Gone Tropical by Robena Grant

here.” She’d picked up the bag and dropped it onto the bed. It smelled like Jake, earthy, musty, and rugged.
    Sarge laughed. “Good on ya’. I took care of everything at the lodge. You’re listed as Amy Jane and Jake Turner. Figured it was better. Ya’ know, in case anyone slips up on the Jane thing.”
    Amy’s whole body flushed at the sound of the new name, and she gave herself a good swift mental kick in the backside. “Good idea,” she said, once she could get her voice.
    Jake walked inside and stood, arms folded over his chest, leaning against the wall.
    Sarge appraised the room. “I’m in twelve. It’s the only two bedroom cabin, one for me and Helen, one for Kirstie. Eleven is booked for day after tomorrow for Diana, and then we’ll get another single for Brian at the weekend.”
    Jake nodded.
    “Thanks, Sarge.” Amy sat on the corner of the bed. “I took the top two drawers in the desk you can have the bottom two, Jake.”
    “I’ll live out of the duffle.”
    “You’re crazy, unpack.”
    Jake narrowed his eyes. “I never unpack…allows for a quick getaway.”
    “Oh,” Amy said. She didn’t ask, get away from whom?
    She walked over, opened the shutters on the small window above the desk. The cabins were elevated on stilts with private verandahs at the back, which overlooked a central clearing where benches were placed beneath tall shady eucalyptus. Although only dusk, the grounds were lit by soft lights on tall poles and the rainforest encircling the cabins cast heavy dark shadows over the clearing. Each cabin was linked at the front by covered walkways with subtle lighting and lined with Australian ferns interspersed with flowering plants. It would have been totally romantic under other circumstances.
    Amy turned around. Jake had remained by the open door leading to the verandah. Ready for a quick escape, she supposed. Sarge was right at home and had sprawled across the end of the queen-sized bed even though it wasn’t his cabin, or his bed.
    “Lighten up,” she said, to Jake. “Life’s too short to be so serious.”
    He kept eye contact for a moment and folded his arms tight across his broad chest. Then he gave her a wry grin. “Life is serious, and it’ll be short if you’re not.”
    Amy shook her head, and sat at the desk in the office style chair, trying to figure out what the heck she’d do next.
    “I’ll sleep out there.” Jake jerked his thumb over one shoulder.
    “What…now?” Sarge asked and sat up.
    “No. Tonight.”
    “Ya’ silly bugger. There’s a beaut bed here, no need to sleep on the bloody verandah.” Sarge slapped the bed and winked at Amy, obviously enjoying teasing Jake.
    Jake stared at his hiking boots.
    Talk about embarrassing moments.
    “There’s a hammock,” Jake said. “Mr. Helm would want his daughter to have the room.”
    Amy walked over to inspect the verandah. He moved his legs to give her some room to pass and she glanced down. Nice legs. He suited those baggy surfer shorts, the blondish red hair she could do without, but on him, even that looked good. Heat consumed her. Her shoulder brushed his arm and her nipples strained at her shirt. Damn, she had to stop thinking of Jake as someone to jump. He obviously hated the idea of sharing a room with her.
    She leaned against the railing. Had Jake been in relationships, marriages? He was all testosterone, super macho guy, the big protector. He’d come into the cabin earlier and completely searched it. Looking for what she didn’t know; bugs from nature or from man, but whatever, she was beginning to like being protected. But he barely spoke. She eyed the hammock. It did look comfy, filled with soft, plush cushions, a blanket at one end. It could hold two. She sighed, walked back to the sliding doors and eased past him.
    “Remember, you’re in the rainforest mate,” Sarge said. “Snakes. Spiders. They love the night.”
    Jake turned pale. Maybe he was scared of snakes?
    “Share the bed. My