TRUST ME

Sandra was a dreamer. She always had been. Her mother used to say her head was in the clouds, and if she wasn’t careful, she would fall to earth with a very unpleasant jolt, and sometimes she thought her mother might be right. She loved reading romance novels and fell in love with the rogue handsome hero, fantasizing that she was the damsel in distress. She watched movies and found herself reliving the love scenes over, and over again, making herself the heroine. She would dream of faraway lands, where great lovers and erotic passion were her staples of life. What Sandra Dennis really wanted was an adventure, something to make her humdrum life seem less boring.The sun from the French Riviera was warm and luxurious as she basked under its heat in her plush lounge chair. The thrill of traveling abroad was a fantasy that embraced her, for most of her twenty-six years. Shortly after graduating college, she found that fantasy taking on a life of its own. She spent the past two years savin

Sandra found her place on a bench seat near the port side of the boat - which she had been told was the nautical term for the left side. Next to her were a middle-aged woman and her husband, Angela and Michael Gibbons of New Haven Connecticut, celebrating their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. Michael announced that they were there to experience all sorts of new and exciting things, winking at his wife with a seductive smile that made the others in the group chuckle and his wife blush profusely.The skipper of the boat and their diving instructor was a Frenchman named Ruelle Lefebvre, who now stepped onto the vessel and went into the glass-enclosed cabin where the steering wheel was. His sun-bleached hair was shoulder length and pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head, his face and hands tanned and weathered by the many long years at sea. His worn yellow tee-shirt and faded cut-off blue jean shorts stood out in stark contrast to the new pair of black sneakers on his large sock

“Don’t worry about it,” he said through her helmet speaker. “It’s not after us, but we should get back to the boat. It’s not safe to tempt fate.” She nodded her agreement and was about to swim back toward the ship when Creighton’s hand stopped her. “Aren’t you going to take a picture? You may never get a chance to see another shark this close.” “I don’t want it to see us,” she whispered and heard the now familiar chuckle through her helmet.“It won’t hear you even if you whisper,” he teased. “Take the picture.” Her hands trembled as she drew the camera up, and she realized she was holding her breath again as she snapped the picture. The shark continued to swim with the rest of the fish, not paying the least bit of attention to the silent spectators. “Are you ready to go back?” Creighton asked, watching as the camera drifted in the water by the strap holding it around her wrist when she let go of it. Her legs were shaking, and she could feel the adrenalin burning within her veins

The aroma of lilacs drifted about the small confines of the bathroom as she stood at the sink, blow drying her hair. Sandra pulled the brush through her long red-brown strands, making certain the wave and curl was flat and obeying. Her hair lay softly down the middle of her back as she looked in the mirror at her reflection, smiling at the woman who stared back at her. She loved the tanned color of her face, neck and shoulders above the towel wrapped snugly around her bust, and how it made her bright green eyes seem to shine like emeralds. She may have to keep going to the tanning booth once she returned home. Regardless of the “C” word warnings.The sweet sounds of Jackie Evancho played on her iPod while she finished getting ready. The gentle voice and soft music made it much easier to concentrate on her task. She retrieved the small bag of cosmetics from the chest of drawers and applied a little mascara to her unusually long lashes, batting her eyes playfully at the green-eyed image

“Here’s to getting to know each other much, much better,” he said, gently placing the glass to his lips, his eyes remained focused on her face, the cool liquid slowly slipping across his tongue. She took a quick sip of her drink and wrinkled her nose at the tiny bubbles that tickled her upper lip. It was very good, sweet and cool and she was certain, especially after looking at this vehicle, it cost much more than anything she had ever had. She cleared her throat softly, trying to refocus her attention on their surroundings rather than the man next to her.“You said you loved pasta but didn’t eat it often. I hope you don’t mind that we’re having Italian for supper,” he said, looking at her speculatively as he reached for a remote in a hidden drawer under the table, then turned on the stereo and tuned into the soft sounds of a jazz saxophone. “I figure we can work it off tomorrow, that is if you’re interested in seeing me again after tonight.”“That would depend on how the evening end