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‘Come on—I’ll show you where to stash your stuff,’ Mike said.
Isobella followed the two men up a sandy path through some scrubby vegetation. Alex was still holding Sam, and she wondered what kind of alternative universe she’d entered. Damn it. It was easier to distance herself from Alex in the lab. This whole tropical island thing was too…casual. She longed for the formality of the cold sterile lab and her white coat.
The research station consisted of several structures. Two concrete buildings fronted the cleared area, their roofs covered in solar panels. A decent-sized satellite dish protruded from the one set a little further back. Mike took them into the closest one, which was obviously the living quarters.
A small anteroom where various pieces of snorkeling equipment were stored opened into very basic living quarters, consisting only of a hallway from which three bedrooms and a bathroom ran off. Woven seagrass matting covered the concrete floor.
‘I’m sorry—this is it,’ Mike apologized, as he opened the door to a small room with bunk beds pushed against the far wall. An old desk and some wall-mounted shelves above a low chest of drawers were the only other furniture in the room. ‘I didn’t think it would be a problem with you and Reg. Ruth and Kate share the end room, and Theresa, Sam and I are in the other.’
Isobella surveyed the basic room, the implication that she would be sharing it with Alex sinking into her consciousness like the proverbial stone.Great. How would she sleep with him so near? She’d been cultivating distance in her relationships ever since Anthony’s rejection. This was getting out of hand.
Alex saw Isobella’s hand creep up to her throat. He’d noticed she did that whenever she was anxious about something. Her fingers stroked the polo neck nervously. For God’s sake—he was hardly likely to jump her in the middle of the night.
He preferred his women willing, not looking like a Victorian heroine about to be ravished by a rake. And he was her boss—even if he had been thinking way too many inappropriate thoughts where Isobella was concerned. Already he was wondering what she wore to bed.
‘Do you have any spare swags?’ he asked Mike.
Distance—that was what he needed. Although if her day clothes were anything to go by, her nightwear was probably neck to toe and fairly distance-provoking anyway.
‘Sure. On the shelf.’
Alex nodded. ‘I’ll take mine down to the beach.’
The beach?As much as she didn’t want him big and male and sleepy only meters away, she knew it was selfish to banish him to the outdoors. They were both adults, for goodness’ sake, and it was only three nights.
‘Alex.’ Isobella turned to him in protest. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m sure we’re capable of bunking together for a few nights.’
‘I like the beach. You should try it one night. The waves lulling you to sleep and a blazing bonfire. Away from all the city lights the stars are amazing.’
‘Full moon too for the next few nights,’ Mike added.
Isobella conjured the picture in her mind. Her and Alex camped out under the stars together. There was an intimacy to it she shied from instantly. ‘Thanks—I’m more the five-star type.’
Mike laughed. ‘Well, it ain’t the Ritz, but it’s all we’ve got. Dump your bags in here for the moment anyway, and I’ll show you around.’
They moved into the other besser block building sporting the dish. There was nothing rudimentary about this one. High-tech was an understatement. Mike showed off his mini-lab with pride. State-of-the-art equipment covered every surface—the latest high-powered microscopes, computers, and a sophisticated communication centre complete with the latest in radio technology.
‘Wow,’ Isobella muttered, totally dazzled by the equipment. The lab was a compact version of her own workplace, and she doubted Mike and Theresa wanted for anything.
Mike laughed. ‘Pretty impressive, huh?’
‘I’ll say.’
‘We couldn’t do it on government support alone. We rely on donations from private industry too. Zaphirides Medical Enterprises has been particularly generous.’
Mike walked them through the different experiments they were undertaking for a variety of organizations, both governmental and private. It seemed odd to be taking a tour through tech central with a barely dressed tour guide looking like a grizzly and toting a toddler on his hip.
They stopped by a large screen. ‘This is our weather tracking station,’ Mike said. ‘It’s a direct feed from the department of meteorology. Cyclone Mary’s still hovering.’ He pointed to the swirling, menacing mass of low pressure a few hundred kilometres away.
