Island Peril. Jill Sorenson
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“Great. They’re eating a snack.”
“Thanks, Ramona. Over and out.”
Ella was relieved by the news. She didn’t think Abby had faked her illness, but she wondered if the nausea was a symptom of anxiety. Her sister had suffered from panic attacks for several years after the earthquake. Crossing the open ocean might have triggered another one.
They passed Prince Island and Cuyler Harbor before arriving at a gaping hole in the side of an immense cliff. The cavern was a hundred feet tall and twice as wide.
“Wow,” Ella said, enthralled.
He handed her a helmet and donned his own before paddling through the entrance. “They call this room the cathedral.”
Ella was mesmerized by the beauty of the cave, with its porous volcanic surfaces and hanging moss. No stalagmites or stalactites were in sight, but a rich vein of gypsum ran across the far wall. Paul led her through the ocean fortress into narrow tunnels and turquoise waters. He pointed out a number of spiny sea urchins and starfish in the shallow tide pools. It was a gorgeous hideaway of sea creatures and dripping rock.
She snapped a few photos, although she doubted her disposable waterproof camera would capture the magic. “I wish my niece could see this.”
“I’m doing another trip tomorrow with two couples. She can come along.”
“That’s generous of you.”
He studied her face, as if he found it more interesting than the interior of the cave. “What do you do in Northridge?”
She paused before answering. Abby had once said, half-joking, that her profession scared off men. But only insecure knuckle-draggers were intimidated by smart women. She wouldn’t put Paul in that category, but he was a physical guy. For the first time in her life, she was tempted to downplay her intelligence.
He was that hot.
“Take a guess,” she said, tilting her head to the side.
“Are you a student?”
“No. I graduated already.”
“An actress?”
Her mouth dropped open. There were a lot of aspiring actresses in LA. She couldn’t believe he thought she was one of them.
“Not an actress,” he surmised.
“Why would you think that?”
He didn’t answer, seeming worried that he’d insulted her.
“Is this your full-time job?” she asked.
“No, it’s a summer gig.”
“Maybe you’re an actor. A model for outdoor apparel who bartends in the evenings and waits tables during the day.”
“No,” he said, frowning. “God, no.”
She laughed at his disgruntled expression.
“Do I look like a model for outdoor apparel?”
“Kind of. Yeah.”
“Well, you look like a movie star.”
“I do not.”
“Natalie Portman.”
Ella had heard that once or twice before. It was unbelievable, but flattering. “You have a thing for Queen Amidala?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your favorite Star Wars?”
“The Empire Strikes Back.”
“I prefer the new trilogy.”
He clapped a hand over his heart as if she’d stabbed him.
“Is that a deal breaker?”
“Almost,” he said, smiling.
Ella decided to tell him the truth about her job. Anyone who loved Star Wars was nerdy enough for her. “I work for a company called Geovision. We study seismic activity and do land surveys near fault lines.”
His eyes narrowed in speculation. “So, you’re a geophysicist.”
“How did you know?”
“I majored in earth science. Now I teach it.”
“Seriously? What grade?”
“Eighth.”
“Eighth grade,” she said, delighted. The nerdiest, most socially awkward year of all. “You must like kids.”
“I do.”
“Why are you still single?”
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