The Reef Roamer (The Roamer Series Book 1) (20 page)

Jayme drew in a long, deep lungful of air, closed her eyes, and lay back on the pillows, her face glowing with a sheen of sweat. “I’m alright,” she mumbled. She sucked in another breath, opened her eyes, and flushed. “I know it was only a dream, but the pain sure was real.”

“That’s because you ripped out a few stitches, Jayme. What were you dreaming about?”

“Sharks.”

Mark nodded in understanding. “I’ll fix your arm, and then I’ll fix you some breakfast. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful. I’m starved. Must have worked up quite an appetite.” As soon as the words were spoken, Jayme realized how brazen she sounded. A blush crept up her neck.

“We sure did,” Mark said before kissing her soundly.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jayme sat perched on a dark tan leather barstool next to the white ceramic work counter in Mark’s kitchen, her arm freshly stitched and bandaged. She wore only a short sleeve shirt Mark had given her to use while the clothes they had left in a heap the night before dried on the line outside. The blue striped shirt came down to her knees, exposing a healthy view of her thighs, and brought a playful smile to Mark’s eyes.

“Good Lord, Mark! How am I supposed to eat all this?” Jayme gasped when he set a plate in front of her piled with fried potatoes and scrambled eggs.

“One bite at a time.” He handed her a fork and kissed her on the nose.

“I usually only eat fruit for breakfast,” she said, staring at her full plate.

“I think I have an orange in the fridge if you’d rather,” Mark said, reaching for her plate.

“Oh, no you don’t!” She held fast to the opposite edge. “I don’t eat like this often, so I guess it won’t do me any harm. Besides, I wouldn’t want to offend the cook.” She raised a forkful of eggs hungrily to her mouth. “This is really good, Mark. You’re a good cook.” She swallowed the eggs, savoring the flavors. “Okay, so you’re an excellent doctor and a good cook. Do you have any other talents?” she asked between bites.

When he didn’t answer, she looked up into his dancing eyes.

Yes, he certainly does have one particular talent,
she thought wantonly,
and he knows what I’m thinking too!

Jayme swallowed hard as a now-familiar blush crept up her face.

“You are so delightful when you blush, Jayme, so girlish, so young.” Mark’s face softened. “You’re too young to spend your life alone. Why haven’t you remarried and had more children?”

Jayme was so totally unprepared for the question that she spilled her thoughts without hesitation. “I’d never found anyone that I’ve wanted to be with other than Donald. And I have not given serious thought to…I m-mean haven’t b-before…” she stammered. “This situation is crazy, Mark. I mean, we don’t even know each other! The first time we met, we argued like cats and dogs!” Jayme was up and pacing now, her fingers pulling absently on the hem of the long shirt.

“Maybe we fought each other because we were fighting ourselves, Jayme,” Mark replied thoughtfully. “I know the first time I saw you, I was attracted to you. You’re so beautiful, so young and alive. You’re healthy and vibrant. You
do
things, Jayme. There’s a lot to be admired and respected about you.” Mark was now standing, blocking Jayme’s path. “I also know it can be a bad scene for me to get involved with vacationers, and it’s something I just don’t do. I wanted you, and I didn’t. Instant conflict.” He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “But I’ll never,
never
regret last night.” As his lips touched hers, a shockwave of desire rippled through him, and as much as he wanted to deepen the kiss, Mark felt a restraint on Jayme’s part, so he backed off.

Jayme breathed heavily, sucking in revitalizing oxygen. She moved to the large window that overlooked the now-calm blue ocean, increasing the distance between them. The sun was beginning its lazy crawl across the pale sky. Though the world outside was at peace once again, Jayme felt more turbulence inside her than ever before. Although she had loved Donald and missed him terribly at times, she had come to terms with his death and knew one day she might possibly find another. While this seemed like such an unlikely place, she couldn’t deny the reaction of her body to Mark’s touch. He ignited her with a glance, and she craved his lovemaking. Her thoughts were in total chaos. How glorious the night had been! Jayme’s heart hammered in her chest at the memory and desire stirred deep inside her again.

“I don’t regret last night either, Mark. It was…magical. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. My practical side should be feeling embarrassed over the way I reacted, however…my other side didn’t, doesn’t, want it to stop. I feel
alive.
Truly alive for the first time in five years.” The tears glistened on her long, dark lashes, refusing to spill over. “The only thing I do regret is that in a week or two I’ll be gone and we’ll never—”

Mark covered the few steps separating them in one long stride. He drew her close to him, showering her face with fluttery kisses. He lifted her up in his arms easily and, cradling her gently, delivered her to the queen-sized bed in the other room, where he proceeded to reclaim the shirt he’d loaned her.

***

Jayme stretched languidly, flinching when she shifted her injured arm. Glancing at the other side of the rumpled bed, she saw Mark’s tousled hair fanned out on the equally rumpled pillow, his eyes closed in slumber. The sheet draped loosely across one hip, exposing the furry hair that covered his butt. She smiled as she recalled the downy feeling. It felt so good to be held and made love to. Something in her heart constricted knowing this would end all too soon.

She slipped quietly out of bed to shower.

***

“Considering the violence of your dreams around sharks, I’m surprised you even go near the water, Jayme.” Mark peeked around the shower curtain, startling Jayme. She splashed him playfully, causing him to make a hasty retreat.

“The counselor I saw after Donald’s death said it was all from guilt,” she explained. The hot water washed over her, forming a needed barrier between her and Mark. She finally told him about the accident five years before. Mark listened in silence.

“When the doctor came out of surgery after only a short time, I wished we were anywhere except there,” Jayme continued.

“Why is that?” Mark asked warily, speaking for the first time since she began her tale.

“I feel that Donald might have had a chance in a better facility. I don’t think that doctor tried hard enough to save him. That’s hindsight, though, isn’t it? I’ll never know for sure, will I?” She sighed, shutting off the water.

So that was the demon that chased her in her dreams. She thought Donald was still alive and had a chance for survival when they had reached the clinic,
his
clinic. She thought he hadn’t done enough. Mark stood, handed Jayme a towel as she stepped from the shower. Then he turned his back to her and left the room.

Perplexed, Jayme wrapped the towel around her slender body, tucking the corner into itself at her breasts, forming a sarong, and followed Mark out to the patio.

“What is it, Mark? Is something wrong?”

What was he to do? Tell her it was him? That he was the doctor she thought was incompetent? Tell her and possibly destroy the wonderful relationship they were building?

“No, nothing. There are some extra clothes in the other bedroom. My brother left them behind; they might fit you better.” Mark continued to stare out into the vast ocean.

Jayme backed away quietly.

***

“Mark, what are all those paintings of me that you have? Most of them are only my eyes. I don’t understand.” Jayme finished buttoning the shirt she had put on over loose-fitting jogging shorts. She felt apprehensive coming back to face Mark after her discovery. What a shock it had been to walk into a strange room and see herself looking back. Only two of the paintings were finished, and there was no doubt they were portraits of her. Had she stumbled into an affair with a psycho? Her defenses came up to full alert.

Mark pivoted; a haunted look stole over his features, and pain filled his eyes as they narrowed thoughtfully. “I’m sorry, Jayme, I forgot about the paintings when I sent you to that room, honest.” He raked his fingers through his ebony hair. “I might not have had the courage to tell you otherwise. Maybe it was destined, I don’t know, but now I have to. Have a seat. What I have to tell you isn’t going to be easy, for either of us.”

“Thanks, I think I’ll stand.” She took mental note of where everything in the room was that could be used as a weapon.

“I’ve been in the islands for six years now, Jayme. I set up part of the clinic in Marsh Harbor. I moved out here to Holm Cay only three years ago.”

“What are you saying?” There was such pain in his voice that Jayme could feel the hurt.

He turned to face her. “I was the doctor who attended Donald that day, Jayme. Please let me finish,” he hurried on as she moved toward the door. “Please believe me when I tell you that Donald was…gone…before you even docked. He had lost so much blood, there wasn’t even much left for lividity to set in. Donald had been dead for a half hour before I saw him. I couldn’t do any more for him, Jayme. No one could have.”

Mark now had her by the shoulders; tears were running down her tanned cheeks. She laid her head on his broad chest and breathed a sigh of relief. His confession danced around the edges of her thought process.

“What about those paintings? What do they have to do with Donald?” Jayme pushed away from Mark, leery again.

Mark cast his eyes down for a moment, then straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. He would not be ashamed of his feelings for her.

“Remember when I said I was attracted to you the first time I saw you? That was five years ago, Jayme, at the clinic. Although I knew you were beautiful, all I could remember were your eyes. Your, sad emerald eyes.” He paced the room like an animal in a cage. “I committed everything I could remember to canvas, though it wasn’t enough. So I did another and another. I think there are twelve in all. I could never finish the face, only the eyes. When I felt myself on the edge of obsession, I pushed you from my thoughts, immersed myself in work, and it helped. For three years, ‘you’ were in the back of the closet. While you’ve had sharks dogging your dreams,
you’ve
been in mine. Then you came to me with that lure in your arm, and I sedated you—again. Watching you sleep that night brought everything back. I knew why you looked familiar in the restaurant. I realized who you were. While you slept, I finished two canvases.” Mark sighed; it was a relief to have the truth out, even if it meant losing her.

“The linseed oil,” Jayme said quietly.

“What?”

“When I woke up during that night at the clinic, I smelled linseed oil. You were painting me.” Jayme was confused by her feelings. She should be angry or something, but she wasn’t. Realization of his confession dawned on her. “Donald was already dead when we got there?” she queried. Mark nodded. “You’re sure?”

“Positive, Jayme.” Mark’s voice was subdued. “If you’d like, I’ll show you the file.”

“Maybe.” Jayme was deep in thought. “I have to go, Mark. I need time to think.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jayme found the hotel personnel cleaning up after the sudden tropical storm. Gardeners were collecting branches and pruning cracked limbs, righting tipped flower pots, and plucking rain-smashed blossoms. The beach crews were wiping down rain- and sand-splattered beach chairs and tables, raking up clumps of seaweed that had been tossed ashore in the violence of the storm.

She entered the lobby where it was business as usual. Obviously, this part of the establishment was prepared for the onslaught yesterday.

“Good afternoon, Miss Haller. We were worried about you yesterday. I see you weathered the storm alright,” John said, smiling brightly.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite an experience. Do I have any messages?”

“Yes, this fax came in an hour ago,” he said, plucking a slip of paper from her mail slot.

Jayme visibly brightened. Alan! She missed him, knowing how much they had to talk about. Lost in thought, she turned from the desk, reading the wire.

Will be in Marsh Harbor Tuesday noon. Will leave Friday PM. Anxious to see you. Love, Alan.

Written communication with her son was always short and to the point; however, their talks, whether in person or on the phone, were always long and warm.

“Excuse me, Miss Haller,” John said. She turned back to face him with a question on her face. “Check out is at 3:00. Or will you be staying on? I’d be happy to extend your reservation.”

“What?” Jayme’s thoughts had been bouncing back and forth between Mark and Alan and didn’t catch the drift of the clerk’s statement.

“Your two weeks’ reservations expire today, Miss Haller. However, you’re more than welcome to continue on,” John reassured her.

“I had forgotten. Two weeks went by so fast!” She thought for a moment. “I have reservations in Marsh Harbor waiting for me, but thanks. I’ve had a truly memorable time here.” Had she ever! “Can you get me a seat on the next ferry to Marsh Harbor?”

“The next one will be here in an hour.”

Jayme checked her watch. “Will you be sure that Dr. Steele gets this, John?” She hastily jotted out a note for Mark telling him where she’d be.

***

The ferry ride over to the island took more than an hour and a half, having to make two other stops for additional passengers, vacationers ending their holiday and heading for the airport on the bigger island. Jayme enjoyed the slower pace as it gave her time to sort out her chaotic thoughts.

Sitting in the stern, the freshly washed breeze ruffled her hair, and she hoped at the same time it would blow the cobwebs from her mind as well. So much had happened in the past week. The injury that should have cut her junket short had instead sent her into the arms of the doctor she had blamed for Donald’s death, only to find out that she’d been deceiving herself all these years. And what arms…Jayme closed her eyes, lifting her face to the sun. She could still feel Mark’s embrace. A warm glow burst inside her, spreading lower and lower. She snapped her eyes open, afraid somehow her arousal would show. The thought of Mark did arouse her, strongly. That she could no longer deny. The fact that he was younger than her bothered her not at all; however, Mark kept commenting on how young
she
was, and that
did
bother her. Would it make a difference to him if he knew the truth? She wasn’t really lying to him; she just wasn’t correcting his assumptions. Wasn’t it Robert Heinlein who once said there were three great ways to lie? The first was to outright lie, but it was too easy to get caught, and Jayme wouldn’t lie to Mark. The next was to tell the whole truth and make it sound like a lie, and that way he wouldn’t believe her; no, she didn’t want to do that either. The third way was to tell half the truth, leaving out the parts you didn’t want known. Wasn’t that what she was doing with Mark? Leaving out the part of her real age? When she came right down to it, it was still a lie. In another week, she’d never see him again anyway, so what difference did it make?

Jayme felt a strange, unfamiliar ache in her heart at the thought. This was the first romantic involvement she’d had on one of her assignments. It was the first romantic involvement she’d had at
all
since Donald died.

Why am I doing this?
Jayme wondered. She didn’t know why, though she knew she didn’t want it to end.

***

That evening, Mark paced outside Jayme’s room on Holm Cay. Had she had enough time to think? Was she waiting for him to come to her? Had she reconciled the knowledge of his involvement five years ago? So many questions ran through his mind, though no answers followed. Answers could only be furnished by a green-eyed beauty. When Mark raised his fist to knock on the door, he was startled when it opened and a maid acknowledged him.

“Good evening, Dr. Steele. Can I help you?” The happy face was familiar, and Mark was glad for the help of an ever-present name tag.

“Yes, Marie, is Miss Haller in?”

“She’s gone, Dr. Steele. Checked out this afternoon,” Marie replied.

Mark’s heart tripped over itself.
Gone!
Grief washed over him like never before, ripping at his insides. His face went pale as the blood drained away, causing him to sway from the dizziness. He spun on his heel and fled to the open expanse of sun-drenched beach.
Gone
. She left him. He had all his answers now, and he didn’t like any of them.

***

Sunday afternoon, Jayme sat by the shimmering Olympic-sized swimming pool behind the main office of the Vistas on Marsh Harbor. Feet propped up on a stool, notebook in hand, she stared listlessly at the lush vegetation. Palm trees heavy with fruit were everywhere; multi-colored hibiscus trimmed into hedges graced every pathway with their ever-present flame red and coral blooms; oleanders and crotons spilled over onto brick walls or from baskets; breezes heady with the scent of jasmine and roses meandered endlessly around the gardens. There must be
something
nice about this place, she thought, the beauty eluding her, knowing only that it was empty without Mark.

Jayme shifted in her seat, mumbling to herself, “You’re reacting like an adolescent. So what if he hasn’t called or come to the island? You can’t expect a busy doctor to spend all his time with you.” Her words held admonishment, but her thoughts were more bruised.

It was only a one-night stand for him, and you better face it now.
She sighed internally.
You might have felt more; obviously he didn’t.

“How could I be so wrong?” she asked aloud to no one, her throat constricting. She set her pen down and moved the chaise lounge into the reclining position. Jayme closed her eyes, squeezing back the tears that prickled behind the lids. The pain seized her heart and refused to let go.

***

Late Sunday afternoon, Mark sat at his desk. The office was silent except for the constant whirl of the fan pushing the hot, humid air around. He moved a stack of papers from one corner, then to another, and back again. He looked through his phone messages again to see if he’d somehow missed hers, although he’d been through the four pieces of paper a dozen times already.

“How could I have been so wrong?” he questioned aloud. He was so sure she felt something special between them. Something that would keep her from running off without a word.

Mark shifted his body to pick up a pile of unopened envelopes from the top stack tray on his credenza. As he leafed through the bills, solicitations, and medical notices, the familiar gray and blue long envelope stamped
Holm Cay Resort
caught his attention. He sat up quickly, spilling the pile of mail to the floor. His name was written across the front in an unfamiliar yet definitely feminine hand. He tore it open.

Mark, I didn’t realize my two weeks here were up already. I’ve moved over to the Vistas in Marsh Harbor. We need to talk.

Jayme

His heart soared. The letter was dated yesterday. She hadn’t left without a word; he had just been too engrossed in his own misery to read his mail.

Mark slammed the office door locked and headed for his speedboat, on his way to Marsh Harbor and Jayme.