Dead Over Heels

bulk, even faster than he had sunk.

They popped to the surface and he took a breath, then coughed. “Lucky I was there to save your ass,” he gasped, suddenly conscious of her breasts pressing against the back of his T-shirt.

She heaved him into the boat like a sack of potatoes—Christ, she was strong!—not once letting up with the scolding. “What were you thinking, stupid Con? You cannot swim! You would have had no chance against a pregnant shark, particularly that breed. She was starving, which is the only reason I did not kill her, but if she comes back I will kill her, and you, too, if you do such a foolish thing ever again.”

“Couldn’t let you get eaten on my account.”

“We are the top of the food chain in the ocean, as you are on land, stupid Con! I was in no danger.”

“Now you tell me,” he mumbled.

She paddled agitatedly around the boat for a minute, then said, “I cannot put this off any longer. You need land.”

“Now you tell me,” he said again.

“I do not know how long it will take. It may take too long.”

“Whatever,” he said, yawning.

She seized the bow (or was it the stern?) of the boat with one hand and started to swim. Slowly, the boat started to move. He tried to sit up, thinking he could help row with the (broken) oar, but saw at once it was no good—he’d cracked it too thoroughly on her head.

So he flopped back in the boat and dozed. He had no idea what she was up to, but felt perfectly safe. Anyone who could fight off a hammerhead in ten seconds could certainly manage his destiny.

Chapter 10

He woke up to a gorgeous sunrise, to see Ree stumbling through the surf, dragging the boat behind her. “We are here,” she croaked, looking at him with enormous dark-ringed eyes. She staggered forward onto the sand of the small beach and collapsed, deeply asleep almost at once.

He scrambled out of the boat (which she had considerately hauled up on land for him) and went to her, gently touching her shoulder. She must have hauled the boat all fucking night, he thought, appalled and amazed. And was out cold from sheer exhaustion.

He stripped off his shirt and covered her with it, then went to look for firewood. The island was tiny—he could walk the length of it in less than ten minutes—but had lots of shrubbery and trees, and he had no trouble finding plenty of kindling and firewood. Then he went to the rowboat and found the matches.

One thing he could do was start a fire with a minimum of matches, and the wood was nice and dry. By the time Ree woke up, he had a nice blaze going.

“Oh, good, now you can cook,” she said groggily, sitting up and shaking the sand out of her hair.

“I can’t believe you towed the boat all night! You’re an angel!”

“Oh, well,” she said modestly, but looked pleased. “I am a hungry angel. I will come back.”

“Wait!” He pressed her back into the sand. “Aren’t you pooped? Maybe you should rest awhile.”

“No,” she said firmly, removing his hands from her shoulders. “I have responsibilities.”

“I’m not your damned pet!”

“Yes, but you have no fishing gear and are still starving. Also, did you find the fresh stream on the north side of the island?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But there’s plenty of coconuts we can eat; they’re all over the ground.”

“Cooked fish will be better for you.” She stood, shaking out her long hair. Then seemed to remember something. “I, ah, apologize for my appearance.”

He goggled at her. “Huh?”

“I am aware of your cultural taboo against nudity. If I had clothes I would wear them, so as not to offend you.”

“Uh, Ree, where I come from, a gorgeous woman walking around naked is not offensive.”

She relaxed. “Oh. Perhaps I was misinformed. Very well. I will come back.”

“I’ll be here,” he promised, watching her dart into the surf and make the cleanest dive he’d ever seen. Her legs went in and he saw a saucy flash of her tail and then she was gone. Again.

He flopped back down in the sand. God, it was so great to be on land and out of that nasty little boat! And with fascinating company, no less. If he ever got out of this mess, he’d have the most amazing comeback show in the history of the channel! He’d tell them all about Ree and how she saved his life and fought a shark and tugged the boat to an island and brought him food. And—

Wait.

If he got out of this—if he was rescued—he doubted Ree would come with him. And what would he do without her? He’d die without her.

Wait.

Once he was back on land, he wouldn’t be in any danger. He wouldn’t need Ree.

Except that felt like the biggest lie on land or sea.

Chapter 11

Reanesta felt much better once she hit the water. It had been a long, exhausting night and for a while she feared she’d lost her bearings and wouldn’t find the island. But her sense of direction had not deserted her, and just as the sun was coming up she spotted it. By then she was so tired her limbs were shaking and she feared she might vomit like Con frequently did.

Instead, she dragged the boat up on shore and immediately went to sleep. When she woke, it was to burning brightness and she realized that her helpless biped could do at least one thing. Besides make her feel strange in her stomach.

The strangeness was probably impatience, she thought, snatching two wrasse and three pinfish. He was definitely the most infuriating creature she had ever met. Were all bipeds like that? she wondered. What had Fredrika Bimm gotten them into?

She was still pondering that when she sloshed back up to the beach. She knelt by the fire, trying not to wince away from it, expertly spitted the fish on a long branch, and planted the branch in the sand, occasionally turning it so the fish cooked evenly.

Con came loping out of the darkness, and already looked much improved. The fresh water, she decided, and now he smelled like coconuts, so his stomach was full. That was good. Of course, just about anything would have been an improvement.

“Any problems? Look who I’m asking!” he cried, answering his own question. “Like there’s anything you can’t handle. You should have the survival show.”

“Mmmm,” she said, turning the fish again.

“God, that smell is driving me crazy,” he said, flopping down on the sand. “I—are you okay? Your eyes are all squinty. It’s the fire, isn’t it? It’s bothering you?”

“A little. They aren’t common at the bottom of the sea,” she said, trying another joke.

“Well, ooch over, I’ll cook.”

“Uh—”

“I’m not that helpless,” he said, exasperated. He nudged her in the ribs and she obediently moved over a foot. Instantly her eyes felt better. “You think they’re done yet? They’re done, aren’t they?”