by Carolyn Zane
She stuck her tongue out at him as he swept her into his arms. Slowly, Ty lowered her body into the water, cradling her bottom on his bent knees and supporting her legs and head with his arms.
“There now.” He smiled down at her. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”
Quickly shaking her head, Emily concentrated on relaxing. “No...um, not bad, really. Just strange.”
“Yeah, but that’s true of everything until you get used to it. Here, let’s go over to where the water is a little deeper.”
She nodded up at him, her wide eyes never leaving his face.
“Now, look, you’re nearly floating by yourself,” he said proudly, trying not to notice the tiny patches of swimsuit bob and sway as they broke the surface of the water. Holy heart failure, he thought, willing his breathing to slow down. There was no way that Roxanne could ever compete with this at the side of the pool. Emily was perfect. Tightening his grip—to reassure her, he told himself—he led her farther into the deep end.
She beamed up at him, obviously proud that she hadn’t panicked yet.
“All right, it’s only four and a half feet deep here. You can still stand up if you want to, so remember to stay relaxed, and keep breathing deep, slow breaths.” Sucking in a lungful of air, he demonstrated for her, his chest moving her up and down in the water as he breathed.
Pulling her head out of the water, she rolled her eyes expressively and tried to speak around the hand that still held her nose tightly shut. “I’mb not habing a baby here. Just don leb aby water geb in by bouth, so I can breab,” she instructed him nasally.
She was so incredibly beautiful, even with her cheeks puffed out that way. How he’d love to skip the rest of this lesson and...
No. He couldn’t do anything to blow her trust now. And not just because he needed her help with Roxanne.
“If you’re ready, I’m going to let go of you. Whatever you do, stay calm. If you start to sink, I’ll grab you, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Ty took a deep breath, and slowly, ever so slowly, pulled his hands out from behind her back. “I’m only holding you with one hand,” he informed her enthusiastically.
Eyes shining, she asked, “Really?”
“Really. We’ll just stay like this for a second or two while you get used to floating.”
“Okay.” Her eyes still clung to his, as though they were some kind of lifeline that contained the supernatural power to elevate her.
When he felt that she was totally relaxed and ready, he made his move. “Here we go,” he warned as he slowly removed his remaining hand from beneath her back.
She was floating. All by herself, she was floating. Ty experienced a surge of accomplishment he hadn’t felt in years. A feeling that he had done something important. Even more important than acquiring new business for Connstarr.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered to her, his chest swelling with happiness. “You’re floating. All by yourself. I’m not even touching you.”
The happy smile on her face turned upside down. “You’re not?” she asked worriedly.
“No!” he crowed. “You’re on your own.”
“I am?” she shrieked just before she sank like a pair of lead gangster shoes.
“You were.” Ty sighed as he dived beneath the surface to fish her up out of the water. When he emerged, predictably, he was wearing a gasping and sputtering Emily, coiled firmly around his shoulders and chest.
“I’m sorry,” she cried, burying her nose into his neck, disappointment filling her voice. “I must have panicked.”
“Hey,” he said as he gently pried her face out of the crook of his neck so that he could look at her. “You did it!”
“I did?” She sniffed, rubbing the water out of her eyes and probing his for the truth.
“Yes!” He threw back his head and yelled, jubilant over her first tentative victory. “You did it!”
“I did it?” she shouted, laughing with him and hugging him tightly around the neck.
Slipping his arms around her slender waist, he hugged her back, thrilled by their breakthrough. “You sure did.” He pressed her snugly into his arms and squeezed, kissing the top of her head, her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks.
She stilled in his arms and looked slowly up at him, her eyes still shining with pleasure, and he became suddenly aware that she was cradled against his body with nothing but two, practically nonexistent, pink slivers of material separating them. And—much to his chagrin—he felt himself begin to react to her in a way that was purely physical.
His throat grew dry as he battled the tension that was coiling so tightly in his gut. The smell of the chlorine seemed intoxicating, and Tyler was sure she must be able to feel the chugging locomotive that was his heartbeat thudding against her breast. Swallowing hard, he knew that he should climb out of the pool now. Before it was too late. But it was already too late.
A tiny whimper of protest sounded from somewhere deep in her throat as he lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips over hers. But if she objected, she made no move to stop him, and—disgusted with himself for his own lack of control—he increased the pressure and kissed her deeply. Slowly at first and then, as he built steam, more savagely.
Backing her into the shallow end, he lifted her up onto the built-in steps, and leaned heavily against her, cradling her head against the edge of the pool. She tasted of water and wine, and the combination increased rather than quenched his thirst for her. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t seem to find the wherewithal to resist her, and as his mouth roughly plundered hers, he knew he was no better than Roxanne.
He’d always prided himself on his ability to remain objective with his co-workers. What was it about Emily, then, his latest employee, that allowed him to step over lines that he’d drawn years ago?
Stop! his conscience urged him, even as he tore his mouth from hers to continue his assault down along her jaw to her neck and from there to the place where the water met her breastbone.
Small, mewling sounds of pleasure coming from deep within her throat only served to fuel his craving—a craving so voracious it threatened to drown him. Kneeling on the steps, between her legs, he grasped her head in his hands, and pulled her mouth back to his. Her soft, full lips blended perfectly with his, and he lost all rational idea of where his body ended and hers began.
It was okay, he told himself, feeling her hands twining around his neck, pulling him closer into the soft arch of her body. This was all just part of the plan. If they were really going to fool Roxanne, this research they were doing would come in handy.
Bull! his conscience barked, louder this time. This was no experiment. She was beginning to get under his skin. Big-time. And before he damaged their tentative trust any more than he probably already had, he knew he had to stop now, or lose everything. Steeling himself against her potent allure, he slowly pulled his mouth from hers.
Gasping raggedly with frustration, he shook his head as if to clear the murky mess he’d just made, and wondered, now that he’d had a taste of heaven, how could he ever stay away?
Fool.
His conscience was playing hardball tonight.
Before he could change his mind, he gripped her upper arms firmly in his hands and hauled her up out of the water and onto the concrete deck. Emily gazed up at him, confusion mixed with hurt mirrored in her foggy expression.
Averting his eyes, Ty knew that if he didn’t look away, he’d haul her into the house and break every rule he’d ever made for himself, risking his career for a moment’s pleasure. He couldn’t let this happen. She was his employee, for crying out loud. His future at Connstarr rested on her willingness to help. And, homeless or not, he had the distinct feeling that this woman did not give her physical self lightly.
“I suppose we should probably call it a day,” he said gruffly, attempting to keep her at arm’s length, not trusting himself to be kind to her. The slightest bit of encouragement on her part and he would be lost.
“I think that we’re probably as ready as we’ll ever be.”
She stared up at him, mortification written all over her lovely face. He could have kicked himself around the block for being such a heartless jerk.
“Uh, yes. Ready as we’ll ever be,” she repeated hollowly. “Good night,” she said curtly and, spinning on her heel, marched, shoulders square, into the house.
He stared after her, still suffering from a case of the bends, after forcing himself to surface so quickly from their kiss. Raking his hands over his face, he fell into the pool and let himself sink to the bottom. It was for the best, he decided, watching the tiny air bubbles that escaped from his mouth float toward the pool’s shimmery light. He’d be damned if he was ever going to treat someone in his employ the way Roxanne treated him.
Pushing off the floor of the pool, he soared to the surface and gasped for air. What an idiot. If he knew what was good for him, he would arrange for a red-eye to Boston that night. This situation was getting crazier by the minute. Last week, he’d led a perfectly mundane life as a normal, hardworking businessman. This week, he was a fugitive from his lust-crazed boss, fighting a growing desire for a street person he’d found at the side of the road.
He dragged himself out of the water and ran a towel over his head. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what new insanity lay ahead for him tomorrow.
“Women,” he muttered, and headed into the house.
* * *
After peeling herself out of her wet swimsuit, Emily pulled the new lacy nightgown Ty had purchased for the cruise over her still-damp skin. Leaning into the bathroom sink, she splashed cold water on her face in an effort to still the inferno that raged in her cheeks.
What in heaven’s name had prompted her to throw herself at her new boss that way? she wondered, shuddering at her wanton behavior in the pool. He obviously thought she was no better than the oversexed Roxanne. The look of disgust on his face as he’d sent her off to bed, like some kind of recalcitrant child, told her that.
Groaning, she stuck her whole head under the icy spray, and bit her lower lip in shame. When would she ever learn? Her sister was always accusing her of rushing headlong into what she fancied to be love.... And as much as Emily hated to admit it, her sister was always right.
But still, there was something decidedly different about her reaction to Tyler Newroth. She pulled her head out of the frigid water and ran a towel over her hair. Glancing up into the mirror, she could see where the stubble from his beard had turned her lips and cheeks a soft pink. Her heart did a full gainer with a half twist as she thought about their intimate swimming lesson.
This was ridiculous, she chided herself, and, tossing her damp towel over the shower door with her swimsuit, strode purposefully back to her room. She was acting like some kind of lovesick teenager. This nonsense had to stop now. She was here to do her thesis research, damn it, and that’s what she intended to do. Tyler most certainly wasn’t wasting any time sitting around thinking about the kiss he’d shared with the homeless woman, she was sure. He had bigger fish to fry. Well, by golly, so did she. Tomorrow she would prove to him that she could be as coolly serious about their bargain as he was.
Flopping across her bed, she grabbed her journal and flipped the pages to the day’s entry. As she stared at the blank page, visions of Ty’s handsome face danced across its surface, making it impossible for her to concentrate.
Finally, after much fruitless pondering, she scrawled one furious word and, slamming the book shut, pulled her pillow over her head.
Sunday, July 24.
Dear Diary:
Men!
Chapter Six
“Play ball!”
The umpire’s command reverberated throughout Dodger Stadium as Tyler led his “family” to Connstarr’s special box seats. Thankfully, Roxanne, Uncle Denny and the potential client had yet to arrive. It would give him a chance to issue some last-minute instructions, Ty thought, herding the small group and their piles of peanuts, hot dogs and soft drinks to their seats.
The giant electronic scoreboard flashed the words Go Dodgers! as the organist whipped the crowd into a pregame frenzy. Helga, already caught up in the spirit of America’s most beloved sport, dangerously swung her mustard-soaked hot dog and hollered, “Damn! How I love ya, Dodger Blue!”
Ty patted his jacket pocket to make sure he’d remembered his king-size bottle of antacids, and shot Emily a pointed look.
“Can’t you do something to keep her under control?” he groaned under his breath as he guided her into the seat next to him.
“I left her muzzle at home,” she flung back, pulling Carmen across her knees and settling her in her lap. “What do you want me to do?” Her tone was filled with exasperation. “Slip a Mickey Finn into her hot dog?”
“I don’t care,” Ty snapped. “Just try to keep her to a dull roar, okay?”
She’d been cool and aloof all day long, and Tyler was beginning to add her attitude to his long list of nightmares about this evening. She was no doubt huffy with him over that damn kiss they’d shared in the pool late last night. Okay. So it had been a stupid move on his part, but for now, anyway, they had to put it behind them and get on with the proceedings at hand. He didn’t have time to baby-sit her emotions all evening long.
“What’s with you, anyway?” he asked, irritated with her long-suffering expression. Maybe he should try to discuss and solve her problem before the other half of their party arrived.
“Nothing,” she answered snippily as she fished a hot dog out of the small cardboard box and busied herself unwrapping it for Carmen.
Ty wanted to wring her delicate little neck. “Nothing?” he snorted, and, at Helga’s insistent nudging, reached into Emily’s carton and tossed the older woman another hot dog.
“Well,” Emily said in a huffy whisper, “I don’t know why I should have to be the one to keep her under control. After all, she is your mother.” She turned and stared out at the playing field, unseeing.
“Oh, for crimeny sakes...” Ty exhaled noisily at the ceiling before turning sharply to face her. “Listen up,” he commanded under his breath. “They will be here any second, and there are a few things I want to get straight with you right now.”
Still gazing stubbornly out at the field, the muscles in Emily’s throat worked as she tried to swallow past the nervous lump lodged there.
Firmly grasping her arm to gain her full attention, Ty continued. “First of all, if you will recall, it was your idea to invite the old battle-ax to join us tonight. And second, this could be one of the most important business meetings of my entire career.” He pounded the armrest between their seats for emphasis, and Emily jumped. Her large brown eyes found and locked with his, and she sat, almost mesmerized as he continued.
“And, according to Roxanne, this client is a real family man, and the fact that I’m married to a loving woman could have a huge impact on the outcome of this deal.” He tightened his grip convulsively on her arm. “I’m living up to my end of the bargain.” Mentally he crossed his fingers behind his back. That kiss he’d given her last night wasn’t exactly part of the deal, but he hoped she’d forget about that.
At the sound of Roxanne’s shrill laughter echoing down the corridor into their box seats, Tyler stiffened. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his voice even further.
“And I expect you to live up to yours. So, sweetheart, start acting like a newlywed, because they’re here.” Gripping Emily firmly by the hand, he tried to control the flames that licked and danced in his belly. He stood and helped her with Carmen and the containers of food, so that she could rise to her feet while he made introductions.
On a cloud of heavy, cloying, and most likely very expensive perfume, Roxanne sashayed into the room. Uncle Denny’s voice floated toward them from somewhere down the hallway as he led their guest to the box seats.
Roxanne’s eyes, like two, beady, black, heat-seeking missiles, searched out and landed on Emily. Rudely raking her up
and down, Ty could imagine her mentally calculating the cost of Emily’s clothing, the stylist of her hair, the brands of her cosmetics, the depth and scope of her relationship with Tyler.
Tyler felt Emily straighten under Roxanne’s merciless scrutiny and move imperceptibly closer to him. This was it. The moment they had worked toward all weekend long. The spotlight had kicked on and it was time for Emily to solo.
“Roxanne.” Ty’s carefully modulated voice belied none of the volcanic activity churning in his gut. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Emily Newroth. Emily, this is my boss, Roxanne Delmonico.”
Leaning across Tyler, Emily extended a cordial hand. “Roxanne. At last we meet. I’ve heard so many...things about you.”
Roxanne lifted a cool eyebrow as she limply took the proffered hand. “All marvelous, of course?”
“Of course.”
Smiling blithely, Ty released his grip on Emily’s arm with a reassuring squeeze. He hoped she would be all right alone with Roxanne for a moment, and with a quick wink, headed to the door to find Uncle Denny and the potential client.
Roxanne reluctantly tore her eyes from her perusal of what she considered to be her arch rival, and examined the small child peeking out at her from behind Emily’s skirt.
“Well, now, who have we here?” she asked in her husky voice, her bright red lips stretching insincerely upward to reveal her expensive dental work.
Something about the way Roxanne’s eyes narrowed at Carmen reminded Emily of the way that wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz eyeballed Toto.
Instinctively she wrapped her arms around the small child’s shoulders and pulled her around front to stand tightly against her body.
“This is our daughter, Carmen. Say hello, sweetheart.” Emily nudged Carmen.
“¡Hola!” Carmen grinned disarmingly up at the stunned Roxanne.
Tenting her fingers at her chin, Roxanne cocked her head quizzically as she studied the young girl. “Ah... From a previous marriage, I assume?”
