Trouble in Paradise (Romantic Suspense, Completed)

Chapter 7

Gabe may have been able to distract me yesterday while I was awake, but his touch didn't extend to my sleeping hours. Or rather, my tossing, turning, getting up and down and pacing around the room hours.

In the end, I resorted to watching BBC World until a documentary about the trials and tribulations of Mongolian basket weavers sent me off. Unfortunately, the tale of colourful woven wares and cheerful peasants worked a little too well, and I didn't wake up until eight thirty the next day.

Eating breakfast was clearly an impossibility, but could I get away without a shower? I sniffed my armpits. They'd do. And I could put my hair up into a ponytail. It was only going to get wet anyway.

I threw on an old T-shirt and a ratty pair of shorts. Gabe had seen me at my worst already, and if I could do anything to put off the men that the hotel staff kept dredging up, then I was going to try it.

I speed-walked as fast as I could in a pair of flip-flops, falling through the dive centre door in a flurry of apologies for being late. Then I realised that Gabe must be running on Egyptian time because there was no sign of him.

Dammit, I would have had time for breakfast, after all. I considered making a quick run to pick up coffee and some fruit. Okay, a croissant. And perhaps one of those little pastries that they had yesterday.

Alas, I knew that if I decided to go to the restaurant, then it guaranteed Gabe would turn up the instant I left. I headed instead towards the small seating area by the front door, intending to grab a magazine and relax until Mr. Tardy arrived.

Except when I turned, I realised there was already someone sitting there.

"Hi," he said.

Too late, I recalled that Gabe had mentioned I'd be getting a diving buddy today. Was this him?

The man sitting down was dressed almost as scruffily as me, wearing a faded T-shirt and shorts that rode low on his hips. He pushed back his floppy fringe and regarded me suspiciously with eyes that were just a shade lighter than the sea outside.

"Hi." Say something else, idiot. "I'm Callie."

Wow, that was imaginative.

He looked me up and down, a slow perusal that left me wishing I'd worn a different T-shirt. Anything but the one Kat had given me, which proclaimed I was "Hotter than Mr. Rancho's chilli sauce." The maraca-waving chilli pepper plastered across my chest suddenly seemed so juvenile.

"I know. I was issued with your picture and a brief fact sheet as part of my check-in package. Is it true you studied art history before you became a teacher?"

The only way the hotel staff could have possibly known that was through my Mum or Kat. I was going to find out which of them had spilled the beans and do something very nasty. But in the meantime, I had to deal with a complete stranger who knew more about me than some of my friends.

"Yes, but it's quite hard to get a job in that field. That's why I decided to take up teaching."

"A noble profession."

Was he mocking me? I wasn't sure.

"I find it very satisfying."

The stranger smiled through his unkempt beard, displaying a perfect row of white teeth. People would pay a fortune for those.

"I'm glad you're being satisfied in at least one way."

Oh yes, he was definitely taking the mickey now.

I was saved from saying something I probably would have regretted by Gabe, who strolled in looking delicious. Honestly, how could he look that good so early in the morning? And why couldn't he be straight? It's not as if I'd have stood a chance or anything, but a girl's got to dream, hasn't she?