The Contestant. Stephanie Doyle

to let her part with it. That’s when he’d shown her the application.

      Ultimate Endurance. A reality-TV game show where the prize was one million dollars. He’d sent in her information, her picture and a video of her competing. Apparently the producers had gone for it. If she could outlast just a few of the contestants, she could bring back enough prize money to pay off Rocco and save her father’s knees.

      She’d spent her life on the water and camping on various islands. Her mother had been Australian and had loved the outdoors, so they’d often vacationed on islands in the South Pacific. From an early age, her mother had taught Talia how to fish with her hands, make a fire, make shelter and stay away from deadly predators.

      “A few weeks on a remote island competing against seven people who you know you can beat doing something you love to do…to save my very life. Is that so much to ask?”

      As an added push, he’d reminded her that she wasn’t having much luck finding a job in her chosen profession and that a little extra pocket cash might help to tide her over. Granted his reason for her failure to land a job was ridiculous. He’d said it was because no one interviewing her would ever believe she was an accountant.

      But she was. Or at least she wanted to be. It was what her degree read.

      She even believed that being a former Olympian might give her an edge when it came to finding an entry position in an accounting firm, but now she was seriously considering removing it from her résumé. Each time she went in for an interview, the human-resource person would start asking about her hand—as if after four-and-a-half years it might still hurt—and end it with the question: “Are you really sure you would be satisfied with a job where you do nothing but sit in a cubicle all day working on a computer?”

      Yes! That was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to wear business suits instead of bathing suits. She wanted to walk in pumps instead of bare feet. She wanted to have a normal job, in a normal company and have a normal apartment that didn’t rock when the wind picked up.

      It was during those moments of rejection that she wished her mother was still alive. Because as much as her father didn’t understand her need to be taken seriously as a smart businesswoman, she knew her mother would have. Her mother may have married a dreamer, but she had been all about hard work and getting the job done whatever the cost.

      But instead of being on another interview right now, here Talia was with her father’s life in jeopardy, back to wearing a bikini and cutoff jean shorts, riding in a boat with a camera, en route to an island with a bunch of people who were all after the same prize. There was nothing normal about this.

      She absolutely was going to kill her father when she got back.

      For now there was nothing to do but play the game. She sat quietly on the bench seat with three of the other players while a second speedboat, being piloted by a crewman who worked for the show, was behind them carrying the other cameraman, Dino—a short, stout, bald man with a round face—plus the other four contenders for Ultimate Endurance.

      Ultimate Endurance? They had to be kidding.

      Two of the contestants were well over fifty—Iris and Gus. One was a grandmother, the other a former military officer who looked gritty, but would that translate to real toughness on a deserted island? Then there was Sam, a soft-looking marketing executive who liked to smile and tell stories and who, Talia suspected, was closer to fifty than he let on.

      Also appealing to the fortysomething demographic was Nancy. She was a last-minute replacement for the other fortysomething housewife who had dropped out. It was just luck that Nancy had decided to take a vacation to Hawaii and was available when the show needed her. A sweet-faced, overweight divorcée, from the moment she’d stepped on the yacht she’d alternated between some form of sheer ecstasy for having made it on to the show or wrenching tears at being separated from her children. The woman was an emotional roller coaster and liked to gather sympathy by telling everyone how her rotten ex-husband had dumped her for a younger, more adventurous woman.

      However, Talia couldn’t help but feel protective of Nancy. The divorcée was so far out of her element, Talia didn’t know how she was still functioning. And it was only going to get worse.

      Until this point they had been cruising on a luxury yacht from Hawaii to the remote destination in the South Pacific just past the Vanuatu Islands in the Melanesian chain. Now they were on their way to the island they would be calling home, and Talia believed that the reality of the situation was finally beginning to settle in with everyone, especially Nancy, who had been suspiciously quiet during the trip.

      Or she could have been seasick. It was a tough call.

      Still, Talia had to be grateful that she wasn’t sharing the short excursion with Marlie. An impossibly young, ridiculously skinny—especially since she was about to go at least a few days without a regular meal—wanna-be starlet, Marlie was clearly more interested in fame than the million-dollar prize. She had spent the entire journey sucking up to—if not actually sucking off—Dino, so that when filming began he would always try to catch her from the right. It was her best side.

      When she asked Talia what her best side was, Talia had named her backside. The others who had been nearby when she made this declaration had chuckled. It wasn’t completely a joke. She had a pretty firm butt.

      Sam, Marlie and Gus were on the second boat with Tommy. Another slim young gun with a lot of attitude and eyes that instantly made Talia think of a snake. He’d carried a blue backpack with him wherever he went on the yacht, claiming he wanted to be prepared in case the host planned a surprise drop-off. Since for most of the trip they were at least a hundred miles from any inkling of land, Talia thought that idea unlikely.

      She suspected he had something in that backpack he didn’t want anyone to know about, so he refused to let it out of his sight. Considering they were about to take part on a survival show, that probably meant he’d stocked food.

      Not that Evan seemed to care a whole lot about the rules. His hosting duties didn’t seem to extend that far. Also a late addition to the show, he obviously was struggling to learn all the nuances of the game himself, as he’d been useless at answering any of the questions from the group.

      Tommy didn’t worry her though. Cheaters rarely did. No, if there was one person in this group she needed to be worried about beating, it was the man sitting across from her.

      Reuben Serrano was strong, with lean muscles along his body that didn’t bulge but were defined well enough to suggest significant strength. He carried a little thickness in his middle, although she suspected that he’d packed on some of those pounds for the game. Not that the extra weight made him look fat or soft. Just more substantial.

      From the beginning, he’d worn a stone-faced expression giving everyone around him the impression that he was someone who would fight dirty should the occasion call for it. And then there were the eight thousand other silent signals he’d sent out that said don’t get close and you won’t get hurt.

      Except with her.

      Getting close was all he seemed to want to do with her. Each night at dinner, he sat next to her. Each time the group gathered, he was at her side. Even if they were all sitting by the poolside or watching a movie or having a drink at the bar, it was a good bet where she was, he wasn’t far behind.

      Added to that was the way he watched her…. It wasn’t sexual so much as it was predatory. Either he had guessed that she was his biggest competition and was plotting how to eliminate her or he was planning on knocking her over the head and dragging her off to the nearest cave to ravish her as soon as they got to the island.

      Given that hint of primitiveness she detected in him, she couldn’t help but wonder what type of woman in this millennium could handle dating such a caveman. Not that she knew if he even had a girlfriend, or a wife for that matter. He’d said nothing about his past, his job, where he came from or who he was. He talked only about the game and about winning.

      Actually, it wasn’t a bad strategy. Talia had decided early to take her cue from him. She’d never