Chapter 1

A SEA OF BODIES SURROUNDED Scott Monroe, yet he had never felt so alone. Crossing the crowded room was like a boat fighting the tide. The myriad of guests that thronged the penthouse suite made it nearly impossible to escape. He longed to get away to clear his head and process the phone conversation. He stood outside the bathroom door, taking in his surroundings, the odors of food and too many bodies in one place assaulting his senses.

He had no desire to be around people.

He shoved his cell phone into his pocket, looking for a clear path to the door. Unable to find a quick route, he searched for another escape. He briefly locked eyes with Stephanie Chase, surprised to see an inquisitive look in her eyes as opposed to the malice he was accustomed to finding from her on set.

His brow creased in concentration, diverting his eyes from hers. He observed the balcony exit a few feet away.

He pushed his way past the buffet table to the glass, double doors.

***

STEPHANIE FELT A EUPHORIA unlike anything she had ever felt before. She had enjoyed this shoot. The exotic location. The cast had been stellar. They had put together a great movie that she believed was going to be a hit, advancing her career. But then again, one never knew what the audience clamored for these days. Attention spans were sparse and social interests changed as creatively as men’s solicitations aimed at her.

The world was hers to do with what she wanted. She could do anything and become anyone. She was in the prime of her life, relishing every moment.

Upon her return to Los Angeles, she should have her choice of upcoming roles that would be tossed her way. She would meet with both her publicist and her agent to determine the next course of action that would best advance her career.

Her attention returned to the present as another man approached her group. Stephanie was only partially aware of the conversation taking place around her.

Men are relentless.

She raised her chin, causing the approaching man to pause slightly. She commanded the attention of the room, learning long ago to control her environment. Even so, most were doing what they could to garner her attention.

She glanced over at the buffet table, thinking to escape by getting a drink, catching the eye of the company’s dance choreographer.

Almost everyone is insisting to be near me.

She found it curious that this dancer was the only man in the entire cast or crew that had never hit on her. In fact, he had never attempted to even speak with her. A fact that she found irritating, not that she would have responded to him, but still, she was the Stephanie Chase. He should at least acknowledge her.

Everyone else acted accordingly.

She was the actress every woman wanted to be. Producers and casting agencies were salivating to get her into their productions. She couldn’t understand the man’s deference. She didn’t even know the guy’s name.

She wanted to confront him. What issue could he possibly have when they had never even spoken? Why didn’t he even have the decency to acknowledge her?

Her eyes narrowed as she viewed the source of her irritation exit through the balcony doors. If the man wanted to make it in this business, he needed to play by the rules. She knew how to play the game better than anyone, and she would be the one to educate him.

Sometimes, to catch a break, who you knew helped open doors, but to make it big, one had to do much more. Most actors didn’t improve their skills as they should or hone their craft, relying on their looks alone, expecting everyone to cater to them to feed their expanding egos. One had to make the most of the break given.

She excused herself from the recent arrival trying to vie for her affection, not giving the hopeful man a second glance.

What irritated her most was that the dancer wasn’t even one of the actors or producers. Months on set, yet he had ignored her like she was a commoner, when in actuality, he was the peon.

Her lips pursed into a pout. She collected her thoughts, preparing some choice words as people parted to allow her passage after viewing the determined look on her face. Her hurried gait towards the balcony doors inflamed the anger smoldering within her.

***

HOW DID WE LET IT GET to this point? We were so in love. How could she do this to me?

Scott rested his arm on the railing of the hotel balcony overlooking the grid of streets stories below, the sounds and smells of the night climbing to interrupt his grief. The lights of Jakarta a chaotic cacophony of beauty.

He thought of his time with Leslie over the years. Time laced with highs and lows. He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, gripping it to the point where his palm hurt. He was tempted to throw the device over the edge into the darkness but couldn’t bring himself to discard a perfectly good phone. It wasn’t his cell phone’s fault. Besides, he needed it as his link back home.

If there’s a home waiting for me.

He couldn’t believe that his wife would do this to him when he was so far away and out of reach, unable to do anything. Maybe that’s precisely why she chose this particular time to act. They had had their share of differences before but she had never wanted to leave him. They had always worked it out.

Maybe it really was over.

He felt as if his heart was being shred into tiny pieces, uncertainty paralyzing him. He had never been in this situation. He didn’t know how to cope with the shock. The jolt of such an unexpected declaration from his wife put him in a state of hopelessness. Despair draped him, smothering him in a cloak of despondence.

His wife had meant everything to him. He believed that even though they had their disagreements, as all couples did, they would still always have each other in the end. He had never felt such rejection. He had never dreamed that she would actually leave him.

He never saw this coming.

What did I do wrong?

He had worked hard and tried to give her everything that she could have possibly wanted.

Well, almost everything.

There was the one thing that he couldn’t give her, but not for lack of effort. He had done everything in his power to give her what she desired most.

But none of that mattered now. There was nothing that he could do because of the distance separating them. He knew that she wouldn’t answer the phone if he tried to call her back.

He knew her too well.

What did it matter? It was too late. Why would he possibly want to go on without her? What meaning did life have for him now?

He looked down at the streets, spreading like a spider’s web into the darkness. The hotel’s verdant lawn and beautiful flowers inviting him to venture closer. A lump caught in his throat. The movie company had wrapped and didn’t need his services any longer. They were set to travel home the next day, the final cast party taking place behind him in the penthouse suite.

He had no desire to mingle amongst the group, everyone so superficial and shallow. He hated to stereotype, but everyone in the movie-making industry seemed so manipulative. Everyone calculating their next move, scheming when to strike.

Not unlike my wife. Waiting for the right moment. Scott shook his head. I shouldn’t be having vindictive thoughts.

That wasn’t fair to Leslie. Maybe she had good reasoning for choosing now to declare her separation. He just didn’t understand why she wanted to leave him. Was he not desirable anymore?

He didn’t want to deal with any of this.

I shouldn’t have to deal with this. I did everything that I was supposed to do. I did the best that I possibly could. Why is this happening to me? Why me?

He wanted to escape the pain and the hurt. It was overwhelming him, becoming too much to bear.

What was the reason for trying? He didn’t know what more he could have done to prevent her leaving him. What was the purpose in all of their time together?

Reacting out of instinct, not realizing at first what he was doing, he placed his knee on the railing to heave himself up and over the ledge.

His only thought to end the hurt and the pain inside.

***

AFTER BEING INTERCEPTED BY and dismissing her fellow lead actor, Stephanie walked through the balcony doors finally escaping the onslaught of advances the men unceasingly cast her way. The welcoming fresh air a bastion of freedom from the smothering attention.

She didn’t take time to breathe in the night, searching for the focus of her irritation. Movement caught her eye in the corner of the balcony. Her previous feelings wiped from her mind as she witnessed her quarry on top of the balcony ledge. Her mind reeled in shock, reacting out of panic.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

She remained motionless, afraid that any movement might frighten the man into jumping. She watched as he paused but didn’t turn to see who had spoken to him.

Stephanie stepped sideways, discreetly shielding anyone inside the glass doors from getting a glimpse of the man about to jump.  Drapery covered the windows, blocking the view.

When the figure remained motionless, she began to feel a yearning to help this soul. She paused only for an instant, most guys mistaking any interest from her as an invitation.

Her curiosity overcame her hesitancy.

What could possibly have happened to have driven him to this point? How could someone be this devoid of hope when the world offered so much?

Unable to think of anything to help the man, she looked out into the night. The movie production company had chosen a hotel with a tremendous view of Jakarta. The lights and bustle of the city rivaled that of Los Angeles or New York. A beautiful city filled with mystery and wonders.

A true phenomenon.

An amazing city filled with life.

Life worth living.

“A great view, isn’t it?” she pressed, searching for any way to connect with the man and keep him from doing the unthinkable.

***

SCOTT BALANCED HIMSELF ON the precarious ledge, surprised at Stephanie’s words. He turned his head slightly. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed her taking in the night, seemingly soaking in the lights of the city. She was keeping her distance, not looking his way.

He closed his eyes.

She didn’t understand. How could a woman like Stephanie Chase possibly understand?

He had lost everything.

“Please don’t,” she said.

He opened his eyes. No, she wouldn’t understand what he was feeling. He looked down at the ground below, crouching, readying himself.

“Wait!”

He paused.

She continued in almost a whisper, “You might feel like you have nothing to live for, or that there’s no purpose in continuing on, but there is…”

He waited for her to finish. When she didn’t, he turned his head to assess her sincerity.

***

IT WAS HIS EYES.

Stephanie had no idea why she felt such a strong desire to help this man, but then she saw it. In his eyes, she saw something more.

She saw integrity.

She didn’t know how else to describe it other than integrity. A man who meant what he said and did what he said he was going to do. No malice or malevolence existed in his eyes. A determination resided there but also an uncertainty, such conflicting emotions in one soul.

She had heard his confidence when he had instructed the cast on set. But to see it in his eyes was different. He possessed a confident sincerity rarely found.

She didn’t know what more she could say. She stood in uncomfortable silence waiting for any sign from him.

His eyes dropped from hers. Stephanie wasn’t sure if it was in thought or in shame. She could sense his resolve waning. A yearning to help in any way burst from her heart, surprising her. Getting involved was usually something that she shied away from, not wanting to give men false encouragement.

But this wasn’t false.

She felt the need to help this tortured soul. This desire drove any doubt or hesitation from her. The look in his eyes returned to the forefront of her memory. She wanted to see the look in his eyes again.

“I see something,” she said.

He looked back up at her.

“I do.” She took a deep breath. “I see something,” she whispered.

A tear fell from his cheek.

***

SCOTT SHUT HIS EYES, lifting his head to the night sky. He was being ridiculous. If Stephanie Chase could see something in him then maybe his wife could too. He and Leslie had always worked it out before. He would be back in Los Angeles after tomorrow’s flight. If he could just speak with her in person, maybe they could reconcile. He owed that much to her and to himself.

He had to try.

He felt ashamed of the suicidal tendency that had almost overwhelmed him. He had never experienced such a feeling. This weakness scared him. All of this was new. He had never felt such overwhelming and conflicting emotions.

I’m stronger than this.

He absently reached for the cylinder resting on his chest, dangling from a chord under his shirt. Leslie had accused him of being a coward before he left, not wanting to face their issues. Running away instead of working things out.

Maybe she’s right. I’m doing it again. I’m just running away, not confronting what is important.

He jumped down off the ledge onto the balcony.

Stephanie didn’t move, watching him with cautious eyes.

I can do this. He thought of his wife. I need to do this.

Resolve solidified within him. He made his decision. He would work things out with Leslie. After all, he had given her his whole heart. That should mean something. She was a part of him. A very important part. He felt that somewhere deep inside she still loved him too. They had been together too long for it not to mean something to her.

His confidence steadily increased until he felt assured that he knew what he needed to do.

He walked away from the balcony ledge. As he passed Stephanie, he paused to say something, but all he could manage was a grateful half-smile, unsure of what to say. He was never a man of many words.

He nodded once in appreciation to her, then opened the double doors leading into the penthouse suite. He pushed through the crowded room, ignoring any attempts to engage him in conversation. With considerable effort, he made his way through the maelstrom of people and exited the suite door into the hallway, relaxing as he closed the door behind him.

He leaned against the wall, surprised at what Stephanie had done for him. Maybe he had misjudged her.

He pushed away from the wall, returning to his room to prepare for the flight home.

***

RELIEF WASHED OVER STEPHANIE as she was left alone to bask in the glory of the city. She had never witnessed anyone so close to suicide before. At least she was fairly certain that was the man’s purpose.

He hadn’t said anything to her. Irritation renewed within her. Not even a thank you.

I just saved his life.

Though he did attempt to smile. She thought maybe she should let somebody know what had almost happened. Or should she honor his privacy? She thought that he might need help, but what if he didn’t want any help? What if he just wanted to be left alone?

Alone.

She became very aware that she was suddenly alone. It wasn’t often when she had some time to herself. Even in her room, demands were made on her time from the cast, hotel staff, and especially men vying for her attention. But when she finally had the chance to achieve some form of privacy, it unnerved her.

People are just a few feet away in the next room.

She needed to concentrate on something else — anything else.

She thought of what her next move should be and the type of projects that she should accept in the near future. A future filled with endless possibilities. A future with maybe some awards not too far down the road. The giddiness returned within her.

She heard the balcony doors open. A voice interrupted her solitude.

“There you are.”

She recognized the slurred voice, drunk with the open bar offerings, calling out to her from behind. One of the relentless producers trying to get to ‘know’ her better. She took a deep breath, masked her disgust with an enduring smile, and turned to deal with the next male oaf filled with false hope.

Chapter 2

SCOTT JOSTLED AWAKE AS THE PLANE shuddered through a cloudy sky. He tousled his sandy hair, his arm lowering to rub the sleep from his eyes.

He observed the passengers seated on either side of him. Across the aisle to his left, a wide-eyed producer sat upright looking around to gauge other passengers’ reactions. To his right, a make-up artist lay asleep on his shoulder. He gently tried to move the ball of blond hair out of his personal space. The young lady gave a silent moan, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, making herself more comfortable on his shoulder. He surrendered to the drowsy head in defeat, hoping the young woman didn’t drool.

He searched for any sign of a nearby flight attendant. A calming voice sounded over the intercom.

“We apologize for the bumpy ride. We’re passing through some expected turbulence. We should be through it shortly. Please remain seated with your seatbelts—”

A sudden dip in altitude cut the announcement short. A few shrieks resonated among the passengers. The make-up artist lifted her head from his shoulder, groggily assessing the commotion.

The plane jolted sideways. Despite flying many times, Scott couldn’t help the anxiety rising within him.

This isn’t ordinary turbulence.

A light shake of his shoulder returned him to the calamity at hand. The blond make-up artist beside him had been trying to ask him a question.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked.

“What’s going on?”

Scott shrugged as the plane tilted sharply to the right.

“Turbulence,” he responded, finding it difficult to keep his voice calm.

He glanced out the window, witnessing smoke emanate from one of the jet engines. He felt his heart skip, fear consuming him. A dense dread permeated the cabin as all passengers felt the plane dip again.

“We’re going down,” screamed someone a few rows back.

The noise level rose as fear gripped the passengers.

Oh God, please no. This can’t be happening.

He searched the surrounding faces, gauging the attitudes of the other passengers. Terrified looks and emergency signals lit the cabin. Oxygen masks dropped from the upper compartments in the privately chartered jet, only to solidify the fact that something was terribly wrong.

Scott locked eyes with one of the actors glancing back from a forward row. Fear covered the man’s face, the handsome actor hardly recognizable. Scott felt uncomfortable in such company since beginning filming. Beautiful people surrounded him. But when a crisis occurred, everyone was just like the next person.

Death took whomever it chose without prejudice.

***

STEPHANIE’S PANIC WAS AT ITS bursting point. She couldn’t die when all of her dreams and aspirations were within reach. She was on the verge of superstardom.

This can’t be happening.

She was beyond death’s grip.

She was untouchable.

She thought of all the things that she hadn’t had a chance to do. The many places she hadn’t visited. The foods she hadn’t tasted. The many experiences still to be lived. There was still so much to do and see.

She hadn’t had the chance to really love. Did she really know what love was?

She wondered if she had ever really loved in life. No specific love interest entered her mind, not even her current one.

Why am I thinking about love in a moment like this? What does love matter now?

All of the lost opportunities ached within her until she was ready to explode. Fear overwhelmed her. Uncontrollable sobs burst forth.

***

MORE SCREAMS ERUPTED due to another sudden dip in altitude. Scott’s stomach felt as if it would explode through his throat. He gripped his armrests with white knuckles. Cries sounded behind him. He assumed they came from Stephanie. He had avoided any eye contact with her after their encounter on the balcony, ashamed that she had caught him in a moment of weakness.

He found it strange that he chose to observe the directors, actors, and producers in a moment of calamity. Chaos erupting all around him, yet he chose to observe the production company’s behavior. All of whom were not acting nearly as collected, organized, and authoritative as they did when they were on set. They seemed to have lost all arrogance as their faces radiated fright.

Sobs escaped tightly-drawn lips.

Odd what some people think about in their last moments.

His thoughts turned to his wife. He relented the fact that they had not been able to work things out before he had left on this business trip turned nightmare. Her need to leave still ate away at his heart. He would never have the chance to reconcile with her.

A tear filled with resentment trickled down his cheek.

I’m so sorry, Leslie.

Stark realization came to fruition as all of his regrets culminated in this moment.

I was just supposed to do some choreography for the film and fly back home, was his last conscious thought as the plane hit the ocean.

Chapter 3

WATER SPEWED FROM SCOTT’S MOUTH. He gasped as he tried to gulp as much air as he could but felt it difficult with his chest constricted. He faded in and out, feeling arms pulling him from the cool seawater. His head throbbed. He rasped in short breaths, sensing a pain in his lower chest that made it difficult for him to breathe.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision. A blurred view of the surrounding environment slowly came into focus. He tried to turn his head to discover the identity of the person dragging him, but found it difficult with his shoulders shrugged. His eyelids drooped as he stared at the two small furrows made by his shoes in the sand.

The grasp under his arms slipped.

Scott sensed the person dragging him struggle and fall. He fell back into unconsciousness, pain searing his ribcage when he hit the sand.

***

SCOTT MANAGED TO OPEN HIS EYES with the help of fingers prodding him to wake up, vaguely aware of someone asking him a question.

“Hey, are you awake?” A woman’s voice. “You should drink something.”

He felt water touch his lips. Unaware of how it got there, Scott involuntarily took a sip, his parched mouth and dry tongue searching for relief. His thirst overcame him. He grappled to alleviate his tortured throat, gulping as much water as his mouth could manage from what looked like large leafs folded together.

The water devoured, he glanced up, trying to distinguish his rescuer. He could just make out long, blond hair framed by brilliant sunlight. Scott tried to speak, unable to form any words. Thoughts of his injuries and possible paralysis rushed through his mind. Relief flooded through him when he found that he could wiggle his feet, but when he made any upper-body movement, the pain in his ribcage became unbearable.

“Just rest.”

A soft hand gently pushed his shoulders flat with the sand.

He drifted back to a welcomed sleep.

***

SCOTT’S EYELIDS FLUTTERED OPEN to view a wondrous, night sky. The stars shone with a radiance not found in Los Angeles. He glanced about, recalling that he wasn’t surrounded by lights and smog.

A lone figure lay nearby, her face turned away from him, her arm tucked under her head for a pillow. He could just make out her blond hair under the moonlight. He wanted to call out to find out who had pulled him from the wreckage of the plane, but decided against it, letting whoever it was get her rest.

He looked up at the moon peaking over the trees near the horizon. The silver orb had never looked so beautiful. Leslie would love such a sight. His heart ached as he thought about his wife and what she might be thinking. He instinctively felt for the small cylinder under his long-sleeved shirt hanging from the cord around his neck. He hoped that she was all right after hearing about the accident. Doubts started to rise as he wondered if she cared if the plane had crashed.

He dismissed his fears, staring at the moon, vowing that he would do whatever it took to return to his wife to make things right.

He reminisced about some of their most memorable dates as sleep gradually reclaimed him.

***

SCOTT AWAKENED TO A SHIMMERING VIEW of a placid lagoon. A makeshift lean-to made of palm leaves shielded him from the sun. A refreshing breeze drifted off the water. He realized that he would be more comfortable without his long sleeves, but stopped moving the moment that he tried to take off his shirt, the pain in his chest flooding through him. He struggled to keep calm and remain motionless when so much uncertainty engulfed him.

He found that he could turn his head without any pain. He took in his surroundings. Even the most cynical of people would appreciate the serene beauty from where he lay. No humans within sight, just a breathless view. Palm trees and greenery dominated the beach line with no manmade structures littering the horizon – simple, wonderful, pure nature.

The white sand surrounded a lagoon in some of the clearest blue water that Scott had ever seen. The small bay shaped a near perfect horseshoe. He rested near the top of the bend well within the lagoon.

The shoreline to his left appeared to rise, sloping sharply, smothered with dense foliage. To his right, thick vegetation also existed but lacked a rise in elevation. If he didn’t hurt so profusely and wasn’t so scared, the sight would have been from his dreams.

Very postcard worthy.

He noticed the fading tread marks from his heels marking where he had exited the water, ending where he lay. The furrows and temporary shade reminded him that he had a rescuer, hopefully somewhere nearby. He wondered why whoever saved him had bothered. He looked up at the large, palm leaves shading him. At least his rescuer seemed to care about his well-being and comfort. He searched for any drinking water near him but found none.

With the palm leaves hovering over him, the tropical weather was rather pleasant, despite his long-sleeved shirt. The shade made the humid climate bearable, though a small amount of sweat started to form on his brow and under his arms. He rested his head, closing his eyes, reveling in the sweet smell of the sea carried by the breeze.

His thoughts returned to his rescuer – long, blond hair – only two blond-haired women were seated anywhere close to him on the plane. The first person he could think of was the sexy starlet that the movie company was so excited about, Stephanie Chase.

She was supposed to be the next big thing, critics comparing her to a mix between Merryl Streep and Marilyn Monroe. He had avoided her arrogant attitude and snide comments throughout the movie shoot, keeping a wide berth from her. Thankfully, he never had to get too close since he worked mostly with the other actors and the extras. She wasn’t in any of the major dance scenes. He had heard the producers gush about the marketing that her presence alone would bring to the movie.

The popular actress was at the top of almost every guy’s date wish list. He overheard the producers concluding that with her name alone, the movie should easily pull in tens of millions of dollars. The talk of advertising and a good marketing budget gave Scott the impression that the producers were hopeful they were sitting on a gold mine.

But didn’t every producer believe that?

Stephanie Chase certainly didn’t seem to be the type of person to go out of her way to help others. She hadn’t spoken to him once on set, but then again, he hadn’t made any effort to speak with her. Scott’s impression was that the bombshell was in her own self-absorbed world, expecting others to cater to her, which had made his encounter with her on the hotel balcony all the more shocking.

That was the only time that he had witnessed her show any compassion or caring. It wasn’t her nature. He had serious misgivings that she could be his rescuer.

The second and more likely candidate would be the makeup artist, Cynthia, who had slept with her head on his shoulder. She was seated closest to him and the more likely to help him when the plane crashed. She possessed a kind disposition. She always did her job quietly and did it well. He was ashamed to realize that he didn’t even know her last name. Scott was sure that there were other blond-haired women on the plane but he couldn’t think of anyone else situated in close proximity to him.

Could there be any other survivors?

He looked down at his wedding ring, his thoughts turning to his wife. He wondered anew how she would react when she heard the news of his plane going down. Would she be heartbroken or relieved? Their quarrel over the phone, one of many in the past few years, still resonated in his mind. Just before this business trip with the movie company, Leslie claimed that she had had enough and was moving out, but Scott wasn’t convinced that she was serious until her phone call. She had hinted at it before, but he knew that this time it wasn’t an empty threat.

Would the crash change her mind? Might she actually be there when he returned? He opened his eyes, observing his surroundings — if he returned.

He needed to get back home to work things out with his wife at such a critical time, but first he had to figure out his location. He remembered departing Jakarta on the plane. He knew that they were heading east towards the United States, but he had fallen asleep shortly after takeoff. He could be anywhere on one of thousands of the Indonesian islands, if indeed he was on an island. For all he knew he could be almost anywhere in the Pacific Ocean, not anywhere near the vicinity of Indonesia. He felt for his phone in his pants pocket, confirming that he still had it.

Scott’s stomach rumbled, advising him that he was famished. He would need to move soon to search for food and water. He wondered about his rescuer, wondering why he hadn’t seen her. Hopefully she, whoever she might be, was resourceful and looking for something edible. That is, if she were anywhere close. He couldn’t imagine the person going to all the trouble of shading him with palm trees and then leaving him to suffer. He was grateful for her thoughtfulness. He started to roll onto his side but stopped as pain gripped his lower chest. He lay back to recover.

I won’t be running any races anytime soon.

He tried to limit his movement as much as possible, withdrawing his cell phone from his pocket. He hit the power button but didn’t get any response. He didn’t expect it to work since he didn’t have a waterproof phone.

“I already tried mine. It was dead from the seawater.”

Scott flinched as the sultry voice surprised him. He instinctively turned his head to see who approached, instantly sorry as he slightly twisted his torso.

“Better stay still for the time being,” he heard the voice say.

Scott felt relief and apprehension as the legendary Stephanie Chase walked into his field of view. He relaxed when he saw what looked like some berries cradled in the crook of her arms.

A look of confusion appeared on his face. He had never seen Stephanie help anyone before. He had observed her making demands on set, insisting on the most trivial items be brought to her. He remembered her demanding to be brought a specific out-of-season fruit for her next snack while on set. Her bringing him food and water was very out of character and certainly not what Scott had come to expect from the actress.

“I think you might have cracked at least one rib,” she suggested.

As she bent down to deposit the berries onto a large palm leaf, Scott was surprised to find that the starlet was even more beautiful close up, which didn’t seem possible.

Even after a plane crash and dragging him from the sea, Stephanie was stunning. Though her manner of dress was too immodest for him, she was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women that he had ever seen. Her shoulder-length blond hair accented her face in natural waves. Her green eyes revealed concern rather than the malice that Scott was so accustomed to seeing from her on set. She had on tight-fitting, faded blue denim jeans and sneakers, her light-colored halter top barely covering her midriff. Scott made a conscious effort not to give her the obligatory look-over that he was sure all men gave her curvaceous figure, but he couldn’t help notice that her extremely pretty face matched her persona perfectly. Even without makeup, Scott could understand why her face graced most covers on any magazine rack.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“How did you save me?”

“You’d better have something to eat to get your strength back,” Stephanie replied, ignoring his question and inquisitive gaze.

She bent down, picking up some of the berries, placing them in his lap. Scott turned away, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable by staring. She plopped down next to him in the sand with a sigh.

He turned back to her, unable to help himself, warily watching her profile. He wondered what to make of the situation. She turned her attention to her fingernails, studying them for any imperfections. Scott noticed she had scrapes on her arms, most likely from the plane crash. He sat enamored with her perfect face – not a flaw. This woman was gorgeous from any angle.

After a few awkward moments, Stephanie threw up her arms. “What? Do you want me to actually feed you?” She looked him in the eyes for the first time. “Fine,” she blurted, exasperated when he continued to sit in silence.

He flinched as her hands snatched some berries from his lap. She smirked, Scott assumed at his reaction to protect himself. With a seductive smile, she delicately held a berry in front of his mouth as if waiting for him to make an “o” shape with his lips. He waited, trying to determine her intent, feeling uncomfortable with the situation, then feeling guilty for feeling awkward.

Was she only trying to help or was she mocking him?

She kept the berry near his lips, tantalizing him. When he didn’t move or say anything, she dropped her arm, a pouting face displaying her frustration.

His eyes never faltered from hers as she tried to avert his gaze.

“Why?” he continued to wonder.

“Well, we need to eat.” When he didn’t respond, she tilted her head to one side, taking his breath away with her playful smile. "You know, most men dream of moments like this.” She dangled a grape close to his mouth, her eyes looking directly into his. “It could pass you by before you know it.”

“No, what I’m trying to say…” He shook his head. “I’m not referring to the food. I mean why did you save me?”

She dropped the berry back into his lap and looked down at the fine, white sand. She absently let the granules run through her fingers.

“A simple thank you would suffice,” she muttered.

He realized how rude he must seem. “I’m sorry, I mean…there must have been others…”

Guilt enveloped him as she cringed at his comment. He took a deep breath to gather himself, wincing at the pain in his ribcage.

“Thank you,” he finally managed.

She visibly relaxed as he struggled to express himself. When in control, she seemed more in her element. He began eating the berries but remained wary of his ribs. His hunger quickly overwhelmed him as the sweetness of the juice caused his mouth to water. He devoured the remaining berries, limiting his torso’s movement as best he could. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve upon finishing. His nose wrinkled at the smell of his shirt.

“Ugh, I need a bath.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

He was used to his wife’s high society friends and wasn’t used to such abrupt and brash language. But even though Stephanie’s language wasn’t as refined as he was used to in a woman, he couldn’t help but smile at her curtness.

“You didn’t have to agree so quickly,” he said.

She noticed his smirk and appeared to relax. “Well, it’s true.”

He couldn’t find a trace of dirt on her face. “How are you staying so clean?”

“I’m surprised you noticed.”

He wondered why she was being so short with him. He waited for her to answer his question.

She sighed. “I’ve been bathing a bit just over the ridge at another beach. It still feels pointless without soap or fresh water. And not being able to shave my legs is killing me. I need a manicure and my eyebrows need plucking…” She tapered off, suddenly realizing that she was rambling. “Anyways, yeah, you do kind of smell.”

“Thanks.” He turned away, sorry that he’d said anything.

A smile creased her lips, her defenses slowly lowering.

He observed the inviting seawater just yards away. He returned his attention to her, uncertainty clouding his face.

“Would you, uh, help me get my shirt off?”

She gave a quick snort. “What, you don’t think I know how to get your shirt off? If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to get a man out of his clothes.”

She slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Both he and Stephanie avoided eye contact in the awkwardness. She tenderly slid his shirt off one arm, then the other. Scott had a dancer’s body, but he still felt conscientious under her watchful eyes. He certainly felt inadequate so close in proximity to a woman so beautiful. He noticed her surprised glance at the corded necklace he wore over his white, sleeveless undershirt. When she started on his pants, he quickly pushed her hands away in shock.

“Whoa, hey, what are you doing?”

“What? You’re not going to go in there with pants on are you?” She raised her eyebrows as he stared back at her with an expectant look. “Oh come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

Scott was certain that he wasn’t as attractive as the type of guys that she must be used to dating. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He shouldn’t feel this defensive, should he? “I’m just not as liberal with my body as you appear to be.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Her eyes narrowed, unaccustomed to a man being so curt with her. After a few tense seconds of scrutinizing him, she stood up to storm off to a secluded part of the island.

“Fine. You do what you gotta do. It’s time for me to work out anyways.” She turned, stalking off towards some long palm fronds.

“Stephanie, wait.” She stopped but didn’t turn around. He sighed, feeling ashamed for lashing out at her when she was only trying to help him. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just scared and frustrated, that’s all. That was a cheap shot and I didn’t mean what I said.”

She turned to assess his sincerity. Her look softened.

He let out a sigh of relief. “Uh, is there any more water?”

She raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I’m sorry. I would do it if I could but my ribs make it difficult.”

She pursed her lips before responding. “I found some collected on leaves just over that rise in the shade.” She motioned over her shoulder. “That’s what I brought to you before.”

She turned to retrieve more water, pausing when Scott cleared his throat. She waited with her back to him.

“Thank you for the shade. My name’s Scott by the way.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

***

 A SLY SMILE CROSSED STEPHANIE’S FACE as she strode forward, knowing that he was watching her walk away as all men did. She glanced back, frowning when she realized that he was laying back with his hand over his eyes, not looking at her at all.

 After taking a few minutes to gather his strength, Stephanie watched as Scott weathered the intense seconds of pain that shot through his ribcage. He gingerly crawled towards the lagoon, pants and all.

She reflected on his comment about her being liberal with her body. Why did his comment bother her? His opinion of her shouldn’t matter.

She frowned, turning to search for more fresh water, trying unsuccessfully to dismiss his observance of her.