Page 20 of Down and Dirty Celebrity Edition

“Two Dobermans,” Amy said, letting her go. “It’s a long story.”

Savannah didn’t get a chance to ask. Naomi suddenly clapped loudly and declared, “Amy and Savannah are the winners of the camp comfort kit.”

SAVANNAH COULD FEEL the dreaded, unmistakable sensation of feelings settling in. They weren’t the slow, time-appropriate romantic feelings people usually developed after three to four dates. They were the terrifying kind that hit like a sudden drop on a rollercoaster. It was a bright, burning, uninvited spark that took root right in Savannah’s center and made her heart race for all the wrong reasons. Amy Sandler wasn’t even her type. A librarian? A moderately popular romance author? It wasn’t her typical match.

She stared at the back of Amy’s head as they hiked along the sun-dappled trail back to camp. Every time a beam of light hit the damp curls clinging to Amy’s shoulder, Savannah’s pulse did a frantic little tap dance. She couldn’t stop thinking about Amy’s arms around her neck, about her warm, wet skin pressed against her own.

Savannah was falling, and she was falling fast.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Luna gasped from the front of the line. The author stopped in her tracks and shook her head so furiously that her dark bob swished against her cheeks. “It’s not just a bed. It’s fricken lavish.”

“How lavish?” Jade asked, pushing past Ezra and Wyn until she got to the end of the tree line. Then she gasped so loudly a bird startled and swooped from its perch.

Savannah grinned, and for the first time since Amy had unwrapped her arms from Savannah’s neck, she could pretend those feelings didn’t exist. Nothing distracted quite like the prospect of soft down pillows and clean, crisp linen.

“We should’ve fought harder,” Kate said, sounding incredibly miserable as they plodded onto the beach. “What were we thinking? Of course a king-sized bed is better than fricken sand.”

“Face it, you were never going to win that challenge. Neither was Luna,” Wyn added, slinging her arm around Kate’s shoulders.

Kate huffed, then Luna said something Savannah couldn’t catch, but she didn’t care. All she cared about in that moment was the slice of heaven standing in front of her. About fifty yards from the lean-to was a walnut pencil-post bed. It was dressed up in crisp, gazillion-thread-count white linens that looked softer than a cloud. There were four oversized accent pillows, two in a bumpy cream-colored bouclé and two in a burnt orange weave. A mosquito net was tied to the sides of the bed, and chunky brass lanterns swung from the high corner posts. Draped across the foot of the mattress was an oatmeal-colored waffle-knit throw. It was completely impractical for the heat, yet impossibly inviting. It was breathtaking. It was decadent. And even better, there was food.

Resting right in the center was a pair of wicker basket trays. One held a towering crystal pitcher of sparkling mimosas and two thin, elegant flutes. The other held plates piled high with golden, flaky croissants that made Savannah literally weep. Next to the pastries were thick slices of French toast dusted with a snowstorm of powdered sugar, glass parfaits of velvety Greek yogurt, sliced ruby-red dragon fruit, wedges of golden mango, and a cluster of ripe blackberries.

Savannah’s mouth was literally watering. It was a miracle drool wasn’t spilling over her bottom lip. “Amy, I don’t know how two Dobermans taught you how to hang from a pole, but I’m so glad they did,” she said, shaking her head.

Amy cackled, then skipped straight toward the bed, kicking up sand. Savannah gave Luna, whose frown literally reached the edge of her jaw, and Kate, who looked like someone had stolen one of her Academy Awards, a sympathetic look. Though was she even sympathetic? No. Of course not.

“Enjoy your rice and beans, ladies,” Savannah chirped like a savage. After all, she was the infamous book critic who tore apart hopeful authors’ manuscripts on a daily basis; why not lean into it completely? She jogged toward the bed while the rest of the contestants dragged their feet through the tide toward the lean-to.

Amy was already bouncing on her knees. Savannah leaped onto the bed. Oh, the mattress was deliciously plush, and the cushions were wickedly soft. She smoothed her hand over the ruffles of the throw blanket and moaned. “This has to be the best—what’s wrong?”

The smile had fallen from Amy’s face so fast Savannah’s brain went to the worst-case scenario. Maybe this was actually just a dream, and an arrow was going to protrude from Amy’s chest, with blood gushing around it any second now. If this were a fantasy novel, this would be the exact moment paradise collapsed into chaos.

“There’s a note,” Amy said stiffly, pointing toward a cream card sitting just behind the jar of amber syrup. Then she picked it up and opened her mouth to read it out loud. Fortunately, Savannah had the sense to snatch it out of her hand.

“It might be an advantage,” Savannah muttered under her breath. Or a disadvantage. Of course, it was too good to be true. In a game like this, an advantage could even be a disadvantage. “And if it is, we don’t want the others to know, do we?”

Amy’s eyes widened, then she nodded and leaned closer to Savannah, close enough for Savannah to catch a few tiny speckles of sand clinging to her left temple, each glinting gold beneath the sun. Savannah quickly cleared her throat. Then she checked that no one was watching and began to read. “The sanctuary is yours for the night,” she whispered softly. “However, luxury enjoys company. You may choose one other pair to share this breakfast spread with you... or you can choose to keep it entirely to yourselves.”

Oh, the power.

Savannah stared at the card, then at the massive pitcher of mimosas, then at the rest of the contestants sulking around camp. Ezra was already on bean and rice duty. Maya was sitting by the tree, nursing her apparent eye pain, and Avery was in the water, scrubbing at the sun-bleached ends of her hair. The only parts Savannah could see of Luna and Kate were their feet sticking out of the lean-to.

“What do you want to do?” Savannah asked softly.

“Umm...” Amy said, biting her bottom lip with her left incisor. There was nothing inherently sensual about it, and yet, it was entirely sensual all the same. Savannah snapped her head away just to stop herself from looking. It was like being offered a plate of brownies and being told she wasn’t allowed one. The desire to kiss Amy was so excruciating. Ugh!

“How about we don’t say anything,” Amy said finally. “Not because I don’t want to share. I grew up sharing everything with six cousins, including socks. But because picking someone for a reward and leaving everyone else out ruins alliances. I don’t want that kind of target on our backs.”

Savannah grinned. She’d had the exact same thought. Great minds do think alike. Then she picked up a croissant, tore into it, and shoved away that hot feeling in her stomach just as the croissant shattered into a million golden flakes across her lap.

For the next ten minutes, it was complete savagery. Amy went straight for the French toast and slathered syrup onto it while happily moaning up at the sky. They clinked their mimosa flutes together, popped blackberries into their mouths, let the juice of the dragon fruit slide down their chins, and licked their yogurt spoons clean.

“How’s it going over there?” Luna asked, walking over to a flat driftwood log that hadn’t been there earlier that morning. It was as if production knew the rest of the contestants would want a spot to sit while they watched the winners indulge in their reward. “All I can hear are moans.”

“It’s going wonderfully,” Amy replied, licking powdered sugar off her fingers.

“Is the croissant buttery?” Kate asked, joining Luna by the log. She flopped down onto the sand and rested her back against the wood.