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had affected her. Now it was worse – his beauty was no longer just abstract, like a piece of art or a staggering vista that she could admire intellectually. Now it was personal. At the image of the two of them lying next to each other, her heart started to beat faster, and between her thighs she could feel an unwelcome pulsing. She was afraid she was going to hyperventilate.
    ‘I’m fine,’ she insisted. ‘I don’t think I could sleep anyway. I’ll just sit here and –’
    ‘Don’t move, Abbie. Stay perfectly still.’
    A quick glance at Kevin’s shocked expression told her that Jack wasn’t joking. Something rustled in her hair andshe bit her lip hard, trying not to scream. Something was crawling on her.
    ‘Abbie,’ Jack picked up a stick and moved slowly towards her, ‘whatever happens, don’t move.’
    Stick in hand, Jack lunged forwards. The stick skimmed the top of her head and something dark tumbled into the undergrowth at her feet and scurried away. Her heart thundered. ‘Oh my god. Oh my god, what was that thing?’
    Jack shook his head. ‘You don’t want to know.’
    Abbie eyed the small clearing. Her vague notions about staying up all night rather than sharing with Jack vanished like mist. When the others went to bed, she would be alone. Alone with the creatures.
Plane crash survivor eaten alive by jungle creatures
wasn’t the front-page story she had planned, but neither was
My night in a hammock with Jack Winter
. What would William say if he found out?
    Jack was oblivious to her dilemma. ‘I figure we have ten minutes before it’s dark. Now, are you coming to bed or not, Ms Marshall?’
    She had no choice. ‘Lead the way, Mr Winter.’

4
    Abbie watched as Jack lifted the mosquito netting and slid into the hammock, patting the minuscule space beside him. Oh god – she would be lying
that
close to him. They would practically be on top of each other. At least she was feeling a bit more in control. That spider had done her a favour. After her meltdown at the thought of spending the night beside Jack Winter, the fright had brought her back to earth. Still, her stomach flipped at the prospect of the night ahead.
    She hugged her arms around herself. The evening had turned chilly. So she was going to spend the night with a bona fide Hollywood heart-throb. She could just imagine Kit screaming when she told her. If they got out of this. Her best friend and her cosy apartment in New York both seemed a long way away.
    ‘Abbie, quit dithering and get into bed. I promise not to bite.’
    She scrambled into the hammock and rolled against him. ‘But I don’t, Mr Winter, so keep your hands to yourself.’
    His response was a snort of laughter. Jack leaned over her so that he could adjust the mosquito netting. ‘There,’ he announced. ‘Snug as two bugs in a rug.’
    ‘You don’t have to sound so pleased about it, and watch where you put your hands,’ she said. Abbie rolled over on her side and slid into the middle of the hammock.
    Jack curved his body around hers and dropped his arm around her waist. ‘Where do you suggest I put them?’
    His hand slid to her hip in a slow sensuous glide. ‘Here?’
    Abbie swallowed. His hand was warm. In fact every inch of him was like a furnace, but the hand on her hip was dangerously close, making her very aware of her femininity. For a brief second she wondered what it would feel like if he touched her there. No. Absolutely not. Bad Abbie. She lifted his hand and moved it back to her waist.
    ‘If you insist,’ he said, but left it where it was.
    They lay in silence, listening to the sounds of the jungle, and almost in the blink of an eye, night fell.
    Jack shifted against her. ‘Would you mind if I moved my other arm? I’m getting cramp.’
    Abbie lifted her head and lay back down again. Oh my god, the man had biceps. William was … well, William was slight. There was no other word for it. He was an academic and more interested in working his mind than