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Reality mixed with fantasy in her fogged brain. She couldn't remember. What the hell had happened last night?
She looked out toward the calm turquoise sea.
The last thing she remembered was swimming out there, looking for something. Then the sharp pain in her side and slipping under the water. How had she ended up here?
She touched the spot on her side that had hurt so badly she couldn't stay afloat last night. A bit tender, but the pain was gone. How odd.
After a quick shower back at her bungalow, she trekked over to the hotel to pick up some supplies. Morgan had equipped her with a golf cart to ride back and forth from one side of the island to the other. Although the path was bumpy, the ride didn't take much time at all. Besides, it gave her an opportunity to think about the night before.
Had she dreamed the warm mouth kissing oxygen into her lungs? The strong hands supporting her and taking her pain away? And why had it all seemed so familiar, so comforting, as if she'd finally found home?
Stupid dream. She hated the ones that lingered in her memories well into the next day.
And this one went from underwater lifesaving to rip-roaring on the beach masturbation. Maybe she was tense. Although the orgasm she'd awakened to certainly should ease some of her stress.
The hotel was busy this morning. Isabelle shook her head at couples sharing intimate kisses and touches right in front of everyone else.
"I hope all this doesn't bother you."
Isabelle turned at the sound of Morgan Marino's soft voice and smiled. The gorgeous redhead looked perfectly outfitted in her snug tropical dress complete with hibiscus in her hair. "Not at all. I'm just not used to it."
Jealous was more like it. Had she ever had a man who wanted her so much he didn't care where or when he touched and kissed her?
Easy answer. No.
A very attractive, dark-haired man peered over Morgan's shoulder and said, "You'll get used to it, trust me. Eventually you won't notice anyone around here or what they're doing."
Morgan smiled and caressed the man's cheek. "Dr. Isabelle King, this is my husband, Tony Marino."
Isabelle shook Tony's hand and smiled. "I hear you and Morgan just returned from your honeymoon. Congratulations."
"Thanks." Tony kissed his wife's cheek. "We had a great time but Morgan doesn't like to leave the resort for too long, so we had to hustle back."
Isabelle looked over at the woman. "It's tough when work gets in the way of your personal life, isn't it?" Not that she would know about that, since she had no personal life.
"It's okay. We've been on a constant honeymoon for the past six months, anyway."
"Yeah, and I had to drag her off the island just to get her to marry me. She made me wait forever before she made an honest man of me."
Isabelle laughed.
Morgan blushed and kissed her husband goodbye. "You go write. I'll see to Isabelle."
After Tony left, they walked toward the small grocery store. Morgan asked, "Is everything okay out there?"
"It's lovely. And very quiet. Perfect for my research. And thank you again for letting me stay there even though I'm not participating in...in the events here."
"Don't be ridiculous. No one has to participate unless they want to. However, if you do change your mind and decide to check out some of the activities, you're more than welcome."
Participate in the activities? Not a chance. She nodded and smiled at Morgan anyway. "Sure thing. Thanks. By the way, is anyone else staying on the other side of the island? I noticed there was a bungalow next to mine."
Morgan shook her head. "No, it's empty. Why?"
Isabelle took out her list and grabbed a basket. "I thought I saw someone in the water last night, and was just wondering if there was another guest staying on that side of the island."
"The other bungalow wasn't booked this week. Would you like me to send someone to check it out?"
"No, don't do that. I think it was a sea turtle anyway. I wasn't feeling well last night and shouldn't have gone in the water, but I just thought I'd seen someone. I was probably just delirious from the fever."
Morgan stopped and turned to Isabelle. "Are you ill? We have a doctor on staff here, even a small hospital."
"I'm fine. Just a sharp pain on my right side and a little fever. It's gone now."
Morgan pressed her palm against Isabelle's forehead. "You don't feel warm, but I'd still like our doctor to check you out."
"No, really, I--"
"I insist."
From Morgan's serious look, Isabelle knew she wouldn't be able to work in peace until she allayed the woman's fears. "Fine."
An hour later she was sitting in Dr. Shalay's office. About sixty-years-old with white hair and a long beard, the doctor frowned.
"Based on your symptoms I'd say you had an acute appendicitis attack. But that can't be."
She hadn't thought of that. Dear God, she had no business swimming out that far last night. She could have died. "Does it need to come out?"
"Does what need to come out?"
"My appendix."
"What a silly question. The ultrasound showed you have no appendix, which you obviously already knew. But you also have no scar."
"Of course I don't have a scar, since I've never had surgery." Then, his words registered. "What do you mean I have no appendix?"
The doctor regarded her over his glasses as if she were a simpleton. "Would you like to see the ultrasound pictures? There's no appendix there, dear. Perhaps you never had one."
"I have to have an appendix."
"No. Yours has been removed or was never there."
After the confusing talk with Dr. Shalay, Isabelle made her way back to her bungalow. Last night was the worst pain she'd ever endured, and this morning she had no appendix.
She stripped off her clothes and stood in front of the bedroom closet. Sure enough, there was a red mark on her lower right side. How could she not have noticed it earlier? Inspecting it closer now, she could have sworn it looked like a palm print.
Ridiculous. Odd things had been happening since the moment she'd stepped onto Paradise yesterday. First that strange feeling of being watched, that sense of someone she knew waiting for her, then the whole episode last night and the bizarre dream.
She hadn't been sleeping well lately. Maybe the lack of rest was affecting her ability to think rationally. That was the only logical explanation she could come up with for her state of mind lately.
She put on her swimsuit and went outside with her dive gear and camera, figuring it was past time that she started on her work. She had sea turtles to find and catalog and coral reef to photograph.
After checking the gauges, she put on her tank and mask, then fastened her camera and notebook around her.
The dive down was lovely, the water clear and calm. The beauty of the sea never failed to take her breath away. She'd catalogued marine life from many locations around the world, but the Caribbean had always been the place she loved the best. From her earliest childhood memories, she recalled snorkeling in the waters and looking down into the depths, wondering what secrets the sea held. Now she had the chance to do it as a professional.
Visibility was at a maximum today, at least one-hundred-twenty feet. Thankful for the warm waters, at least she didn't have to wear a wet suit, which would have added even more weight to her already full load.
Clusters of coral stretched as far as she could see. Vibrant colors of the rainbow painted the homeland of the exquisite sea creatures. She looked up to see the sunlight sparkling like diamonds off the surface. Tourists snorkeling peered down from the top of the water, their fins undulating lazily as they gazed at the beauty she was fortunate to see close up. She must have traveled far enough out to end up on the other side of the island where they offered snorkeling excursions to the guests. She quickly moved off beyond the prying eyes of the floaters above.
There were definite advantages to her work. One of the main reasons she'd decided t
o become a marine biologist was to get closer to the sea. She'd been drawn to it her entire life. Something about being submerged in the depths and surrounded by all this beauty made her feel complete.
And it never bothered her to dive alone, in fact she preferred it, unlike her colleagues who always insisted they have a companion diver. Not her. When she did a dive by herself, the ocean was hers to explore as she wished.
Be careful.
Isabelle stopped and glanced around at the sound of a familiar whisper, then shook her head. Right. Now she was hearing voices and actually turned to see if someone was talking to her. Underwater.
She had to start getting more sleep at night.
Isabelle, hold still. Don't move.
Okay, now that wasn't funny. She really had heard a voice. A man's voice, almost like a flutter in her ear. Her first thought was to shake it off and move on, but some instinct told her to heed the warning.
She stilled. Seconds later, a shark swam past her, its fin brushing against her skin as it wound its way through the water.
Holy shit! How had she missed that? Gawking at the coral no doubt, her mind occupied with anything but what she should be thinking about--namely staying alert and keeping an eye on her surroundings.
The adrenalin rush sent her heart pounding against her chest. She watched the shark disappear ahead and tried to normalize her breathing. Over-inhaling the tank's oxygen would be the last thing she needed right now.
But she had heard a voice. A man's voice. Twice. And last night too, the same whisper she'd heard in her dream. She wasn't hallucinating this time and she was fully awake so she couldn't be dreaming. Someone watched her down here, she was certain of it.
But who? And more importantly, how? She searched the clear depths but could find no sign of bubbles from another tank, nor were there any boats parked above her.
She really needed to get a grip. Who was she looking for, anyway? Even if the floor had been populated with divers, no one down there could speak to her.
You're beautiful, Isabelle.
Not funny. She knew damn well that someone watched her. She could feel his presence. Or its presence. Or something. And she wasn't the type of person to hear voices in her head.
Her attention shot, she surfaced, swam to shore and pulled off her gear, storming into her bungalow and pacing.
Someone had been down there with her, and that someone had spoken to her. She didn't know how they'd done it, but she was sure that she hadn't lost her mind. She'd been diving for too many years and knew enough about the ocean to know that the military had advanced sonar capabilities. That had to be the explanation.
But how did he know her name? And why did his voice seem so familiar?
She was startled when a knock sounded at her door. No one was supposed to be on this side of the island.
It was probably housekeeping, and she was worrying for nothing.
