All in the Game (2 page)

But he couldn't help singling
her
out. He couldn't keep his eyes off her—nor could he keep his camera away from her for long. Luckily, she had a twin sister, which seemed to make the film time equal, since nobody else could tell the twins apart.

Tynan had no trouble differentiating Shannen from Lauren. He knew “his” twin instantly, at first glance every time, whether the sisters were alone or together. There was no way to explain how, he just
knew.

Despite his determination to be different from the other members of his family, it seemed that he was as foolish and dysfunctional as any other Howe, Ty mocked himself. How like a Howe to develop an unhealthy fascination with the very person who could wreck the normal, productive life he'd worked so hard to create.

But his unhealthy fascination with Shannen was not new. Worse, it was as urgent and powerful as it had been nine years ago. More so because now she had become the woman he'd thought she was, back when she had been just a girl.

He'd wanted her then, but he wanted her more now.

And he couldn't have her. Not then and not now.

 

Being chief cameraman had its perks, one of them being his own private tent in the camp. It was not as large as Bobby Dixon's or Clark Garrett's abodes, of course, but definitely more spacious than the tents that the assistant camera crew had to share. The editing team were likewise housed according to their positions, while the production assistants shared the most cramped quarters, befitting their slavelike status.

The crew had knocked off filming early at eight o'clock tonight, on Clark's orders. By the time Ty returned to his
tent from the dinner provided by the catering service, it was almost dark.

The sunsets in the region were nothing less than spectacular, and during his first days on the island, Ty had been dazzled as he filmed them. Now he scarcely glanced at the colorful sky as he called good-night to Reggie and the others.

He'd passed on the invitation to play cards, to monitor the Internet, to watch TV from the satellite dish and all other group activities. He wanted to get to bed early; he was tired and hadn't been sleeping well.

Too many nights in a row he'd awakened from particularly vivid dreams of Shannen Cullen, dreams that left him frustrated when, technically, he should've been replete. It was humiliating to be betrayed by his own body this way. He was thirty-four, not seventeen!

Spending hour after hour filming Shannen, watching her every move yet being unable to approach her, was taking its toll on him, Ty decided grimly. He was on his way to becoming unhinged….

He spied the note on his pillow as soon as he entered his tent. It was written on stationery with the network logo imprinted on the top, and he reached for it, more than a little bemused.

Nobody left notes for others in their tents; that was just too summer camp. Which undoubtedly explained its origins. It had to be one of the crew's practical jokes, probably hatched by the production assistants, Ty surmised. Despite being run ragged by everyone involved with the production, those kids never seemed to run out of energy. And they were into playing pranks, though until now, the gags were directed at one another. Now it seemed that they'd moved up to the senior ranks, Ty thought wryly.

His eyes widened at the sight of the unmistakably feminine handwriting. Then he read the note….

It was a joke—it had to be!

He thought of his brief conversation with Heidi today about the Cullen twins. Was that the beginning of the setup? How else to explain this note, signed “Shannen,” ordering him to meet her tonight at a very specific location?

Ty couldn't even summon a laugh at the jest. To him, it wasn't funny—it was appalling! Had he given himself away? He thought he'd remained impeccably indifferent to Shannen Cullen while filming her, but had some of the staffers seen through him?

He wouldn't go, of course. The best way to react to such a practical joke was to blow it off.

But what if this note actually
was
from Shannen?

The renegade thought leaped into his head and took hold. He tried to dislodge it with logic. How would Shannen get hold of network stationery, for starters?

Perversely, he was able to answer what should have been an unanswerable question. If she'd found her way to the crew's camp—to his tent!—swiping a piece of official stationery would be a piece of cake.

Should he go to the trysting place tonight?

Of course he shouldn't!

Ty spent the next two hours debating what to do and finally decided that he
would
go. And he decided, as well, that when he saw one of the PAs—Heidi or Debbie or Adam or Kevin—he would laugh heartily and then accuse whomever, girl or guy, of having a fervid crush on Jed. Or Rico or Cortnee. Or even Konrad. Then he would write the PA in question notes every night, allegedly from the “crush.” He'd let Reggie and the rest of the camera crew in on the joke.

He would make the lives of those bratty production assistants a living hell for daring to notice his attraction—okay, maybe it was closer to an obsession!—with Shannen Cullen.

 

“So you actually showed up.”

It sounded more like an accusation than an observation.
Shannen was glowering at him. The brilliance of the full moon illuminated her face as clearly as studio lighting. The air was thick with the exotic scents of tropical plants and the piercing calls of nocturnal birds.

Ty wondered if his eyes were popping out of his skull. Was it possible for his heartbeat to skyrocket this high and still sustain life?

But Shannen was the epitome of cool, just as she was during the days of filming. No eyes popping or thundering pulses for
her
at the sight of
him,
so Ty carefully maintained an imperturbable facade of his own.

He shrugged. “I have to admit I was surprised to find your note requesting me to meet you here,” he replied, his voice equally casual. “I'm curious. How did you manage to—”

“I managed to, okay?” Her blue eyes flashed.

“Okay.” He waited for her to tell him the reason why she'd demanded this meeting.

And though he had tactfully rephrased it as a “request,” it was not. It had been a demand, and they both knew it. The demanding tenor of the note was one of the main reasons he'd decided it had to be a practical joke. Shannen Cullen wouldn't order him to meet her.

And yet it appeared that she'd done exactly that, because here she was.

Here they both were.

Shannen said nothing.

Silence stretched between them. It occurred to Ty that she was waiting for him to speak first. And that no matter how long the silence lasted, she was prepared to outwait him.

Ty heaved a sigh. “You're strategizing, aren't you? Can you stop playing the infernal game for just a few minutes and—”

“Play the game or be played. Isn't that how it goes?”
she challenged, her tone mocking. “Well, since you see me as a master strategist, can you guess what my alleged strategy is?”

“Time to check your ego, honey. I didn't say I saw you as a master strategist.”

She shot him a fierce look of contempt, a look that would've sent a more cautious man running. But Ty had never been particularly cautious, so he stayed where he was.

“Definitely not a master,” he reiterated. He was pleased he'd gotten under her skin, at least a little. “Your ploy is right out of Strategy 101, the course for beginners. You believe you'll gain an advantage if I have to ask why you
demanded
this meeting.”

This time he not only used the correct word, he emphasized it. Just a bit of his own simple strategy. Plus, he was certain it would annoy her.

It did. “Don't call me honey! And it was a request, not a demand. A polite request,” she added loftily.

“Not going to concede an inch, hmm?” He laughed, a peculiar lightheartedness flooding him. “Just like old times.”

“Are you trying to be ironic?” She fairly spat the words at him. “If you are, it's not working. Oh, just forget it! Forget that I wrote that stupid note and—”

“Suppose I willingly and knowingly succumb to your masterful strategy instead. Why did you
politely request
to meet me here tonight?”

Shannen took a deep breath and averted her eyes. “I…I want you to stop following me around,” she said sternly.

It was a jaw-dropping moment that left him totally nonplussed. “You're joking,” he murmured uncertainly, for neither her tone nor her expression held even the hint of a joke. “Or maybe
you're
trying to be ironic? Given the circumstances of—”

“You know exactly what I mean,” she snapped.

“I certainly don't. And let's not forget that
you
demanded to see
me
tonight. It'll be interesting to hear you rationalize how I followed you when you set up this meeting yourself.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. She was furious.

He grinned, unable to resist baiting her further. “Would it be gameworthy of me to point out that I have a job to do, and you have a role, so to speak, which makes—”

“This goes beyond any job or any role, and you know it,” she said. “I've seen the way you watch me. You're always staring at me, always filming me. Don't bother to deny it.”

“Ah, in addition to your many other charms, you're also paranoid…little girl,” he added pointedly.

She picked up his point instantly. “I am not a little girl, you…you—”

“Condescending, self-righteous jerk?” he suggested. “Oh yes, I remember that, Shannen. I remember everything. But I wasn't sure that you did, not until I got your note tonight.”

He didn't bother to add how he'd decided the note was bogus. He was too elated that it was real.

“You thought I didn't remember you?” For a moment Shannen looked genuinely surprised, but she quickly resumed hostilities. “Well, I do—and it's obvious that the description still fits you. You're still condescending, you're still self-righteous and you're still a jerk!”

“How would you know? This is the first time we've spoken since—”

“A tiger never changes its stripes,” she said. “Or is it a leopard who doesn't change its spots? Oh, who cares! I know I can—”

She abruptly stopped speaking when he advanced toward her.

“You can what?” He stood directly in front of her, towering over her.

The aroma of saltwater and sunscreen, mixed with an alluring scent all her own, filled his nostrils. “You can what?” he repeated huskily.

She swallowed. “I…I forget.”

“How about this, then? You can prove you're not a little girl anymore?”

Her eyes widened as he slowly lowered his head toward her. His hands were at his sides and he made no attempt to hold her in place or restrain her in any way.

She could easily have stepped aside or pushed him away; she could've ordered him to go back from her or made a threat that would have sent him on his way.

But she did none of those things. Slowly Shannen raised her arms to encircle his neck. Their gazes locked and held for a long moment. He watched her eyelids flutter shut as he touched his mouth to hers.

What began as a light, tentative caress of his lips against hers quickly turned into something else entirely. There was nothing light or tentative about the hot, hungry coupling of their mouths.

Ty murmured something unintelligible as her lips parted to welcome his tongue inside.

Shannen pressed closer, twisting restlessly against him, opening her mouth wider in sensual invitation. He accepted, deepening the kiss, thrusting his knee between her thighs and molding her to him, his hands smoothing over her, possessively, eagerly learning every curve.

The kiss went on and on, desire building, passion burning. Ty slowly lowered her to the ground, pulling her on top of him. His fingers nimbly opened the clasp of her halter top, freeing her breasts. His hand cupped one soft milky-white breast, and he groaned with pleasure.

A split second later, he was lying on the sand alone. Shannen had pulled away from him and jumped to her feet with disorienting speed.

“No!” she exclaimed, fumbling to close the clasp he had
so effortlessly undone. Her dexterity didn't equal his and she gave up, holding the halter together with one hand.

Ty rose slowly, almost painfully, to his feet. “Let me help you with that.”

She backed away from him as if he were radioactive. “Go away! I…I told you to keep away from me.”

“Yes, you did.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “But your message was—hmm, how can I put this tactfully?—mixed.”

She flushed scarlet, the bright moonlight highlighting her color. “You're a snake!”

“I've been called worse.” He ran his hand through his dark hair. “Anything else?”

“I don't know what you're doing here or who you're pretending to be or why, but I don't trust you!”

“Thanks.” Ty chuckled softly. “And let me return the compliment. I don't trust you, either.”

Shannen turned and stomped away from him, still clutching her top with one hand, using her other hand to smack away the hanging vines and lush foliage that dared get in her way.

Ty stood watching until she disappeared from view.

“D
o you think we'll get mail-in-the-tree today? Or a visit from Slick Bobby with some kind of instructions?” Cortnee asked during her rigorous aerobic workout, which she performed daily on the beach. Today she wore her tiniest bikini, the neon-pink one. “We haven't had a victory contest or a food contest this week.”

Konrad, Rico and Jed gathered on the beach in various positions of repose, watching Cortnee. The twins were there, too, Lauren braiding her hair into a thick plait, Shannen tying strings to three makeshift bamboo fishing poles.

“I checked the tree for mail earlier and there wasn't anything,” Shannen reported. “Why don't one of you guys go check it now?”

“Later,” said Jed.

“And we're almost out of bait,” continued Shannen. “Somebody should go to that place farther down the beach and see if more clams have washed up. That's the best bait on the island.”

“Later,” murmured Rico.

“We can check for tree mail and then swing down for clams after we fish, Shannen,” Lauren suggested.

“I just thought maybe someone else would like a chance to do the daily errands around here,” murmured Shannen, adding tersely, “for a change.”

“Remember how those idiots in the other tribe ate some bad raw clams instead of cutting them up for bait?” Konrad sniggered. “Man, were they sick! When they tried to hang on to the rope in that tug-of-war between the tribes, they fell flat on their faces.” Clearly, it was a fond memory for him.

“Our tribe won every single contest, forcing the other tribe to keep voting off their own till they were all gone,” observed Jed. He began idly doodling in the sand with a stick.

“We won all the contests, so our tribe was able to stay intact a long time, and it's mainly thanks to you, Jed,” Lauren said, her voice filled with admiration.

Jed nodded his head. “True.”

“Partially true,” corrected Shannen. “You forgot to add that you couldn't have done it alone, Jed. I didn't hear you say that all of us did our part to win, either. Did you forget that we're a team?”

“Jed isn't a team player—he doesn't want to share credit for anything,” Cortnee called between deep breaths. “He really believes he does
everything
better than anybody else.”

Jed opened his mouth to speak, but Rico beat him to it by sighing heavily, gaining the attention of the cameramen. “I just want to say that I don't miss the other tribe because I barely knew them, but I do miss Keri and Lucy from our tribe.” Rico sighed again. “I really bonded with them. They were probably some of the best friends I ever had in my life.”

“You voted them off the island without blinking an eye, Rico,” Shannen pointed out.

“Untrue!” protested Rico. “Maybe it looked that way because I hid my pain so well, but I've been torturing myself for getting involved in this unholy alliance with you guys. You made me turn against my friends!”

His face a portrait of agony, Rico stared soulfully into the camera that had been turned on him the moment he began to speak. He pouted when the camera abruptly shifted to Shannen, who was now baiting the hooks, frowning in concentration.

 

“Cut to the evil twin. Nice move, Ty,” junior cameraman Reggie Ellis whispered to Ty, who was filming Shannen. “Makes for good TV. She looks distinctly unmoved by Rico's brooding torment. Like she's remembering how Rico was the first to suggest that they ‘vote off those schemers Keri and Lucy because they're allied against us.' The viewers will remember, that's for sure.”

“Rico wants to show the talent agents who'll be watching that he has range,” Ty said dryly. “That he's not just a song-and-dance man.”

“Yeah, he's good at brooding and backstabbing,” Reggie observed. “The kid does have that slightly sleazy manner about him, too. A handy survival trait in showbiz.”

“I can see Rico winning an Oscar someday. Unless he decides to run for political office instead,” murmured Ty. “He'd do well in that arena, too.”

Having completed her task of baiting the hooks, Shannen looked up and saw Ty filming her. She shot him a withering glare before looking away.

“Looks like she'd enjoy baiting those hooks with pieces of you, Ty.” Reggie guffawed. “Y'know, for somebody who volunteered to be on this show, she sure hates having the camera on her. I think I'm starting to be able to tell which twin is which, just from that. Lauren doesn't pay any
attention to the camera, but Shannen looks as if she'd like to shove it down your throat.”

“You noticed that, too?” Ty was casual.

Reggie nodded. “We're not the only ones to wonder. I logged onto the Internet last night, and there's a debate going on as to why the twins auditioned to be on this show in the first place. Especially since Shannen looks eternally ticked off because she's here.”

“Remember their interview tapes? Both twins said they did it as a lark,” said Ty.

He didn't add that he wondered himself why the Cullen twins had auditioned for the show. The “for a lark” reason didn't ring true to him. Nine years ago Shannen's behavior had been quite purposeful. Filming her every day here on the island didn't contradict his impression that she was a person who rarely made an unplanned move.

But there had been nothing calculated about that hot kiss they'd shared last night. It had been as impetuous as it was passionate. Ty tried to tamp down his nascent arousal.

“Maybe Lauren did it as a lark, but Shannen doesn't strike me as the lark type.” Reggie chuckled. “If we're talking birds, she's more of a shrike. You know, the one that impales its prey on a stake. Oh, Ty, quick, pan over to Cortnee. She has her back to us and is touching her toes. Every red-blooded male in the audience is gonna love that. And she's wearing that pink thong bikini that almost caused a meltdown on the Internet the first time she put it on.”

“You can have the pleasure of filming her, Reg. I know you're one of Cortnee's top fans. I'll keep my camera on the twins and Konrad. Looks like they're going fishing.”

Each carrying a primitive bamboo fishing pole, Shannen, Lauren and Konrad walked briskly into the ocean. Ty followed close behind, camera whirling.

 

“Do you think we should go out in the rowboat?” asked Lauren as the surf broke around their knees. “We might have better luck catching fish in deeper water.”

“Yeah, but then we'd have the fun of swimming with the sharks when that leaky old tub sinks,” growled Konrad. “Remember when those two idiots in the other tribe took the boat out and it went down like a stone with them in it? Had that big dramatic rescue 'cause they couldn't swim. You know Slick Bobby and Clark Garrett woulda rather seen them drown. And now they claim the boat's fixed, but I don't buy it. They're still hoping to get lucky with a fatal accident.”

“That's entertainment for those two human piranhas,” Shannen pointed out.

“Never mind the boat, then, let's try our luck right here,” suggested Lauren, casting her pole. “Oh, don't look now, but we're on camera again. I was sure the whole crew would stay on the beach filming Cortnee. Doesn't she do her jumping jacks after touching her toes? None of the guys want to miss that.”

“Gets old when you see the same stuff day after day.” Konrad shrugged. “Me, I'd rather hang out with you two, even though I don't know which the hell is which.”

“Konrad, how gallant!” Lauren smiled sweetly.

Shannen turned her head to see Ty standing less than a foot behind them. She swung her fishing line at him, clipping him with the clam bait.

“Oops.” She snickered. “So sorry.”

“You're only sorry that your aim was off.” Ty turned off the camera. “You meant to smack me in the face with the clam guts. But you missed, Shannen,” he added, saying her name with alacrity.

“You're sure I'm Shannen?” She looked ready to whip the pole at him again. “How do you know I'm not Lauren?”

“Could be, you know,” Lauren chimed in. “We're dressed exactly alike. Denim cutoffs, red bandanna triangle tops. The only difference is that one of us has a braid and
the other has a ponytail. Can you be sure who styled her hair which way?”

“You two play that twin stuff for all it's worth,” said Konrad, with respect. “No wonder. Two people looking exactly the same…talk about messing with minds! If I had a twin in the lineup with me, nobody could ID me. Because it might be my twin, y'know? I could've beat the rap every time.”

“We'll keep that in mind if we decide to go in for a life of crime, Konrad,” said Shannen.

“I don't have a problem telling them apart.” Ty moved closer to Shannen. “This is Shannen. Unquestionably.”

When she took a step backward, he advanced, knowing she would force herself not to retreat again. She would view that as a tactical error.

He was right. She stayed put.

“Remember the rules? The crew isn't supposed to interact with us in any way.” Shannen's fingers clenched the pole tightly, and she stayed as still as she could, despite the unsteadying waves rising and breaking around her. “You're supposed to be invisible. So shut up and film, Tynan.”

“Who's to know I'm not? From on shore, it looks like I'm filming the three of you out here.”

“How do you know his name, Shan?” Lauren was puzzled. “We weren't introduced to any of the crew. Clark and Bobby said to think of them as part of the camera equipment and forget they're human.”

“Which isn't hard to do, in his case,” Shannen sneered.

“You dodged the question, babe.” Konrad studied her curiously. “How come you know his name?”

“Maybe she made a good guess. Am I right, Shannen?” Ty's bland tone contrasted sharply to his baiting smile.

“As a matter of fact, you are. I read a book about names, and Tynan means ‘condescending, self-righteous jerk,' so I
immediately guessed he must be a Tynan.” Shannen met and held his gaze. “An obvious fit.”

“If Cortnee was out here, she'd say, ‘What did the book say that Cortnee means?'” Konrad laughed.

It was a startling moment. Shannen recovered first.

“The first time Konrad laughs, and you aren't filming, Tynan,” she scolded. “You're not doing your job. I ought to tell Slick Bobby next time he oozes by so he can pass it on to Clark. Then you'll get fired.”

“But you won't tell, will you, Shannen?” Ty leaned down to wash off the bits of clam that clung to his bare shoulder. Like the other cameramen, he rarely wore a shirt during the long days of filming in the sun. He was bronzed and muscular.

Shannen quickly looked away from him, staring instead into the sparkling clear water.

“How do you know my sister won't tell on you?” demanded Lauren, her eyes darting from Shannen to Ty and back again.

“Because I read the same name book that she did, and Shannen means ‘not a snitch,'” said Ty.

“A bitch but not a snitch,” amended Konrad.

Lauren stamped her foot. “My sister is not a bitch! You should apologize to Shannen right now, Konrad.”

“He doesn't have to, I've been called worse names than that.” Shannen stole a glance at Ty. When she found him staring at her, she looked away again. “It doesn't bother me.”

“I'm sure whoever called you…worse names, regrets doing so, Shannen,” Tynan said quietly.

“I'm sure I don't care, Tynan,” she retorted. “Sticks and stones and all that.”

“Y'know, that's just crap,” Konrad said vehemently. “Some of the names I got called as a kid made me a helluva lot madder than getting whacked with any stick. And in the joint, you better watch your mouth—you get what
I'm saying? You diss somebody there and you're dead meat. It's worse than punching him out.”

“That's an interesting point.” Ty raised his camera. “Would you say that again when I turn the camera back on?”

“Sure.” Konrad looked pleased. “Uh, should she say the bit about sticks and stones before I say it?”

“Yeah, that's good.” Ty nodded. “Shannen?”

“I'm not saying anything,” Shannen said crossly. “You aren't directing a movie, and we're not supposed to rehearse our lines. Get out of here, Tynan. Go back and film Cortnee.”

“Hey, I made an interesting point,” argued Konrad. “It should be on TV.”

“I'll give you a lead-in, Konrad,” Lauren volunteered. “Okay, Tynan, ‘Camera, action, take one,' or however that drill goes.” She tilted her head, her expression suddenly wistful. “Shannen, remember how the kids at school used to call us freaky clones? And Gramma told us to say, ‘Sticks and stones may break our bones but names will never hurt us.'”

“Who called you freaky clones?” demanded Konrad. “Just tell me who and when I get back
I'll
break every bone in
their—
”

“Nobody ever called us that.” Shannen heaved an exasperated sigh. “It was just Lauren's cue for you to say your—oh, turn off that camera, Ty. This is ridiculous.”

Ty turned off the camera. “Makes you really respect directors, doesn't it? Imagine doing take after take after take of the same botched scene.”

“Acting is harder than I thought,” admitted Konrad. “Care to try it over again?”

“No!” Tynan and the twins chorused.

The four of them looked at each other and laughed. They immediately lapsed into silence, nonplussed by the unexpected moment of camaraderie.

“I got a fish!” Lauren suddenly shrieked, hanging on to her bamboo pole, which was waving and twitching. “I bet it's big, it's really strong! Help!”

Tynan turned on his camera to film Lauren clutching her fishing pole as it swayed precariously, back and forth and around. Konrad reached over and took hold of the string, swinging it out of the water. The fish on the primitively fashioned hook went flying into the air.