Paradise by Eileen Ann Brennan Page A

Eddie’s extra clothes were now as wet as the ones he wore.
    She heard a shout and squinted up through the waves of rain. Eddie squatted on the platform, offering a hand. When she didn’t move, he leaned down and grasped her forearm.
    “Put your foot on the seat,” he shouted, waving his other hand. She got the message, trusting he wouldn’t drop her and held on as he hoisted her up to the platform as if she were just another piece of camping equipment. Her leg muscles cramped again, and she lost her balance on the slick surface.
    “Whoa, you don’t want to go for a swim, too.” He clasped her waist and swung her away from the edge, holding her tightly against his side. She clung to him as if he was the last life vest on the Titanic. Thunder and lightning crashed around them but she couldn’t budge. She buried her face in his shoulder, nuzzling against the soaking safari shirt, not sure if fear or misery took the forefront of her emotions.
    “Hey, come on, you.”
    The catch in his voice surprised her, and she jumped back. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Great, now she looked like some clingy shrinking violet.
    “Let’s get inside before we both fry.” He ducked and ushered her into the tent, holding onto her waist when she slipped again.
    Their abode for the evening was spacious considering it was, after all, a tent. The wet gear was stowed in one corner near the door flap. Eddie released her to squat next to it.
    “Stay by the door,” he instructed. “You’re dripping all over the place.”
    Looking down, she saw the truth of his words and moved to stand near the door flap.
    “So, now what do we do?” she asked, watching him string a line of thin rope across the front of the tent.
    “Laundry,” he replied, stripping off his wet shirt. He stuck it out the front flap and wrung it before draping it over the line. Her wide-eyed stare went unnoticed as he pulled wet clothes from his backpack and repeated the procedure, letting the rain water wash away the swamp residue.
    Cripes. He’s not just built. He’s built like a god! She couldn’t tear her eyes from his muscled chest covered with a dark mat of curling hair. Her gaze traveled down past his well defined pecs and abs to where a fine trail of hair disappeared into his khaki cargo shorts. As if on cue, he turned to hang up another damp shirt, providing her with a splendid view of his broad back.
    Her mouth went dry. She’d joked by calling him George of the Jungle and Tarzan, but wow, with those arms he really could swing on vines from tree to tree. Heat radiated through every cell in her body.
    “…might want to turn around to avoid a show. Robbie? Robbie? Did you hear me?”
    “Huh?” she stammered, returning to the present. How could she hear him over the blood pounding in her ears? “Er, no, I was thinking about the, um, storm. We are safe here, aren’t we?” she asked, barely recovering her ability to speak.
    “Yeah, don’t worry. We’re safe. The tent is all plastic tubing and canvas, and we’re under the shelter. We’ll be fine,” he reassured her, zipping up the tent flap. “But, as I was saying, you may want to turn around while I change out of these shorts. I found a pair of jeans that aren’t too wet.” He gave her a quirky smile. “Unless, of course, you want to check out the Paradise package?” he asked raising one eyebrow.
    Her cheeks flamed and she quickly turned. “Oh, of course, I’m sorry.” He chuckled and she detected the faint sound of a zipper. In her mind’s eye, she saw every movement and piece of equipment. She had no doubt that what was below the waist band of those shorts was just as delectable as what was above.
    Wait a minute. He had his clothes off. Shouldn’t she make a move or something? How would he know she needed a Rebound Man if she didn’t do something? Do what? She’d never asked a man she’d just met to have sex with her. Usually there were lots of dates and dinners