White Ginger

chapter 7



As Leilani cut through the sparkling waters over Donovan’s Reef, Amelie paused in the hatchway and watched Arne. Shirtless and wearing cutoff jeans frayed at the knees, he steered with one hand. Dark-eyed, dark-haired, he looked like a young Hawaiian god, all-powerful and in complete command of his world.

With a guilty start, she realized he’d turned and was watching her, a slow smile forming.

Caught out! Way to go, Melie.

Quickly, she stepped through the hatch.

“I thought you might be thirsty.” Carefully, she placed a bottle of juice in the drink holder.

“Great, thanks.”

“Are we nearly there?” She fixed her gaze on the horizon, seeing little but feeling her cheeks warm.

“Not long now. Take a look with the binoculars. Can you see the marker buoy?”

He flung an arm casually around Amelie’s shoulders and steadied her as she fiddled with the focus. His sleekly muscled chest against her side, the six-pack of his taut stomach muscles flexed as he steered, masterful yet economical in his movements. She pressed back into him. It was either that, or she’d turn and plaster herself against his body. A bigger, choppier wave hit the boat. She staggered against Arne. He dropped his arm to her waist and pulled her between him and the wheel.

Lowering the binoculars, she looked back at him. “I thought you said it would be calm over the reef?”

“More chop than there should be. The sooner we get down, the better. See those clouds?”

She followed his gaze. High masses of vibrant white clouds were building in the west.

“We could get a storm later.”

“Did I really have to hear that?” She smiled to take the fear out of her words. Storms were okay–on land. What would a storm at sea be like? It looked as though she was going to find out later.

“I have to check the monitors. But next time–we’ll aim for a more relaxed dive.” A prickle of unease flittered up her spine. She hoped he didn’t notice as they swayed with the rhythm of the boat, his eyes fixed on the sea ahead.

“Remember–try for relaxed breathing. You don’t want to be blinded by your bubbles.”

Although she had taken a diving course when she was with Victor, Arne insisted on going through the steps to refresh her memory. She gripped her hands tightly together, almost tying knots in her arms at the thought of what lay ahead. Diversion–that’s what she needed.

“What are Sanderson’s plans for the tourist development?”

“He’s trying to pressure Mayor Mike and council to pass his rezoning application. That could make it harder to fight him in court about the sea rights. If he has exclusive rights to the beachfront, he figures the court will look more favorably on his application to develop a ‘playground’ in the reef area around his development too. But Mike’s been around. He’s not going to be threatened by Sanderson.”

“So what can Sanderson do with the reef if he gets approval?”

“He wants to build an underwater restaurant and fake diving wreck among other things. He claims that the reef is strong and able to support such activities.” Arne’s frown, the sudden tension in his body, told Amelie more than words could how he felt about the developer’s plans.

“What he refuses to understand is that these reef areas are too fragile to sustain that sort of development. Pollution from the increased human activity could kill the corals, and the increased levels of nutrients from the extra sewage will have a major negative impact on the reef such that it may never recover. Then there are the effects of global warming such as coral bleaching, which I will admit,” he shrugged wryly, “is not solely Sanderson’s fault. However, his hotel’s activities would add to the thermal pollution with a similar overall effect.”

Arne’s passion for protecting the reefs was absolutely clear to Amelie. She’d had little idea that humans could impact so heavily on a natural area and suspected that there was much more to it than Arne had summed up for her.

“I suspect he’s falsifying data from the control areas, but I haven’t got incontrovertible proof yet.”

“What sort of proof are you looking for?” The video image surfaced. Could Sanderson have someone on his payroll unscrupulous enough to tamper with government equipment? Was that what the shape meant?

“Proof of sabotage. The area is off-limits to everyone, except me, and I’ve only had permission to go there on official business. Until now, I’ve had two days every two weeks when I could enter the area to read meters and reset our machines. These last two trips are out of schedule, which is why Rex had to sign off on them. I believe, and Terry agrees, that we should be seeing marked changes as a result of the tests, but there’s been almost no alteration in the data. That’s why we think someone’s tampered with our gear.”

“Has Sanderson got something to do with what’s happening? Do you think he’s behind the break-ins?”

Arne powered down the engine and brought the boat to a gently rocking glide close in to an orange and white buoy. Turning to Amelie, he shrugged. “I don’t know. But he’s capable of underhanded tricks. He didn’t build up his business by wholly honest dealings and practices.”

He swung up to lope along the side of the boat to the bow, dropping the anchor over the port side to steady her against the light swell rolling in. Having secured the boat, he set about bringing up the diving gear from below deck.

Amelie was almost morbidly fascinated as she watched him check air tanks, and sort through monitoring gear.

“I forgot the underwater camera. Hang on a sec.” When he returned topside, he raised the camera to her, swinging it toward her by its strap. “All yours to control.”

Her stomach spasmed at the sight of the speargun in his other hand, Jeff Jessup’s question uppermost in her mind. Did they really expect trouble out here? Or was the speargun for fish? Which was worse, Amelie couldn’t decide right now.

“Shall we try this on you?” Arne hoisted the scuba tank, holding it ready for her, effectively redirecting her thoughts from one set of worries to another. Gamely, she agreed. She removed her sarong, dropping it on the bench behind and stood in her old black and white one-piece swimsuit. It was more suitable for diving than the new bikini. Turning back to face Arne, she noticed he’d half donned a short-legged wetsuit which hung from his waist. She was definitely scared if she hadn’t noticed that straight away. Did he wear a pair of swimming trunks under it? Her mouth went dry at the thought.

Hold that thought, Melie. Lustful thoughts will get you through this ordeal.

He moved behind her and held the weight of the tank as she adjusted the shoulder straps. Reaching around for the waist clip, he tugged the length of strap more snugly into place, his hands warm through the material of her swimsuit and reassuring in their strength.

“You look after the camera. Photograph anything you think looks out of place. And anything you like as well. You might get some ideas for your paintings.” Handing her the camera, he helped her position herself on the edge of the boat.

As he adjusted the heavy diver’s watch on his right wrist, she snapped off a quick photo of him. “You said ‘anything I liked’! Remember?” White teeth flashed as he smiled disarmingly at her. He tapped her on the nose then fitted her mouthpiece so she couldn’t say any more. He grinned again at her wide-eyed show of innocence. Just before he put his mouthpiece in, he added, “Relax. Just allow yourself to roll in.” With a thumbs-up, he took her hand and smoothly tipped backward into the sun-kissed waves of the Pacific.

On the trip out, he had described the reef as a barrier reef, one of only two true barrier reefs in the Hawaiian Islands. “Rather like your Great Barrier Reef in Australia.” That reference reminded her of Victor and the shark. Ugh–that was the last thing she needed. Panicking was not an option. She concentrated on Arne’s flippers, following so close behind him she could feel the swirl of water created by each kick.

He led her to an area between ten and twenty meters down, guiding her along a length of reef he was monitoring. They glided above massive lobe corals and flat, encrusting rice corals. Rich colors, amazing shapes, movement, life. Where to look first? There was so much to see, so much she wanted to photograph. Would she be lucky enough to spot the Humuhumunukunukuapua'a, the triggerfish with a snout like a pig? The name fascinated her. Arne had described how it blew jets of water to uncover food lying hidden in the sand. She wanted to see it for herself. Not that she disbelieved him, but she was curious to see if it really had blue teeth to match its blue spine. The prospect of seeing such oddities was far better than contemplating other creatures lurking in the depths.

As they descended, she took care not to touch the poisonous spines of the black sea urchins, remembering Arne’s warnings about the burning sensations caused by even a light touch of their spines. Parrot fish, orange-band surgeon fish and yellow tangs grazed the rocks and dead coral for seaweeds, constantly cleaning up their habitat. Schools of tiny silver fingerlings darted here and there, always just out of range. From a small cave off to her right, a green sea turtle poked his nose out, as though checking on his neighbors, before launching himself off his front ledge and sedately paddling away.

For all her previous anxiety, with Arne by her side Amelie was entranced, avidly photographing fish and corals as though her life depended on it. She had known the reef would be interesting, although it frightened her, but the sense of wonder was unexpected as she glided effortlessly through the filtered blue light.

Indicating she was confident enough photographing the corals where she was, Arne went some way ahead to check the next meter. Amelie scanned her immediate environs. Her hair floated, mermaid-like around her shoulders, and the long bangs floated across her vision as she back paddled. Why hadn’t she had the foresight to tie her hair back before diving? It wasn’t as if she could toss her head to flick it back over her shoulders and out of her eyes.

Tilting her head forward, she noticed a smallish black box half buried in sand a meter or so to her left. It wasn’t one of Arne’s monitors. He’d been moving in a line more to her right. She stepped toward it as a streamlined shape crossed her line of vision.

Oh, God, no! A reef shark.

It filled her sight as it glided around the rocky outcrop just ahead. She couldn’t breathe. Fear paralyzed her legs. It circled right. Instinctively, she recoiled left, brought up short when her flipper caught in wire coils attached to the black box. Her hair floated in front of her mask and panic made her all thumbs as she blindly tugged at her flipper. Losing her balance, she floated to the sandy bottom, arms wildly reaching to put something, anything, between her and the monster. As she landed, a small puff of light sand arose round her hips. The shark circled just ahead.

Where was Arne? What could she do?

Water swirled at her back and she dropped the camera. The shark? Where was it?

Ice filled her veins. Her chest felt tight. She labored to drag air into her lungs. Her mouthpiece was wrenched out and the weight of her scuba tank disappeared as it was yanked violently from her shoulders. She spun off to the side, a sharp burning sensation attacking the back of her left shoulder. A human leg passed in front of her face before her hair blocked her vision.

Groping frantically for her air supply, her hand caught in the wires that protruded from the side of the black box. Wildly she tried to disengage from it while trying desperately to see where the reef shark was.

Her tank was gone. She had to get to the surface. But which way was up?

Lungs bursting, she pushed off from the sandy bottom. Panic on seeing the shark meant that she had taken short breaths. Now, she saw black spots on the periphery of her vision. A burning sensation rose in her throat.

Without warning, Arne was beside her, fitting his mouthpiece into her mouth, encircling her waist with his arm. Blessed air mixed with a little water in her mouth. Carefully, Arne guided her to the surface. When she indicated he should take a turn at the mouthpiece, he shook his head and kept her moving until warm, clear daylight touched her face.

She pulled the mouthpiece out and pushed her face mask up, gasping in great gulps of fresh air. Then she threw her arms around Arne’s neck and rested her forehead against his. His arms locked them together as she choked down a sob. He stroked down her cheek.

“Let’s get back to the boat.”

Leilani. Safety.

Only Arne’s grip on the back of her swimsuit kept her moving forward. By the time they reached the platform, she could barely raise her jelly legs to the ladder. Arne tucked her hands around the handhold before pulling himself up first. Reaching down, he hauled her up.

She huddled on the platform hugging her knees, forehead pressed against her forearms. The dangling strap of her swimsuit brushed annoyingly across her thigh.

Arne’s tank clattered on the deck, shortly followed by the rasp of his wetsuit zipper. She looked up as he dropped the inside out suit on his tank.

“Be right back.” He swung through the hatch, jumping down the steps into the cabin. The view of his back was almost as good as his front and yes, he wore swimming trunks under the suit. How weird. She’d almost died and now she was ogling Arne. Hysteria bubbled up. Firmly, she pressed her knuckles to her mouth to hold it in.

Arne reappeared, blanket in hand. He draped it around her shoulders, rubbing her back vigorously. “Warmer?”

Hunkered down beside her, his face white beneath his tan, he touched her cheek with fingers that trembled. “Are you okay?”

The impulse to giggle was still strong but her throat hurt so she nodded. Reaching to touch Arne’s face, something dragged her arm down. A small black box bumped between them.

“What the… Amelie, where did this come from?”

She looked uncomprehendingly at the wires wrapping her wrist. And at the black box dragging on the deck. Shaking her head, she met his gaze and held her arm toward him.

* * * *

Carefully, Arne untangled the wires, fingers feeling like thumbs. Amelie could have died down there. Because of him. His heart thudded and he bit down on self-recrimination. Time enough later to beat himself up for leaving her alone. First he needed to check Amelie. Had she any other injuries? And how in blazes had she lost her tank? What happened while he was too far away to see?

A red welt showed when he unwrapped the last strand, but at least there was no open cut. Gently, he brushed his thumb across the mark.

Please let that be the worst of it.

He gave the box a cursory look then placed it on the deck behind him. “Let’s get you warm.”

Scooping her into his arms, he carried her into the cabin, gently depositing her on the edge of the bunk. He slipped the blanket off her shoulders. His heartbeat slowed a little as he checked her arms and legs. No marks.

He kneeled on the bunk to check her back and fear shot through him. A trickle of blood ran from a cut on her shoulder. Definitely not a coral graze. The thin line looked more like a knife wound.

A knife!

He sucked in the exclamation that sprang to his lips. How? Who? His jaw clenched. Whoever attacked her was going to regret it.

“Arne, what is it?” Her voice was soft and raspy. She seemed unaware of the cut. How long had she been without oxygen? Had she seen her attacker?

Don’t scare her more than she is already.

“You’ve got a cut on your shoulder. I’ll make a cover for it.” Uncurling his fists, he reached for the first aid box. Methodically, he cleaned the wound, found a light pad and taped it in place then tucked the blanket around her again. Pulling her onto his lap, he held her close, rubbing warmth into her limbs.

Her body gradually relaxed and his rubbing morphed into stroking her back and arms. Her head tipped onto his broad shoulder. Was she asleep? He edged forward, aiming to deposit her on the bunk while he examined the box.

She raised her head. Meeting his gaze, she shrugged an arm out of the blanket to rub his cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Turning his head, he dropped a kiss into her palm. “How are you feeling now?”

“Okay.”

“Are you up to talking about it?” Much as he didn’t want to distress her, he needed to know what he had to deal with.

She took a deep breath, and nodded, describing the moments immediately before and following her sighting of the shark.

“The only thing I really noticed was an oddly shaped mole in a tattoo of a breaking wave on a leg. I’ve no idea who it was, but he must have badly wanted to stop me photographing something.” She shivered and he tightened his hold.

“I lost the camera, but that box might be important if it’s not one of yours.”

Arne looked out to the stern where he’d left the black box. He clenched his jaw, thinking of the danger he’d unwittingly led Amelie into. Bringing her out here had seemed such a good idea after the break-in. He’d keep an eye on her, protect her. A niggling voice in his head added, and keep her near you!

Instead, she had been attacked and nearly died because someone was after him! How could she ever forgive that, forgive him for putting her in such peril? He’d never forgive himself.

“I’m sorry for being such a wimp.” She spoke softly, her words muffled against his shoulder. “That’s my worst nightmare.”

“You’re no wimp, Amelie. Anyone would feel shaken if they’d been attacked like that. I’m so sorry I brought you into such danger. I had no idea anyone would come after me like that. You should never have been caught up in any of this!”

“The attack?” She looked perplexed. “I’m talking about the shark. It scared me witless.”

“It’s harmless. Anyone else would be traumatized by the attack, but you’re frightened by a reef fish. It was only a small white-tipped reef shark, four feet long if it was lucky.” Gently he pushed back a wayward strand of hair, keeping his other arm firmly around her shivering body. She wasn’t kidding. Obviously she had a real phobia of sharks.

“I know it’s stupid and irrational, that it was smaller than me and all that, but I know it’s coming for me. I have this recurring nightmare when I get stressed.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” She needed to talk this through. He waited patiently.

She was silent for several moments before drawing in a deep breath. “It’s always the same. It started after–after a diver was taken on the reef when I was on holiday with…on holiday up in North Queensland. The police divers found a body part in the area and the journalists were only interested in the gruesome details.” She shuddered.

“While we were waiting…I was on the search boat at the time…well, while the police were diving, I was leaning over the side and a shark, probably not even the same one but it seemed huge, glided past just below me. It’s so prehistoric. I mean, there’s nothing like it. All I could see was this killer. Anytime I get stressed, I dream of it.”

“What do you dream, Amelie?” He rocked her in his arms, stroking her hair to soothe her.

“I dream I’m sitting astride this brick wall surrounded by sea. My feet only just clear the waves. They’re getting higher and higher, but never quite reach my feet. Then the sharks circle, just looking at me out of their beady black eyes. I always wake in a sweat.”

“They won’t get you. I’ll look after you. I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you. Sshh.” He rocked her as he would a child on his lap. “There’s my darling girl. It will be okay.”

Gently he kissed her eyes, forehead, hair, stroking her, offering whispered reassurance. She wound her arms around his neck, the blanket falling as she leaned in to nuzzle his ear. Trailing kisses down her neck to her bare shoulders, he tasted salt, sharp but sweet on her warm skin. She shifted on his lap, and his body reacted predictably. His thigh muscles tensed and his breath hissed out. Carefully, he shifted her bottom back to ease his growing discomfort but his hand, as though with a mind of its own, continued stroking her neck and shoulder, unintentionally dislodging the one good strap of her swim suit.

He bent and kissed the bared skin of her collarbone. She drew in a sharp breath then released an almost inaudible sigh. Her hands slid down his bare torso, grazing his nipples. Fire raced along every nerve in his body and his erection throbbed against her thigh. Did she know what she was doing to him? Then she lowered her head to nibble his neck and the pressure against his erection became a sweet torture.

Stay still, Melie. Don’t move or else.

She wriggled and the tightening of her bottom and thigh muscles in his lap shot an electric current through him.

He dragged in and held a ragged breath. For one eternal moment, he was still. Then, like a dam wall bursting, his restraint exploded. Frantically, he pulled her around to straddle his lap. She wound her legs around his back, pressing her body tightly against his. Reason flew out the window. Running his hands down her curves, he slid her swimsuit down to her waist and pulled her hips against his. Amelie’s fingers slid through his curls and turned his head until he kissed her lips.

Frantic to make love to her, his kiss demanded entry. Her mouth opened invitingly and his tongue shafted in and out.

She dug her fingers into the tense muscles of his neck, over his shoulders. His muscles flexed when her hands roved across his back. Kissing hungrily down her neck, he tasted warm woman–Amelie–bare skin. Paradise. And then he encountered the gentle swell of her breasts. And groaned.

He should stop. Now.

Raising his head he met her dreamy, unfocussed gaze. One of them had to be sensible.

“Amelie. No. You’re hurt.”

“Only if you stop now.” Her whisper was like a command before she tugged his head back down to one breast. How could he resist her?

Warm breath fanned across his ear as his mouth found her rosy nipple. She arched toward him, her head tipped back.

His arousal nestled between her legs, thrusting up between their bellies as damp heat spread between them. Wriggling, she pressed harder against him until only thin material separated them. His arousal throbbed, demanding release. He suckled her breast and her breathing quickened to tiny panting gasps. Sensing she was close to climax, he fought to hold back his own need.

Leilani lurched heavily. The thump broke his hold on her breast. He moved his legs to avoid tumbling the two of them to the cabin floor. Dimly, he became aware of their intimate hold on one another.

With an iron will, Arne raised his head, the effort of pulling away from her almost more than he could bear. He groaned as she reached for him. Grasping her wrists gently between their bodies, he created space between them. “You’ve had a bad shock, Amelie. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I wasn’t fair.”

With shaky fingers he raised the sole intact strap of her swimsuit to her shoulder and carefully covered her with the blanket. “I’m so sorry.”

“What’s the matter?” Her voice was husky.

With desire? Fatigue?

“Didn’t you like that?”

“Yes, of course I did. But you’re hurt. You’re in shock and I took advantage of you. Amelie, I’m sorry.”

He drew a ragged breath and eased her off his lap. “I’d better radio a report in. Why don’t you shower and get dressed?” He turned on his heel and headed up to the deck.