The Reef Roamer (The Roamer Series Book 1)

by Deborah D. Moore

  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 exp
erience 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!”

  After making a show of inflating her buoyancy vest, Jayme was the first one off the boat, taking that big step off the back platform, as a reminder for the other two divers of what to do. She floated a few feet off the stern, waiting, knowing they should all descend together. Only once did she reach over to the woman and show how to empty the vest of air to allow her to sink down into the clear blue water. The woman nodded and gave Jayme the okay signal. From that point on, they had a relatively uneventful dive until a curious barracuda showed up. Both new divers were equally as curious, and Daniel had to keep them from following the big fish.

  Jayme hung back a few yards, noting how Daniel handled his charges. He was observant without being obvious and let the two explore. Occasionally he would motion them over to look at something interesting or to stop them from touching something they shouldn’t. He was a good guide and an excellent dive master, she concluded.

  Daniel tapped on his tank with his knife to get their attention, motioning it was time to ascend. He had them stop at fifteen feet for ten minutes before surfacing, holding onto the lowered bar. Since they were only at thirty feet, Jayme knew that longer stop wasn’t necessary and realized Daniel wanted these newbies to get accustomed to the safety stops.

  ***

  “Did you see that barracuda? It was huge!” the young man exclaimed to the snorkelers, who were already on board.

  Daniel smirked at his enthusiasm. “Yes, Carl, it was a good specimen. They are usually pretty docile too, unless you start chasing them!” The admonishment was made and covered well with laughter.

  “And the fish and coral were so beautiful and colorful!” Carl’s wife, Megan, said.

  The snorkelers were in agreement with Megan. By keeping the dive shallow, Daniel insured all participants had an enjoyable time sightseeing his domain.

  Even though it was still early in her stay, Jayme decided that if this continued, Holm Cay stood a good chance of being her Abaco focus because of the gentle way Daniel handled his clients and because that swinger’s resort would never, ever make it to a Reef Roamer video.

  ***

  Jayme packed her gear into the large mesh bag and headed for the dive shack, where troughs of clean fresh water waited. She immersed her gear, bag and all. After a couple of dunkings, she let it drain on the nearby table.

  She saw Daniel heading her way and waited.

  “That was a nice dive, Daniel, easy and relaxing. Exactly what I needed.”

  “Thanks, Jayme, and thanks for the help. Even with only two divers, anything can happen,” Daniel said. “I think their next one will be even better. Will you be on tomorrow’s dive?”

  “Yes, only the morning one though,” Jayme said. “I signed up for the afternoon island tour.”

  “You’ll like that. Adam does a good job.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jayme took a shower after the morning dive to rid herself, and her hair, of the ever-present salt water. Daniel had taken them to another spectacular reef, and now she was looking forward to a deeper dive, perhaps tomorrow.

  Dressed in white shorts and a deep green tank top that matched her eyes, Jayme packed her straw purse with her camera, spare memory cards, sunblock, a bottle of water, and headed to the main office to meet up with the tour guide, Adam. She had no idea what to expect; however she had learned to be ready for about anything.

  ***

  There was a small group of people milling around in the resort lobby, some of whom Jayme recognized from the restaurant or from the dive boat. What she noticed most was the
lack of children. Then she reminded herself that it was mid-season, not spring break, and kids were still in school.

  A deeply tanned elderly gentleman carrying a clipboard approached the group.

  “I’m going to guess this is my group for the island tour today,” he said with a delightful British accent. His blond hair was mostly gray, and his blue eyes still held a great deal of mischief. Jayme immediately liked him. “My name is Adam Beckworth, but if you call me anything other than Adam, I won’t know who you’re talking to! We are casual here in the islands.”

  The group laughed. He called off names and checked everyone off his list and then led them outside.

  The vehicle, a large four-wheel drive Land Rover, was stripped down and refitted to look like a British surrey. The top, meant to keep the sun and any rain off the passengers, was a yellow and white striped canvas with low-hanging scalloped edges. The bench seats were alternating yellow and white, and red and white in a soft, thick fabric and were spaced well apart for plenty of leg room and easy viewing of either side. A cooler filled with ice, water, and soft drinks was tucked against the tailgate, easily accessible by anyone.

  Adam helped his seven passengers into the open-sided truck and then settled into the driver’s seat. Jayme managed to secure the last seat for herself, intent on watching and filming the group. Adam switched on the microphone, sending a squeal to the speakers that were snugly strapped to the overhead bars that supported the canvas top.

  “Now that we have that out of the way,” he chuckled, “I’d like to draw your attention to the cooler in the back. Everything is bottled in there, and that’s because parts of the island do not have water filtration. The natives are used to it, but your more delicate constitutions may not be. Please, do not drink anything offered unless you yourself remove the cap, that is, unless you have a desire to meet our friendly and competent doctor!” Adam put the truck in gear and headed down a dusty road toward the middle of the island.