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‘It’s sun smart,’ she said frostily, piqued at his description of her fashion sense.
‘So, let me guess?’ he said scathingly, taking in her notebook and laptop. ‘You’re heading for the lab, right?’
Isobella gritted her teeth. ‘You may look at this as a snorkelling junket, Dr Zaphirides, and that’s fine—you’re the boss. But I’m here to observe and learn and work. Yes, work,’ she continued, as Alex opened his mouth to interject. ‘I miss it. I’m sure there’d be others who would jump at the chance to frolic on a tropical island, but I enjoy my work. And I’m damn good at it. This project is important to me. And, quite frankly, I really resent that you’ve dragged me away from it.’
Alex looked down into the dark tint of her glasses. Did she really have nothing else in her life other than her damn white coat and her microscope? Maybe she hadn’t been joking about the celibacy? So what was with the sexy underwear? That didn’t say celibate lab geek. It said I’m female and I love it.
‘Lady, you need a hobby. All work and no play makes Isobella a dull girl.’ And leopard print did not say dull.
Unfashionable and dull.Great. ‘I don’t exist to be interesting,’ she snapped.
Alex winged an imperious eyebrow. ‘Patently.’
Just as well he couldn’t see the dark look hidden behind her equally dark glasses. Why was he being so bloody-minded about this? And why, why, despite his criticism, did his chest still draw her gaze and the waves still drum their primal rhythm?Dare you, dare you, dare you.
‘Well, seeing as how you employ me, you should be grateful. Do you want an assistant with her head in her wardrobe or one who’s dedicated to the important things?’
Right now he’d settle for the wardrobe. And a private fashion parade.
Grateful? He should be grateful? That she was determined to bury herself away in the name of his research project? How long had she been spinning herself this kind of claptrap? She didn’t truly believe it, did she? Camouflaging her body and clinging to the cloistered world of a sterile lab in the name of science when obviously underneath there was a lot of suppressed sexuality? And if she thought he wouldn’t go there because it was inappropriate, she was wrong.
‘This isn’t about work. This is about hiding. About running away. Now, I don’t know what it is that you’re running from, but don’t pretend this is something that it’s not.’
His gravelly words had nailed her motives to the wall, and she resented his searing insight. Her breath stuck in her throat and she forced it in and out, refusing to take his bait. To hell with him. ‘Oh, and you’re so well adjusted, Mr Catch-kiss-and-throw-back?’
Alex sucked in a breath. She had learned too much about him in such a short time, and he was treading dangerous waters. His gaze was drawn to the agitated rhythm of her chest beneath her shapeless blouse. If he didn’t get away from her now he was going to say or do something he’d regret. Or at least something that could have him up in front of a sexual harassment tribunal.
‘That’sDr Catch-kiss-and-throw-back to you,’ he snapped, and then strode away and didn’t stop until he was totally immersed in the tepid tropical water, wishing the research station was situated on an island off Antarctica instead.
Theresa and Ruth arrived back in the afternoon, and Isobella was excited to see their spoils. Two box jellyfish had been trapped, one fully grown. She suppressed a shudder at the savage beauty of one of the most feared, venomous creatures on the planet.
The marine stinger, almost transparent, floated in a giant container, its tentacles undulating gracefully with the rock of the water like a ballerina perfecting a pirouette. It looked harmless, almost pretty. Hard to believe it could kill in minutes.
She engrossed herself in the lab, helping Theresa and her two students with the preliminary experiments and inputting the data. Anything. Anything to keep her mind off Alex.
‘Would you look at them?’ Theresa laughed at one stage.
Distracted by the tentacular material she was studying under the microscope, Isobella muttered, ‘Hmm?’ as she looked up.
‘Alex playing with Sam.’
Isobella heard a squeal and, despite not wanting it to, her gaze was drawn through the large glass window that afforded the lab area an almost one-eighty-degree view of the beach. Sam was naked in the late-afternoon light, and the sky was a vibrant array of purples and pinks as somewhere to the west of them the sun journeyed to the other side of the horizon. Alex was laughing, still shirtless, as he dug a sandcastle for the toddler.
