The Reef Roamer (The Roamer Series Book 1)

by Deborah D. Moore

  ***

  Jayme had never before felt so out of control as she did right then. Here she was, on a remote island, in a strange country, physically maimed from a fish lure wielded by some idiot, mentally lame from an unsolicited sedative, waiting for someone to help her bathe, and preparing to spend the night under the same roof with a man she was frightened of. Frightened, because she found him so blasted attractive. Every time he talked to her, she had to concentrate to keep from watching the way his lips moved, wondering how they would feel on hers. When she looked into his smoky gray eyes, she felt herself falling into them. This man could be trouble with a capital T. Jayme’s mind began to drift again. It was getting harder and harder to keep a steady train of thought. The sedative was taking a stronger hold on her consciousness. They would have to hurry if they wanted any co-operation out of her at all. With that thought, the door opened.

  Getting Jayme out of her dive skins was the easy part, but it sure wasn’t easy on Dr. Steele’s imagination and wandering thoughts. She was all muscle and softness, a very alluring combination. Mark was glad he wore loose clothing to work in. Jayme was starting to get groggy, and once, while Naomi was soaping her hair, Jayme leaned against the shower wall and slid down into a seated position. Naomi had to call for Mark to help get her back up to get rinsed off. When they were finished, the doctor and his assistant were as wet as Jayme.

  “Help her into this and then we’ll get her into a bed.” Mark handed Naomi a thin hospital gown and then stepped around the curtain that separated the shower area from the beds in his tiny ward. A few moments later, Naomi pushed the curtain aside to let Mark back in. Jayme was barely able to stand and was ready to slide again as Mark swept her up in his arms. Her head rested easily against his shoulder, and a jolt went through his body with the contact.

  My god, what is she doing to me?

  He laid her gently on the hospital bed. Her drying hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and he had to stifle a groan at the desire the vision created in his body.

  “Hand me the BP cup, please, and then set up a Lidocaine drip. I don’t think I’ll need the drip, but I want to be ready just in case.” The doctor worked silently, taking the near-comatose Jayme’s blood pressure. Ninety over fifty, he jotted down on her chart. Low, though not low enough to be alarmed about. He scanned over the stats on the chart. He moved deftly to bandage the wound on her left arm, protecting the pink stitches. Her tanned skin felt silken under his fingers, and Mark found himself mindlessly stroking her arm just to feel her.

  He checked her blood pressure again and listened to her heart rate, which was steady and strong. Long after Naomi left, he was still sitting by Jayme’s side, watching her sleep.

  She is so beautiful, he thought. He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. Her skin was cool and soft, so soft. He trailed his fingertips down her cheek, feeling her supple skin under his sensitive hands.

  Her eyes fluttered open at his touch. Emerald pools, slightly out of focus. Her hand reached up and stroked his face, much in the same way he had done to her. Jayme smiled sleepily and dropped off once again, unaware of what she had done.

  Mark let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. For that moment, he was so overwhelmed with a sense of déjà vu he felt dizzy. Then it hit him. I’ve lost sleep over those emerald eyes before. I couldn’t get her out of my thoughts then, and now she’s back. Could this really be the same girl? Could this be the faceless one he’d been dreaming of? The one who’d been haunting his nights? Haunting his paintings?

  Mark went into the hallway and through a door marked ‘private’. Although most of his patients thought the door led to his office, a few knew it led to his on-site residence. He stepped inside and flipped a light switch, flooding the darkened room with a false brightness. Heading for the little-used closet in the spare bedroom, he left a trail of blazing lights. He tore frantically at the numerous items that had found their way into the deep space. At last he found what he was searching for.

  He sat back, staring at the dozen half-finished canvases that now cluttered the room. He had begun the paintings five years ago, after he’d met a green-eyed beauty in the clinic in Marsh Harbor. Her husband had been killed in a shark attack while scuba diving. Mark had signed the death certificate. The woman’s eyes had captivated him like none other had before or since. He had tried over and over again to paint her, so he could have her with him always, but he could see the eyes only, never the face. As he sat looking at the unfinished paintings now, he knew that woman five years ago had indeed been Jayme. Lovely, sleeping Jayme. Mark picked up a canvas, his easel and a box of oils.

  Heading back to the clinic’s ward, Mark felt obsessed. He worked all night by her bedside. While a tropical storm raged outside, an emotional one raged inside of the doctor. Jayme barely stirred during the thunder and lightning. He mixed colors, getting just the right hues to match her hair, her skin, her lips. How he wanted to taste those lips! His need for her was rising. He pushed the thoughts down and concentrated on the painting in front of him, never sleeping.

  ***

  By morning, Mark had finished capturing Jayme’s elusive face around the all-too-familiar eyes. He quietly put his artist tools back into the spare room of his attached living quarters. When Naomi arrived at 10:00am, Jayme was starting to stir.

  Jayme’s eyes fluttered open, not for the first time that morning, but the second. Earlier, the time on the wall clock eluded her; she had awakened to see Mark packing a small box, the smell of linseed oil in the air. Confused, her eyes had fluttered shut before Mark had noticed, and she drifted away again, only this time into a pleasant drowsy state. When she awoke for the second time, Jayme was fully alert.

  “Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Mark said cheerfully with a smile that reached all the way to his tired eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  Fingering the white gauze bandage, she said, “Other than an ache in my arm, which I believe to be expected considering the circumstances, I feel fine. You, on the other hand, look like hell.” Not really, she thought. You look devastatingly handsome! “Didn’t you get any sleep at all? You couldn’t have been that worried about me.”

  “Well, you really had me going for a while when your blood pressure dropped to 85/60 and your pulse dipped to 50. Since you told Naomi your readings were normally on the low side, I tried not to be too concerned. Although, you’re right; watching you breathe did not leave me much time to sleep.”

  “Oh, what a guilt trip you’ve got me on now!” Jayme teased. The long deep sleep had done wonders for her spirit. “How can I ever make it up to you?” She smiled brightly at his feigned weariness.

  Mark grinned broadly. “For starters, you can let me buy you dinner and then—” At that moment, Naomi came rushing in.

  “Dr. Steele! Jack just brought Lana in! She’s in labor; contractions are less than a minute apart!” Naomi didn’t wait for Mark to reply, for as she turned he was already on his feet on his way out the door.

  ***

  By the sounds of the activity going on in the room next to the ward, Jayme could tell that the good doctor would be occupied for a while bringing a new life into the world. She slipped out of bed, clutching the flimsy gown around her. So much for high fashion. Or modesty. Looking around, she discovered a plastic box under her bed containing her bathing suit and dive skins. Jayme slid her long legs into the dive skins and pulled it up snugly around her waist. She pulled the gown off over her head, careful not to bump her aching arm, and managed to get her right arm into the sleeve, then zipped up the front, tucking the tattered left sleeve down the front.

  Hmm, she thought. An off the shoulder dive suit. Might become a new trend.

  She chuckled, scooped up her bathing suit, and silently let herself out the open door.

  Out in the reception area, Jayme looked for and found a writing pad. She picked up a bright orange pen from the desk, knowing it had to be Naomi’s, an
d wrote Mark a note:

  Dr. Steele, Thank you for taking care of me. I went back to the resort by taxi. Please send me your bill there.

  Ms. Haller

  She read the over, then crossed out “Ms. Haller” and wrote “Jayme.” Sipping back into the ward, she left the note on her rumpled bed and left.

  ***

  The hot sun had made its way across the blue afternoon sky in lazy slowness, which was fine with Jayme. She sipped on her iced tea in the shade of a palm tree outside her room. She had arranged two chairs facing each other so she could prop her feet up and had her wounded arm cradled on a pillow. In front of her on the wicker table was her laptop, state of the art equipment with a more than state of the art program.

  Alan had taken after his father in more ways than looks. He was exceptional with computer programming and now was an E-5 Sergeant with an MOS of Information Technology Specialist in the Army. He had spent many after work hours devising the software she was now using. It included multiple yet easy steps, where she could download her videos, edit them, and then burn them to a disc, all from her laptop and from anywhere she was.

  Jayme had downloaded the memory cards she used, saving the files to a thumb drive that would be a permanent record in her personal files. She had just finished viewing and editing the footage of the Thomas’ dive, adding comments via an attached microphone, and it was ready to burn when a now-familiar voice encroached on her thoughts.

  “Well, now, that’s an interesting set-up,” Dr. Steele commented as he sat down in a third chair angled across from her.

  “Jeez! You scared me half to death!” Jayme was clearly startled by his approach but not so shaken that she didn’t have enough presence of mind to save her recent work and close the computer.

  Mark stared at her a long moment, then switched topics. “Why did you leave this morning? You gave me quite a panic when I saw you gone. I didn’t find your note until I looked under the bed to see if you’d found your clothes.” To her quizzical look, he added, “The note was on the floor.”

  “I left it on the bed in plain sight. A breeze must have blown it off. I didn’t mean to cause you concern, not any more. Heaven knows I’ve already done enough of that.” It was easy to pick up the banter they so recently shared, and it felt good, maybe too good.

  “I should hope not. You haven’t paid me back yet for keeping me awake all night. As I recall, I had mentioned dinner…”

  “Ah, yes, that’s when the world’s newest citizen decided to make an appearance. Boy or girl?”

  “Actually, one of each. We knew there would be twins, and Lana was two weeks over what I anticipated, though two weeks early for a normal delivery. Both babies are fine. The extra time helped their birth weight a great deal. Mother and children went home,” he glanced at his watch, “a half hour ago.”

  “So soon? Isn’t that unusually fast?”

  “Not for island people. The only reason she came to me for the delivery was because the twins might need extra care that would be available only at the clinic. Otherwise, she would have delivered at home with a local midwife.” Mark yawned, the lack of sleep catching up to him at last. “However, I didn’t expect you to leave so soon.”

  “I wasn’t ill, Dr. Steele, only a minor injury, and a major sedative.” She tried to add ice to her voice and found she couldn’t. He was too damned handsome, and his profound effect on her left her bewildered and defenseless.

  “Ouch! Okay, I deserved that. You’re right, you’re not ill. However as your current physician,” he smiled brightly, “I would like to examine my patient. Your arm will do for now.” His voice had softened and his eyes seemed to want to say more.

  Jayme felt a warm feeling overtake her lower body. Her heart quickened. Was he flirting with her? God, I hope so, her mind added, and then she admonished herself, knowing she couldn’t involve herself with anyone. Still, it was a nice feeling. She held out her arm for him, and when he laughed, she realized she had picked up the wrong arm. Recovering, she quipped, “Just checking to see if you’re alert enough to conduct this physical…I mean examination.” Mark opened a black bag Jayme hadn’t noticed he brought and produced a pair of scissors. He cut the gauze and tape from her arm, unwrapping it gently. As he exposed the pink stitches, he checked for swelling and redness, his fingers probing gently along her tender skin, lingering much, much longer than necessary.

  Jayme couldn’t take her eyes off the head of dark, silky hair bent so intently over her arm. As he traced his fingers up and down her skin, she began to feel lightheaded with a growing desire. She swallowed hard. “Am I going to live?” Her voice, deepened with the desire, startled her.

  Mark looked up into pools of liquid green flames, flustered. “Most definitely.” He did not want to let go of her. He sighed deeply and set her arm down, reaching again for his black bag. He wrapped and taped her wound after applying an antibiotic salve, trying to keep his hands busy. His breathing was much too rapid.

  Mark let his gaze come up to Jayme’s face, taking in every detail he could. When he reached her mouth, he longed to claim it, to taste every lovely inch. Breathing hard, he continued up, their eyes locked. The desire revealed in gray eyes and green was deep and passionate. Jayme broke away first. Her breathing was as erratic as his.

  “Dinner, you said. Ah, yes, well, as a matter of fact I had a late breakfast and I’ve been working all afternoon. I’m starved!”

  “Working?”

  Working!

  Jayme hadn’t realized she had admitted that. Now she was truly flustered. She longed to tell him the truth but knew she couldn’t so instead settled for in between. “I’m sort of a photographer. I take pictures when I’m on vacation and occasionally sell one or two.” She hoped he didn’t see her crossed fingers. “Where would you recommend for dinner?”

  “Someplace quiet, remote, with atmosphere and good food. Let me think for a moment.” He grinned devilishly. “I’ll be right back.”

  Mark left so quickly, Jayme didn’t have the opportunity to question. All she realized was that as soon as he left, the space felt empty and she wanted him back.

  Moments later, he returned with two over-sized glasses of red swirling liquid. “Bahama Mamas,” he announced, placing a glass down in front of Jayme.

  “Thanks, but it’s only,” she glanced at the watch on her thin wrist, “gosh! It’s after 6pm! I don’t drink before dinner,” she said, pushing the glass an inch away.

  “I wouldn’t want you to drink right now, anyway. These are virgin…no liquor. You need to take these.” He handed her a vial of pills.

  “What is it?” she asked warily.

  “Antibiotics. Specifically erythromycin. We don’t want your wound getting infected, do we?”

  She shook her head, sending her soft auburn waves swaying. Mark looked down to stifle the groan. Jayme shook two pills out into her hand, popped them into her mouth, and took a swallow of the sweet red liquid, and grinned at the handsome doctor. Why did he make her feel the way he did? She was too old to have a school girl crush! Good grief, he couldn’t be more than thirty-five and she was forty-three. That felt like a big gap.

  “So, Dr. Steele, have you—”

  “Mark.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Call me Mark, Jayme. Yesterday you insisted I call you Jayme, so I want you to call me Mark. Fair’s fair, okay?”

  “Sure. So, Mark, have you decided where to have dinner?” No sooner had she spoken than one of the waiters from the resort restaurant showed up carrying a large tray loaded with food. Much to Jayme’s surprise and delight, the waiter proceeded to clear the outside table and set it with linens and china. Mark had taken Jayme’s equipment and set it in her room on a chair without so much as a comment.

  With candles lit and wine poured, Mark gazed across the table at Jayme and raised his crystal goblet in a toast. “To candlelit dinners on sandy beaches at sunset.” His eyes clouded with an unmistakable longing.

  “How could I r
efuse?” Jayme responded, raising her own wine glass.

  “I hope you can’t.” Mark’s comment was definitely cloaked in double meaning. Silence fell between them.

  Jayme cleared her throat. “So what have you ordered? I’ve tried about everything on the menu here.”

  Mark smiled. “Something that’s not on the menu. You have Holm Chicken, and I have Anna’s Cucumber Fish. I have special influence with the cook.” He winked at her.

  Jayme lifted the silver dome off her plate and set it aside, the delicate aromas wafting up to meet her. She closed her eyes briefly in pleasure at the scent, an action that turned Mark’s insides to mush and other parts of him into something much harder. Holm Chicken was strips of chicken breast roasted in pineapple and orange juice, thickened into a sauce, served with fried bananas and fried pineapple rings on a bed of cooked grains. Jayme speared a bite-sized piece of pineapple and chicken together and put them in her mouth with anticipation.

  “This is ambrosia! Why isn’t it on the menu?” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with delight.

  “Don’t know. Ask Anna. Here, try some of my fish.” Without asking, Mark scooped up a fork full of fresh-caught white fish, hot minced cucumbers, orange slices, and dill and held it out, an offering to Jayme. She met his eyes, smiled, and opened her mouth to let him feed her. As he performed this simple yet intimate gesture, an electric shock ran up his spine. Mark could feel his arousal for her grow, and it surfaced in his eyes.

  “That is incredible!” Jayme murmured, running her tongue over her sauce-wet lips. “I think I will ask Anna why she hides these delectable dishes from the guests! Everyone would surely order these if they were available,” she said between mouthfuls. She had seen the unmistakable longing in Mark’s gray eyes, surely matching her own.