The Sea of Aaron (4 page)

Get over it.
The only reason she was down here was so the police, or whoever, could do their job. Then she would return to her life as quickly as possible. How they were actually going about the investigation was another story because she hadn't even bothered to ask. Her illogical lapse disturbed her since it was not in any way typical. It was Aaron's fault. If she weren't so obsessed with him, she would be her usual resourceful self.

The next day things would change. Her head would be back on straight and she would no longer feel tired and irrational. Foregoing the thought that she should probably find something to eat, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

***

Valerie's dreams were not troubled, but they took her back to childhood as they so often did, urging her to relive vignettes of her life. Mostly she remembered the calm patience of her minister father, whom she had loved dearly.

Later, the dream drifted into winning a trophy for the high school's swim team and wanting her mother to be there to see her accept it. Her mother had congratulated her, but as usual refused to attend. “Your father will be there,” she'd said confidentially.

Her father had been there for all her triumphs and her mini-tragedies. He had taken her and her brother on camping and fishing trips, taught her to swim, ride a bike, ice skate, sleigh ride, and pitch a curve ball as good as any boy.

Joel Redmond had guided her through potentially troubled waters until she went away to college with aspirations to study criminal justice. His death at the age of fifty-eight had occurred suddenly and devastatingly in her first year. The big man with the booming James Earl Jones voice—the powerful orator, whose sermons mesmerized even unruly toddlers and squalling infants—had been felled by a heart attack while shoveling snow in their driveway.

His death forever changed Valerie's course and left her with an undeniable bitterness toward her needy mother, who was totally paralyzed by widowhood. If her mother had not been so clingy and taken on more of the family's responsibilities herself, the way marriage should be, her father wouldn't have been so burdened and probably would have lived longer.

Morning. Aaron awoke from a deep sleep to the gentle undulation of the sea. He rose with practiced caution from the master berth in the cramped cabin of
Saniyah II.
Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he ignored the sensation. The pain was expected, and it was better to feel something as a reminder instead of floating around like a brain-fogged addict, dulled by the Demerol he'd been given when he'd been released from the hospital. He had, in fact, not touched the stuff since he'd arrived in Belize three weeks ago today.

He knew that the healing process was well under way because his clarity of mind had long since returned and the physical discomfort was less. The first two weeks he hadn't even been able to go out to the boat, but had instead stayed on land in the very same room at the hotel where Valerie was. He'd paid Dodge, Annie's husband, for some assistance, and they'd sent him Estella, the pretty young woman who cleaned the rooms at their inn and worked as a waitress in the restaurant around the corner. She brought him meals and made runs to the pharmacy. The rest he'd taken care of himself without too many complications. He knew instinctively that Estella, despite being young, was a bit smitten with him and that she would have gone beyond cook and messenger duties free of charge, but he wasn't one for indulging in such dalliances.

After splashing his face with cold water, he pulled on a pair of khakis and went up on deck. The sun had not yet risen, and wispy shrouds of charcoal-colored clouds smudged the magenta sky. The air was laden with tropical humidity, the ever-present indicator of another balmy day in paradise.

He surveyed the shore and focused on the familiar pink inn. Was Valerie up yet? For a brief second he had the urge to pick up his powerful binoculars and zoom in on her terrace. Not exactly a strange notion. He had used them often for surveillance, but this was different. He frowned at the realization; this urge was driven purely by voyeurism. Clenching his teeth, he resisted the impulse and turned to go back below deck.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been as gracious a host as he'd intended, mostly because the day had been long, and pain and crankiness had set in. If Valerie had been offended by his infamous bluntness, he was sure she'd give an indication by avoiding him as much as possible, which would be disappointing, but in both of their best interests. In either case, he'd find out soon enough because his plan for the moment was to take the speedboat over to the inn, book a different room, shower, shave, and attempt to behave civilly with her. He'd heard overnight from his contact in New York that the investigation was progressing well, and that meant she probably wouldn't have to remain in Belize very long.

***

Valerie rose just before sunrise, and after showering and dressing in a turquoise T-shirt and bright yellow Bermuda shorts, she called Jasmine. Her friend didn't pick up, so she left her a message—a brief recap of yesterday's events. Having no clue when she would see Aaron again, she assumed she was on her own. Since Caye Caulker was only four miles long, there wasn't much danger of getting lost. She'd have a chat with Annie and acclimate herself to the place.

The lobby of the inn was small and homey with well-appointed seating and colorful island paintings on the bright tangerine walls—more like the living room of an artist's house. She found Annie wearing a wide-brimmed hat and pulling weeds from the impressive bougainvillea out back in the garden.

“I see you're an early riser like Mr. Weiss,” she said, straightening.

Valerie smiled. “You've seen him?”

“Why, yes. He's in his room.” She hesitated. “Isn't he?”

In his room?
Apparently, Annie thought she should have known that, and for a moment Valerie almost laughed, realizing, no doubt, that the innkeeper assumed that she and Aaron were intimate.

“Mr. Weiss told me that he was spending the night out on his boat,” Valerie countered. “I didn't realize until now that he had given me his room.”

Annie laughed now. “Oh, but he is a cagey one, isn't he? He probably did spend the night out on the boat, but he's rented another room near yours. He was there maybe an hour ago.”

“Men, who can figure them out?” Valerie gave a dismissive nod of her head. “Just wondering if you could recommend a decent restaurant.”

“Sure. Assuming it's breakfast you want, try La Isla Café. It's just a short walk around the corner to your left. You can't miss it.”

She thanked Annie and went back around the front. So Aaron had a room near hers. Interesting. Maybe he was still there and she should pay him a visit. No. She would keep to her original plan and go have breakfast by herself. He could easily find her if he wanted to.

At the charming café Valerie settled at a table on the terrace overlooking the sea and was poring over the morning news with a cup of coffee and an egg and cheese omelette—her cholesterol indulgence of the day—when a shadow fell over her and she looked up to see Aaron.

“May I join you?” he asked.

No, get lost. You're intruding,
she thought, bemused by what a lie that definitely unspoken statement was. “Of course you may,” she said.

He looked dashingly handsome in a dark blue polo shirt and spotless white linen pants, colors that set off his just a hint browner than Mediterranean-toned skin. As before, the sunglasses were present, but when he sat down, she was pleased that he propped them on top of his head aviator style, allowing her, for the first time since she'd arrived, to see his ebony eyes.

The waitress, a curvy young thing with an upswept ponytail and a flight attendant's smile, set a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs before him without even waiting for his order. He spoke a few words to her in Spanish that Valerie couldn't quite interpret. The young woman's smile deepened. She nodded courteously at Valerie and then moved to another table.

“You know her?” Valerie asked, wondering what that was about.

“Estella,” he said. “You'll be seeing her often enough, since she also works at Annie's Inn during the afternoons.” He proceeded to scarf down the food like a starving wolf. “I know most of the residents here. If not by name, by sight.”

“Do they know you?”

“They think they do.”

Typical response
, Valerie thought and tried not to stare at him eating. He wasn't uncouth, lacking in etiquette, or anything, but she had never seen anyone eat that fast before.

“How about if I take you on a little sight-seeing tour later?” Aaron said.

Her cue had arrived and she made direct eye contact. She wasn't about to mince words or spare him this time. “That would be wonderful, if you're up to it.”

His eyebrows arched slightly. “And why wouldn't I be up to it?”

“Suppose you tell me, Aaron. My sources have informed me that you aren't altogether on vacation in Belize either. Might rest and recuperation be more accurate?”

He smiled. The expression was slightly chilling, but boy did it come off rakish and charming. “Touché,” he said.

She winked, crossed her legs and sat up straighter. “I'm willing to listen when you feel like talking.”

His smile faded slowly and the way he studied her was so intense that if she were kindling, she would have ignited. “Did my good friend Noah and his lovely wife give you any specifics on how my infirmities should be dealt with?”

“No. Not at all. And I wouldn't hold it against them for being worried about you. That's what friends do. I'm sure you would feel the same if…”

“I'm aware of Noah's concerns, but they are unwarranted. Yes, I wasn't exactly in good shape a few weeks ago, but I'm just about over it.”

“I'm a nurse, as I'm sure you're well aware,” Valerie said. “I'm doing private duty now, but I worked for two years in an inner city hospital and almost eight years in the ER at Englewood Hospital. In other words, I've seen just about everything from amputations to third degree burns and gunshot wounds.” She stirred her coffee fiercely. “When you're ready, I'd like to have a look at you so I can make that judgment call myself.”

“And suppose I say no?” His eyes met hers again, and he seemed intrigued by her unyielding determination.

“I will relentlessly stalk you all over Belize and take you down with a tranquilizer dart,” Valerie said. “After that I will get my way.”

“You are serious, no?”

“I am serious, yes.”

His eyes sparkled. Did she actually see a twisted glimmer of bad boy there?

“That might be entertaining,” he said.

She glowered. “Entertaining for me, not you.”

“Fine. I surrender.” He raised both hands in mock defeat. “Before we go on our tour, I'll accompany you back to the hotel and you may have your way with me.”

You may
have your way with me?
The words resounded in her head—the way he said them, with that husky accent and overbearingly proper speech. He was dropping innuendoes all over the place and she was homing in on every one, spoken and unspoken. She swallowed hard.
Don't be a nymphomaniac twit
.
This is strictly Nursing 101, nothing more. At least not yet, anyway.

Aaron was on his best behavior when they returned to Annie's Inn. She took him to what was now her room. He passed through the bedroom and abruptly went out on the terrace, taking a seat on a lounge chair. Valerie lingered in the bedroom, smiling unconsciously as she removed her medical bag from her suitcase.

She was grateful that he was considerate enough to allow her some breathing space in order to get her professional act together, because at the moment, way too many bizarre thoughts and images were crossing her mind, the worst of which involved her stepping out to find him waiting for her stark naked. Aaron? She'd totally lost it. No way would Mr. Cool, Calculating, and By the Book do such a thing.

Knowing full well that the Christian side of her shouldn't even be considering such things, she went to the bathroom, washed her hands thoroughly and splashed very cold water on her face for good measure. When she joined him on the terrace, the only thing missing was his shirt. She exhaled.

What she did see was impressive—the kind of hard, sculpted body an athletic twenty-something would be proud of. His earlier artery-clogging choice of breakfast had to have been something of a fluke because it did not show on his well-toned muscular torso, which was devoid of any flab. He didn't have a bandage covering the surgical scar on the right side of his chest, though, which marred his otherwise near perfection.

“Do I appear to be on the brink of collapse?” he asked, sitting up straight.

“Hardly,” Valerie admitted, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder, leaning forward to inspect his back for an exit wound.

“The bullet didn't exit,” he explained when she found nothing. “The doctors fished it out of my lung.”

“Did they get it all?”

“Yes.”

“They took X-rays…an MRI?”

His piercing eyes met hers. “Incredible as it may seem, there really are some knowledgeable doctors in Saudi Arabia.”

Valerie laughed now. “Okay, okay. I deserved that one.”

She traced a finger lightly over a smaller, thinner scar where they'd inserted and removed a chest tube. It, too, was healing.

“Just one more thing,” she said, taking the stethoscope out of her bag and adjusting it around her neck. She listened to his heartbeat, which was strong, then asked him to breathe while she checked his lungs. He complied, somewhat tentatively, she noticed, but his lungs were clear. The larger scar did have some reddish areas surrounding it, but nothing to get alarmed about. A temperature check had revealed no fever.

“You need to keep a bandage on that,” she told him. “It's healed enough so the wound isn't open, but when you're wearing a shirt, the material constantly brushing against it could cause problems.”

Aaron nodded noncommittally. She did the honors, taping a square gauze patch in place. On closer inspection she noted that he had another barely visible, long-healed-over scar just below his ribcage. She started to question him about it, but decided not to bother. He hadn't volunteered any details concerning the event that had caused the current wound.

“I must say your bionic reputation is solid,” she told him. “You're pretty amazing. You're also darn lucky.”

“If I really were so lucky, I wouldn't have the scars to prove otherwise,” he said.

“Well, what do you expect? He who plays with fire often gets burned.”

Aaron knew her physical inspection of him was supposed to be professional only, but her close proximity was causing him to react more impulsively than he had ever done in his life. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer than she had been. He had experienced a similar impulse while in the café gazing into her large almond-shaped eyes. Now the feeling was even stronger, emboldened by her scent, which was sweeter than the oleander from the garden below. Slowly his hands stroked her back, feeling the warmth of her nubile body radiating through her thin T-shirt.

Valerie stiffened slightly. “Um, Aaron.”

Ignoring her voice, he fixated on her dangling silver earrings and then on her turquoise T-shirt, wondering about the taut, well-proportioned form beneath it. Engrossed in that thought, he allowed his palm to venture down the gentle slope of her backside.

“Let go of me, please.”

She didn't sound like she meant it at all. Nevertheless, the negative words broke his spell.

“Why?” he asked, releasing her, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Because I'm a Christian…a serious Christian, and I think you already know that. I'm not here to behave as if we're married.”

He stifled a groan. “You don't have to be married to be…friendly.”