plastic envelope that said Heater on it. Really? She turned it over, studying it. It was nothing more than a plastic bag with instructions on it. She glanced up at Chase, but he was busily sorting through his own stack of envelopes. She opened the heater bag, placed the spaghetti pack inside, and filled it to the line with water from the bottle she’d left beside the cot. Then she closed the bag and held it until it started to feel warm.
“How does this work?”
It really was getting hot. She set it on the floor, propping it against one of the cot’s legs since the directions said to prop it up.
“It’s a chemical reaction,” Chase said with a shrug. “Magnesium, iron, and table salt. Add water and voila, you get heat.”
For some insane reason, that excited her more than she’d have thought possible. She kept watching the bag as if it would do a magic trick or something. “That’s pretty cool. I didn’t do so well in science—I was more of an arts and humanities kind of person.”
She babbled when she was nervous—and she was definitely nervous.
“Arts and humanities won’t keep you from starving when it’s just you and the environment.”
“No… but at least I can quote Shakespeare and provide some entertainment to the rest of the campers.”
Chase actually stopped what he was doing and looked at her long and hard. Sophie couldn’t help but giggle at the look on his face—horror, and maybe fear she was an idiot at the same time. He didn’t crack a smile when she giggled, but that didn’t stop her. In fact, she giggled harder—and that made him frown even more.
Finally, she shook her head and tore open the candy bar from her MRE with trembling fingers. Stop it.
“It’s a joke, Chase. I’m not planning on quoting any Shakespeare.”
“Thank God for that,” he grumbled.
She cocked her head as she sniffed the candy bar. Ordinarily she didn’t eat candy, but these were extraordinary circumstances. She took a bite—oh, yum—and chewed. When was the last time she’d eaten chocolate?
Too long ago, that’s for sure.
“You don’t appreciate the Bard?”
“The what?”
She rolled her eyes. “Shakespeare. The Bard of Avon. To be or not to be and all that.”
“Had to read Julius Caesar in high school. Boring as fuck.”
Sophie’s heart actually squeezed. What kind of barbarian didn’t appreciate Shakespeare? Her finest role in high school had been Lady Macbeth. Out, damned spot…
“You should try Hamlet . Or Macbeth . Romeo and Juliet . King Lear .”
Chase took a bite of bread. “Nope. Life’s too short to read stuff you don’t like.”
Not reading Shakespeare was a travesty, in her opinion.
“So what do you like?”
His gaze sharpened for a second. Then he gave his head a little shake and snorted. “Stuff with pictures. Dirty pictures, preferably.”
Sophie’s mouth dropped open. And then she closed it in a hurry. He was trying to shock her. Derail her. And she’d started trembling again. Damn him.
“How about when it doesn’t have pictures? What do you read then?”
“The newspaper, where I learn things like the fact Grigori Androv is accused of assaulting a hotel maid in Manhattan. Nothing as important as Shakespeare, obviously.”
The heat of embarrassment rolled through her. “You know, you don’t have to beat me over the head with my stupidity. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself.”
His gaze remained sharp and hot on her face. And then he made an expression of dismissal, as if he’d decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. “I get how you got involved with Androv—but why did you keep going out with him? You had to know he’d been accused of assaulting that woman.”
She stared at the envelopes arrayed around her and swallowed. “He was charming. Attentive. Gentlemanly. And it was entirely possible that woman was looking for a settlement because he’s wealthy. That’s what he told me—and I’ve seen similar