I felt my cheeks heat in the darkness, followed by the unhappy gurgle of my stomach. I was going to die of happiness.
I was going to throw up.
The show went through a few more jungle shots. Lana and Dean on the beach, scrubbing their skin with sand to clean up for the final Judgment. Lana and Dean chatting as they ate the last of the food in the camp. Lana and Dean walking to the final Judgment.
The final Judgment began. Dean’s smile at the sight of me dimmed as the camera zoomed in on my coldly furious glare. It continued to flick back and forth between the two of us, recording our reactions as the jury questioned the last two contestants. The clips were shown out of order—and I could guess why. They were saving the most dramatic bit for last.
Then it came—the moment I’d been dreading. I watched in numb horror as the me-on-camera scrawled a name on the slate and held it up to the camera. “I’m voting for you, Lana. You have my vote because you admitted to lying, and you never tried to get in my pants to get what you wanted in this game. Dean, I did not vote for you. I’m sure that ruins all your little plans for world domination, and I hope it does. I hope you slept with every woman on this island and I hope your dick falls off because of it. You are the worst kind of person to sleep with a woman just because you wanted her vote. I actually thought there was something below that shallow surface of yours, but it looks like I’m the biggest idiot on this island, right? No longer. Lana, I hope you enjoy your two million dollars.”
My tirade sounded even worse than I remembered. Bitter and angry, it poured forth from the TV, my voice ringing from the rafters of the studio. I cringed as the jury behind me began to snicker. As the me-on-camera slammed the slate into the crate and stomped away, I buried my face in my hands in sheer embarrassment.
The theme music began to play and the lights went up. The audience began to cheer.
I didn’t look up, still utterly humiliated. I’d ruined everything. I’d been nasty and hateful to him when he’d been simply happy to see me again.
I couldn’t look over at him.
Chip’s voice boomed in over the roar of the audience and music. “Welcome to the finale of Endurance Island! Here, we’ll declare one of these two contestants the winner of two million dollars!”
The audience cheered.
“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for… let’s read the final tally.”
I kept my eyes carefully averted, staring down at the floor as Chip began to shuffle the slates.
“The first vote… is for Dean.”
A cheer arose from the audience. My nerves gave a little flutter of hope. Maybe my vote wouldn’t matter. I looked hopefully over at Chip, unwilling to glance over at Dean across the stage.
Chip held up another slate. “Lana.”
One vote wouldn’t matter, I told myself. One vote.
The next slate. “Lana.”
“Dean.”
I hadn’t seen my handwriting come up yet, and a nervous, sickly flutter began in my stomach again. The room grew tense as Chip pulled the next slate and carefully turned it. “Lana.”
“Dean.”
A fine sweat broke out on my body as Chip pulled up the last slate and stared at it thoughtfully. The audience was completely silent. I’d stopped breathing, my pulse pounding hard in my throat as I waited for him to expose my vote. As if pulled by unseen forces, my gaze slid over to Dean and I caught my first glimpse of him since that last night on the island.
Paler than the deep island tan, Dean’s hair was cut swimmer short once more. Given what I knew about him now, this did not surprise me. He looked terrific, though. His face was clean-shaven and he wore a crisp gray suit with a green shirt that had an open collar. He looked casual and at ease despite the fact that we were on stage in front of an audience and on national TV to boot. His careful smile was easy and devastating all at the same time.
He glanced over at me. Our eyes locked.
I cringed and looked away.
“The final vote… and our winner of Endurance Island…”
Panic set in. I couldn’t breathe. The world wobbled in front of me, blackness creeping around my eyes.
I turned and watched Chip slowly turn around the last slate, displaying my angry scrawl of handwriting. My furious voice piped in over the loudspeakers.
“Lana, I hope you enjoy your two million dollars.”
The crowd erupted into cheers. Lana and Dean hugged, and Lana bounced up and down with sheer excitement. Everyone on the jury bleachers stood and began to hug each other as Chip began to chat into the camera, giving a bit of narration as the crowd went wild with excitement.
I stood up. The world weaved and my stomach was so upset I knew I was going to throw up. I couldn’t stay on stage. I tore off my microphone and bolted. Like a chickenshit, I ran off, pushing through the mob of people to get backstage. Away from the lights that glared into my eyes and away from proof of what I’d done.
I’d cost Dean two million dollars. Any hope of ever speaking to him again had just gone out the window.
Shuffling into a back hallway, I ignored the production assistants that swarmed the back stage and leaned against the cool brick of the studio wall. People rushed past me with microphones and cameras, cords running all over the place. But now that I was off stage, I could finally breathe.
To make matters worse, I began to cry. Tears brimmed over my eyes and began to pour down my face, and I swiped at them repeatedly. This was stupid. I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry. I was not going to feel humiliated and lonely and like I’d made the biggest mistake of my life because I’d listened to others. I was not going to cry.
And yet I couldn’t stop the hiccupped sob that broke from my throat. Hugging my arms close to my chest, I huddled against the wall, miserable and trying to keep the tears under control. Maybe they wouldn’t notice I was gone. Maybe they’d cut to a commercial break and give me a chance to recover so I wouldn’t go out there with red eyes and hiccups. Maybe—A warm hand touched my arm, brushing across the bare skin. “Hey, hey… don’t cry.”
To my horror, it was Dean. I stared up in surprise, brushing my hand across my cheeks again. He was even more devastatingly handsome up close, his eyes clear and bright, his skin with just a hint of tan, and that amazing sculpted jaw that never left my dreams. I longed to lean over and kiss him. Instead, that just made me cry harder.
He pulled me against him, cradling me against his chest. Warm arms wrapped around me and his hand stroked my hair as I wept. At that, I cried even harder. Dean holding me felt so good. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him in the last few months, and how betrayed I’d felt when I thought he was using me.
Except he hadn’t been. That just made me cry even more.
“Hey,” he said in a low whisper, stroking my curls. “Don’t cry, Abby.” He gave me a little pat on the back and teased, “I should be the one crying. I lost two million dollars just now.”
I choked on my tears and looked up at him in surprise. “That’s not funny!”
Dean grinned down at me, his fingers brushing my wet cheeks. “Got you to stop crying, didn’t it?”
My face crumpled a little at his sexy, playful smile. “You probably hate me now. I said some really horrible things.”
“You did say some horrible things,” he agreed. When I glanced down again, he put his finger under my chin and lifted my face so I was looking at him again. “But you didn’t know what was going on.”
Some of the awful tension in my shoulders eased, and my tears were drying up at his calm, soothing voice. I didn’t move out of his arms, however; I liked being there far too much. “What do you mean?” I said in a wobbly voice.
Dean’s smile turned sheepish. “I have to admit that I didn’t exactly tell the others what was going on between us. It seemed a little personal and then you got voted off and I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. But I couldn’t let them see that or they’d vote me off too.”
“I remember…” I said softly. I’d seen it all on TV.
“After you left, I didn’t understand why you were so upset at me. Heather pulled me aside and tried to shame me for sleeping with you to get your vote. That’s when I started to figure out what they were telling you. I didn’t realize that all of them had been filling your head with all these stories about me and how I was just using you to get ahead. I talked to everyone and they all told me the same thing—they thought I’d been sleeping with you to get your vote, and they were shocked when I told them I thought what we had was the real thing.”
I blushed at that.
“And then they mentioned you were a studio plant and you were working on a TV special and a novel about the behind the scenes gossip…” He let his voice trail off, letting me fill in the rest.
“It’s true,” I admitted. “I worked for MediaWeek and that was how I got on the show. I never applied. I didn’t want to be on the show until my boss made me. But when I got home, I didn’t… I couldn’t…” I gave a small shrug. “I couldn’t talk about what happened on the island. It was kind of… for me. You know?”
“You should have said something,” Dean told me.
“You should have told me you were an Olympic swimmer,” I retorted.
“I should have told you a lot of things,” he admitted, pulling me close again. His head moved in closer to mine and I could see the blue of his eyes. “I should have told you that what we had wasn’t some sort of ploy on the island to get ahead, and that I really liked you. And that I wanted to spend more time with you when we got home. But when you left, I didn’t have any way to get hold of you.”
This wasn’t going how I had anticipated. I thought he’d be furious at me. Never want to see me again. And here he was confessing that he’d made a mistake? Dean Woodall? The cockiest man on the island?
“Abby?”
“What?” I said weakly.
“Do you… still want to give this another shot?” His mouth curled in the self-deprecating half smile I adored. “I’d love to spend time with you outside of the game, on a real date.”
“But… the two million?” I couldn’t get past that. “I just… I cost you a fortune, Dean. How can you ever forgive me?”
He laughed at that. “Abby, I have multiple endorsement deals. I don’t need the show’s money. I have plenty of my own.” Dean brushed his fingers over my cheek as if he couldn’t help himself and he had to touch me. His voice dropped a little. “Is that the only reason you won’t date me?”
I reached up and placed my hands on the sides of his head, pulling his mouth down to mine. After a moment’s hesitation, his hands grasped me tight against him and his mouth began to devour mine. Like that, all the months of uncertainty melted away, and there was nothing but the teasing lick of Dean’s tongue against mine.
A deafening roar swelled around us.
We broke apart, and I stared up into the microphone hanging over our heads. The cameraman grinned at us from behind his equipment. Our happy little reunion had been filmed and we were on national TV. Figured.