All in the Game (6 page)

Because she knew a thing or two about the pain and rage caused by an accusation that hit way too close to home. Like being called white trash when certain family members acted in a—well, what might be deemed a white-trashy way.

Shannen thought of her mother and brother and their never-ending bad behavior—the drinking and fighting at seedy bars, jumping from one rotten relationship to the next, bouncing checks while running up exorbitant credit-card debts. You could make a case that they were the low-rent version of the Howes, though Shannen wasn't interested in making it.

She and Lauren and their older sister, Jordan, had worked all their lives to be different from Mom and Evan, the Cullen reprobates.

Surprisingly, Ty's situation was much like her own, since he was a Howe by blood, though in behavior unlike them. He was certainly no sexual predator like his odious father and cousin. She couldn't accuse him of that.

And worse than any false accusation was her sinking realization that she wasn't sure she wanted him to leave her alone. She might not wish to have sex on the beach with him tonight, but that didn't mean she wanted to give up his attention.

It was enough to make anyone edgy!

Shannen crossed her arms in front of her chest and glowered. “Playing the martyr doesn't suit you, Tynan.”

His lips curved into a slow smile. As if he knew why
she hadn't said what was guaranteed to send him on his way. “Is that what I was doing, Shannen?”

“Yes!”

“I guess it must've worked, though, because we're both still here.”

“Only because—only until—” She spluttered, gave up and tried again. “Tynan, you can't demand that I meet you and expect me to—”

“It was a request,” Tynan said, his voice deepening. “A polite one.” They were close enough for him to rest both his hands on her shoulders. “And you came tonight because you wanted to, Shannen.”

“No.” She ducked out of his grasp. “I'm only here because—”

“You kissed me last night and you loved it?”

“
You
kissed
me!
And I…and you—” She broke off, her cheeks aflame. “Look, the only reason I'm here is to tell you to forget about last night. I admit I shouldn't have contacted you in the first place. That was a big mistake on my part. I…I wasn't thinking straight. We haven't been getting the proper nutrition here on this island, and it's affecting my brain.”

“Nice try.” Ty nodded his approval. “More original than the overused ‘not guilty for reasons of insanity.' Not guilty for reasons of malnutrition, with you being a nutritionist, sounds downright credible. So, help me out, Shannen—what's
my
excuse for being here? I've been eating three square meals a day.”

“Go ahead and brag about all the great food you get every day,” she grumbled. “Describe every meal in detail. Torture me with tales of every bite.”

“Now who's playing the martyr?” Ty grinned.

“Good night, Tynan. I'm going back to camp now. Hopefully, everybody is still sound asleep, or I'll have to pretend I've been, uh, using the facilities an awfully long time.”

“Wait! Before you go.” Ty caught her hand. “I brought you something.” His thumb glided over her palm, then he lifted it and stared at the blisters. “From the rowing?” he asked, frowning with concern.

She nodded and disentangled her hand from his. “They hurt, and when the salt water touches them, I want to scream.”

Ty examined her other hand. “I have some antibiotic salve I'll give you. It speeds up the healing and has a pain ingredient in it, too. Wait here and I'll go get it. I'll be back in less then ten minutes.”

“But I can't—you can't—”

“While you're waiting, eat this.” Ty handed her a plastic plate, removing the cover to reveal a sandwich made with thick Italian bread.

“It's turkey, cheese, lettuce and tomato,” he said. “I brought you some cookies, too.” He handed her a paper bag with two peanut butter cookies in it. “And a bottle of iced tea.”

Shannen stared at the food—unexciting everyday items on the family dinner menu, but here, on the island, where acquiring food was part of the game, a priceless bounty.

And illicit.

“Isn't this cheating?” she whispered nervously, sitting down on the sand and eyeing the food with longing. Her stomach was growling noisily now.

“I'll get the ointment.” Ty disappeared into the night, leaving Shannen alone with the meal.

S
hannen stared at the unexpected treasure he'd given her. She'd actually dreamed of food while on this island, and now here it was, literally, a dream come true.

She picked up the sandwich and sniffed it. Who would've thought that deli turkey, swiss cheese, tomato and lettuce could have such a heavenly aroma? And was that honey mustard spread on the bread? Oh, happy day!

Who would've believed that this sandwich could smell more wonderful than one of Gramma's freshly baked apple pies?

But it did—because it was here in her hand, and she could eat it right now if she wanted.

If
she wanted? Oh, yes, she wanted to eat that sandwich! And the peanut butter cookies, too. Shannen put down the sandwich to sniff each cookie. She felt almost dizzy with pleasure, and she wasn't even a particular fan of peanut butter in any form.

There was the bottle of iced tea, too. Lemon-flavored,
and one of her favorite brands. She'd had nothing to drink on this island but the bottled water supplied by the crew for health reasons and some terrible coffee they'd won in a food contest early on. Jed had insisted on brewing it and had ruined it, much to the bitterness of the tribe.

That is, she and Cortnee, Rico and Konrad had been bitter and quite vocal about the ruined coffee. Lauren and the two earlier departees from the tribe, Lucy and Keri, had come to Jed's defense and all claimed the undrinkable swill was actually delicious.

“Are you Jed's groupies or something?” Rico had groused at the time, and Shannen, resenting the aspersion cast at Lauren, had glowered at Rico for the remainder of the day.

Now Shannen frowned again, thinking about that unexpected alliance. Lauren had claimed she'd sided with
them
to keep the numbers even, which meant keeping the peace. Shannen didn't understand Lauren's reasoning then, and she still didn't.

She gazed longingly at the food as she thought of her twin. She couldn't eat this food without sharing it with Lauren, she just couldn't. Her sister was just as hungry as she was.

She could take the food back and hide it near the spring, then wake up Lauren and share it with her. It was as if a little cartoon imp had perched on her shoulder, to whisper in her ear. There would be no cameras around to film them at this late hour. She and Lauren could enjoy their treat and no one would be the wiser.

But just as in a cartoon, another little voice—that of the angel who'd just arrived to perch on her other shoulder?—also had something to say. Something completely different from the devilish imp.

Eating this food would be cheating. Sharing it with Lauren would be dragging her sister into a conspiracy of dishonesty. And she would also have to add lying to Lauren
to the list of her wrongdoings, because where could she say that this food had come from? A sandwich shop in the jungle?

If she were to truthfully tell Lauren that Ty had given it to her, Lauren would want to know why. Which would mean either confessing her past fling to her twin or making up some reason why chief cameraman Tynan Hale had decided to slip the Cullen sisters some food on the sly.

Shannen suddenly glanced around her, half expecting to see the cameras filming her. What if this was some sort of setup?

But she was all alone, and her stomach was churning in hungry anticipation.

To eat or not to eat. What a dilemma!

No, it wasn't a dilemma at all, lectured Shannen's invisible but vocal Little Angel. It was something far simpler—and way more dangerous.

This was temptation.

Shannen heaved a groan. Gramma had a lot to say about temptation down through the years and never hesitated to say it.

“If you keep off the ice, you won't slip through.”

“You can't be caught in places you don't visit.”

“If you don't touch the rope, you won't ring the bell.”

Those three sprang instantly to mind; if she were to think another minute or two, she could come up with at least ten more in a similar vein.

And, of course, there was the unnerving one about giving the devil a ride. Shannen shuddered. Maybe it was because Mom and Evan had completely ignored Gramma's warnings and messed up their lives, that Shannen, Lauren and Jordan—sometimes called “the third twin” since she was only a year older—paid Gramma such careful heed.

Except for that brief, dizzying period in her life when Shannen had thrown out Gramma's wisdom and sneaked
around to meet Ty. No happy ending there. She hadn't strayed from the straight and narrow since.

She wasn't about to do it now. Shannen stared out at the dark ocean, leaving the food untouched. “If you don't take a bite of the forbidden food, you won't be cheating.”

She could pass down that one, her own personal version of temptation shunned, to her own grandchildren…if she ever had any.

Ty returned shortly afterward.

“Here's the ointment.” Before she could say a word, he knelt down beside her and smeared it on her right hand, then her left.

The salve was thick and warm and soothed her blisters on contact. Shannen immediately felt guilty.

“This isn't fair.” She bit her lower lip. “The others—”

“I don't care about the others.” Ty slipped his arm around her shoulder. “Keep the ointment. Take it back to the camp with you.”

Shannen resisted laying her head against him. It would be so easy to do that. Too easy. Instead, she shook off his arm and struggled to her feet.

“You had that sandwich and cookies and tea with you before I got here tonight. Is that why you told me to come here, so you could give me food?” She was floored by the sudden realization.

“And you thought I was just out for sex,” Ty said wryly, rising, too. “Of course, if you're willing, I'm—” He paused, glancing at the uneaten food for the first time.

“You didn't eat it.” He sounded disappointed.

“Gramma would say I'd be letting the devil in the cart if I were to take one bite,” mused Shannen.

“Relax. I promise you won't be held to the riding him home part.”

She resisted the urge to smile. “You heard me quoting Gramma, hmm?”

“I filmed you quoting her, remember? I've heard a dif
ferent version of the same theme—‘Needs must when the devil drives.' I suppose that could be the Howe family credo, the true one. My mother should needlepoint it on one of those canvases she's forever working on. She's filled every room of the house with them made into pillows and pictures and foot stools and is still going strong.”

Shannen swallowed, unsure how to respond but feeling the need to say something. “I saw your mother on the news when your father resigned from Congress after the, uh, um, final incident. She looked incredibly calm. Maybe the needlepoint helps,” she added quickly.

“No, it's the tranquilizers around the clock that keep her comfortably numb.” Ty heaved a sigh. “Shannen, I'm not a devil and I don't want to lead you astray. It's just that I know you're hungry and I wanted you to have something to eat.”

“Why?”

He turned his back to her to stare out at the sea. The white caps from the waves were the only breaks in the vast stretch of blackness. “Why wouldn't I?”

“No fair answering a question with a question. I'd like a straight answer. Why do you want to help me to cheat?”

“Not cheating, Shannen,” he countered quickly. “It's more like—”

“Of course it's cheating, Ty. Don't go all Howe on me and get weaselly with words.”

“Weaselly with words?” he repeated, as if unfamiliar with the concept.

“You know exactly what I mean, Ty. After all, your father's classic line, ‘It depends on what is meant by a call girl ring,' is still quoted by politicians
and
comedians when—”

“Can we skip the quotes and the commentary, Shannen? If you don't want my help, just say so.”

“I don't want your help, Tynan.”

“Okay. I won't offer any more, then.”

“And if you expect me to say ‘thank you' for tonight, well, you can just—” She clenched her fists in frustration. “Would you kindly turn around when I'm speaking? I don't like addressing a person's back.”

“I wasn't being intentionally rude, I was being…prudent.” Ty slowly turned around. “But here we go again, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we're doing it again. Picking an argument over nothing. Quarreling about anything. It's all an excuse to prolong our time together. And while fighting ought to keep us from touching each other, of course it won't. I predict we're moments away from another hot clinch.”

“You are so far wrong, you're—” She had to catch her breath; his bluntness had physically winded her “—wrong!”

Very articulate, Shannen, she mocked herself. Why not call him a condescending, self-righteous jerk, too? Where are your allegedly superior verbal skills when you really need them?

“When you've filmed as many episodes of daytime television as I have, you know exactly what's going on here. Frustrated sexual tension. It's a staple on the soaps.” He tilted her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Unfortunately, we're caught in that same maddening trap.”

Shannen gaped at him, uncertain what to address first. “You worked on a soap opera?”

“Three of them. It's where I got my start as a cameraman. I moved from daytime TV to primetime news magazines and the reality game shows. I've learned things on every job, and along with how to shoot close-ups of a person's best angle, I also picked up some true life lessons on the soaps.”

“And you think we're like a soap opera couple?” Shannen laughed at that preposterous notion.

“Honey, we could
be
one. We even have the obligatory
conflict in our past.” His fingers lazily stroked the slender column of her neck.

Shannen shivered, though it was pure heat streaking through her. She quickly stepped away from him, out of touching range.

“And don't you dare say I expect you to come after me and…and grab me. Because I don't!”

“So adamant.” He laughed. “I'm tempted to see what would happen if I did.”

“There's been enough temptation here tonight,” scolded Shannen. “And I'm ashamed of myself for even
considering
a bite of that food.”

She started walking back to the path. He followed her, placing his hand on the small of her back.

“It was extremely ethical of you not to eat that food, Shannen.” His voice was thoughtful. “I bet any of the others would've bolted it down without a single qualm.”

“Lauren wouldn't've touched it.” Shannen stopped in her tracks so quickly he almost crashed into her. “You'd better not go any farther. If someone sees you—”

“I'll turn around when we see the camp. And here, Shannen, don't forget this.” He pressed the tube of ointment into her hand.

“This is cheating, too, Tynan.” She dropped it, and it would've hit the sand if Ty, anticipating her reaction, hadn't caught it first.

“Share it with Lauren and Cortnee. I'm sure they have blisters,” said Ty. “Then you won't have any unfair advantage. Medicine falls into a different category than food. And I'm not using subterfuge—or weaselly words.”

“They do have blisters, their hands are as bad as mine,” Shannen admitted. “I think Cortnee's are even worse.”

“Be sure that the three of you hold your hands up tomorrow so we can film them. We'll go in for some vivid close-ups.” He smiled slightly. “The viewing audience loves stuff like that, the ever-popular gross-out scenes.”

“Then they would've loved seeing Konrad barehandedly massacre that fish, but you didn't film it,” she reminded him.

“True. I decided that Konrad and the murdered fish would be ideal for a show like
The World's Truly Disgusting Videos
but not for
Victorious.
”

“Clark Garrett would disagree. But I won't tell him about the fabulously nauseating footage he missed because you played censor.”

“I felt I must. After all, we Howes are certainly the arbiters of good taste, among other things, are we not?” Ty was droll.

Or cynical. Or ashamed and quick to make a joke about his family's wretched reputation before anyone else did?

“Did you think I was going to toss off some Howe-related barb?” Shannen blurted her thought aloud.

She felt a pang of guilt. After all, she'd been quick to throw in the now-legendary statement made by his father when the news broke about the call girl ring being run out of Congressman Howe's office. As if that weren't scandalous enough, the congressman couldn't even plead ignorance to it all because he was getting a piece of the action himself, both financially and physically.

“I wouldn't blame you, I make them myself,” Ty said laconically. “My family's antics were so outrageous, they turned themselves into cartoons who can only be comprehended by lampooning them. I wouldn't be surprised if the pope himself has told a Howe joke or two.”

Shannen remembered how proudly Tynan had talked about his family nine years ago, before the Howes' infamous fall from grace. His father, the venerable congressman; his brother, the brilliant accounting executive who'd made his company stock a Wall Street darling. And the other Howes, seemingly equally gifted and talented, who'd turned out to be equally conniving and corrupt.

But back then the Howes had sounded like superbeings
to her, so very far removed from the Cullens, who eked out a livelihood from their West Falls diner. She had been so sure that Ty's true reason for breaking up with her had been based on class and status, not on her age. That it wasn't that she was too young for him, but not good enough for him, a wealthy, worthy Howe.

“It must've been—” she paused, searching for a tactful word but could do no better than “—strange for you, when everything…happened.”