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Isobella smiled, her eyelids fluttering closed as a languid lassitude infused her bones, making them heavy. Somewhere in her consciousness she could hear the storm still raging. ‘Stay with me,’ she whispered.
Alex heard the drowsiness in her voice and felt a similar lethargy infect him. He moved off her and turned as she turned, pulling her close. They spooned, his arm around her, his fingers firmly interlocked with hers. And when he shut his eyes he let memories of their lovemaking carry him into slumber.
Isobella woke to a grey light throwing an eerie gloom into the room. She could hear the wind and the pound of the surf, although it seemed to have settled considerably. She wondered what the time was and swallowed against a dry throat.
She was alone in the bed. Alone with her thoughts. Her demons. She hadn’t moved since she’d fallen asleep with Alex wrapped around her. Her bra was still skewed, although her shirt had ridden down to cover her breasts. Her knickers were God knew where, and she was pleased to find a sheet covering her. They hadn’t gone to sleep covered, so Alex must have pulled it up.
She looked down at the scarring on her abdomen and thanked God that she’d still been facing away from Alex when he left. He had learned a lot about her last night, wrapped in their dark cocoon, and it hadn’t seemed real. But in the cold light of day some things were still too private. Some things were still out of bounds. If they’d been entering into a relationship—maybe? But a roll in the hay on a stormy night?
She wondered where Alex was. No doubt somewhere completely freaked out about them giving in to temptation last night. How would he be when she saw him again? Would he avoid eye contact, or maybe just avoid her, period?
He had nothing to fear from her. She knew the score. Yes, something special had happened between them last night—at least it had for her. Something she was not going to analyse for a long time. But he was a man. A catch-kiss-and-throw-back man at that. And he was her boss, and they had to work together. They’d crossed a lot of lines. It was time she assured him that she knew where the line was and how to get back behind it.
She showered quickly, donning her standard lab geek camouflage. She hoped her reversion back to her usual dress would convince him of her serious intent to put what had happened last night behind them. Actions spoke louder than words, didn’t they?
Although that was a kind of a dangerous notion to explore at the moment. What had her actions told him last night? What had his actions told her? That it was more than illicit sex between colleagues or a way to pass a stormy night? He had touched her reverently, been gentle and restrained. Understanding. His actions hadn’t said catch-kiss-and-throw-back. What they’d actually said she wasn’t sure, but they hadn’t been those of a man interested only in seminar sex.
She exited the building to find everyone up and about. The wind blew against her body and she braced herself. But whilst it was strong it was obviously not gale force, and though the sea was still choppy and the waves against the shore were sizeable, Cyclone Mary had moved on. The rain had also stopped. For now.
She performed a quick visual survey of the nearby buildings, pleased to see they appeared to have escaped Mary’s wrath unscathed. There was a lot of felled foliage—branches and general green debris—but no major damage was evident.
She swivelled her head towards the beach and the pounding surf. A line of thick seaweed marked the shore, obviously spewed forth from the churning seas along with some driftwood. The tide was going out. The deeper water looked a menacing grey.
Her gaze fell upon Alex, a little further down the beach, staring out over the waves, his dark hair blowing in the wind. His fingers were buried deeply in his pockets, his shoulders were hunched. Was he wishing himself off Piccolo?
She hugged herself as she walked towards him. The air was cooler now the immediate low pressure system had moved away, and the strong wind was caressing her exposed forearms. She shivered—was it the wind, or her trepidation as Alex grew larger?
Isobella drew level with him. He didn’t acknowledge her, and they both stared out to sea for a few moments. ‘Hi,’ she finally greeted him, raising her voice a little to be heard over the crash of the surf.
‘Hi.’ He didn’t turn to look at her. His thoughts churned as restlessly as the ocean.
‘The island appears to have escaped relatively unscathed,’ she said.
‘Yes. Mike and I are going to go for a reccie a little later on, but everything seems to have come through okay.’
Isobella nodded. They’d been lucky.
