An Innocent In Paradise. Kate Carlisle

a good portion of her life being cold. No, not just cold, she thought. Chilled to the bone. She was so tired of being cold, so weary of bundling up in heavy coats and mittens and long underwear and wool scarves for more than half the year.

      Alleria was beautiful and, more important, it was warm. If she couldn’t truly let herself go and relax and enjoy her time here, she could at least savor the warm weather. It was so completely different from anything she’d ever experienced before.

      Standing in a cozy patch of shade cast by a huge cluster of coconuts hanging in a nearby palm, Grace took another minute to stretch out her muscles. She rolled her shoulders and raised her arms up in the air, then bent at the waist to touch her toes. She was starting to ache a little from her upper-body workout and it felt good to stretch and bend.

      Once Logan had pointed out the need for balance and upper-body strength, Grace had known what she had to do. She’d begun with thirty push-ups when she first got out of bed this morning. She was in decent condition physically, but she needed much more strength in her upper arms if she expected to lift those hefty cocktail trays every night.

      She was determined to make Logan Sutherland acknowledge that she took her waitressing job seriously. She couldn’t afford to be sent home. She absolutely had to get her funding; and to do that, she had to find and collect enough Allerian spore specimens to conduct her lifesaving experiments for the next few years.

      As she straightened up and moved to another tree, she pondered the sadly obvious fact that Logan Sutherland couldn’t care less about her scientific work. No, he just cared that she performed her job as cocktail waitress as well as anyone else in the company. But if that’s what it took to keep her here, that’s what she would to do.

      At each coconut palm tree, she knelt down and examined the juncture where the thick palm roots crisscrossed and divided. Feathery fern leaves sprouted here and there and that was where her spores were known to propagate. But tree after tree, frond after frond offered exactly nothing.

      She wandered away from the shore and deeper into what looked like a jungle of wild plants and palm trees. Here the thicker vegetation created more shade, but instead of being cooler, it was warmer and muggier. The overabundance of plant life kept the sea breezes from filtering through and cooling the air. Humidity was a good thing if you were a spore.

      Sure enough, minutes later in a shady cluster of coco palms, surrounded by the soft fern leaves that protected them, Grace finally came across the spores she’d traveled thousands of miles to find.

      “Ah,” she whispered, “there you are, my lovelies.”

      She spread the clean towel on the sand and unzipped her spore kit. Kneeling on a corner of the towel, she used her most powerful magnifying glass to study the precious plant life more closely.

      Unlike many plants, these types of spores could thrive without sunlight, but they still needed a warm, moist environment. Glancing around, Grace saw that this part of the island was indeed ideal. The sun was only beginning to shine here so the spores had a part of the morning to thrive in the muggy shade. They seemed happy, reproducing madly even as she watched them through the ultramagnified glass.

      Grace smiled at the thought of happy spores. A sense of calm came over her as she observed the microscopic world. She had been experimenting on this rare strain of Allerian spores for so many years, ever since old Professor Hutchins, her teacher and first mentor, showed her his excellent treatise based on the first spores he brought back from the island. That dissertation had led Grace to begin her own experiments using the potential lifesaving properties of these little guys.

      Grace glanced up at the clear blue sky and marveled at how far she’d come in her studies of the Allerian spores. They were valuable for so many reasons, including the gene replication studies she’d mentioned to Logan. But she was even more excited by the fact that the mitochondria found within the spore cells contained a rare type of phytohormone that carried potential medical applications. Her latest experiments had proven that these hormones could have an adverse effect on human cancer cells, causing certain cells to be suppressed or, in the case of her most recent lab trials, to die altogether.

      The possibility that Grace’s studies could lead to the destruction of cancer cells thrilled her as nothing else had before. She could no more stop this important research than she could stop breathing.

      She thought back to the day she first walked into the university laboratory when she was eight years old. She’d spent hundreds of lonely hours in the lab since then, but knowing that all those years of research might ultimately lead to so many lives being saved made her forget her own pain. It had all been worth it.

      Recently, Grace had entered a new and critical phase of her research. And even though some of the Professor’s last batch of spores were still producing decent progeny, they were beginning to die out. Grace required a fresher, stronger crop of the rare organisms to meet her current needs.

      “Current needs,” she grumbled, shaking her head in disgust. If it weren’t for Walter Erskine trying to steal her entire life’s work, including taking credit for her latest experiments and proven theorems, she wouldn’t be so desperate right now. Her cheeks still burned as she recalled how easily Walter had charmed her, how quickly she’d grown to like him, how fervently she’d hoped they would be together always. And she’d actually believed he reciprocated her feelings. Could she honestly have been that naive?

      She shook herself free of those unhappy thoughts. She refused to blame herself for falling for his lies. Walter had been quite the smooth operator, after all. Almost everyone in the department had been fooled. But it was Grace’s job that was on the line now, not anyone else’s.

      Snapping on a pair of disposable gloves, she pulled out one of her sterilized petri dishes. With her forceps, she carefully plucked a thick clump of spores from the fibrous base of the frond and held it over the dish. After tapping the forceps against the side of the dish, she watched the spores drop into the dish along with bits of moss and sand.

      For the next hour, she repeated the process several more times. She numbered each petri dish and noted in her book the location and features of the palm tree, the angle of the sun and the temperature at the precise time she gathered each of the groups of spores.

      Her stomach growled and she realized she was famished. Earlier, she’d eaten breakfast with other members of the hotel staff in their private cafeteria. Everyone was so nice to her and she’d felt almost decadent as she chose the colorful fruit platter with its dollop of yogurt. She hadn’t seen such gorgeous fruit in Minnesota in a long time, if ever. But now, as she worked under the hot sun, she felt a little dizzy and determined that she would need to eat a bigger breakfast each morning. The last thing she wanted to do was pass out on the beach. She could only imagine what Logan Sutherland would say about that.

      Checking the dishes stacked in her kit bag, she decided she had enough spores from this particular tree. It was a good start. She pulled off the gloves, packed up her kit and pushed herself up off the ground, anxious to return to her room where her microscope and portable lab equipment waited for her.

      “Wow,” she said with a laugh, as she brushed the fine grains of sand off her legs. “Do you know how to have a good time or what?”

      She turned and almost collided with Logan Sutherland, who grabbed hold of her shoulders to steady her.

      “What are you doing out here without a hat on?” he demanded, glaring at her.

      She’d been so absorbed in her work that she hadn’t heard him approach, but she should’ve sensed his forceful presence. He wore cargo shorts with a faded Hawaiian shirt and waterproof sandals. His skin was tanned a deep bronze and there was a hint of beard stubble on his jaw. He was laid-back and casual, so why did he look even more dangerous today than he had in his thousand-dollar suit yesterday?

      She realized that the sun had shifted and she was now standing in bright sunlight. “I’ve been in the shade most of the time,” she said lamely.

      “You’ll soon find out that doesn’t make much difference this close to the equator.”