by Jane Porter
“You’re allowed to have opinions.”
“I’ll voice them if they’ll be helpful. Me judging your female friends isn’t helpful. It’s just me being petty and unkind and unnecessary.”
“Why do I feel like you are a rare breed?”
“Because I am strange. I don’t fit in. I never have.”
“Sounds a bit defeatist, don’t you think?”
“I would agree with you if I were here licking my wounds. But I’m here by choice, because I’m happy here. I sleep well here. I can breathe here. I don’t feel odd or different, and on Khronos I don’t second-guess myself, and that’s a good thing.”
“You’re saying society makes you uncomfortable.”
“Absolutely.” She carried his plate and fork to the small sink in her very small kitchen and felt his gaze bore into her back as she filled the small plastic dish tub with water to let them soak. “But I’ve been raised outside society so it’s to be expected.”
“Have you ever lived in a city?”
“Honolulu.”
“Is that a proper city?”
She turned and shot him a disapproving look. “Yes. Honolulu has some beautiful architecture and it has a fascinating history. Hawaii isn’t just beaches and surfing.” She didn’t tell him, though, that she didn’t enjoy going back to Oahu anymore because it was too urban for her now. There were far too many cars and people and it had been overwhelming, which was why she’d elected to remain behind on Khronos while her father went to teach.
She turned away from the sink, wiped her hands dry on a dish towel and carried the water carafe to the table. “There were maybe twelve of you that came onto the beach,” she said, taking her seat again. “Seven men, including you, and five women. The yacht was huge. One of the biggest, most luxurious yachts I’ve ever seen. Your group would come onto the beach during the day and everyone would swim and sunbathe, eat and drink.” She shot him a long look. “There was lots of drinking. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.”
“And the night I went overboard?”
“There was music playing—as always—and a party. As always. Your friends were on the top two decks—the top deck you all used as a disco, so the music and dancing were there, but there were others on the second deck, and I wasn’t sure if they were in a hot tub or a pool, but people there were just hanging out, talking and laughing. But what got my attention on that last night was the arguing at the back of the yacht. I heard voices, or thought I heard voices, and things sounded like they were getting a little heated. It was what caught my attention and what drew me to the edge of the water.”
“I was arguing?” he asked quietly.
She hesitated, frowning. “Yes. No. I don’t actually know that it was you. I just heard arguing, and then there was a shout and a splash. I couldn’t see that well and for a second wondered if someone had maybe jumped overboard, but when the person went under and didn’t resurface, I panicked and raced out.”
“Saving me.”
She tapped her fingers on the table, suddenly uncomfortable. “I didn’t know it was you. I just knew someone was in trouble.”
“That couldn’t have been an easy swim.”
“No, but I was terrified you were going to drown. I couldn’t let it happen.”
“You risked your life for a stranger.”
“What is the point of being a strong swimmer if I can’t save someone now and then?”
She’d deliberately kept her tone light, wanting to ease the tension.
He didn’t smile. “I would have died without you.”
“But you didn’t. Now we just need to get your memory back, and all will be well.” She gave him a bright smile and then rose, moving around the room, adjusting the shutters to give them more of the evening’s breeze, and then taking her broom and sweeping out some sand that had found its way inside.
She could feel his gaze on her the entire time and it made her skin prickle and heat. She felt herself flush and her pulse quicken. He watched her the way surfers watched the waves—with focus and quiet intensity. It was unnerving and she suddenly wanted to adjust her skirt and gather her hair. She wanted to be pretty and worth the attention—
Josephine gave her head a shake.
She couldn’t try to be someone she wasn’t. She’d done that in the past, in Honolulu, for example, and it had been disastrous. “Judging from your accent,” she said crisply, giving the threshold one last hard sweep of the broom, “you could be from Belgium, Luxembourg, France, Italy, Switzerland, Monaco, Sicily, Malta, Aargau—maybe even America. You’ve certainly managed to nail the American drawl.”
He grimaced. “I don’t feel American.”
She returned the broom to the corner. “Then we can cross the States off the list.” She did a quick count in her head. “Leaving nine possible cultures or nationalities.”
“We’re whittling down the list.”
She laughed, and then her laughter faded as she studied the huge bruise still darkening his brow. “I just wish I knew how that happened,” she said, nodding at his temple. “Were you injured in the fall? Did it happen before you went over the side?”
“I’ve wondered the same.”
She studied his expression, debating if she should reveal her worries, but then he said what she’d been thinking, his voice deep, his delivery slow and thoughtful, “Because if it wasn’t accidental—that would change everything, wouldn’t it?”
CHAPTER TWO
HE DIDN’T KNOW his name. He didn’t know where he was from. He didn’t know what he did, or where he lived, or why he’d even be on a yacht “with friends.” He didn’t know if someone had meant him harm or if he’d simply had an accident and fallen overboard.
But there was one thing he did know, and it was this: he wanted her.
He woke thinking about Josephine and fell asleep thinking about her and it was all he could do to hide the physical evidence of his desire. He wasn’t a boy. It shouldn’t be difficult to control his hunger, but the fierceness of his desire made him wonder if he’d ever felt like this about anyone before or if this was typical of him. Desire. Hunger. Impatience.
Perhaps the intensity of the need was due to all the other unknowns.
He tried to distract himself with reading the books on the shelves in the house. When he was tired of reading, he swam or lay on the warm sand, soaking in the heat of the sun. But inevitably, as time passed, his thoughts turned to Josephine. He wanted to see her. He just wanted to be near her, so he’d pull a shirt on, one of the shirts from her father’s closet that she’d lent him, and assist her with her work. He’d help with her notes, or he’d water the garden—anything if it meant he could be at her side, as he’d come to crave her shape, her scent, her smile.
She was beautiful and brilliant as well as innocent and earnest. He was certain she was a rare gem, a jewel among even the world’s most beautiful women, and he said that to her one day, after they’d emerged from the sea following a swim.
She smiled at him, amused but also shy. “Thank you for the compliment, but seeing as you don’t remember anything of your world, I’m not sure it’s valid.”
“I don’t have to compare you to know that you’re smart and kind. You’re also cheerful and optimistic, and you make me happy. I have a feeling I’m not always easy to please.”
“You certainly weren’t cheerful on the beach with your friends. In fact, you were often quite aloof, sitting off on your own, staring out at the ocean. I would watch you and sketch you—”
“Sketch me?”
She nodded, blushing. “It’s what I like to do when I have free time.”
“I haven’t seen you draw since I’ve been here.”
“I do when you’re not around, or late at night when you’re sleeping.”
“What do you draw?”
“This and that.�
�� Her blush deepened. “Mostly you.”
He loved how her pink cheeks made her eyes look even more green. She was so fresh and pretty. She reminded him of a mermaid...a siren from the sea. “Why draw me?”
“You fascinate me.”
“Why?”
“You have to know.” Her lips pressed, her expression suddenly reminding him of a prim schoolteacher. “Don’t make me spell it out.”
He was enchanted by the line her full lips made and the firmness of her chin. His fingers itched to reach out and trace her pink cheek and the shape of her mouth. And just like that, his body hardened, the desire hot and insistent. “Apparently, my head injury has made me a little slow. Be kind and explain to me why someone like me would fascinate you?”
Her chin lifted higher. “I’ll only tell you this one time.”
“I’m listening.”
“You’re unbearably attractive—”
“Unbearably?”
“You’re very intelligent.”
“Can we get back to the unbearably attractive part? Is it possible to be unbearably attractive?”
“Yes. You’ve proven it. Let me continue.” She tapped her fingers as if counting her points. “You have a sense of humor—when you want to.”
“I suppose that is a drawback, being unpredictable.”
Her lips twitched. “You have rich friends. That yacht was enormous. But that’s really more of a negative then a plus.”
“Why a negative?”
“From an environmental standpoint, it’s terrible.”
“I agree.”
Her brows arched. “You do?”
“I do. I’m always worried about the environment.”
“You are?”
He nodded.
She frowned, a faint link forming between her eyebrows. “That’s interesting,” she murmured.
“Is it?”
Josephine nodded. “You’re starting to have a clearer sense of self. I think some of your memories are returning. This is a good thing.”
He felt a sudden wash of unease, and he didn’t understand it. The return of his memory should be a great thing, and yet all he felt was a pervasive dread. “Let’s talk about you instead.”
“Why? I’m a boring academic—”
“Not boring, and academics are exciting.”
She laughed. “Are they?”
“I went to school with brilliant women. There is nothing sexier than a smart woman—” he broke off as he realized what he’d said. He’d gone to school with brilliant women. And he knew he hadn’t meant high school or grammar school. He’d meant university, and the words had been so comfortable, so natural. He also knew that calling university school was very American. Had he gone to school—college—in America?
He could see from Josephine’s expression that she’d heard the reference, too, and understood it, as well.
“Your memory is returning,” she said softly, breathlessly.
“You’re healing me,” he said. “All this sun and swimming.”
She smiled back at him. “It’s not as if there’s a lot to do here. No TV or video games.”
“But even if you had those, I don’t think it’s something you’d do. You love being outside. You’re at home in the sea.”
Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were bright as she tucked a long strand of sun-streaked hair behind her ear. “I’ve always grown up next to the sea. First in Hawaii and then here. I can’t imagine not swimming. If I go too many days without getting wet, I feel off. The sea always restores me.”
“You are a fish.”
She laughed. “My father says the same thing. He says that I have scales and they dry out if I’m out of the water too long. Thus my close proximity to the beach.”
“So maybe not a fish but a mermaid.”
“Maybe,” she answered, smiling, feeling strangely shy and sensitive because everything inside her seemed to be shifting and lurching. Changing.
She’d noticed it before, and she’d tried to suppress the feelings, but she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t happening, or real, any longer. She couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t aware of her. She couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t something taut and electric between them, because there was something about the way he looked at her, something in the intensity of his expression that made the air catch in her throat, making her heart gallop. The way he looked at her terrified her and yet, at the same time, thrilled her. Being near him was wonderful, confusing, exhilarating. No one had ever looked at her as if she were so important. No one had ever made her feel so beautiful. Every conversation made her feel alive, and she didn’t know why because there was nothing terribly revealing said. And yet he fascinated her. He’d fascinated her on the beach when he’d been just a mysterious stranger, and her fascination only grew with every day because how could he—this gorgeous, handsome stranger—want her?
And yet, being wanted was doing something to her, seducing her, making her question everything she believed. She’d always thought that she’d never have sex with someone, not unless he was her forever love, the man who would marry her, the man who would share a life with her. Looking into his eyes, she figured she was losing out on something beautiful. This felt special. It felt like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, something she wasn’t prepared to miss.
It helped that she knew the attraction wasn’t one-sided.
It was clear from the heat in his gaze that he desired her, and the knowledge was a heady power. An aphrodisiac that made her restless and curious. He could make her feel so much with just a look. How would she feel if he touched her? Kissed her?
She didn’t let herself think further than that. She’d never experienced more than a couple kisses, kisses that hadn’t inspired her in any way, making her think there was no need to repeat the experience. Until now. Somehow she sensed that kissing her mysterious stranger would be entirely different. Maybe even life-changing.
But did she want that?
She looked hard at her stranger, who truthfully was no longer a stranger, but someone who was quickly becoming very important to her.
She’d spent so much of her life alone, or alone with her father—which was virtually alone since he rarely spoke, his head always down, buried in his work. She understood her father’s fascination with his work and his commitment to research, but every now and then she wanted...more.
She wanted to be seen.
She wanted to be known.
She wanted to be...loved.
Growing up as she had had taught her tremendous self-reliance, but there were times she felt that her life had also left her empty and aching for more. More connection. More expression. More emotion.
Usually these thoughts and feelings happened late at night, and she’d blame fatigue and the need to sleep.
But she was feeling these things almost constantly lately. The arrival of her mystery man had changed something within her.
His arrival had made her aware of the world out there and that there was more to the world than she knew. But even with that knowledge, she also knew she was happy on Khronos. Most of the time she wanted nothing but her work and the sun and the sea. Most of the time she was utterly content.
She needed to be content again.
Abruptly, Josephine rose, moving away, trying to escape the heat suffusing her skin and ache filling her chest. Her father had left her here to manage the foundation’s station. She needed to stay focused on her responsibilities. “I’d better get back to work,” she said huskily.
“Can I help?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m just going to check the solar panels. You relax—”
“That’s all I’ve done the past few days. Show me what you’re doing, or what needs to be done, so I can help while I’m here.”
She smiled tightly. “Okay, follow m
e.”
The old Greek cottage had been constructed of stones, without the charm of whitewash, and while it looked ancient and almost abandoned from the front, there were clean, well-maintained stairs behind—stairs that rose up to a clearing filled with a mass of solar panels and equipment, and another smaller stone house.
“That’s where the foundation keeps all the seismic monitoring equipment. The equipment is connected to portable seismometers along the edge of the island, as well as some in the water. You see, we’re sitting practically on top of a volcano. Khronos is just the tip, which is why we have the seismometers to detect rock movement in the earth’s crust. Some movements may be the result of rising magma beneath the surface, which could mean an awakening volcano. We also have equipment here that monitors gases like sulfur dioxide, as an increase in sulfur dioxide could be an indication of magma near the earth’s surface.”
“And if that should happen? What do you do?”
“It hasn’t happened in the past ten years, so I think I’m safe. Odds are, I’m safe.”
“You’re pretty nonchalant about something potentially catastrophic.”
“Some people are terrified of volcanoes, particularly supervolcanoes, but there has never been such an eruption in human memory, and did you know there are actually quite a few people who choose to live near a volcano because they’re drawn to the geothermal energy, the minerals and the fertile soil? I’m a fan of geothermal energy because it’s very clean, and the resource is nearly inexhaustible.
“Speaking of energy, come see,” she said, walking farther back along a compact dirt path that cut deeply through the rough, rocky terrain dotted with a few gnarled olive trees. “Twenty years ago the foundation was powered by those wind turbines before us. Unfortunately, they were prone to breaking down and the repairs were costly, and then new, improved solar technology became a better answer, so eventually no one bothered to repair or replace the turbines.”
“They do look forlorn,” he said, taking in the line of tall wind turbines that covered the top of the island.
