Chapter Three

Sandra

found

her

place

on

a

bench

seat

near

the

port

side

of

the

boat -

which

she

had

been

told

was

the

nautical

term

for

the

left

side.

Next

to

her

were

a

middle-aged

woman

and

her

husband,

Angela

and

Michael

Gibbons

of

New

Haven

Connecticut,

celebrating

their

thirty-fifth

wedding

anniversary.

Michael

announced

that

they

were

there

to

experience

all

sorts

of

new and exciting things, winking at his wife with a seductive smile

that

made

the

others

in

the

group

chuckle

and

his

wife

blush

profusely.

The

skipper

of

the

boat and their diving instructor

was

a

Frenchman

named

Ruelle

Lefebvre,

who

now

stepped

onto

the

vessel

and

went

into

the

glass-enclosed

cabin

where

the

steering

wheel

was.

His

sun-bleached hair

was

shoulder

length

and

pulled

into

a

ponytail

at

the

back

of

his

head,

his

face

and

hands

tanned

and

weathered

by

the

many

long

years

at

sea.

His worn

yellow

tee-shirt

and

faded cut-off blue

jean shorts stood out in stark contrast to the new

pair

of

black

sneakers

on

his

large

sockless

feet.

He

was

a

polite

man,

very

articulate

in

his

orders, and Sandra smiled at the way his

bright

green

eyes

sparkled

when

he

spoke.

Two

deck

hands

had

begun

to

secure

the

ropes

and

prepared

the

ship

for

the

open

seas

as

the

engines

turned

over

and

roared

to

life.

Sandra

felt

the

excitement

rise within her when

the

rest

of

the

group

took

up

the

seats

along

the

right

side

of

the

ship -

or

the

starboard

side - as

she

was

told. Their

conversations

took

on

a

tone

of

anxious

chattering, and Sandra found herself twisting her fingers together in her lap at an attempt to control her nerves. She looked

around

her

and

noted

that

she

was

the

only

one

without

a

partner,

and

was

slightly

embarrassed

about

the

fact,

but

she

sat

a

little

taller

in

her

seat

and

squared

her

shoulders

with

determination.

She

didn’t

need

a

partner

to

swim,

she

told

herself

proudly,

and

there

would

be

an

instructor

with

her

after

all

as

they

all

would

have.

She

would

just

have

to

experience

all

of

this

on

her

own,

without

a

significant other

or

special

someone

to

hold

her

hand,

like

the

others

had.

She

drew

a

deep

breath

to

steady

her

nerves

as

the

ship

suddenly

took

a

lunge

forward.

They

moved

slowly

out

of

the

stall

then

turned

and

picked

up

speed,

leaving

the

docks

behind

as

they

headed

into

the

open

waters to their designated diving site.

Her

excitement

began

to

mount,

and

she

turned

to

watch

the

ship

break

through

the

ocean’s

surface, drawing a few deep breaths to try and calm

her

anxiety.

“Hello

again,”

a

friendly

British

voice

said

beside

her

and

she

turned

with

a

start,

watching as

the

long

frame

of

Creighton

Ashford

sat

down

beside

her.

She

looked

into

a

pair

of

dark

sapphire

blue

eyes

and

was

momentarily

lost

in

their

depths.

His

smile

was

intriguing

and

genuine

as

he

leaned

against

the

back

of

the

seat

with

ease,

his

arm

resting

behind

her

on

the

railing.

“Hi,”

was

about

as

much

as

she

could

bring

herself

to

say,

her

breathing

more

rapid

than

a

few

minutes

ago

and

her

throat

suddenly

dry.

“Is

this

your

first

lesson?”

he

asked

with

a

raised

brow.

She

wished

he

wouldn’t

look

so

inviting. It

made

it

difficult

to

concentrate.

She

turned

her

face

away

from

him

and

nodded.

“Well,

Ruelle

is

a

great

instructor.

You’re

lucky

you

could

get

in

on

one

of

his

classes.”

“Do

you

know

Monsieur

Lefebvre?”

she

asked

looking

back

at

him,

trying

to

engage

him

in

a

normal

conversation,

and

forget

the

extraordinarily

good

looks that sent her heart racing again.

“Yes,

I

took

lessons

from

him

about

seven

years

ago.

Ruelle

is

really

one

of

the

best

divers

in

all

of

France.

I

try

to

come

here

on

holiday

whenever

I

can,

though

it’s

not

often

enough.”

She

stared

at

the

man

and

smiled,

not

knowing

exactly

what

to

say.

He

seemed

open

and

friendly,

completely

relaxed as he sat next

to

her

on

the

cushioned

bench.

The

Skipper

pulled

the

boat

to

a

halt

while

they

were

talking,

and

the

apprehension

she

had

been

experiencing

earlier

was

back,

tenfold.

She

looked

over

the

back

of

the

seat

and

into

the

clear

crystal

blue

of

the

Mediterranean

Sea,

fighting

the

urge

to

vomit.

It

wasn’t

the

ship

or

the

slight

rocking

on

the

water

that

made

her

feel

ill. It

was

the

idea

that

she

was

going

to

be

down

there

in

a

few

moments.

Maybe

this

wasn’t

such

a

great

idea,

she

told

herself

and

quickly

tried

to

think

of

a

way

to

escape

going

into

the

water.

“Crey,”

Ruelle

said

with

a

jubilant

tone

to

his

heavy

accent,

causing

the

heads

of

the

passengers

to

turn

toward

the

two

men.

“I

did

not

see

you

come

on

board,

but

I’m

very

glad

you

are

here

Mon Ami."

“Bonjour

Ruelle,”

Creighton

said

with

a

chuckle

as

he

stood

and shook

the

older

man’s

hand,

smiling

that

brilliant heart stopping

white

smile.

“Heureux

de

vous

voir

a

nouveau.”

Sandra

really

wished

she

had

taken some French lessons before coming here.

About

all

she

understood

out

of

their

conversation

was

the

fact

they

were

friends,

other

than

that

she

was

about

as

naive

as

a

newborn

babe.

“What

brings

you

here,

Crey?”

Ruelle

asked

him

cheerfully.

“Thought

I’d

take

a

dive

while

the

day

was

young,

and

who

else

would

I

go

with

but

my

old

friend?”

“Très

bien,”

the

man

said

with

a

glance

toward

Sandra.

“This

is

very

fortunate.

Mademoiselle

Dennis

does

not

have

a

partner.

You

can

go

down

with

her,

yes?”

Creighton

turned

to

Sandra, his

smile

was

warm

and

inviting.

She

could

feel

the

curious

eyes

of

the

other

passengers

as

they

came

to

rest

on

her

red

face.

“I

would

love

to

go

down

with

Miss

Dennis,”

he

said

winking at the young woman.

The thought of being alone with this man, who sent her heart in a tizzy, didn’t exactly help relieve her anxiety.

“Merveilleux.

With

you,

she

will

not

need

a

trainer.”

Ruelle

slapped

the

man

on

the

back.

“We

will

go

off

the

aft deck,”

he

said

as

he

passed

through

the

small aisle

between

the

passengers.

“Remember

to

fall

backward

into

the

water. Let

the

tank

take

you

down

and

stay

with

your

trainer.”

Ruelle

continued

to

speak,

reintegrating

his

instructions

as

he

led

the

group

to

the

back

of

the

boat.

The

other

couples,

along

with

the

professional

scuba

trainers,

stepped

to

the

back

of

the

boat

and

began

to

strap

on

their

tanks

while

Sandra

sat

trying

to

think

of

a

reason

to

back

out. She was beginning to doubt her sanity for coming on this boat, and her stomach lurched at the thought of what might happen.

“Scared?”

Creighton

asked

as

he

sat

down

next

to

her,

his

arm

resting

on

the

railing

behind

her

again.

“I’m

not

sure

this

was

such

a

good

idea,”

she

whispered,

feeling

suddenly

very

small

and

afraid

to

be

alone

so

far

from

home.

“I’ll

be

right

beside

you.

I

won’t

let

anything

happen.”

He

stood

up

and

stretched

out

his

hand

for

her

to

take and

she

looked

at

it,

biting

her

lower

lip.

She

found

it

extremely

difficult

to

breathe

when

he

was

just

sitting

next

to

her. What

would

happen

to

her

if

she

dared

to

touch

him?

“Trust

me?”

he

asked

softly.

Something

in

his

words

made

her

look

up

into

his

deep-blue

eyes

and

suddenly

she

felt

safe.

She

slowly

reached

up,

slipping

her

hand

into

his

and

bit her bottom lip to steady her nerves.

A

shockwave

passed

through

her

as

he

squeezed

her

fingers

and

pulled

her

gently

from

her

seat.