieces – but still on my foot – I took a quick survey of my surroundings. Salvador hadn’t returned yet, and the sun was about to go down. There was a definite chill in the air that reminded me that it got cold here at night, and I rubbed my arms. Surely he hadn’t left me for good. Not after traveling so slow today just for my benefit.
I was just being paranoid.
I settled at the base of the tree and pulled my legs close to me, watching as the forest sank into the busy time of night. A few creatures scurried about – some more of the oversized rodents I’d seen a few times lurking in the underbrush – and were bolder now that the sun was going down. I glimpsed a dinosaur in the background and my heart nearly froze in my chest at the sight, but the extremely slow cadence of steps – no quick thump thump – and the fact that his long neck was angling upwards to eat leaves relaxed me. A brontosaur, I reminded myself, remembering how as a kid I’d been in love with dinosaurs more than Barbies. How times had changed.
Right about now, I’d give anything to never seen another dinosaur again, I mused, just for a chance to return to the Barbie Malibu Dream Mansion, creepy boss or not.
Something white underneath the moving strands of a bush caught the corner of my eye, and I glanced over, only mildly interested.
A business card lay in the moist loamy dirt, damp and half-stuck to a leaf. As if in a dream, I crawled over the few steps to the plant and pulled the wet card off the leaf and flipped it over.
Diana Holcomb , it read.
I leaned over the branch and watched him work until he was well out of sight, and I wondered how far he’d backtrack. Probably to the last stream we’d crossed, I thought. Now that I’d stopped moving, I felt drowsy, and I rested my cheek on the knobby bark of the thick tree branch. It’d be a while before he returned if he was going that far back. The last stream I remembered crossing was well over a few hours back.
I fell asleep for a time. I wasn’t sure how long I was out, but the next thing I knew, I was drooling on the tree branch, my legs and arms were locked tight around the tree-limb itself and smarting from remaining in one uncomfortable position, and there was the world’s biggest caterpillar crawling up my arm.
Like an idiot, I screamed and shook my arm violently. The caterpillar took a few good shakes to dislodge. It landed back on the branch a few feet away from me and started inching forward again.
Oh, hell no. I was not dealing with mutant-sized bugs in addition to everything else. I glanced over at the nearest branch over me, but it was too far out of reach. Glancing once more at the deadly caterpillar, I decided to shimmy down a level and see where that took me.
I reached the new branch after about five minutes of careful maneuvering. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as my last branch, and part of it was rotted away, and the knothole where my leg would rest looked like it was full of equally disgusting, slimy insects. I imagined spiders the size of Dobermans and decided that maybe I’d lurk on the ground for a few.
It took a few minutes to get back to the ground, but once I was there, my makeshift bandage fell off like I’d never tied it in place, and I spent another chunk of time trying to rig the damn thing to stay back on my foot. Salvador would have a heart-attack if he’d knew that I’d left the tree. No sense in adding to his anger by showing him I’d undone all his hard work as well.
My bandage floppy and falling to pieces – but still on my foot – I took a quick survey of my surroundings. Salvador hadn’t returned yet, and the sun was about to go down. There was a definite chill in the air that reminded me that it got cold here at night, and I rubbed my arms. Surely he hadn’t left me for good. Not after traveling so slow today just for my benefit.
I was just being paranoid.
I settled at the base of the tree and pulled my legs close to me, watching as the forest sank into the busy time of night. A few creatures scurried about – some more of the oversized rodents I’d seen a few times lurking in the underbrush – and were bolder now that the sun was going down. I glimpsed a dinosaur in the background and my heart nearly froze in my chest at the sight, but the extremely slow cadence of steps – no quick thump thump – and the fact that his long neck was angling upwards to eat leaves relaxed me. A brontosaur, I reminded myself, remembering how as a kid I’d been in love with dinosaurs more than Barbies. How times had changed.
Right about now, I’d give anything to never seen another dinosaur again, I mused, just for a chance to return to the Barbie Malibu Dream Mansion, creepy boss or not.
Something white underneath the moving strands of a bush caught the corner of my eye, and I glanced over, only mildly interested.
A business card lay in the moist loamy dirt, damp and half-stuck to a leaf. As if in a dream, I crawled over the few steps to the plant and pulled the wet card off the leaf and flipped it over.
Diana Holcomb , it read.
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