Page 53 of Taking the Heat

He started to walk towards the furthest tent, lying empty, waiting for us. Even the inevitable shadow of Greg, the cameraman, wasn’t about to stop us. I was done resisting. I wanted Chris on me, above me, in me. Whatever the price for my heart was, I was willing to pay it.

He kissed me as we walked, a sensuous, slow kiss, burning deep down to my throbbing core. We reached the tent and Chris laid me reverently on the cushions, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. I arched my back and reached for him, ready to give him everything.

And that’s when the storm hit.

Chapter 18

It came from nowhere. Like an explosion, the wind and rain slammed into us from every direction. People began to shriek and yell as the tents and marquees blew over or away, leaving contestants, wait staff and crew exposed to the onslaught. Scattering like ants, everybody ran everywhere.

Chris leapt to his feet, immediately in emergency mode. ‘We have to get off the beach!’ he yelled over the roar of the storm. ‘The services building! We have to get everyone there!’

I had no idea where that was, but as a massive beach umbrella careened past us like a twig, I knew he was right. ‘Okay!’

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and kept me close as we pushed through the driving rain, harsh on our skin. ‘You guys! This way!’ Chris whistled and waved at the others and they followed us up the stairs, abandoning camera equipment on the sand.

As we navigated the wooden walkway, I heard a horrendous cracking sound, and I looked up in time to see a palm tree hurtling down towards me. I screamed, trying to run, my soaking dress wrapped tight around my legs.

Chris barrelled into me, throwing me over his shoulder, cleaning the tree by mere inches as it smashed into the walkway behind us.

‘Babe, are you okay?’ He held my face, scanning me as the wind howled around us.

‘I’m fine! We have to get out of here!’

‘Okay!’ He turned to help the others climb over the tree trunk, most of the female contestants struggling in their long skirts. Toshi carried Clara, holding her tight to his chest, his face stoic. Babette and Mila huddled against Loris, and he kept them moving with his strong arms.

We passed the open structure of the bungalow, where another small group of contestants and crew was trying to shelter. Waving, we called them over, and I was glad to see Meghan, Callum and Beau join our pack.

Chris led the way, slamming into the gate markedStaff only. The concrete path led to a long low building, which looked like a bunker in comparison to the suspended treehouses and rickety bungalows.

We ran for the doors, passing into an industrial kitchen, the wind chasing us inside. As we stampeded along, a window exploded inwards, sending a spray of broken glass in my direction. I threw up a hand, feeling the shards piercing my skin.

‘This way!’ A man in a chef’s hat called to us from the corridor at the end of the kitchen and the herd moved his way. The corridor branched off into staff quarters, the small rooms decorated with family photos and brightly coloured bed covers. Windows were shattered everywhere, branches and debris smashing into the building every few seconds.

At the end of the hall, a flight of stairs led down to a storeroom where other people were already huddled on the floor. Henry and Jen sat on a blanket holding each other, while Nik was organising mattresses into rows. Mama Ruby sat with a group in a circle, her voice lifted in a powerful prayer and poor old Miles slumped against the wall, his face a strange shade of grey.

It was comparatively quiet in the storeroom, sealed with a heavy door against the wind, the solid walls soundproofed by the shelves filled with canned food, linen and bottles. Finally out of harm’s way, we took a moment to rest.

Chris hugged me tightly, trying to still my shivering. I was sopping wet, my fingers blue, my hair a snarl of leaves and rainwater. Shaking, I squeezed him, safe in the circle of his arms.

A gigantic boom shook the building around us. The fluorescent lighting flickered off, plunging the windowless room into darkness. People screamed and phones appeared, camera flashes doubling as torches. Someone clicked on a few electric candles, normally used on the dining tables, and the room fluttered in the unsteady lights.

Chris didn’t even flinch as I buried my head even further into his chest. I could hear him counting, ‘… seventeen, eighteen, nineteen … there’s a contestant missing.’

I looked up and scanned around the room. ‘If it’s Dante, do we care?’

Chris laughed. ‘No, we don’t, but he’s here.’

The Italian had joined Mama Ruby’s prayer circle, head bowed and penitent. I logged everyone else, trying to think who wasn’t there.

We realised who it was at the same time. ‘Aanya.’

‘She said she was going back to her room.’ Chris dropped his arms from my shoulders. ‘It’s my fault, she was upset and she wanted to leave.’

‘The rooms should be safe? Right?’ Above us, the terrifying wind disagreed, smashing and banging like an angry toddler.

‘I have to go and find her.’

I clutched at his vest with numb hands. ‘Chris, no!’

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