by Ember Leigh
His cheeks reddened again; something about being spied on by somebody without knowing, made him both defensive and incredibly horny. He didn’t know where to begin. Why was she prowling his place, his hotel? But why was he doing the same? And furthermore, why couldn’t they get out of the water and on top of each other already?
“Yeah, too many years,” he said, opting for a simple back float as his ears strained to echolocate her through his bobbing in the water. She caught on to uncommon details—another thing that made him both unnerved and hungry to learn more about her. Who was this mystery woman?
“I bet it looked nice,” she added, voice farther away. His ears perked up at the sound of water sloshing as she got out of the pool. “I’d like to see it in the light sometime.”
“I can show you,” he said. “You know, when we’re not bathed in darkness.”
“Well, I can turn the light on.” Footsteps sounded across the floor. “If you tell me where to go.”
He paused, unsure whether he wanted to bring their first day of knowing each other into the realm of nude spectacle. “Well, I mean, maybe tomorrow during—”
The light snapped on. Garrett covered his eyes with his arms.
“Found it.”
When his eyes had adjusted, he caught a glimpse of Rose walking back toward the water.
Nude. Exquisitely, sculpted, shimmeringly nude.
“Damn.” He blinked. The woman was a goddess. Pure cut curves, and the most perky breasts he’d seen in possibly his entire life. She’d put him in a tough situation, one he didn’t know how to get out of.
“That’s better, right?” She smiled at him and leaned down to check something on the reclining chair where her things were. The baby monitor—she pressed it to her ear, fiddled with it a bit, and then put it back where it had been sitting.
“Now that I’m not alone in here, I better be able to hear Emmy if she cries,” she said, easing back into the water. Before long, she treaded water in front of him, a big smile on her face, blue eyes watching him more innocent than if she’d teleported in from a child’s storybook.
“Well, this certainly makes things a bit different.” He tried to keep his gaze fixated above water. She giggled.
“There’s nothing to hide here, Garrett,” she said, casting herself back onto the water. She floated for a moment on top of the water, sighing deeply. He couldn’t keep his eyes from settling on the V-shape between her legs, the impossibly tiny, dark patch of hair calling to him louder than any other thing in his life.
“Truer words haven’t been spoken.” He submerged himself for a moment, hoping the burning between his ears might lessen. The woman drove him nuts. Extremely forward, extremely confident…extremely his type.
He shook his head underwater, trying to rid himself of the idea jostling inside his skull like an angry bull. She’s leaving soon. Don’t even think about it. It wasn’t the fact that she was interesting and captivating and very nearby without any clothes on.
It also had to do with the fact that her baby lay in this very hotel with them, and besides, he and Wes had wrecked their car and brought them to stay at the hotel. If he and Rose hooked up, it would be like an expedited version of Stockholm syndrome. Her captor becoming her love interest.
He wasn’t above water even a second before she said, “So let’s see this dive.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah.” She jerked her head toward the diving board at the far end. “Go on.”
Garrett acquiesced easy enough. He appreciated the few minutes of distance this allowed him, a chance to screw his head back on right before the sight of this naked mermaid on the other end of the pool drove him to insanity.
He pulled himself out of the pool, self-conscious as the water fell away and the cold sting of the night air met his buttocks. He glanced behind him—her eyes were riveted—and strode confidently toward the diving board. Yeah, she probably liked what she saw. He could imagine all sorts of secret butt flinches and flexing as he approached the other end of the pool. And maybe Rose gobbled it up, wanting him even a fraction as much as he wanted her right now. Stockholm syndrome or not, a touch of her body would do—a caress, a glance, an anything.
He walked toward the tip of the diving board, not taking his eyes off her for a second. His cock moved gently against his body as he tested the board, his cheeks flushing as her gaze fell below his waist line.
“You really ready for this?” he asked, toeing the front edge.
“Born ready.”
He straightened his posture on the board. Casting one last smile her way, he readied himself for the dive. He bent his knees and jumped firmly once, a second time higher, and then with a third jump, arced gracefully into the air, twisted once, and then sliced through the water without so much as a hiccup.
He’d aced it, even better than the first dive. He swam quickly toward Rose’s legs, which he could see treading water ahead. Finally, he surfaced, mere inches from her.
“You liked that?”
****
Truth be told, Rose was impressed as hell but she shrugged it off. She could barely focus on her game with this handsome God only inches away, distracting her with perfect dives, excellent abdominals, and a nether region that would absolutely qualify as above average. “Not bad.”
He laughed, tossing a few more locks of hair out of his eyes. “Not bad? My dive was a trophy winner, and I get ‘not bad’?” He shook his head, feigning displeasure. “Women these days…”
“All right, fine. It was excellent. But you already knew that.” She kept an eye on him as she swam in a circle around him, loving his half-incredulous gaze on her. “A damn fine dive, sir.”
“Sir?” He laughed again. “You really are from the south. But not the same south as me.”
Rose grinned like a devil, coming even closer. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“First of all, I’m from New Mexico.”
“A bunch of desert and aliens out there, right?”
“You nailed it. And second, you’re like no southern lady I’ve ever met.”
“I’m a perfect southern belle.” She circled him like he was her prey. “Isn’t that obvious?”
He smiled again, those dimples nearly drowning her. So he was catching on to her. “I haven’t met too many southern belles that go skinny-dipping on the first night they meet somebody.”
“You haven’t met the right southern belles.” She swam behind his broad shoulders, tempted to latch onto him from behind and smooth her lips over the rock-hard expanse extending from his shoulder blade to the watery depths below. He spun around and caught her eye.
“You might be right.” He sank into the water, bringing them to eye level. A moment of silence descended, thick and humid like an oppressive summer night. Or a whole lot of fucking sexual tension. They stared at each other. Rose willed herself to say something, crack a joke, or put her lips on his face—anything. Do something. She could see her own reflection in his eyes—an attack of lust, a haze of maybe right now?, a severe case of one-night stand.
Garrett neared only slightly, maybe a microscopic fifth of an inch, but she freaked. She submerged herself, sending up defiant air bubbles as she expelled her frustrations in a silent underwater scream.
The classic conflict of sexual need and moral rigor. Way to be Rose, Rose. Something inside her told her that kissing this man on the first day of knowing him was wrong. She should wait. At least find out a little bit more about him. For God’s sake.
When she surfaced, he stood a more respectful distance away, eyes less hazy. Standing in the shallower end, he loomed out of the water like a warrior rising from the watery depths of his kingdom.
He was such a man. For reasons she couldn’t understand, his masculinity penetrated her harder than most men she came across, but it didn’t make her bristle like the others. Most guys brought out her masculine side even more—like she had to prove herself, be one of them. That’s how she preferred it, at least.<
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But Garrett didn’t make her eager to prove her dominance. She liked being near him. Already she could spend a long time with him in a room, not talking—something of her litmus test for companions, one most people couldn’t pass. This tempted her even more, clawed at her with aching fingers. Rose didn’t come across too many guys who reminded her she was still a girl. Much less a person she could just be around them.
“So, small talk.” Garrett floated toward the side of the pool.
“Do we have to?”
“I guess not. Should I cut to the interesting questions?”
She grinned, liking where this could go. “Yeah, why not?”
“Where is Emmy’s father?”
The words were a punch in the gut, the sexy energy from moments ago withering and drifting away. Not the route I had in mind. The same gears from dinner began turning, the familiar whoosh of the filing cabinet opening back up to log whatever lie she came up with next. “Um…she…doesn’t have one.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How do you mean? Like…absent? Or…immaculate conception?”
Rose laughed, taking the time to figure out the second phase of her cover. The light of the room glinted off his slick chest in a way that made it impossible to keep her story straight. “In vitro.”
Distant surprise registered on his face. “Seriously?”
She shrugged, picking a slow-paced path between the two edges of the pool. In vitro meant fewer details to keep straight, no need for an ex-baby daddy drama story or even an invented relationship to keep up with. And she would rather give up her daily squats than need to complicate this web of lies needlessly. “For my lifestyle, it was easier.”
This didn’t seem to clarify anything for him. “But, raising a baby on your own is hard, right? I mean, probably harder than—”
“It is hard,” she said. “But like I said, it made sense at the time.” She slowed her stroke, shrugging, wanting him to accept it and move on.
He watched her for a moment and then took a deep breath. “Well, you are one courageous lady. Sorry, if my question was a little too forward. Wes would say it’s one of my character flaws…”
Rose smiled. “No worries, Garrett. I suffer the same myself.” She examined her fingers, noting the ugly pruning taking over her hands. “Character flaws, I mean. I have plenty.”
A comfortable silence settled, and she wanted to divulge more, to get him to open up as well. A gratifying conversation quivered on the cusp of existence, and she could practically already hear it unfolding in her head.
She opened her mouth to speak, but before she launched the interrogation, the cool air reminded her of a few things. Like, namely, the warm bed waiting for her. And the fact that it was pointless to pull an all-nighter with this guy when she needed to leave as soon as she could convince a plow-truck-helicopter combo to come rescue her.
“Listen, I’m gonna head back to the room. You joining? You should get some sleep before work tomorrow, you know.”
He groaned. “Oh, I know…”
Garrett followed her toward the edge of the pool. She pulled herself out of the pool, half imagining his eyes riveted to her backside, half frozen from the shock of leaving the warm pool.
Before she grabbed her towel and discarded clothes from a chair nearby, she snuck a glance at Garrett—saw him doing the same back at her. They shared an awkward smile. Red-handed, the both of them. Rose wrapped the towel around her as Garrett slipped on a pair of sweatpants. The ridges of his abs made her falter. She almost protested his decision of pants, wanting to catch another look at those long swimmer’s legs, the bulge of his quad, the pleasant sprinkling of dark leg hair.
Rose moved toward the glass door of the pool room, waited as Garrett held it open for her. They walked toward the rooms, the hotel air so quiet it practically screamed at them.
As they rounded the corner to the rooms, Rose spoke up. “So, is this a nightly thing for you?” She leaned against the wall outside their rooms, looking him up and down once more, completely pleased by the way his damp hair fell around his face.
“Not so much,” he said, voice soft. “Only when I really need it.” She bit back a smile, and he looked curious. “Why? You want to catch me in the buff again tomorrow night, right?”
She shrugged, feigning innocence. “Maybe.”
“You’re gonna have to be smoother than that to catch another glimpse.” His eyes careened up and down her body, and she loved the way he gobbled her up. Their energy was so on, there were practically sparks in the air.
“I’ll work on my game, then.” She lowered her eyes and smiled something sultry, her best approximation at least. Garrett wilted visibly. Score. “Good night, Garrett.”
She slunk into the bedroom, easing the door shut, and let herself into her bed with a very strange and very rare tingle of excitement burbling deep inside her belly.
Chapter Five
Much to his disbelief, Garrett awoke before the alarm clock sounded the next morning.
Wesley, too, showed his disbelief as Garrett’s pillow slapped his cheek.
“Time to wake up.” Garrett tossed the pillow aside. He hadn’t woken up before his alarm clock possibly ever. But here he was, seven thirty a.m. and more alert than a hunting dog on the prowl. He had an idea why.
“There are more humane ways to waking a person up in the morning, you know.” Wesley threw back the covers, scowling.
“But if I used more humane ways, then I wouldn’t be your brother.” Garrett flashed a smile and disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Outside, Wesley grumbled about something, but that stopped once he opened the spigot and waited for the hot water.
His reflection was surprisingly chipper. Maybe this was one of those mid-life crises? Well, more like a third-life crisis, which was easier than a mid-life crisis because it meant he didn’t leave his wife and kids and instead started waking up earlier each day? That made some sense, probably. He’d remember to tell Wes. And probably Rose.
Oh, Rose.
There—he remembered why he’d woken up. It occurred to him during the night, somewhere between a nightmare and a total wet dream, if the weather cleared up today by some miraculous shift of storm patterns, then Rose would be gone.
Even in his dreams, he’d been desperate to get to a window.
He sped through the teeth-brushing, splashed too-hot water on his face, cursed, rubbed his eyes for too long trying to calm the scalding which caused an eyelash to get lodged under the lid, spent two minutes poking hopelessly at his eyeball, tears running down one cheek, until finally he said fuck it and tumbled out of the bathroom, one eye pinched shut and toothpaste still stuck on the patch of hair on his chin.
“You’re such a beauty queen,” Wesley remarked before taking his spot in the bathroom.
Garrett grumbled and continued toward the far side of the room. He yanked open the curtains, heart petrified as he awaited the determination.
Totally white.
He heaved a sigh of relief, though confused by the intense emotional reaction to the possibility of Rose departing. She’s a transient; leaving is inevitable. He didn’t like the strength of the emotion, and certainly didn’t like that it was associated with a mysterious woman who probably did way more sit-ups than him in a day, and whom he had known less than a full twenty-four hours.
You have turned into a psycho.
He tugged on a pair of slightly-grimy workpants, knowing the day’s tasks ahead included a lot of crawling around dirty floors and belt sanding. He rummaged through a few piles of clothes, looking for the stick of deodorant he’d tossed aside the evening before.
“Wes, is my deodorant in there?”
A pause, and then Wes called out, “No. And you can’t use mine.”
He sighed, toeing through a different pile again before realizing he’d left it in Rose’s bathroom. His stomach somersaulted. Was it too early to stop by?
The rationalization came swift and
efficient. I need to get it. It’s our hotel. If I don’t wear deodorant everyone will complain. You better go right now. Definitely can’t not go to her room right this second.
He ran to her door before he’d even convinced himself to go. He knocked three times, a good, firm knock. A totally competent, just-swinging-by-to-get-my-deodorant…oh shit, you forgot your shirt, Garrett.
The door swung open and Rose peered out at him. She looked to be in a similar phase of readying herself. And she forgot her pants.
“Morning.” He smiled cheerily, keeping his eyes away from the delicious V formed where her legs met her pelvis. After a second went by, he decided he’d lean casually against the doorframe, use the shirtlessness to his advantage. He caught a glimpse of taut nipple beneath her T-shirt. His cock stirred beneath grimy work jeans.
“Is this my wakeup call?”
“Sorry, I…” Thirty-four years old and he could still be reduced to a bumbling adolescent in the presence of a half-naked workout queen with hard nipples straining against cotton. “You know what? I left my deodorant in your bathroom. Do you mind if I get it?” He gestured toward his armpit, realized how stupid that was, and dropped his arms to his sides.
She smiled at him, looking like calculating something in her head. “Sure.”
Before she stepped aside, she reached up and wiped something off his chin.
“Toothpaste,” she clarified, rubbing her hand on the back of her thigh.
Garrett froze. Not only had he shown up acting the part of the cool-guy, he did so with a childlike smear of toothpaste across his face she dared to wipe on her own flesh. I might be in love.
“That was for later.” He feigned offense and sauntered as coolly as possible past her and into the bathroom. Inside, his stick of deodorant leered at him, as though it had all been a set-up. As he came out of the bathroom, Rose sat cross-legged on the bed, watching him.
“Did you sleep well?” He needed to stop acting like a middle-schooler. It was time to recover his cool.
She nodded, then stifled a yawn. “The swim last night helped.”
