Nervousness set in whenever she thought of the night to come, of being alone with Adam on a deserted island. After cracking a couple of coconuts open and using his knife to slice up several oranges, he’d gone back up the beach to fetch the clothes he’d left behind and the raft they’d floated in on. Adam made the decision that they should stay by the house in case it rained again, but for now, they remained outside. The heat had settled in like a damp blanket. A slight, balmy breeze barely stirred the air, rustling the dry grasses and fringed palm leaves. She got to her feet to gather the remains of their meal and put the scraps out of the way in a tidy pile. She knew Adam watched her every move, could feel his hot gaze touching on her everywhere. Earlier, before the sun had gone, he’d entertained himself by perusing his damn Key to the Keys, where he’d found the idea for scraping the coconut shells clean and filling them with the remains of the rainwater.
