Footsteps on the deck outside were a welcome distraction—one second more and he would’ve thrown caution to the wind and kissed her. The stomping arrival of Jeff and Moira, both with matching scowls on their faces, heralded less than good news.
“The mechanic ordered a new cambelt,” Jeff said, “but because of the statutory holidays it won’t be delivered until the day after Boxing Day.”
“Could we hire a car?” Karen asked.
She’d moved a safe distance from him, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
Moira shook her head and flung herself onto the couch. “None available. We’ve already tried the two nearest car rental places.”
“We’re stranded here?”
Maybe it was Art’s imagination, but there was more than disappointment in Karen’s voice. Something like anticipation.
“Yup,” Moira said.
Jeff plucked a strand of tinsel from the decoration box and draped it around Karen’s shoulders. “Looks as if we’ll all be having a Tekapo Christmas.”
Chapter 3
Moira set the last of the prettily wrapped packages under the tree. Karen had already added hers, but there’d be no surprises for Moira or Jeff inside the reindeer-themed paper again this year. One of the benefits of her animal friends was their beautifully soft, silky fiber which was a pleasure to spin into yarn. This year Cher and Barry had provided the caramel-colored yarn that Karen had knitted into a sweater for Jeff and a shawl wrap for Moira. She was working on a Barry hat to go with the scarf she had already completed for Moira’s dad, and she should have that finished by tomorrow.
Not that it mattered now.
Moira leaned over, her mouth close to Karen’s ear. “Do you think we should get Art something? It seems a bit rude not to, since we’re gate-crashing his Christmas.”
Karen’s stomach gave a delicious little shiver at the mention of his name. “Absolutely. We could check out the little tourist shops after we’ve been grocery shopping.”
Moira and Jeff had decided to create a traditional Christmas lunch, and Jeff had already called in a favor with a restaurant supplier to secure a turkey.
The back door banged open and Jeff and Art strolled inside.
“Come on, you two,” Jeff said. “Enough moping. Get your swimsuits on. We’re going to the lake.”
“Are you nuts?” Karen directed the comment to Jeff, because staring at Art was a bit like the pull to look at a solar eclipse without safety measures. You knew it would be bad for you, even if it didn’t hurt at the time. “The lake’s too cold for swimming.”
“Yeah.” Moira immediately backed Karen up. “I vote for the hot springs.”
“Let’s save the springs for another day,” Art said. “Jeff and I figure we need something a little more challenging than soaking in a hot pool to keep our minds occupied this afternoon.”
“I can be challenged in a hot pool,” Moira grumbled. “Especially if there’s a nice red wine involved.”
Karen directed an elbow into her ribs and shot her a quelling look. “We’re not going to start drinking at one o’clock in the afternoon.”
She forced herself to meet Art’s gaze, which had returned to a polite inquisitiveness. Quite possibly she’d imagined he was about to kiss her earlier. Wishful thinking.
She straightened her spine. “What do you boys have in mind?”
Using the word boys was a deliberate ploy to convince that wayward imagination of hers to lump Art into her big-brother relationship with Jeff.
Art smiled. A wicked, daring smile that shimmered through her from head to toe and made a liar of her plans to friend-zone him. “Paddleboarding. You don’t even have to get wet.”
“Ooooh.” Moira clapped her hands like a six-year-old. “You should’ve led with that. I love paddleboarding.”
“We’ve got boards in the garage,” Jeff said. “Tim’s a part-time instructor; he won’t mind if we borrow his for the afternoon.”
This time Moira elbowed Karen. “Awesome, right?”
Oh yeah. Nothing better than making a complete idiot of herself while her friends and a super-confident-looking male paddled circles around her, looking like graceful swans. “I, uh…” Karen began.
Jeff’s forehead creased. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you still a virgin, K?”
Art’s eyes widened, his gaze swerving to Karen’s face. Instantaneous combustion took place above the neckline of her T-shirt, and although she opened her mouth, nothing came out.
“She is,” Moira said helpfully. “But Art could probably help with that.”
Jeff, trying unsuccessfully to muzzle a grin, folded his arms and considered his roommate. “He’s a very patient teacher. I’m sure he’d be gentle with her—seeing it’s her first time.”
Karen finally got her voice back and made a time-out gesture. “Oh, shut up, you two.” Her face still flamed as hot as sunburn, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “They mean I’m a paddleboard virgin.”
“I knew that.” Art’s eyes danced with amusement. “What else could they mean?”
Karen chuckled. “All right, all right. Enough of the virgin jokes. I’m game to give it a try.”
“That’s the spirit,” Art said, parroting back what she’d said to him earlier.
Forty minutes later, Karen was rethinking her confident stance on trying something new. Popping her paddleboard virginity, as it were.
The four of them toted their boards around to a quiet spot on the lake edge, while Moira and Jeff raved on about how much fun she was about to have. Karen wasn’t quite so eager to hit the lake, even after the running pep talk she’d given herself on the walk there. It was a beautiful day, a beautiful spot, and glancing at a few other paddleboarders farther out on the water, she convinced herself that balancing on a lump of fiberglass in the middle of Lake Tekapo would be a piece of cake.
Jeff and Moira tag-teamed explaining the basics to her onshore, with Art standing back. With the crash course in paddleboarding 101 completed to the siblings’ satisfaction, they launched their boards into the water.
Karen followed them over the rocky shoreline to where the turquoise water lapped in tiny waves, barely rippling the lake’s surface. She hesitated as they floated away in graceful, measured strokes.
“Hey,” Karen yelled after them. “I’ll never remember all of that.”
“Sure you will,” Jeff said from what looked to be half a mile out onto the lake. “Piece of cake.”
From at least a mile out onto the lake, Moira took a hand off her paddle and gave her a cheerful wave. “You can do it, babe,” her friend hollered. “If you can master Downward Facing Dog, you’ll nail this.”
Karen dipped a toe into the lake. It was only her peripheral vision spotting Art at her side that prevented her from shrieking at the sudden shock of cold water. Definitely an alpine lake.
“You practice yoga?” Art waded into knee-deep water. He didn’t even flinch. How manly.
She crinkled her nose, braving the lake up to her ankles. “Will it help me in this situation?”
“Yoga’s great for balance, isn’t it?”
“It is. But that’s making the assumption I’m any good at it.” Sucking in a bracing breath, Karen sloshed through the water toward him, lugging the borrowed board with her. She hoped the freezing water wouldn’t pull all the blood from her brain so she could remember Moira and Jeff’s advice.
“Baby steps. You’ll be fine.” He set his board on the water, placing the paddle perpendicular across it. “Just follow me.”
Jeff and Moira now looked to be about two miles out and were in the middle of a sibling water fight with their paddles. She slanted a sideways glance at Art, who was kneeling on his board, watching her with an expectant expression. Her stomach flip-flopped. She knew he was only staying with her to be polite, but having him witness her klutziness up close and personal was just ugh.
If it isn’t too much to ask, Santa, let me get onto the board without falling off fa
ce first.
She could do this. It wasn’t rocket science, or a better analogy might be it wasn’t astro science or whatever Art called it.
Karen set her paddle perpendicular across the board like she’d been shown. Placing her palms over the paddle shaft, she got one knee into position, hesitated as the board wobbled in the water, called upon her inner graceful yoga goddess, and lifted her other knee onto the board. First step accomplished—she was now on her hands and knees, with her bum pointing in Art’s direction. Sigh. She hadn’t thought this through. With her butt cheeks tense enough to bounce a coin off, Karen gripped the paddle shaft and rose onto her knees.
Splashing sounds reached her ears as Art appeared in her peripheral vision. She didn’t dare break her concentration to glance at him. “Now what?” she asked.
“We’ll get you used to paddling on your knees for a while. Then we’ll try standing up.”
He gave her a few more technical instructions about using the paddle, then they were off. And by off she meant a crawl across the water speed along the shoreline.
After a few hairy moments, Karen got the hang of it. It wasn’t that much harder than kayaking at school camps in the summer. She was actually enjoying herself, looking around at the sunshine sparkling off the lake. She even managed a wave at a group of kids on the rocky shore in front of the Church of the Good Shepherd.
Smashing it.
Art had pulled a little bit ahead, giving her a lovely view of his broad shoulders and tanned muscular arms guiding his paddle through the water. He was still on his knees, undoubtedly in support of his less than capable companion, and since she really had nailed the kneeling position, she thought she’d surprise him with her killer grace and balance.
Deep breath, paddle perpendicular across board, hands on the shaft. She ran through the steps in her head. One knee up, like a woman about to start a race. Joined by the second leg and into a crouch, maintaining a strong core with perfect balance. Rising to her feet like doing a squat, bringing the paddle with her, and in one smooth movement knifing it through the water.
Lights, camera, action!
Step one. Karen got her right knee up and braced under her chest. The board gave a little side-to-side shimmy. She froze, stomach muscles tightening like a vise around her spine.
“It’s all good, all good,” she muttered, angling her chin so she was staring straight ahead. She repeated the sage advice Moira had given her. “Look at the horizon, not your feet.”
Step two. As her weight shifted in order to bring up her second knee, the board shifted with her. And by shift she meant wobbled like hell. Thank goodness Art wasn’t behind her, because she was pretty sure it would look like she was twerking her heart out. But she was committed; she couldn’t get back onto her hands and knees. Her only choice was to stand.
“Look at the horizon,” she repeated.
Karen looked at the horizon, which happened to include Art. He’d half turned his board toward her, probably waiting for her to catch up. His eyes were wide and he’d taken a hand off his paddle to reach out in an impotent gesture—as if he could prevent the inevitable.
The board beneath her feet turned into a bucking bronco, into a lumberjack log roll, into a slippery ice floe, and she a clumsy penguin. She felt herself going, and had time for one screech of denial before she toppled into the beautiful, diabolically cold lake.
* * *
Art and his board covered the short distance to the floundering, dripping-wet woman in less than thirty seconds. She stood in hip-deep water, so there was no chance of her drowning, but he thought it wise not to mention it. He also thought it wise not to mention she looked incredible in a wet T-shirt.
So sue him, he was a guy.
Her big green eyes met his. “Come on in. The water’s fine,” she said around chattering teeth.
Normally, he’d pass, but he didn’t like her chances of getting back on her board without assistance. So he slid off his board into the water. Instant regret. Instant shrinkage.
“Holy moly, that’s cold.” He waded around his board to where she was shivering in the water.
“Yup.”
She unpeeled her arms from around her waist as he plucked her floating paddle from the water and set it back on the board. He patted the center of it and kept his gaze on the paddle and not at the effects of cold water on her body. “You know what they say to do when you fall off a horse?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, but she managed a quivering smile as she got one dripping knee and then the other on the board while he steadied it. “I’m not giving up yet.”
“Want me to hold it while you stand?”
“Hell no. That’s cheating.” She frowned, then slid him glance. “But maybe you could turn the other way. An audience will make me more nervous.”
He showed her his back, ears tuned to her unseen movements. A moment later—splash!
“I’m good,” came her shout from behind him. “Just need another do-over. Hang on.”
Water sloshing, muttered curses and threats to the board’s welfare, then—splash!
He winced on her behalf, but he could no longer keep the grin from spreading on his face. Damn, but you had to admire a woman who wouldn’t quit at the first setback.
It took four more setbacks before she finally called his name and said he could look. He turned slowly in the water, because Lord knew he didn’t want to startle her, and looked.
Karen stood on the board, balanced with her paddle like a tightrope walker, a triumphant smile on her face. She even managed to twist her hands on the paddle shaft and give him a double thumbs-up.
He waded back to his board and climbed on. By the time he was upright, Karen had paddled to his side. She sent him a smile that nearly made the icy water evaporate from him. “I have no idea how I’m going to get down from this without another dunking, but I’m game to go a little farther.”
They continued to paddle at a lazy pace a short distance around the lake before turning back toward the beach where they’d left their belongings. Moira and Jeff still hadn’t returned. Art hopped off his board into the shallows.
“Stay there,” he instructed Karen, and once he’d lifted his paddle and board onto the shore he went back for her, steadying her as she climbed off.
They waded onto the beach, and Art shook out one of the towels they’d brought with them. The sun had partially dried her T-shirt and bikini bottom while they were out on the water, but the damp fabric still clung to her and her hair hung in wet clumps. He draped the towel around her and guided her to sit on the blanket he spread out on the grassy bank above the rocky shore. The sun had abandoned their spot, and a breeze picked up and teased little white caps farther out on the lake.
He grabbed a second towel and lowered himself to sit beside her—not too close, since he didn’t trust himself not to tuck her under his arm and hold her—but not so far away that he could avoid the scent of tropical sunscreen drifting off her skin.
“Warm enough?” he asked.
“Toasty.” But she gave a giant shiver, like a dog shaking water out of its coat, and huddled tortoise-like into the towel’s folds.
He reached across and rubbed her back, though on what planet did that generate enough heat to prevent hypothermia? He heard the chatter of her teeth, and he was a goner. He scooted over on the blanket and slung an arm around her shoulders. Due to their different heights, she fit perfectly against his side. She leaned into him, and her shivers became his. He sacrificed his towel, shrugging half of it off his shoulders and draping the lion’s share around hers.
To keep up the appearance of it being a casual warmth-sharing exercise, beneath the extra layer of toweling he briskly rubbed her arm. He dipped his chin, but he couldn’t see her face, only the top of her head resting on his collarbone. This close, the scent of coconut with undernotes of some citrusy fresh perfume that he remembered from earlier in the day addled his brain. So much so that it took him a few moments to register that a cold
, feminine arm had hooked around his waist and she’d snuggled in even closer, tucking her knees up to press against his thighs.
He wasn’t complaining. And he sure wasn’t going to push her away even though she was draining his body heat like some kind of warmth vampire.
“I bet you’re the type of woman who sticks her icy feet on her boyfriend when you’re spooning at night.” If she could fish for information about his roommate, so could he.
“I am,” she mumbled into his chest, her breath tickling his skin. “But since I don’t have a boyfriend, I have to make do with a hot-water bottle.”
“I’m not so environmentally friendly, I’m afraid.”
She leaned back to meet his eyes, a question clear in her gaze.
“No hot-water bottle and no girlfriend. Just a really brilliant invention called an electric blanket.”
His hand traced a path up her spine to gently cup her nape. The contrast between the rough pile of the towel and the silky skin beneath the heavy curtain of her damp hair caused his fingertips to tingle.
“I must put one of those on my Christmas list.” The tip of her tongue darted out and swiped along her lower lip.
He tracked the movement, devoured that soft, pale pink curve with his gaze. In his mind he was already kissing her, discovering if she tasted like peppermint candy canes or some other sweetness he could indulge in. His fingers wove lightly into her hair in a soft circular pattern, and her eyelashes fluttered to half-mast.
“The Christmas list you’re writing to Santa?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“For someone who’s into the whole Christmas thing, I’d expect you’d already asked Santa for what you wanted.”
He knew what he wanted, and he didn’t think he could wait until Christmas morning to have it.
“Sometimes the heart wants something different than the head,” she whispered. “You strike me as the kind of guy who listens to his head.”
“Ninety-nine percent of the time. It’s the one percent that keeps life interesting.”
Beneath the Christmas Stars Page 3
