"Well?" He waited for her verdict.

"Hmm." She creased her brow and made herself appear to be having a hard time deciding something. "I'm not sure."

"Oh?" Now Paul looked confused. That helped.

"I don't have enough information. I need to do a little research." She set the glass down, took another deep breath, leaned in, and placed her lips lightly on his. She meant to give him only one quick, dry peck, for show, but he not only accepted her kiss, he leaned into her as she pulled away, making it last longer, making it look more like a hot-blooded kiss by giving her some tongue. She pulled back, breaking contact, probably a little too abruptly considering she initiated the stunt.

Paul and Rhees stared at each other, shock on her face, a look of-something on his.

Someone whistled. One of the men cheered. A girl's voice said, "Damn it. Not another one," in a hushed tone. Others leaned forward in their seats, waiting to see what came next, but no one seemed too surprised.

Tracy and Regina watched but didn't give Rhees anything to help.

She did what she thought necessary and shook it off, moving forward with her original joke. She deliberately licked her lips, smacking them. More germs, but she couldn't stop now. She looked up through squinted eyes, took another sip of her drink, and licked her lips again, still thinking, thinking she was about to die, but she couldn't let anyone know.

"Mmm . . . it's delicious all right, but I don't think it's the alcohol that makes it so good." She glanced back at Paul. "It's definitely the backwash."

He stared at her. His right eye twitched faintly until he finally cast his eyes down with a shy grin on his face.

"Aw, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," he said humbly, and everyone laughed. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "You're funny."

"Germs are no laughing matter to me," she whispered back.

The look on his face registered surprise at how serious she'd turned. "Well, germs can't live in alcohol, right? Forgive me?" A few seconds later, he ducked his head toward her to ask, "If you're afraid of germs, how does kissing work?"

She blushed and took a moment to think of an answer.

"I've known you a whole day. For all I know you're crawling with all kinds of cooties."

He smiled timidly and glanced away.

"Do you really think the alcohol will kill the germs? I guess that does make sense-some of them anyway, right?"

Paul seemed dumbfounded as if just realizing how much she really meant it. She took another sip of her now hard lemonade.

"This really isn't bad. I can hardly taste the alcohol."

"Rhees. You're from Utah? Are you Mormon?" Christian from Canada interrupted Paul and Rhees' staring contest.

"No." She turned her attention to the crowd around the table. "Contrary to popular belief, not everyone in Utah is Mormon. I happen to know there are at least three of us that aren't." She'd used the joke many times but it never failed to get a laugh.

"Where is Utah?" Peder was Norwegian.

"Western United States, between Colorado and Nevada," Rhees answered.

"Vegas!" Mitch said quite enthusiastically with his Irish brogue.

"Yep, I live about seven hours from there." Oddly, the other girls at the table had become very quiet.

"Utah Jazz," Assif from Israel added what he knew. "Karl Malone."

"Yeah. We have that too."

The island really did attract a variety of cultures and she liked the diversity.

Paul sat quietly through dinner. Rhees kept catching him watch her, wanting to know why, what he was thinking. The germ episode forgotten, it drove her crazy again, wondering how and when he would make his move, and how she would handle it-afraid she wouldn't know how to handle it.

She decided to be grateful for his gift of alcohol, even if he planned it as part of some sinister plan to get her drunk and into his bed. She didn't think she would have made it through dinner without it.

She'd never been much of a drinker. When she turned twelve, her parents started letting her have watered down wine on special occasions, and to be a good sport, she'd learned to gag down a beer with her dad during the Super Bowl, on St. Patrick's Day, and the Fourth of July, but that was the extent of her experience.

After dinner, the group moved to a bar called Tanked, the preferred hangout for all the dive shop people because it sat on the water and reminded everyone of the shop. The bar opened up to a large deck that was similar to the deck at Paradise Divers.

Quaint, like everything else on the island, and like everything else on the island-it had a slightly dirty feel about it-at least in Rhees' overly-sensitive-to-germs state of mind.

When she refused to allow herself to think about the griminess, she enjoyed the laid back and comfortable atmosphere-nice, as far as bars went-in her experience . . . which was very limited.

"You changed your mind?" Regina said, pulling Rhees aside.

"About what?" Rhees asked.

"That kiss! You trying to get Mr. Paul to jump them bones of yours now?"

"No, you know I'm not."

"Then you, of all people, should not never be playing with fire that way."

"But I was just trying to do what you said-trying not to act like a . . ." Rhees gave up. She would never get it.

Regina shook her head. "I don't know what more I can do for you. I think you need a full-time babysitter, but that sure as hell is not never going to be me."

It stung that Regina had already figured her out. She was a baby-the very reason she came to the island in the first place. She needed to do something out of her comfort zone because it was time to grow up.

As the night progressed, everyone settled in on some activity. A few eventually left and went to other bars, a couple went home, and some sat at a table with other people on the island and talked. Tracy and Regina started up their favorite late-night pastime, a game of dominoes.

"Rhees, play with us," Tracy urged.

"Oh, no, I've never played." Rhees held her hands up and shied away as if they'd asked her to hold a snake. She watched them for a while, thinking she might learn how. It looked simple enough, and if she could figure it out before she played, she might be able to join on another night. It didn't take long to give up-not going to happen.

She'd convinced herself she had some sort of mental block about games. Growing up, it seemed everyone, except her, knew how to play every game already. When she did play, they would tell her she should have made this move, or she couldn't make that one, and she always came in tease-worthily last, even on the games she thought she understood.

She finally got to the point where she'd freeze up inside and fill with dread whenever someone suggested a game night. She'd become an expert at coming up with excuses for staying home with her parents instead of hanging out with friends. Even that wasn't always safe. Her parents often badgered her to play with them-some made-up version of Rummy, their favorite Friday-Date-Night activity.

Rhees wandered around the bar again and found a bookcase filled with books. The sign said, "Take a book-leave a book." She'd just finished a book on the plane and needed another, so she looked the titles over and took one, making a mental note to bring her old book back the next time she came to the bar.

The sun set around five thirty, all-year-round, she'd been told-the island's proximity to the equator, and no Daylight Savings Time changes, meant that by eleven, it seemed like it had been dark for a long time. Rhees moved outside, found an empty table on the edge of the water, and sat down. The bar had lights in the water around the deck, which offered a comforting glow against the dark night. She stared out for several minutes, taking in the beauty of the clear blue water. It almost made her excited to start diving-almost.

Movement in the water startled her and she saw a flash of black dart by, into the light and then out again, just as quickly. She heard splashing beyond the lights but couldn't see what caused it. She stood and moved to the edge of the dock and squinted, trying to see. Suddenly, the reason for the disturbance came into view, and she froze.

"Reef shark." Paul came up behind her, startling her, and making her lose her balance. His fast reflexes helped him grab her before she fell into the water.

"Shark!" She hung on to him, scared to death that she might end up in the water with it. "I didn't know there were sharks here . . . except for the big, docile ones that don't eat people."

"We don't see them often. That one's just a baby looking for table scraps."

"I want my money back. I can't get in the ocean with sharks."

Paul laughed and his eyes seemed to sparkle more than usual in the glow of the lighting. "You'll be lucky to see any sharks while you're diving, except maybe one or two of 'the big docile ones that don't eat people'. We do have quite a few whale shark sightings here."

He took a couple of steps back, with her in tow until they were away from the edge before he let go. She pulled her chair a little farther from the edge and sat down, watching the water warily. He sat in the chair facing her.

"If you get eaten by a shark, I'll give your money back."

"Thanks. If I'm inside the belly of a shark, I won't have much need for my money anymore."

"That's the policy and the very reason for it." He laughed again. "I don't make promises I don't keep, and I promise, you will nawt be eaten by a shark."

She noticed the way he drawled on the word not, but her heart still raced, her fear of the ocean overwhelming her thoughts at the moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You can do this!" she said under her breath.

"You're still alive, by the way."

"Barely. I almost fell in. He'd have eaten me and I'd be the inspiration for the next Jaws movie-which one are they on now, Jaws Thirty?"

"I'm not talking about the little shark." Paul laughed. "If you'd fallen in, the splash would've scared him to Australia. I meant the germs. My cooties haven't killed you."

"Oh. Yeah. Surprisingly!" She tried to laugh. "Since coming here, I've been forced to discover all sorts of germs aren't quite as deadly as I once suspected, but I still don't think I'll ever get warm and fuzzy over the little critters." She had to close her eyes and clear her thoughts on the matter before she needed another shower. She'd also discovered how much she didn't like taking showers on the island. Apparently, news about the invention of water heaters hadn't reached the island yet.

The waitress, a young pretty girl, showed up and asked if Paul wanted to order. She ignored Rhees. Paul ordered a beer and looked at Rhees expectantly. "I'm buying. It's the least I can do since it's my fault your rent is higher than you anticipated."

"Um, a Diet Coke."

The waitress looked confused.

"Coke Light," Paul told the waitress. She lit up with recognition and walked away. "Coke? I thought I was a better teacher than that."

"Well, you asked if I was an alcoholic. I'm not, but only because I throw in a lemonade or a soda every once in a while."

She made him smile. "Why are you here-if you're so afraid of the ocean?"

She glanced down and pursed her lips, thinking of the easiest way to explain. "It's a dull story."

"My favorite kind." He flashed a warm smile. His eye appeared to wink again, but during dinner Rhees had figured out that his right eye twitched on its own, a kind of facial tick. Images of straight men and jealous boyfriends not taking kindly to stray winks from a man who looked like Paul made her smile for some reason. She'd also already figured out that he used his left eye when he winked on purpose.

"I'm a good listener. Try me."

She laughed. "Okay, but remember as your eyes gloss over with boredom, it's your own fault."

"I don't do boredom very well. I'll tell you to stop if it gets too unbearable." He stared, waiting, and she realized that staring was also a normal thing for him. He had beautiful eyes and he obviously knew how to use them.

"Well, when I was little, I was at a friend's house when I saw this documentary on TV about diving and I thought, 'Man. I wish I was that cool'. The problem is, I'm not cool, at all. I'm a big baby. I never do anything exciting because I'm always too chicken. When my mom died . . ." The pain of losing her mother felt fresh again, but she'd trained herself to work through it. "It forced me to think. I realized I didn't want to die knowing I never did anything with my life. I remembered wanting to scuba dive, so I promised myself I'd go someplace exotic and do it . . . someday. But deep down, I knew I never really would."

"But here you are."

The waitress showed up and set their drinks on the table. She lingered momentarily, watching Paul, as if hoping to get his attention. When he didn't give it, she finally walked away. She glanced back once more, and Rhees didn't understand the dirty look she gave her.

"Is the waitress mad at me for not knowing how to order a Diet Coke?"

Paul finally glanced in the waitress' direction and let out a sigh. "No. She's mad at me. So, what happened to make you dive in?" He winked, purposely this time.

"My dad died a few months ago." Rhees looked down and tried not to let the sad thought ruin the rest of her night. "He named me the only beneficiary on his life insurance policy. It wasn't much. Enough to bury him, put his affairs in order . . . and there was a little left over. I had a choice. I could either finish school, or come here-the cheapest exotic place I could find to learn to dive." She laughed, though she felt more like crying. "I read online the rooms were cheap and you could eat for a dollar fifty a day here. I'm beginning to realize the Internet might have exaggerated a bit."

"A bit, but it's pretty close if you like fruit and baleadas."

"I do." She giggled. "I had a baleada for lunch. They're delicious, and cheap."

"Main staple here. And sorry again for raising your rent . . . but have you seen Strawberry Hill Estates? The name is kind of deceptive."

"Kind of?" Her eyes grew wide.

"The place is a magnet for the lowest degenerates on the island. There aren't many of those, but I'm just saying."

"I did see it. Please don't apologize. You did me a huge favor."

"Good. I'm glad you don't hate me." The intensity of the way he looked at her made her hope she wouldn't blush, but then he looked away and released her before she did. "So you were left with a chunk of life insurance money on your hands."

"Not a chunk. More like a morsel." She played with her Coke bottle to distract her from thinking too hard about her loss as she explained. "I didn't even know he had insurance. He always said he didn't believe in it. 'I don't want anyone lookin' forward to me dyin' so they can have a party with my insurance money'." She changed her voice to imitate her father. She laughed briefly and then looked down, trying to hide from Paul how sad she must look.

"I'm sorry for your loss. It's hard to lose family."

"I'm sorry. Your family's gone too?"

"No." His laugh sounded a little sardonic. "But I haven't seen them in a while, and I have no plans to." His face contorted into a frown. "Wow, I haven't even thought about them . . . in years." His eyes turned cold and hard, no longer the inviting blue color of the warm, tropical ocean. "I don't dwell on the past."

"So you ran away? Are you by chance my long lost brother who ran away from home when I was ten?"

"Gawd . . ." The serious look in his eyes changed to one of revulsion. He stared at her warily. "I hope nawt!"

If what everyone had said was true, he'd probably had a few un-sisterly thoughts about her. They locked eyes, confirming they were both thinking the same thing. A few awkward seconds passed until he finally broke into laughter making his eyes sparkle again. Rhees threw her hands over her face in an attempt to hide the blush she felt creeping in.

"If you run into trouble, money-wise, let me know. I have ways to help you earn a little extra if you get desperate."

"What?" Rhees misinterpreted his offer.

"A loan-I'll lend you money. You can pay me back when you return to the States, get back on your feet." He looked desperate to clear up any misunderstanding about accusing her of being willing to prostitute herself. "Or a job, I know people. I can get you a job. You could even help out around the shop. That's all I meant."

"Um, thanks. I might need to take you up on that offer-the job offer. This, coming here, was probably not the most practical choice, but . . . I had to, you know? No more excuses. Bite the bullet. Pull my big-girl panties up-" Her eyes flashed up to meet his, suddenly embarrassed to say panties in front of him. She blinked a couple of times and then remembered her point, which made her sad again. "Change of scenery and all that . . . it's hard losing everyone in your world." She looked away to rein in the tears threatening to fill her eyes again. "Things are going to be tight enough as it is when I go back. I don't want to have debt hanging over my head."