Into the Flames (Perilous Connections: Book Two) by Delka Beazer

ou’re a geologist?” she gushes. S he’s up on her toes now , her body straining towards me, her breast s too visible beneath the white tank top are clearly outlined against the stretchy cotton. They’re not bad. H er mouth open s in a breathless little o of anticipation as if she expects it to be filled at any moment.
    There is zero interest from my body which is completely deadene d to her well practiced and no doubt thoroughly sampled wares. Daphne had taken all my interest .
    Nonetheless I smile as if she’d just made an adorable mistake, “botanist,” I clarify humbly.
    She fairly simpers in excitement, flicking a moistened tongue over her parted lips, there’s nothing quite like bringing home a man with an important sounding job title . I repress a sigh of irritation.
    But then again I experience an unusual speck of empathy for her and I try to let her down softly. “Perhaps we’ll meet up somewhere on Montserrat . It’ s only thirty square miles. ” Not many places to hide unfortunately .
    Her face caves in wi th disappointment. “I guess …” S he g ives me another longing glance. “W ell , I’ll be seeing you around.” She moves away with barely concealed reluctance.
    Relieved I face the sea again. Its damp air hits my face, tunnels into my nostrils. We are pulling into the dock and there is a stream of people waiting to board to go back to Antigua. The blue gre y waves lap at the wooden feet of t he pier .
    I look around for Daphne, Elaine and Aubrey. They are at the back of the crowd. I let the tide of people carr y me along toward the exit and o nto the pier. We are bustl ed through with barely a glance from the two immigration officials waiting, they are too busy l aughing and gossiping with each other.
    I wait for Daphne in the small, strategically placed eating area several feet away. T here is a restaurant right behind me, it s counter is decorated with sm all jars of ketchup and mustard. T he smell of bacon and scram bled eggs hangs heavy in the air , keep ing the scent of the sea at bay. M y stomach grumbles as I watch amusedly while several tourist rush past me to be the first ones in line to order a meal.
    I claim a table, and then find ing Elaine and Aubrey in the crowd beckon them over. I feel guilty at the look of worry that has become plastered on Elaine’s face. But Aubrey is perky and happy, thanks no doubt to the chocolate he’d consumed and the boat ride.
    I’d forgotten that most children loved adventures, especially unexpected ones. Still Elaine doesn’t appear as such a shrew now, and instead of greed or hostility c onfusion dominates her face.
    I can’t blame her . They take a seat. I bend over to her. “Order something to eat. T hen we’ ll find out if those relatives of yours can point us in the right direction to rent a house for a few days."
    A well trained waitress immediately bustles ove r to our table. I excuse myself and make my way to Daphne who is standing by the rope which separates the se a from the pier. She is watching the ferry reload with its new passengers.
    I don’t have t o be psychic to know what she’s thinking. That she should be on it.
    The roar of the ferry engine is beginning to split the air and it churns the water, sending up white islands in the waves. It is going within minutes, parting the sea like a lumbering dame determined to find its port.
    But the ferry d oes not long claim my attention. A t my approach Daphne’s shoulders tense , and I see the stiffness overcome her entire body, particularly her hands which clench on the rope. She keeps her head straight, refusing to make eye contact with me.
    I want her to turn around and look at me. She is already in my blood, after just two days and two soul shattering experiences in her arms. That more than anything had been the reason for my harshness in the bathroom. I can not allow myself to fall i n love with her because I don’ t inten d to see her again after I leave. A nd that would be