in her mind. She moved forward, mesmerized by the idea of
floating above all that vast empty space.
But then, for a
moment, the water in front of her seemed to shimmer, wavering like light
reflected on a pane of glass. A wash of chill water surrounded her and she
retreated, pushing off from the bottom, heading for the sunlit surface.
Instead of
rising, her body jerked back toward the bottom, pain slicing across her ankle.
Twisting, she looked down. Her right foot was wedged in a crevice between two
sharp rocks. A small cloud of crimson stained the water and a chill passed
through Leila, images of mermaids replaced by that of sharks.
Kicking hard
with her other leg, she pushed against the water with her hands, but she only
succeeded in tearing the flesh of her ankle. She changed her tactic, sinking
down, feeling along her leg with her hands and trying to turn her foot so it
would be free of the rocks. But she was stuck. Her lungs burned and panic took
over as she beat against the rocks with her fists.
The world
turned into a chaotic mass of bubbles and churning water as she kicked and
clawed upward, frantically trying to reach the surface.
Suddenly,
something tugged her back down and she twisted again. Through a screen of
bubbles she saw a man, his hands wrapped around her leg. With incredible
strength he pulled her down toward the rocks, forcibly bending her knee. His
hand slid down the top of her foot, pressing against it. His eyes met hers and
he pressed again and she understood: point her toes.
Immediately her
foot slid from the rocks. The man moved to her side, one arm around her waist,
and with a powerful kick they rose to the surface.
As Leila’s face
broke through the surface of the water, she threw back her head, mouth open,
dragging air into her starved lungs. The man held her easily as he tread water,
keeping both of them afloat. Leila had the overwhelming urge to throw her arms
around his neck but she drew another deep breath, forcing herself to relax, to
stay calm.
The man began
swimming toward the shore, arm still firmly around Leila’s waist. It took only
a few strong strokes for them to reach shallow water. Leila tried to stand but
before she could even get her feet on the sand, the man scooped her up,
carrying her through the shallow water. He set her gently on the sand.
Out of the
water, Leila was instantly conscious of being naked, drawing her knees to her
chest. As if reading her mind, the man reached down and picked up a shirt from
the sand, holding it out to her, averting his eyes as she rose.
“Here. This
should work.”
Leila took the
shirt and the man turned away as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. But he
didn’t turn completely; she caught a glimpse of his face as he glanced back
over his shoulder, his eyes moving over her body
She looked down
as she fumbled with the buttons of the shirt, her fingers suddenly clumsy. The
shirt just reached to the tops of her thighs, barely covering her.
The man turned
back as she finished the last button. For the first time, she took a good look
at his face and she gasped, taking an involuntary step backward.
‘Green eyes,
almost arrogant, looked out from beneath arched brows. A shock of tousled black
hair fell across his high forehead.’
Those had been
her words, her own written description of her hero. And now, as she looked at
the man who’d just saved her life, that’s exactly what she saw. The tousled
black hair was wet, but it was the same deep, raven black of her description.
The nose was long and straight, cheekbones high. His face held the same look
she’d described, the look of confidence in a man who knew what he wanted and
went after it. Who could be ruthless in that pursuit, crushing everyone in his
path. Even the woman he loved.
“Are you
alright?” His words brought her back to reality. He stood on the sand a few
feet away, shirtless, his wet jeans hugging every curve of his lower body. Leila’s
cheeks burned as she
floating above all that vast empty space.
But then, for a
moment, the water in front of her seemed to shimmer, wavering like light
reflected on a pane of glass. A wash of chill water surrounded her and she
retreated, pushing off from the bottom, heading for the sunlit surface.
Instead of
rising, her body jerked back toward the bottom, pain slicing across her ankle.
Twisting, she looked down. Her right foot was wedged in a crevice between two
sharp rocks. A small cloud of crimson stained the water and a chill passed
through Leila, images of mermaids replaced by that of sharks.
Kicking hard
with her other leg, she pushed against the water with her hands, but she only
succeeded in tearing the flesh of her ankle. She changed her tactic, sinking
down, feeling along her leg with her hands and trying to turn her foot so it
would be free of the rocks. But she was stuck. Her lungs burned and panic took
over as she beat against the rocks with her fists.
The world
turned into a chaotic mass of bubbles and churning water as she kicked and
clawed upward, frantically trying to reach the surface.
Suddenly,
something tugged her back down and she twisted again. Through a screen of
bubbles she saw a man, his hands wrapped around her leg. With incredible
strength he pulled her down toward the rocks, forcibly bending her knee. His
hand slid down the top of her foot, pressing against it. His eyes met hers and
he pressed again and she understood: point her toes.
Immediately her
foot slid from the rocks. The man moved to her side, one arm around her waist,
and with a powerful kick they rose to the surface.
As Leila’s face
broke through the surface of the water, she threw back her head, mouth open,
dragging air into her starved lungs. The man held her easily as he tread water,
keeping both of them afloat. Leila had the overwhelming urge to throw her arms
around his neck but she drew another deep breath, forcing herself to relax, to
stay calm.
The man began
swimming toward the shore, arm still firmly around Leila’s waist. It took only
a few strong strokes for them to reach shallow water. Leila tried to stand but
before she could even get her feet on the sand, the man scooped her up,
carrying her through the shallow water. He set her gently on the sand.
Out of the
water, Leila was instantly conscious of being naked, drawing her knees to her
chest. As if reading her mind, the man reached down and picked up a shirt from
the sand, holding it out to her, averting his eyes as she rose.
“Here. This
should work.”
Leila took the
shirt and the man turned away as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. But he
didn’t turn completely; she caught a glimpse of his face as he glanced back
over his shoulder, his eyes moving over her body
She looked down
as she fumbled with the buttons of the shirt, her fingers suddenly clumsy. The
shirt just reached to the tops of her thighs, barely covering her.
The man turned
back as she finished the last button. For the first time, she took a good look
at his face and she gasped, taking an involuntary step backward.
‘Green eyes,
almost arrogant, looked out from beneath arched brows. A shock of tousled black
hair fell across his high forehead.’
Those had been
her words, her own written description of her hero. And now, as she looked at
the man who’d just saved her life, that’s exactly what she saw. The tousled
black hair was wet, but it was the same deep, raven black of her description.
The nose was long and straight, cheekbones high. His face held the same look
she’d described, the look of confidence in a man who knew what he wanted and
went after it. Who could be ruthless in that pursuit, crushing everyone in his
path. Even the woman he loved.
“Are you
alright?” His words brought her back to reality. He stood on the sand a few
feet away, shirtless, his wet jeans hugging every curve of his lower body. Leila’s
cheeks burned as she
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