Passionate Choice

Chapter 3.2

   After a while, Selena became aware that Keith was loping along beside her.

   "OK. I apologize," he said calmly, then added with a soft laugh, "you still have a devil of a temper. I haven't been slapped like that since I was a kid. But you don't have to worry about me telling Hunt anything about you and me. You should know I'm not the guy to spill my guts about my personal life to an absolute stranger. Or to my friends." There was a note of rebuke in his voice.

   "I know you're like that or at least you were like that, but I had to make sure," she replied quietly, her anger fading as suddenly as it had flared up. "And...and I'm sorry I slapped you. I hope you haven't said anything to Heather about us, either."

   "No, I haven't. Why would I?"

   "You seemed to be ver chummy this afternoon and she told me she was going to find out all about you. Then at dinner she said that her guess about you was right, that you are the younger son of someone from her hometown, a William Walker. Why didn't you ever tell me it was in your parents' house that we met?"

   "It didn't seem important at the time," he replied carelessly.

   "She asked me if you and I had ever met before. She'd noticed my surprise when u saw you this morning."

   "Yes, you did change colour rather violently," he remarked with a laugh. "I guess I had the advantage of you there. I knew the bane of Professor Hunt's assistant. John told me the names of the people I would be dealing with and if decided there couldn't possibly be two Selena Masons in the world who were also archeologists. I take it you got the degree?"

   "Yes, I got the degree."

   "Congratulations."

   "And I'm now working towards a doctorate."

   "Under the tutelage if Professor Hunt, ive bi doubt."

   "Of course." There was another silence as they walked on slowly, so close to each other that occasionally his arm brushed against hers. But even without that slight contact, she was tinglingly aware of him and found herself wishing he would take hold of her hand as he used to whenever they had walked together. Then, knowing she would never learn anything about him unless she asked direct questions, she said, "So what are you doing these days? Still free-lancing, offering your services as a diver wherever you see an opportunity?"

   "When I get the chance," he replied. "I joined my brother, Tim, in the business, the shipping and trading business, soon after you and I returned to Nassau. That's what I went back to do. I'd promised the old man—my father—I'd go into the business when he retired and after I'd had a few months of 'goofing-off'."

   "I wish I'd known. I wish you'd told me," she complained.

   "Why? Would it have made a difference to you?" He sounded surprised.

   "Yes, it would. You see, I had the impression all the time I was with you that you were...oh, I don't know how to put it."

   "You had the impression I was a drifter. Possibly unreliable and irresponsible. Perhaps a playboy?" He suggested with a touch of amusement. They had almost reached the jetty. There seemed to be more light glinting from the dive-ship, through the portholes on the lower deck. They stopped walking as if mutually agreeing that this was the place where they must part and turned to each other.

   "I was all of their for a while," Keith continued, still amused. I had a great time. And it's normal, isn't it, in the development of a man for him to play about, look around in his youth? If he doesn't do it, he tends to hanker to do it later in life. He doesn't settle down."

   "And are you settled now?"

   He appeared to give her question some thought, looking away from her at the moonlit water, then down again at her shadowed face.

   "No. I can't say I am," he said slowly. "I still 'goof off' when I can." He paused then added, "Like now."