Her sigh in response seemed overloud in the darkness. “I don’t know. I came here with a friend, but she’s a bit . . . flighty. I don’t know if she’ll realize I’m missing or just assume I got on another bus.” Brontë hated to think about it, but if it came down to Sharon staying behind to make sure Brontë was safe or Sharon getting out of Dodge? She knew which one Sharon would pick. “I like to think that someone will come and check that the building’s been completely evacuated before they all run off to the mainland.”
“Mmm.” His tone was noncommittal. As if he wasn’t sure that was the case at all but wanted to humor her.
Yeah, she wasn’t sure about that either. But it sounded good, so she adjusted her purse and rested her cheek on it, waiting for rescue.
***
Brontë woke up some time later, her mouth dry, her body aching. The silence was deafening, the blackness almost overwhelming in its depth.
Still no power. Still in the elevator. She rubbed at her eyes and sat up, wincing. “Hello?”
“Still here.” The man trapped with her sounded more weary than annoyed. “You haven’t missed anything.”
“I must have slept. How . . . how long have I been out?”
“About six hours.”
Six hours? Dear God. Panic made her heart flutter in her chest. “They’re not coming for us?”
“My guess is no.”
She sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to panic. Stuck in an elevator on an evacuated island. Stuck. It felt oppressively hot in the elevator now, as the power had been out for several hours and the tropical humidity was taking its toll. “How could they leave us behind?”
“Again, just a guess, but I would say that in the chaos of the evacuation, someone dropped the ball.” His tone was analytical. Bored.
Was he still pissed at her, or pissed at their situation? It didn’t matter, she supposed. Neither of them was going anywhere anytime soon.
She sat up, wincing at how stiff her body felt, and how sticky with sweat. Ugh. She was thirsty as hell, too, and there was no relief from the heat. The jeans and T-shirt she’d put on for the evacuation felt stifling. She kicked off her sandals and then glanced over to his corner of the elevator, not that she could see anything. If she undressed, would he notice? Would he mind? Was it dangerous? He didn’t seem like the type to leap over here and rape her, and she was miserable in the heat.
After a moment more of hesitation, she began to slowly shimmy out of her jeans, frowning at the loud noise her zipper made.
“What are you doing?”
Naturally he’d caught that small sound. Figured.
“I’m getting undressed. It’s hot in here. Just stay over on your side of the elevator, and I won’t bother you.”
She heard the rustle of clothing from his side of the elevator as well. “Good idea.”
“Was that a compliment? My. Am I forgiven for my insane giggling?” she teased.
“Not yet.” His terseness threatened to shut down the conversation.
“‘Forgive many things in others; nothing in yourself.’”
“Are you going to sit here and quote Plato all afternoon?” He sounded almost amused.
“That was Ausonius, actually. And yes. My philosophy degree has to be of some use.” Stripping off her shirt, she sighed with pleasure when the air hit her flushed skin. Clad in nothing but her bra and panties, she immediately felt cooler, much to her relief, and she folded her discarded clothes and tucked them against her purse.