the silken black straps behind her neck. So why was she doing this? She couldn’t even swim. Where was her reason? Put your clothes back on , her common sense instructed her as she turned the doorknob and went out.
For one moment, the voice of her common sense retreated to less than a whisper as she basked in Nick’s obvious admiration.
“See, I told you it’d fit. I have a good eye.”
Which must be growing into an eagle eye, if it thrived on skin. Such self-conscious thoughts faded, though, as she took a good look at Nick. He was wearing even less than he had in the gym. Now he wore a bathing suit that added new meaning to the word “brief.” It was a striking shade of blue and was tantalizingly molded to his body. Shane’s pulse was doing strange things all on its own as Nick’s extreme maleness telegraphed itself to her.
“Come here,” he urged, stretching out one hand languidly. “Sit by me.”
“I have a better view here,” she told him. She cleared her throat. “I need to take in the atmosphere of this room.”
I need to stay away from you , she silently amended. Her senses were beginning to feel slightly drugged. Must be the humidity from the pool, she tried to tell herself. Shane McCallister didn’t react to men this way, even if they were gorgeous. Especially if they were gorgeous. “It looks a little like a grotto,” she told him, gesturing at the white statues of ancient goddesses that stood in niches in the far wall.
“All it needs is a water sprite,” he said, rising to his feet in a fluid motion.
Nick took hold of her hand and was drawing her toward the water. She had an inkling of what his intention was, before panic seized her.
“No, really, I don’t think this is a good idea,” she protested, “I—“
Playfully, he picked her up and threw her into the water, then dove in after her. She opened her mouth to protest more as she hit the surface. Chlorinated water rushed into her mouth, filling it and choking her. Her eyes stung, and she sank into the water, arms flaying. Her head pounded horribly, demanding air for her lungs, but there wasn’t any. She was sinking, sinking. . .
And then there was air, air all around her, cold and good. Gentle hands were placing her on something flat and hard. She was out of the pool. Her chest heaved, drawing in the sweet air, and she began to cough violently. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Nick’s concerned face looming over her. She was lying next to the pool, and he was brushing away the hair that was plastered against her face.
“Are you all right?”
She tried to nod. “Yes,” she said in a raspy whisper.
“Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t swim?” he demanded. “Lord, I’m sorry. Sometimes I do things impulsively.”
She felt foolish as she shrugged her shoulders weakly. “I didn’t want to admit it,” she muttered. Then she noticed the three long red scratches on his arm. “Oh, no, did I do that?” she asked, sitting up shakily and touching the marks with hesitant fingertips.
“They’ll heal,” he told her dismissively. “Besides, I deserve them, and worse. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
His expression—one of concern mingled with apology—took all her self-righteous anger away. How could she berate him, when he was obviously feeling so badly about it?
“I thought you were supposed to be perfect,” she accused.
“Impulsiveness is my Achilles’ heel. I usually know what I want right away and act on it.” Nick stroked her cheek gently, his fingers gliding down to her chin.
Pure desire blossomed in Shane’s body. She was afraid that he could read the emotion in her eyes, and tried to look away, but Nick lifted her chin so that her eyes were level with his. Ever so slowly, his mouth descended to hers, making her taste his kiss before it had been born. The breathlessness that overtook her was totally different from what she had just experienced. This time her breath was a
For one moment, the voice of her common sense retreated to less than a whisper as she basked in Nick’s obvious admiration.
“See, I told you it’d fit. I have a good eye.”
Which must be growing into an eagle eye, if it thrived on skin. Such self-conscious thoughts faded, though, as she took a good look at Nick. He was wearing even less than he had in the gym. Now he wore a bathing suit that added new meaning to the word “brief.” It was a striking shade of blue and was tantalizingly molded to his body. Shane’s pulse was doing strange things all on its own as Nick’s extreme maleness telegraphed itself to her.
“Come here,” he urged, stretching out one hand languidly. “Sit by me.”
“I have a better view here,” she told him. She cleared her throat. “I need to take in the atmosphere of this room.”
I need to stay away from you , she silently amended. Her senses were beginning to feel slightly drugged. Must be the humidity from the pool, she tried to tell herself. Shane McCallister didn’t react to men this way, even if they were gorgeous. Especially if they were gorgeous. “It looks a little like a grotto,” she told him, gesturing at the white statues of ancient goddesses that stood in niches in the far wall.
“All it needs is a water sprite,” he said, rising to his feet in a fluid motion.
Nick took hold of her hand and was drawing her toward the water. She had an inkling of what his intention was, before panic seized her.
“No, really, I don’t think this is a good idea,” she protested, “I—“
Playfully, he picked her up and threw her into the water, then dove in after her. She opened her mouth to protest more as she hit the surface. Chlorinated water rushed into her mouth, filling it and choking her. Her eyes stung, and she sank into the water, arms flaying. Her head pounded horribly, demanding air for her lungs, but there wasn’t any. She was sinking, sinking. . .
And then there was air, air all around her, cold and good. Gentle hands were placing her on something flat and hard. She was out of the pool. Her chest heaved, drawing in the sweet air, and she began to cough violently. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Nick’s concerned face looming over her. She was lying next to the pool, and he was brushing away the hair that was plastered against her face.
“Are you all right?”
She tried to nod. “Yes,” she said in a raspy whisper.
“Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t swim?” he demanded. “Lord, I’m sorry. Sometimes I do things impulsively.”
She felt foolish as she shrugged her shoulders weakly. “I didn’t want to admit it,” she muttered. Then she noticed the three long red scratches on his arm. “Oh, no, did I do that?” she asked, sitting up shakily and touching the marks with hesitant fingertips.
“They’ll heal,” he told her dismissively. “Besides, I deserve them, and worse. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
His expression—one of concern mingled with apology—took all her self-righteous anger away. How could she berate him, when he was obviously feeling so badly about it?
“I thought you were supposed to be perfect,” she accused.
“Impulsiveness is my Achilles’ heel. I usually know what I want right away and act on it.” Nick stroked her cheek gently, his fingers gliding down to her chin.
Pure desire blossomed in Shane’s body. She was afraid that he could read the emotion in her eyes, and tried to look away, but Nick lifted her chin so that her eyes were level with his. Ever so slowly, his mouth descended to hers, making her taste his kiss before it had been born. The breathlessness that overtook her was totally different from what she had just experienced. This time her breath was a
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