Mind the Bleep

20 | The Invisible Line

Dawn had been wrong.

Well, at least partially. Little Oaks Hospital had been rather generous with the four-star hotel they'd chosen for the conference trip. They'd booked separate rooms for Caliana and Isaac, albeit ones adjoined by a single lockable door.

Now, still sluggish from the four-hour flight from London Gatwick to Mytilene Airport, Caliana knelt beside the small aquamarine-coloured suitcase nestled on the plush carpet. She rummaged through her belongings, desperately searching for her iPhone charger. Her fingers brushed over silk blouses, a couple of paperbacks, and a hairbrush, but no charger. A few stray hairs she'd missed during her rushed shaving spree the morning before stood on end, and her skin prickled as a sharp knock sounded from the adjoining door.

"Come in. I haven't locked it," Caliana called, her voice muffled as she leaned deeper into her suitcase.

The door creaked open, and Isaac's familiar footsteps followed—quiet, controlled, each step making the floorboards beneath the thick carpet shift. The air between them always seemed to hum with a barely contained energy, like the charged moments before a summer storm. Her hand stilled in the open suitcase, hovering above a tangle of clothes as she turned to face him.

Images from the flight flickered through her mind: the way his fingers had brushed hers while reaching for the in-flight menu, the casual yet intimate graze of his arm against hers as they rushed through security, and the sight of him carrying her suitcases with ease. She wasn't quite sure why she was so shocked that he'd traded his teal-green scrubs for a crisp white linen shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, showcasing the sinewy muscles of his forearms. A pair of form-fitting faded blue jeans complemented the look, hugging his lean, powerful frame in a way that emphasized his build. The effortless ensemble gave him a laid-back yet undeniably commanding presence; the kind that made heads turn without him even trying.

Her gaze flitted away, refocusing on her half-unpacked suitcase. "Did you need something or are you just planning to stare at me all night?" she asked, trying—and failing—to suppress the smirk tugging at her lips.

But Isaac's eyes weren't on her face; they were fixed on the lacy mauve two-piece swimsuit dangling from her fingers from where she had absentmindedly continued rummaging through the suitcase. His gaze was steady, almost unreadable, but Caliana could feel the intensity radiating from him, like heat waves shimmering off an asphalt. A flutter of nerves and something else, something darker and sweeter, coiled in her belly. She let out a soft, nervous laugh, the sound too loud in the pensive silence between them.

"Of course, I packed a bikini. We are in Greece, after all." Caliana's fingers brushed against the soft, lacy fabric, lingering, as if the swimsuit itself held the answer to why she suddenly felt like her skin was too tight. The air seemed to ripple, almost visible, a current stretching between the two and connecting them. "Is that a problem?"

Isaac tilted his head, locking eyes with her. "Not a problem," he said, his lips curling into a faint smirk, sharp and deliberate. His gaze was molten, an electric blue as he held hers with a force that made her pulse quicken. "In fact," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "I'm willing to bet that you were hoping I'd be staring at you for all of this trip, not just tonight."

Caliana's pulse jumped, the words wrapping around her like a velvet rope, pulling her closer to a precipice she hadn't realized she was standing on. She could feel the flush creeping up her neck, a tell-tale sign she hoped he wouldn't notice. But his gaze was sharp, missing nothing, and her breath hitched. She tried to cover the moment with a smirk, leaning into the challenge instead of shying away. "Who said I was hoping for anything?"

Isaac's lips curved just slightly further, a flicker of amusement or perhaps something more. "Aren't you?" he said, the words barely more than a murmur, their meaning echoing in the tense silence. Before she could respond, Isaac cleared his throat. "But actually," he continued, his tone now altered to something more measured, "I came to ask if you were alright?"