"I don't suppose you hid your cell phone in all that baggage?"
"As a matter-of-fact, I did." She rose halfway and pulled the camera bag over to her, rummaged in the bottom of it, and produced Fletch's phone. Smirking at him, she pushed the 'on' button and together they watched it spring into life. The display screen showed the words 'no service.'
"What kind of nonsense is that--no service?" She looked at Tib as she circled with the phone in her hand, trying to pick up a signal.
He pursed his lips and studied the sky. "I guess we're between the Texas towers and the Oklahoma ones. There are dead spots around. Leave it to Fletch not to equip you with a satellite phone."
She narrowed her gaze on him and defiantly turned off the phone. "So, where's the lawman's ever-present radio?"
He shook his head. "Back with his good sense in the car at the studio."
"Well, we're a fine pair, aren't we?"
"We're a stranded pair is what we are."
"Can we build a fire?"
"Cold? Get the blanket or the jacket." He nodded toward the boat's interior.
"I was thinking for a beacon."
"Then we could take turns standing in front of it and shooting out Morse code?"
"You know, your job here ever dries up, you could always try comedy."
"Think I'd have a shot?"
"I think you could get shot."
She brushed at her Capri's. "These are ruined. You have any idea what they cost?"
"Do you expect reimbursement for an act of God?"
She bent from her waist and balanced her palms on her knees. "When we get picked up, there'd better be gas in that tank!"
A slow smile drifted across his features. "If you think my idea of a good night's rest is trading barbs with you by the light of the moon, you are crazy." He stood and looked around. "Pick your piece of sand, Sara Charlotte. We're bedding down."
She winced at the use of names but stood her ground. "You're not going to build a fire?"
"No." He took the flashlight and swept the area from which they'd taped. Picking up two rocks, he tossed them higher on the beach and evened the sand out with the side of his boot. Satisfied, he sat down and started to peel off his footwear.
"What are you doing?"
"Going to bed." He set the pair of soggy roughened cowboy boots beside himself and swished sand from his hands. "Hand me the blanket, will you? You want us to use it for a mattress or a quilt?"
"What's the 'us'?"
"You and me."
"I'm not sleeping with you."
)
Sara Ward knows desperation. Accepting the job with Bone Cold--Alive may guarantee she eats, but it brings its own problems: dealing with rural Texans. Tib Wilson is fed up with Jenks, Texas' newest residents, but their latest employee's condescending attitude is the last straw. He'd throttle her--if he didn't want to kiss that smirk off her face first!
