Passionate Choice

Chapter 8.3

The taxi dropped her off in a courtyard that she remembered from her last visit, planted with palm trees and colourful blossoming shrubs. Many people were coming and going up a flight of shallow steps. Picking up her bags, Selena went up them, turning right into the foyer of the hotel. After registering, she was shown to a room overlooking the marina where numerous boats gleamed in the sunshine, tied up to the wooden docks.

Taking her time she showered, changed her clothes and went down to the restaurant for a sandwich and a cold drink. She was, she discovered, having great difficulty in restraining herself from getting up and rushing down to the marina office to ask the whereabouts of a yacht called Jellyfish and its skipper. But it wouldn't do to approach Keith in that way. She didn't want him to think she was pursuing him. She just wanted him to know she had made a choice and that she hadn't chosen Ben Hunt. Once he knew, the next move would be up to him and it was quite possible her choice would make no difference to him.

When she had eaten, she strolled slowly down to the group of buildings where the dive-shop and the marina office were situated. For a few moments, she lingered by the dive-shop peering in through the windows past the diving gear, swimsuits and other nautical clothing that were on show, to the counter inside, trying to make out whether the same people had worked in the store. She recognized neither of the two young women.

She was just turning away from the store when she collided with someone who was passing behind her, a dark-bearded, black-haired hulk of a man. Bill Davis.

"Well," he drawled, his dark brown eyes dancing with mockery. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on my way back to Britain, really," she said coolly. "Stopping over before catching a plane to Miami." She remembered their last meeting and added rather awkwardly, "Bill, I'm sorry about the other evening at the Pelican's Roost. I did recognize you and remember you, but I..."

"It's OK. Keith filled me in," he replied, his eyes losing their warm merriment and becoming harder as their glance swept over her. "Your professor here too?" He jerked his head towards the hotel building.

"No. I'm here alone. I was thinking of having a look at the yachts." She paused, waiting.

"If you were hoping to find Keith, you're too late," he said in a cold flat voice. "He left early this morning."

Disappointment surged through her. Not until that moment had she realized he much she had been hoping to find Keith.

"Do you know where he was bound for?" she asked hurriedly. Bill has half turned away from her as if eager to be on his way. He glanced down at her with hostile eyes.

"Why should I tell you?" he retorted nastily. "You're going to be hitched to the professor so why go chasing after Keith? Like me, he doesn't care for two-timing bitches."

She tried not to flinch at the insult. Stiffening a little, she tilted her chin at him and said calmly, "I'm not chasing after Keith. I had thought that if he was here, I could give him a message, an answer to a challenge he made before he left Sanada." She managed a careless shrug. "But as he isn't here, I can't do it, can I? And since you're so interested," she went in with a touch of sarcasm, "I might as well tell you I'm not going to be hitched to the professor. He and I have split. Nice seeing you, Bill." She turned away from him to walk along to the marina office.

"He's headed for San Juan," bill called after her. "Should be there by tomorrow. After that Puerto Plata."

He didn't follow her, nor did she go into the marina office. There was no need. She knew now that Keith had left. She turned off along one of the docks, pretending she was admiring the various yachts that were tied up, stern first, but hardly seeing them because her mind was leaping ahead; wondering how she could get to San Juan tomorrow. Suddenly, she was no longer taking her time. Whirling round, she almost ran back along the dock, past the office and the dive-shop and up the ramp to the hotel. At the telephone, she thumbed hastily through the directory searching for a travel agency. Soon, she was talking to a travel agent who in a few minutes, had her booked on the morning flight to San Juan. Leaving the hotel, Selena caught a taxi and drive into Charlotte Amelie to pick up and pay for her ticket and also to get the travel agent to book her a room in a hotel in San Juan. That done, she spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around pretty arcades and passages of the town, visiting boutiques and well-known stores, buying gifts for her sister, Aubrey, and her children.

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