Chapter Seven. Colby had hardly slept. The nightmare was back, but this time Elizabeth’s face had replaced the one that had haunted her dreams for three years

Colby had hardly slept. The nightmare was back, but this time Elizabeth’s face had replaced the one that had haunted her dreams for three years. Wide-awake, she glanced at the clock. Four thirty. In an hour it would be light and another day would begin. She tossed back the sheets, damp from her tortured dreams. She might as well get up. She couldn’t possibly go back to sleep and didn’t even want to try. The dream usually came just before dawn. Exactly like the reality of what had happened.

At one time she had almost killed herself from lack of sleep. When the nightmares began, she hadn’t slept more than an hour or two at a time. She set her alarm to prevent herself from falling into a deep sleep, which is when the dreams appeared. One night on the way home she drove off the road. Luckily, she skidded into a ditch instead of a redwood.

Time heals all wounds, and in her case that was mostly true. The nightmares no longer occurred nightly, only when she was stressed or the calendar reminded her what day it was. She was finally beginning to feel human again.

After she put the coffee on, she showered and was dressed in a few minutes in what little she wore every day. In her previous life she could wake from a deep sleep, shower, and be out the door in ten minutes, sometimes less. Since then, she had tried to consciously take more time and enjoy the warm water cascading over her, the luxurious scented soap, but it was hard to change habits that years of necessity had imposed.

Her hands were still shaking when she poured her first cup of coffee. It always took a while for her nerves to settle; however, this morning her hands shook more noticeably than usual after the nightmare. She had made the mistake of glancing at the calendar as she entered the kitchen and noticed the date. June 5. Three years, three months, and twelve days ago her selfishness had changed her life. One thousand, one hundred seventy-six days since that awful night when her lover jumped off the I-90 bridge right before her eyes.

No one knew the complete story except the Seattle police. She had explained everything, every moment in the days and weeks leading up to that night in excruciating detail until they were satisfied that she was not to blame. If it were only that simple.

Too jittery to sit in her kitchen, she went downstairs to her store. When she returned to the island she had bought it from an old man for much less than it was worth now and rebuilt both the shop and her life. It was her refuge.

The Top Side Surf Shop did a brisk business, and she employed several other locals to staff and manage it. She preferred to be in the water rather than behind the counter. Only Simi, the manager, knew she was the boss. Everyone else thought she was simply another hired hand. She signed the checks but Simi ran the place. She didn’t want any responsibility other than the lessons that gave her spirit the freedom it needed. And she liked it that way.

As she looked around the shop, familiar names and logos jumped out at her. Bing, Surftech, and Hobe surfboards; Body Glove and Rip Curl wet suits; Billabong board shorts and bikinis filled the racks. Boxes of flip-flops were stacked neatly by the dressing rooms, and Oakley sunglasses flanked the cash register. She was comfortable here. Having grown up in the water with a board tether practically glued around her ankle, this was where she felt most alive.

The place she had called home before she returned to the island was very different. Cold, sterile, bright lights adorned the rooms. Blips and beeps systematically indicating life and death, hurried voices speaking in hushed tones filled her ears. What she had now had replaced all that.

In the beginning the silence in her apartment was nerve-racking, almost overwhelming. She kept a radio on continually, tuned to the island’s only talk station to give her the illusion of having other people around. She waxed boards to the chatter of the afternoon hosts and tallied the day’s sales with the night crew. More often than not she fell asleep to the overnight show. Once she hired Simi, she was able to escape the manufactured ambience and relish the reassuring sound of the ocean.

Locking the door behind her, she headed toward the beach. An early morning swim always cleared her head and often erased her nightmares. She hoped this morning would be the same.

As she pulled into the deserted parking lot, she forced herself not to look in the direction of the Carlyle. She kept her back to the sprawling resort as she donned her wet suit. She didn’t want to give in to the temptation to search for Elizabeth in one of the lighted windows. She had no idea where her room was and to look would be ridiculous.

Dawn was just peeking over the horizon when she slid into the water as silently as an eel. She was a strong swimmer, even stronger since returning, but she remained cautious. Stroke after stroke took her farther from shore. The tides weren’t terribly strong this time of the day, but once she had got caught in a riptide that scared the shit out of her. When she was no more than fifty yards from shore she shifted her stroke and started swimming parallel to the beach. Judging from the lights of the resorts along the beach, Elizabeth’s was far behind her. She finally relaxed and swam for another half hour, then turned in the direction she had just come. The sun was fully above the waterline when she stepped out of the surf.

Elizabeth couldn’t believe it. Of all the minutes in the morning she could walk outside, she chose the exact moment Colby emerged from the ocean. She froze, her coffee cup not quite to her lips. The sight of Colby uncoiling her body, rising from the water like a sea goddess, took her breath. The world stopped. No waves crashing to the shore, no birds welcoming the morning, no low hum of the world around her. Her vision blurred for an instant before she focused on Colby. She saw nothing else.

Colby shook her head like Elizabeth had seen her do every time she came out of the water. She flung water from her short locks in every direction before she smoothed the dark hair away from her face. The wet suit was like a second skin, leaving very little to Elizabeth’s imagination. She had seen Colby in much less, but the form-fitting blue neoprene covering her from neck to ankle was the sexiest thing she had ever witnessed.

She continued to stare, unmoving, as Colby strolled across the sand in the opposite direction. She felt every beat of her heart as her blood raced through her veins. She heard every molecule of breath enter and exit her lungs. Her knees grew weak and she was suddenly dizzy. Her fingers tingled and her hands shook so bad her coffee dribbled over the rim of the almost-full cup. Her nervous system was on overload.

It wasn’t until Colby was completely out of sight that she finally pulled herself together. What in the hell was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if she had never seen a stunningly beautiful woman. But even with the one woman in her past she compared all other lovers to, she hadn’t felt this level of awareness.

She was confused, concerned that she was suffering from a midlife crisis or emotional breakdown. She had been under tremendous pressure the last few years with her job. As the first female president at Embers College she was under immense scrutiny, even after seven years in the position. Not all the members of the board of trustees had voted for her selection to the post. Every day was a challenge, every decision second-guessed, and that didn’t even count the conflicts with the faculty. Some days she wondered why she had ever wanted the job.

She had loved being a teacher, sharing her knowledge and love of history with students eager to learn everything possible about the subject. Young minds that were quick, insightful, and constantly questioning had kept her on her toes. Now she felt like she was always a half-step behind where she should be. The paperwork was endless, staff meetings long, and the petty squabbles between the faculty members tedious. The constant fund-raising and glad-handing with alumni and benefactors made her nauseous, like little more than a used-car salesman at times. It was supposedly lonely at the top, and now that she was there she knew exactly what that meant. Nobody wanted to be up there with you.

The job had taken a toll on her personal life as well. Her days of casual affairs had ended. She simply didn’t have the time and, frankly, rarely had the interest. When she was a faculty member, she hadn’t lived in the closet, but she never took a date to a professional event either. In the first year or two it didn’t matter. She was so engrossed in her new role she barely had time to do her laundry, let alone have the energy to have sex. But what was her excuse after that?

Maybe that was it. She finally sat down at the small table in the corner of the patio. Maybe being in a place she had never been, on a vacation she desperately needed, had kicked-started her libido. People on vacation often did things they normally wouldn’t even imagine. Especially in a tropical paradise like Maui. Reality didn’t seem to exist in all this beauty. Was that starting to transform her into a woman she’d never seen? More important, was she afraid of her or did she like her?

“May I join you? ”

Elizabeth thought the person in her peripheral vision was her waiter, but when the familiar voice sounded she turned and looked into dark, inquiring eyes. Colby was dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and an orange tank top, both pressed mercilessly. She had just taken a bite of eggs Benedict, her mouth too full to answer. Instead she motioned Colby to the chair across from her. Before she had a chance to speak, the waiter had offered Colby coffee and asked if she needed a menu.

Her throat suddenly dry, she had trouble swallowing her breakfast and took a drink of her orange juice. Colby was looking at her as if to ask, “Am I invited to stay for breakfast? ” She nodded to that question as well. Colby ordered orange juice and oatmeal as the waiter filled her coffee cup. Finally her mouth was clear enough to speak without seeming rude.

“Good morning. How was your swim? ” She realized what she had said a second too late. She didn’t want Colby to know she’d been watching her in the water. The expression of mild interest on Colby’s face told her she had failed miserably.

“Great. You should have joined me.”

Colby’s voice was low and almost a whisper, causing a chill to dance down her spine. “Thanks, but I’m not much of a morning person.” Unless it was waking up with Colby next to her.

“That’s a shame. The water’s perfect. Maybe I’ll change your mind someday.” Colby took her answer almost as a challenge.

She smiled. She knew herself too well. “I doubt that. I don’t do much before two cups of coffee, one if I’m running late.” She took another bite of her breakfast as Colby waved for a refill.

“Ah, I remember what that was like, ” Colby countered before she stopped abruptly.

Her expression changed from engaging to something dark before transforming back to not quite the same. What was behind the instant change? But it was none of her business.

Sensing Colby’s withdrawal she said, “It’s a habit I tried to break more times than I can count. But I finally accepted it and have moved on to try to conquer other, more important vices.”

“Such as? ” Colby asked as her coffee arrived.

Her breakfast done, Elizabeth pushed her plate to the side and held her glass of water between her damp palms. “The Krispy Kreme drive-through, McDonald’s French fries, Nora Roberts novels.”

“Nora Roberts? ” Colby was clearly surprised.

“God, yes, I love her work. My mother still can’t figure out why…how does she phrase it.” She hesitated to get just the right words. “Why does a college-educated woman with a lot of letters after her name read trashy romance novels? ” She could practically hear her mother’s voice over her shoulder.

“I couldn’t have asked it better myself, ” Colby said.

“Actually, Nora Roberts is anything but trashy, especially when she writes as J.D. Robb, but I’ll tell you what I’ve been telling her for years.”

“I’m on pins and needles.” Colby bent forward in her chair.

She liked Colby’s quick wit. “That after racking my brain all day, making dozens of decisions, answering hundreds of questions, and sitting through marathon meetings, a girl just wants to disappear in fantasy occasionally where she doesn’t have to do anything more taxing than turn the page.”

Colby nodded. “I see your point. I don’t know who Nora Roberts is, or J.D. Robb, for that matter, but I get it.”

“You don’t know J.D. Robb? ” she asked teasingly.

“Should I? ”

“Have you been to a bookstore in the last ten years? ”

Colby looked abashed. “If I say no, will you make me pick up the check? ”

This made her laugh. “Of course not. You’ll need your money to buy Naked in Death.” At Colby’s confused look she explained. “It’s the first book in the series featuring Detective Eve Roberts. She’s not a lesbian, but she kicks ass and is h-o-t.”

Colby reached for the check anyway.

“Hey! ”

“My treat, since I busted in on you. I think I can swing both breakfast and being naked in bed.” Her eyes twinkled and Elizabeth knew she had intentionally misspoken the title of the book she had just referenced.

“It’s Naked in Death, and I’ll just bet you can.”

The waiter cleared off their dishes, but Elizabeth didn’t want their conversation to end. “No classes this morning? ”

“Not on Wednesdays. A girl’s gotta have a chance to unwind, you know, from racking my brain all day, making dozens of decisions, answering hundreds of questions, and swallowing gallons of salt water.”

“Why don’t I believe you? ”

“Which part, racking my brain or making dozens of decisions? ”

This conversation felt suspiciously like their first one. “Swallowing gallons of salt water? I’ve seen you out there, surfer Colby Taylor, and you know when to keep your mouth shut and when to open it.”

She flushed when Colby’s eyes darkened and darted to her lips. Her words were not intended to be a play on their intimate encounter two nights ago, but they had the same effect.

“My mother taught me never to argue with a woman with a lot of initials after her name.” Colby leaned toward her, arms on the table.

“I like a girl who listens to her mother, ” she said, slightly breathless.

“I like a girl who stands up to hers, ” Colby said softly.

For the second time that day her world seemed to center on Colby. The clinking of silverware, the ringing of glasses touching the tables vanished. The crowded restaurant was silent. She was absolutely enthralled with the woman sitting across from her. She couldn’t speak and really didn’t want to. She could look into those dark eyes for hours and never see the same thing. Colby broke the spell.

“Since we’ve established that we like each other…do you have any plans for the day? ”

“No.” At least none that she could recall. Even if she could, she’d quickly change them. That thought was very uncharacteristic.

“Have you seen much of my island? ” Colby grinned at her reaction to her island.

“Not really. I only arrived on Sunday.” God, had it been only three days since she’d first seen this woman?

Colby stood, extending her hand just like she had that night. “Then I’ve got the perfect thing. Interested? ”

In you, yes. In anything you have in mind, definitely. She took the outstretched hand again. “Lead on.”