to send SOS messages in,” commented Jessie, earning herself a grin from Nick.
“And we got some different-sized shells,” Nick added, handing them around. “Which we can use as bowls and spoons.”
They took their eating utensils and then watched with quiet curiosity as Nick whittled at a thin stick, scraping off the bark and sharpening one end to a point. He picked up one of the unappetizing white grubs and, without ceremony, speared it upon a stick.
“Eeeouw,” howled Cindi, flinging her hands over her face.
Jessie couldn’t help looking away as well. Malcolm kept watching as Nick impaled the remaining grubs, but his face was a few shades paler by the end.
Nick grinned cheerfully at their reactions and held the beetle-grub kebab over the fire while he stirred the sweet potatoes.
He gave Malcolm the job of straining the potatoes and dishing them out, while he concentrated on cooking the grubs evenly. They crackled as they gradually turned golden and crispy.
Unbelievably, Jessie’s mouth was watering.
They all made short work of the potatoes and then Nick asked for a volunteer.
“I will!” said Malcolm.
“Hold on a second,” said Nick, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Whatever happened to ‘ladies first’?”
“Very funny,” said Cindi, grimacing. “Forget it.”
Nick raised his eyebrows at Jessie and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Okay,” she whispered, smiling excitedly at her own daring.
Nick held out the stick and Jessie hesitated for a second, then she reached out and plucked off a grub, closing her eyes as she popped it into her mouth.
It was succulent and sweet, like a ball of crackling pork.
Jessie opened her eyes as she chewed it. “This is delicious,” she said. She looked at Cindi. “Seriously. You should try one.”
Cindi put up her hands. “No offence, but I just met you and, frankly, I don’t believe you.”
Poor Malcolm was almost quivering with the desire to display his grit, so Nick took pity on him and handed him the stick. Malcolm removed a grub and then paused, a frown shadowing his round face.
“Are these high in cholesterol?”
JESSIE SMOTHERED ANOTHER yawn as she watched the dancing flames. She’d thought she might go exploring after dinner but in the end she just didn’t feel like moving from the fireside.
It was her first chance to really think about what she’d let herself in for. Her expectations and hypotheses had been inadequate preparation. In her imagination the other contestants had been mere ciphers, just background figures in Jessie’s adventure with Nick Garrett. A few short hours with them had cured her of that misconception. They were real people, with their own personalities and their own agendas.
Throughout dinner and afterwards, Jessie had been quietly studying them, trying to work out why they had been picked out of the thousands of people who had entered the competition.
Malcolm was so innocuous and eager to please that Jessie had come to the conclusion that he was there simply because he was the embodiment of Everyman. He was ordinary and human and easy to identify with.
And Cindi was obviously the sassy, worldly, city girl—a part she seemed more than happy to play.
But if they were dealing with stereotypes, what role had Jessie been drafted for?
She raised her eyes from the fire and stole a quick glance at Nick. He was whittling efficiently at some sticks, creating rudimentary forks and spoons out of pieces of wood. Jessie looked down again, grappling with her thoughts.
To her dismay, the mild crush she had on Nick Garrett, TV personality, had transferred itself directly onto Nick Garrett, actual person. Jessie had been prepared to be somewhat awed and starstruck on meeting him at first but she’d presumed it would only be a temporary imbalance. Unfortunately, there was no sign of it dissipating. She was trying to act normal but her heart still took on an erratic beat whenever their eyes met, and her capacity for putting together sentences, which she’d always taken for granted, seemed to desert her whenever he was around.
It was especially horrible because it was just so clichéd. He had all the ingredients for a male fantasy figure. His features weren’t perfect but somehow they added up to a face that was warm and welcoming. His eyes were very clear and intelligent and his mouth always seemed to be on the verge of a smile, even when things were going from bad to worse, as they occasionally did on his show. He was friendly, easygoing and genuine and Jessie found herself utterly tongue-tied in his presence.
Her only consolation was that she didn’t think it was showing.
Up until now.
Now that she was alone with him, things were becoming strained. Malcolm had gone off eagerly to do his time with the confession camera and, when the dinghy had come to pick up Kenny for the night, Cindi had volunteered to walk him down to the shore—and Jessie still wasn’t sure what that was about.
Jessie and Nick hadn’t talked for over ten minutes and while Nick seemed unperturbed by the silence Jessie was desperately searching for something to say. She kept coming up with lighthearted conversation topics and then discarding them because they seemed trite or forced and the more time that passed the more pressured she felt. She’d been so glad when the others had left them alone and now she was just praying for their return. A movement caught her eye and she looked up to see Nick holding up the spoons.
“No more eating with shells,” he said cheerfully.
“Yes,” said Jessie. There was a painful pause and then she added, “Indeed.” She smiled inanely and looked out towards the shore. She could see Cindi chatting to Kenny and the crewman who had come to collect him. What was that girl up to?
Jessie looked back at Nick, realizing in a rush that there was something that needed to be said.
“Uh, look, I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier, when I came ashore. I know you were only trying to help.”
Nick glanced up. “That’s okay. I’m sorry I tried to save your life.”
Jessie blinked. She hadn’t expected sarcasm.
Nick put his hand to his head and let out a low laugh. “No, wait a minute, that came out wrong.”
Jessie smiled, feeling an odd surge of affection at his embarrassment.
“I really didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he went on. “I promise. I’m sorry, too. Sorry that we got off on the wrong foot.”
“I can see how easily you might have thought I was in trouble,” Jessie said generously. “You were right to try and save me. Better safe than sorry.”
He shook his head in mock regret. “I don’t know. At the time I thought you were going to start whacking me with your bag. I was about to throw you back
