The Reef Roamer (The Roamer Series Book 1) (6 page)

Clad only in peach-colored shorts and a paler peach halter top, Jayme made a striking figure as she wandered barefoot along the silky white beach, sandals dangling from one delicate hand. Her skin had already taken on a healthy copper glow from her week in the sun on Fantasy Island, and her long auburn hair was streaked with a profusion of red and gold that now shimmered in the sunlight. At 5’7”, Jayme had a long stride and soon found herself a mile or so from where she started.

“They say they have seven miles of secluded ocean beach,” she said, panning the camera. “Maybe during the next two weeks I’ll have a chance to explore some of it.”

Her tone had an unusual wistfulness to it, even to her ears, and a wave of loneliness washed over her again, causing a heaviness in her chest and a prickling sensation behind her eyes. Jayme sat down on a nearby piece of driftwood and took a couple of deep breaths of clean salt air. She closed her eyes, and a moment later, a nearly inaudible, meditative hum emanated from her, surrounding her like a cloud. As the tightness in her chest eased, Jayme opened her eyes and stood. With a determined look fixed on her chiseled features, she reached for the ever-present mini-cam hanging at her side and took leisurely shots in all directions, making a complete 360-degree turn to take in the white sandy beach, sparkling blue ocean, and the lush foliage.

“There will be
no
pity parties on this trip!” she reprimanded herself, shutting the camera off.

The camera settled back into its place on the specially made belt clip around Jayme’s thin waist. Two years earlier, she had almost lost her camera by setting it down on a bench and turning her back. The thief had just reached for it when Jayme felt his presence, and in a lightning fast move, she clamped a viselike grip around his wrist, digging her thumb into the soft tissue between the metacarpal bones, instantly finding the trigger point that sent him to his knees. She’d saved her camera and valuable footage that day and vowed never to take that kind of chance again. When she got back home, she had contacted an engineer and explained the type of tether she had in mind. Based on the same principle of the retractable key chains night watchmen used, it also had a clasp to rest the camera on, retracted when not in use, and locked in place. Instead of a chain, hers was made of a high tensile strength nylon cord, and the device itself fit onto any of her own belts. She never set her camera down again.

***

Dinner that evening in the resort restaurant was a rare treat. The tables were set with real linens of brilliant yellows, fine crystal goblets, and polished silver. Candles and fresh hibiscus graced the center of every table. The French doors along the south wall of the spacious room were open to allow in the evening breezes. On the air currents drifted the mixed fragrances of honeysuckle and mock orange, making the atmosphere heady with tropical scents.

After making her selections from the menu, Jayme was delighted to find the management employed a magnificent chef. She feasted on conch chowder, island greens mixed with a spicy secret house dressing, and tender broiled lobster served with a delicate sauce. The service was impeccable, and topped off with a solitary island rum drink, she mentally gave the place a five-star rating.

Jayme drifted off to sleep that night feeling more relaxed and content than she had in ages, the uneasy feelings of loneliness long forgotten.

CHAPTER FOUR

Morning came early in the Bahamas. By 6:00am, Jayme was doing her usual morning routine of stretches and Tai Chi. She found the Tai Chi focused her, organized her thoughts, and prepared her for the day. When she was at home, the afternoon routine would be a vigorous karate workout, and evening would involve a half hour of yoga to center herself, pull herself back together to analyze the day’s events. On vacation, she usually eliminated the karate and added stretches and long walks for the exercise.

By 7:00am, and freshly showered, Jayme was strolling leisurely onto the restaurant patio where the breakfast buffet was set. She had brushed her long, shiny auburn hair up into a knot at the top of her head, secured by several decorative combs. Since she rarely wore any makeup while on vacation, Jayme looked even younger than usual and her face shone with false innocence. A securely tied brightly colored sarong over her bathing suit revealed her slim tanned legs as she moved through the tables.

Tantalizing aromas of scrambled eggs and conch fritters mingling with freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Pouring herself a cup of the thick, strong coffee, Jayme spotted the table filled with fruit. She piled her plate high with fresh mango, papaya, pineapple, and melon. Although she wasn’t a vegetarian, fresh fruit to start the day worked best for her digestive system. When she turned, she collided with the hulk of a man standing directly behind her.

“Oh, excuse me!” Her sharp reflexes quickly maneuvered the sloshing coffee so not even a drop reached the saucer.

“Good catch,” Mark Steele replied, taking in the lovely form before him at one glance. He stopped at her eyes. The most brilliant, vibrant green eyes he had ever seen. “Do I know you?” He was sure they had met before.

Jayme started to roll her eyes upward, thinking ‘
what an unoriginal line!
’ Her emerald eyes stopped at his smoky gray ones. A synapse fired in the back of her brain; recognition sparked and faded as quickly.

“I…I don’t think so,” she murmured in her throaty voice, dropping her gaze down to his chest. She could see dark hairs curling out from behind the soft cotton fabric, where it was buttoned low. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt the heat rising in her face. She moved away to find a seat on the verandah.

‘
Like hell you don’t!
’ ran through Mark’s mind as he stood there staring at her firmly muscled back, exposed by the low-hanging sarong. He had seen a glimpse of recognition in those gorgeous green eyes. Where had they met before? The thought troubled him.

“Dr. Steele?” the quiet, rich voice from behind the serving counter asked for his attention. With recent French heritage, Anna was a dark, striking woman with finely chiseled features. She had seen the look Dr. Steele wore on many of her own suitors’ faces. The young Bahamian woman smiled knowingly. Dr. Steele had been bitten by the love-bug and didn’t even know it yet.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He held out his plate, not really caring what was put on it, looking out to the verandah. Mark took his breakfast of hotcakes and conch fritters to a secluded table, purposely turning his back to the mysterious green-eyed woman. It would be easier to concentrate on where he might have met her before if he wasn’t distracted with her youthful beauty. And those eyes. The random trails of thoughts soon turned to the medical magazine in front of him, and he relegated the incident and the woman to the back of his busy mind.

The medical magazine, the most recent issue sent from his hometown of Chicago, was already six weeks out of date. There was stateside time, and then there was island time, and it took some adjusting. The articles of interest centered around his last place of employment, the largest medical facility on the northern edge of that big city. He had interned there and was offered a full time placement when that internship had ended. Dr. Mark Steele had considered a well-paying, guaranteed career in plastic surgery, until his six months in the emergency room. Having experienced firsthand all the pain and suffering those of lower income were forced to deal with, he decided on a more general practice, one where he could be more useful and really practice medicine. That was, until he was confronted with the angry side of that pain and suffering. He was held hostage for three hours in the outpatient clinic by a knife-wielding crack head, strung out on some bad stuff, until an off-duty police officer shot him. Dr. Steele’s new trophy wife, Bridget, wasn’t the least sympathetic to his ordeal. When he convinced her he had had enough of Chicago, she’d agreed to move to the islands with him because she thought it would be a glamorous and exotic life. She was wrong. She’d lasted six months in Marsh Harbor before she drained his accounts and moved back to the city to file for a divorce.

He read through the article about the new wing being built and the fundraisers held to pay for it. He set the magazine down. The money to build that wing alone would have paid for a third clinic here with enough left over to keep all three facilities running for five years. The picture of the ribbon cutting ceremony caught his attention, and he picked the magazine up again. There was Bridget, now the wife of the Chief of Neurology and pregnant. He tossed the booklet into the trash on his way out the door.

***

Jayme eyed the handsome stranger from behind her coffee cup. He must be six foot three. His ebony hair shone like it was still wet, and those gray eyes seemed to change colors. She could still feel the color rise up her cheeks and her heart beat irregularly.

What a gorgeous specimen of manhood,
she thought. Just being close to him made her pulse race. She could still smell him, or rather his aftershave. Island Spice. Subtle. Clean. Very nice. Jayme wanted to turn around and watch this man. She wanted to watch him eat, see the muscles work in his jaw, in his throat as he swallowed. She wanted to see those smoky gray eyes look at her, and caress her body the way she would like to…whoa! Jayme caught herself.

What are you thinking about, girl? You’re acting like a young schoolgirl in hormone overdrive!
she scolded herself.

These feelings were foreign, and they were best forgotten about. Although Jayme felt it would be hard indeed to forget what she saw in those gray eyes. She had to admit, to herself at least, that he
did
look familiar, however impossible that was. When she looked up again, he was gone.

Jayme refocused her attention to the dive schedule in front of her, munching on strips of papaya, and put the handsome stranger out of her thoughts. There was a dive boat leaving at 8:30, an hour from now. This would definitely help her get her mind off men, or rather, one man in particular.

Glancing at her watch, she decided she would have plenty of time to reorganize her gear and check her camera. On board, she would take and use two cameras. One was designed strictly for underwater use and was equipped with massive lights. As clear as the water was, colors were lost past twenty feet down. The water acted as a sun filter. Red was the first color to go, then orange and yellow, following the spectrum. Everything looked blue and green once past the forty-foot mark. Taking external lights was the only way to get good, colorful pictures, Jayme had found out early on. Night dives produced exceptionally good footage, as the light deprived corals absorbed the lighting and bounce it back at the camera. Then there were day creatures and night creatures. The ones that came out at night tended to be the most exotic, like lobsters and urchins. Perhaps she could talk the dive master into a night dive sometime during the next two weeks. The thought was appealing. The second camera that Jayme would take with her on the dives was her land mini-cam. She used this one for all other shots, including on the boat. Although it had a water-resistant housing, it was not pressure proof, and it helped her keep the image of being a tourist. Contacts like the cab driver, Caye, never knew about her underwater equipment. It would definitely take away her image of being a rookie!

Jayme pushed her empty plate away and finished her coffee, her thoughts now on making her dive arrangements for the week. The unsettling encounter with the handsome stranger was pushed to the back of her mind.

***

“Good morning! What can I help you with?” Daniel Abernathy asked when Jayme walked into his dive shop.

“Good morning. My name is Jayme Haller,” she replied, holding out her hand. “I’ll be staying here for the next two weeks and I’d like to get on your dive schedule if there’s room.”

Daniel returned her firm handshake. “Welcome to Holm Cay. There’s plenty of room on the dive boat. May I see your C-card, please?”

Jayme was prepared to hand over her certification card, as it was a requirement at all reputable dive facilities. She watched him as he made a copy of her card: He wasn’t really tall, maybe six-foot, blond, blue eyed, and muscular. Those muscles would be from lifting the heavy scuba tanks all day, she surmised. Plus, he was young; she guessed thirty years old. When had thirty become young? The question fleeted across her thoughts.

“A Master-Diver, good, it’s always nice to have experienced divers along, Ms. Haller. I get a fair number of new divers, and snorkelers, on these excursions. I hope that doesn’t detract from your experience with us,” Daniel remarked candidly.

“I’m sure everything will be fine, Daniel,” she replied, glancing at his credentials hanging on the wall behind him. “And please, call me Jayme.” She glanced around at the small shop, noticing the variety of equipment offered. One wall was devoted to scuba gear, with O-rings, tubing, plugs, and a few regulators, plus dive booties, computer batteries, and various fittings. A decent assortment of items a scuba diver might need at the last minute. Another wall, fuller and more eye-catching, was displayed to tempt the snorkeler. Masks and snorkels, fins and fin socks, gloves and mesh bags, laminated colorful cards to help in fish identification, plus mask-drops and sun block.

“Is there anything you need, Jayme?” Daniel asked.

“Not really. I usually have my gear checked over by my dive shop pretty thoroughly before any trip I take. I was only seeing what you had in case of an emergency. We all know seals and fittings can blow any time. Nothing ruins a dive trip faster than a blown O-ring and no replacement.”

Daniel immediately liked his new client and studied her trim figure as she continued around his shop, stopping to browse through the few items of clothing on display.

“The boat leaves in thirty minutes,” he reminded her.

“Then I better get back to my room and grab my gear.”

Daniel thought it would be really great to have someone on board that he didn’t have to watch every minute. He was proud of his shop and his island resort. Both were longtime dreams of his. While he was only an investor of the resort, the shop was his alone, though he did share the other half of the building with a cousin who ran the fishing charters.

***

Jayme approached the near-empty dock with her dive bag balanced on her shoulder, her muscles bunching under the weight. She had intentionally left the underwater camera and lights in her room. Too much equipment too soon into the trip might be suspicious. She did, however, bring along her waterproof land camera, as many tourists tended to do.

“Welcome aboard, Ms. Haller,” Daniel said, accepting the mesh dive bag she handed down to him.

She stepped down onto the deck with practiced ease. “Thank you, Daniel. And please, call me Jayme.” She had been wearing her two-piece bathing suit since she got up that morning and added her neoprene dive-skins when she collected her gear, along with her rubber-soled fin booties that also served as her surf-shoes. Snorkelers were encouraged to wear socks or fin-socks to avoid abrasions on the tops of their feet from the fins, however, divers needed additional protection and warmth for the deeper depths.

“Looks like everyone is here now,” Daniel said, looking around the boat. It was a lean batch today, three divers and four snorkelers. The fewer numbers could make for a fun group though. He went up front to the boat captain and let him know they were ready to depart. “Johnny, let’s get this party on the road!”

As the captain motored away from the marina, Daniel motioned for Jayme to join him.

“I know this is your first time with us, but I wanted you to know that this is the first ocean dive for the other two divers, just as a heads up.” He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, knowing what he was implying.

“Not a problem, Daniel. There is always a first time for every diver. I’ll be happy to keep an eye on them with you,” she said with a grin, remembering her first ocean dive and what a near disaster that was. She also made the point that she wasn’t going to babysit them; that was
his
job.

“Thanks, Jayme. The snorkelers are on their own, and the boat crew will watch them while we’re down.” He turned to the rest of the group, all sitting casually on the benches. “Okay, listen up. We will be visiting two sites this morning. Both reefs are relatively shallow, thirty to fifty feet, so the snorkelers will have plenty to look at too. We are getting close to our first site, so let me remind you of the rules. The scuba divers are priority. They are the first ones off the boat and the last ones on. I’m sure you’re wondering why. That’s so those of you floating along the surface don’t get in their way. I will be taking the divers off first, and John here will assist the other four of you. When he blows his whistle, you are to head back to the boat immediately and get on board. Are we clear? Divers, once we are down, John will lower the rest bar. It is always at fifteen feet, so you don’t have to check your gauges during your decompression stop.” When everyone nodded to acknowledge his instructions, he finished with, “Let’s suit up!”