There was one man, however, who managed to make the tank look as though it weighed no more than a sleeping bag. Georgie watched as he unclipped his buoyancy vest and slung it and his air tank off his shoulders before he removed his thin dive shirt by pulling it over his head. His torso was bare and she was treated to a rather attractive view of a smooth, lightly tanned back and rippling muscles as he stretched his arms overhead. His dark blond hair was cut short and when he ran his hands through it the salt water made it stick up in all directions. He had the physique of a man who worked out. He had broad, square shoulders that tapered nicely into his waist and the muscles on his arms were well defined.
He threw his shirt over his shoulder as her eyes travelled down his back. She could see the two small dimples at the base of his spine just visible above the waistband of his shorts. His shorts hugged the curve of his buttocks and were patterned like the Australian flag. If all divers looked like him, perhaps she would take up the challenge.
‘Help, somebody, please, help us.’
Georgie spun around, her meandering thoughts interrupted by a woman’s cries. The sound came from her right, out in the ocean. She searched the water and it took her a second or two to locate the woman. She was about fifty metres off the back of the pontoon in one of the snorkelling areas marked out by floating buoys. The woman was waving one arm and hanging onto someone else with her other hand. From the corner of her eye Georgie saw a flash of movement as someone dived off the starboard corner of the pontoon. She turned her head. The guy in the Australian flag board shorts had disappeared. In the time it took her to process the cries for help and to find the source of the sound he had dived into the water and was now swimming strongly towards the distressed woman.
A couple of crew members had raced to the back of the pontoon, one unhooking a lifebuoy and the other carrying a first-aid kit. Seeing other people in action galvanised Georgie. She made her way across the pontoon, past stunned tourists, to offer her assistance as the crewman with the lifebuoy jumped overboard and struck out towards the woman, trailing in the other guy’s wake.
Georgie followed him with her eyes. She could see that the diver in the Aussie flag shorts had almost reached the woman but it was getting difficult to see everything that was happening as the swell had picked up and the small waves breaking on the top of the reef were obscuring her vision. With two more over arm strokes, the guy in the board shorts had reached the woman and taken over control of the person she was supporting. He had hold of the person’s chin and Georgie could see him making his way back to the pontoon with a strong sidestroke action, dragging the person with him. The woman was doing her best to follow but she was being rapidly left behind. The crewman with the lifebuoy swam up to her, slipped the lifebuoy over her head and under her arms and started towing her back to the pontoon.
The guy in the board shorts was already back at the pontoon with the rescued man in his grip. One of the crewmen knelt down at the edge of the pontoon and hooked his hands under the distressed man’s armpits and hauled him onto the deck.
‘He’s complaining of chest pain,’ the diver in the board shorts told the crewman as he helped to lift the man’s legs out of the water, ‘and I suspect he’s aspirated some salt water.’
What sort of person used the term ‘aspirated’? Georgie wondered. It was a medical term but perhaps it was common in diving as well? She watched the diver as he hoisted himself up onto the deck. His biceps and triceps bulged as he lifted his weight clear of the sea. Salt water streamed from his body as he stood. His chest was smooth and tanned and despite having just swum a fast fifty metres while towing a heavy body, he was breathing normally. He didn’t appear to be even slightly out of breath.
There were now several people gathered around the back of the pontoon and Georgie was able to blend into the crowd. The guy seemed oblivious to her scrutiny so she let her gaze travel higher.
She was pleased to see that he had a face to match his body. He had an oval face with strong features that complemented his chiselled physique. He had full lips set above a firm jaw, which had a day’s growth of beard and perfectly symmetrical, sandy brown eyebrows that framed his eyes. His nose was straight and narrow and his teeth, when he spoke, were even and white. He was rather cute.
‘Let’s clear the area and get him comfortable. We don’t want to encourage extra blood flow to his heart. I don’t want to stress it more than necessary.’
The cute guy, as Georgie now thought of him, continued to issue instructions as he directed the crew to reposition the man where he wanted him. Because of the board shorts he was wearing she’d initially wondered if he was an overseas tourist but he spoke with a definite Aussie twang. Foreign or not, the cute guy was sounding more and more like he had a medical background. Which reminded her of why she’d crossed the deck in the first place. It hadn’t been to ogle a complete stranger, she’d meant to offer assistance. There were more important things to focus on than an attractive scuba diver.
She took a couple of steps away from the cute guy and towards the crew member who was standing nearby, holding the first-aid kit.
‘Have you got a towel or something we can use to dry him off and keep him warm?’ she asked.
He nodded and Georgie took the kit from him so he could go and find what she’d asked for. She squatted down and spoke to the cute guy. ‘I’m a paramedic. Can I help?’
He nodded in acknowledgement but kept his head down and directed his words at the patient. ‘I’m a doctor so between us we should be able to get you sorted.’ For a moment Georgie thought he was going to ignore her but when he finished reassuring the patient he looked across at her. His eyes were an unusual shade of grey. Silvery grey, almost metallic in colour, they reminded her of the paint the Navy used on its ships. ‘Can you have a look and see what’s in the first-aid kit?’ he asked.
She flipped the catches open as she listened to the conversation going on beside her.
‘Can you describe your pain to me?’
‘I feel like someone has punched me in the chest.’ The man spoke with a British accent and he sounded out of breath, as though each word took great effort. He was going to have a holiday to remember, Georgie thought, assuming they managed to pull him through this crisis.
‘Have you had chest pain before?’ Cute guy had his fingers on the man’s wrist pulse and his eyes on his dive watch, counting the seconds. His fingers were long and slender, his nails shortly clipped and nicely shaped.
The patient nodded but the woman, whom Georgie assumed was his wife, and who was now back on board the pontoon thanks to the efforts of the crew member, elaborated. ‘His doctor said it was angina.’
‘Is he on any medication?’ Cute guy quizzed the man’s wife.
Georgie made a concerted effort to turn her attention back to the contents of the first-aid kit and away from the cute doctor’s hands.
‘The doctor gave Nigel some tablets.’
‘Have you got them with you?’
The wife shook her head. ‘We forgot to pack them—they’re in our hotel room.’
Fat lot of good they were going to do there, Georgie thought. She looked up from the first-aid kit and caught cute guy’s eye. It was obvious from his expression he was thinking along the same lines.
‘There’s nothing useful in here,’ she muttered as she finished searching through the kit. The crewman had returned with a towel but Georgie had another assignment for him now. ‘Do you have a medical cupboard that would have any drugs other than mild analgesics? Painkillers,’ she clarified, when all she got was a blank look.
He nodded. ‘Yes, we’ve got a sick bay. If you want to come with me, you can see if we’ve got what you need.’
Georgie stood and quickly followed him along the deck into the small sick