by Helen Conrad
“Most of the swimming world doesn't know what it's talking about,” Jim said coldly. “They're afraid to look any further than their water wings. Men and women both have proved in most other sports that age brings with it an experience and maturity that can more than offset the deterioration of muscle strength—”
Jace held up a hand. “I get it. Don't go into the full lecture on me.”
“Just look at baseball,” Jim went on. “Look at basketball, tennis. Most players are just hitting their stride when they enter their late twenties. In swimming, we say they're washed up by twenty-five. We're wasting a valuable resource—”
Jace turned to Kathy with a comical frown. “Is he always this boring?”
Kathy had a terrible, traitorous urge to laugh with him, but she managed to suppress it, which was lucky, because at that same moment Jim was fixing her with a steady stare.
“Jace was always a good-ole-boy, always ready for whatever looked like fun, but not too hot on heavy training.” He glanced back at Jace. “I remember all those workouts you used to skip. And the way you'd party all night long before a big meet.”
If Jim's shafts were drawing blood, Jace didn't show any evidence of it. His grin was still puppy-dog friendly.
“Meanwhile you were holed up in some little cubicle in the library figuring out the percentages. Right, Corbett?”
Jim didn't answer, but that was all right, because Jace didn't wait to hear what he had to say. He turned to Kathy. “So, what are your events these days, Kathy? What are you planning to perform this miracle in?”
“The long frees.”
“Endurance is your game, is it?”
She met his gaze and held it. Which wasn't so difficult once you got into it, she discovered. Just as long as you didn't let yourself notice the twinkle in his eye. Here she'd been so disillusioned with him, and now it seemed she'd worried for nothing. She could see the champion in him still. It was all there.
“Right,” she said in answer to his question.
He shifted his weight and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his gunmetal-gray slacks. The navy-blue sports coat set exactly the right casual tone, and his leather shoes were shiny, his shirt starched to perfection. Why was it that some men looked as though clothes had been made expressly for them?
“That must mean a lot of laps under the old bridge,” he said, his gaze searching her face, digging for her real feelings about the comeback.
She read the speculative look and bristled. What did he think—that Jim was forcing her into this?
“Of course. I swim as much yardage as I possibly can.” She raised her chin defiantly. “But it takes more than that. I spend a lot of time getting my head together, my nutrition worked out.”
Jace nodded, his smile knowing. “And Jim figures out all the formulas for you, doesn't he? Makes you charts and graphs.”
“Daily schedules,” she agreed, laughing a little in spite of herself and catching Jim's eye. It was a running joke between them that Jim was trying to organize her life down to the point where she could plug in a computer and let it do the living for her.
Jace looked down at the water lying still and crystal clear in the pool. “I used to live for swimming myself,” he said softly. “But not anymore. I haven't been in a pool for years.” He laughed. “Except, of course, those little odd-shaped, squirrelly jobs like they have in the Hollywood Hills.”
“With some bimbo sitting beside it, no doubt,” Jim said under his breath, but just loud enough for the other two to hear.
Jace turned to look at him again. “Sure,” he said cheerfully. “What's a squirrelly pool without a bimbo?” He didn't wait for a reaction from Jim. His real attention was all on Kathy anyway. “Tell you what. I'll race you.”
Kathy's mouth fell open. “Now? Here?”
“Sure.” He began to pull off his tie. “Let's see what you've got, girl. Let's see if you can beat the old man.”
The tie was off and he was starting on the buttons of his shirt. Kathy pulled her towel more tightly against herself, as though she were cold.
“But . . . but . . . what are you doing?”
His face was all innocence. “Taking off my clothes.”
Her gaze seemed riveted on his long, supple fingers as they opened buttons one by one.
“Wh…what are you going to swim in?” she asked anxiously as he pulled off the sports coat and slung it over a chair.
“My undies. Got any objections?” He shrugged out of his shirt as he spoke.
She recoiled in horror. “Yes, I have objections!”
His hands paused. “Ah, you're such a spoilsport.” He turned and called to the water polo players, who were just gathering up their gear. “Anyone got an extra suit I could borrow for a few minutes?”
To Kathy's surprise, one of the boys piped up, “Sure,” pulled a Lycra brief out of his bag, and tossed it to Jace.
“Thanks.” Jace caught it and reached for his belt. “Okay, turn your backs, you two.”
Kathy managed to come up with a voice that would do a drill sergeant proud. “In the locker room, mister!”
He laughed at her, holding up a hand as though to stave off her fury. “You really ought to work on getting some more spontaneity into your life, darling,” he said. But he went.
As he sauntered toward the locker room, she turned to Jim, shrugging with palms open. His face was grim.
“I know this is ruining my workout—” she began, but he cut into her speech.
“I never have liked Jace Harper,” he said evenly. “I didn't like him way back when, and I don't like him now.”
“Jim—”
“Let me finish. I know he's attractive. And I also know you haven't had a . . . man in your life since we started this almost a year ago.” He shook his head. “I've got to admit I've been glad about that. Romances tend to get in the way. We need single-minded effort if we're going to do this.”
She nodded, feeling crushed. He was right. “I know,” she said softly.
He drew breath deep into his lungs. “If you feel the need of male companionship, I can't stop you. But for God's sake, Kathy, don't let it be Jace Harper. He'll destroy you.”
The emotion in his voice stunned her. Jim was not a passionate man—about anything other than his theories, at any rate. To have him plead with her this way was a new experience. She sank to her knees beside his chair.
“Don't worry, Jim,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “Please don't worry. I'm committed to swimming. Totally committed. Jace Harper isn't going to get in the way.” She squeezed his hand. “I'm going to race him, and then I'll get rid of him. He won't be back. You'll see.”
Before Jim could respond, Jace returned from the locker room.
“Hey, you two. No conspiring against me now.”
He glanced sharply at Kathy, and she had the feeling he knew exactly what advice Jim had just been giving her. She resisted the impulse to jump up and away from Jim. That wouldn't do. Her loyalty was to Jim, and it would be until this crusade of theirs was over. That was the way it had to be. Even Jace should be able to appreciate that.
His eyes snapped as he looked at her. His gaze went to where her hand covered Jim's, then back to her face. He didn't smile. Turning, he reached for a pair of goggles he'd found lying on the deck. “I get a warmup lap, don't I?”
Kathy rose and watched him as he climbed up on the starting block. He stood poised over the water, his body tensed for a flying takeoff. She maintained a cool exterior for Jim's sake, but inside she was gasping for breath. The man was exquisite— solid muscle, shoulders wide, hips tapered, legs beautifully hard and strong. The small Lycra swimsuit barely covered anything at all. Kathy was used to swimmers with good bodies, but this went so far beyond anything she'd seen lately that she was dizzy with the overwhelming sense of him and his masculinity.
He went off the block like a bird taking flight, then cut into the water like the blade of a knife, his arms slicing through the blue, h
is legs kicking on two beats per stroke, slowly, but powerfully.
“You have too been swimming,” she accused him when he stopped and pulled himself up out of the pool, water cascading off him as he came.
“No, really,” he protested, shaking water from his thick hair. “I've been playing basketball lately to keep in shape. No swimming at all.” He splashed his hands through the silver waves, then looked up at her with an open smile. “I'd forgotten how good this feels.”
Something in that smile tore at her heart. She wanted to smile back, to take his hand, to talk about the water and how she loved it too. Instead she hardened herself and frowned, all business.
“Let's go. Two hundred free. Jim, you call it.”
They both climbed up on the blocks and prepared to race each other.
“Swimmers, take your marks. Get set. Go.”
He was still strong. On the first fifty split he was ahead of her by five yards or more. At the hundred he was still in the lead. But she was in shape, and he wasn't. He started to tire. And by the time they hit the final wall, she was just barely ahead.
She automatically looked to Jim for her time.
“One forty-eight twelve,” he said, holding up the stopwatch.
She gasped. That was the best two-hundred time she'd ever done in a workout. Turning to face Jace, she accepted the hand he held out in congratulation.
“I ought to swim with you every day,” she said without thinking.
He didn't let go of her hand. “I think that's a great idea,” he said.
His eyes were saying even more. She stared into them, wondering what he meant by his smoky look.
“Go out with me tonight,” he said softly.
She dropped her gaze and pulled her hand away from him. “I can't. I'm in training.”
She pulled herself out of the pool, and he followed, standing behind her as she toweled off. His gaze went from Jim to Kathy and back again.
“You can't be cloistered every night,” he said, talking to her but looking at Jim's hard face. “What night does old Simon Legree let you have free?”
“There are no free nights for you, Harper,” Jim said evenly.
“Really?” Jace was still smiling, but his voice had taken on an edge. “Why not?”
Jim sighed and looked away, then back again. “What do you want with Kathy?” he said testily. “Why do you want to ask her out, anyway?”
Jace looked bemused, taking the towel Kathy had just used and rubbing it against his wide chest. “Are you asking if my intentions are honorable?”
Jim's head went up. “That's exactly what I'm asking.”
Jace grinned, his mouth compellingly crooked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he held Kathy's gaze. “I haven't had an honorable intention since I was eighteen.”
“Then stay away from Kathy.”
The smile went out of Jace's eyes as he turned back to look at Jim. “Let me get this straight. You're her coach, right?”
Jim nodded, his mouth compressed into a thin line.
“Are you also her boyfriend? Her lover?”
He waited a moment, but no one answered, so he went on. “Her father? Or even her brother?”
“You know I'm not.”
Jace nodded, dropping the towel and crossing his arms over his chest. “She's a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.” He looked at Kathy's troubled face. “Have lunch with me,” he said.
“Oh . . .” Her mind flew, trying to think of an excuse to put him off, but before she could come up with anything, Jim spoke, his voice cutting like a straight razor.
“She's having lunch with me,” he said. “In fact, we're late as it is.”
Kathy looked at him, astonished. They never went out together. They saw each other constantly, but always in relation to swimming, to training, to preparing and planning. They never socialized.
Jace read the situation in a glance. He stared at Kathy. “How about it, Kathy? Will you go with me to lunch?”
She looked at Jim and steeled herself. “No,” she said as firmly as she was able. “I'm sorry, Jace. But I'm having lunch with Jim.”
Jace nodded, looking from one to the other of them. For the first time his eyes looked stormy with anger.
“Okay. If that's the way you really want it, I'll get out of your way.” He bent to pick up his sports coat and shirt and started toward the locker room, then hesitated.
“Oh, by the way.” Reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket, he pulled out the golden earring. He stared at it for a long moment, then his mouth hardened, and he turned back toward them.
“Here you go, Kathy,” he said, handing it to her. “This must be yours. I found it in my bed this morning.”
Looking at their stunned faces, he mentally kicked himself. “Unnecessary roughness,” he muttered to himself as he disappeared into the locker room again. His own reflection in the locker-room mirror seemed to mock him. “You lose, Harper,” he said aloud. “Cheaters never prosper.”
CHAPTER FOUR:
Up, Up and Away
“I'm glad you called me,” Harvey St. John said enthusiastically as Jace ushered him into the Copper Skillet restaurant. “I was afraid you were going to run out on me again. After what happened last night at that party at the Ives's . . .”
“Sorry about that,” Jace said. “And sorry about missing our appointment this morning, but something came up.”
His gaze strayed restlessly about the lobby of the restaurant as they waited to be seated for lunch. “I had business here at the university, so I thought it would be easiest if you could meet me here at this restaurant just off campus. It does save time.”
“Indeed.” Mr. St. John was fairly beaming in anticipation of a good meal. “I can tell by the delicious aroma wafting its way from the kitchen that they make a good Reuben sandwich here. My favorite.”
Jace nodded absently. He just wanted to get this meeting over with. The scene at the swimming pool had, for some strange reason, put a pall on his day.
The hostess came toward them, smiling professionally. “This way, gentlemen.”
They followed her into the dining area, Mr. St. John going first. A few steps into the room, he turned to Jace, eyebrows raised. “I didn't know your wife was joining us,” he said.
Jace frowned, wondering if he'd heard the man right. “What?”
“Your wife.” He gestured toward where Kathy was sitting alone at a table near the window.
Kathy saw Jace at the same moment he saw her. Her face registered immediate alarm—his, annoyance.
“Hello, Mrs. Harper,” Mr. St. John said, ignoring the hostess and walking up to shake Kathy's hand. “So nice to see you again.”
“Mr. St. John.” Kathy went through the motions of shaking his hand. She cast Jace a sharp look and waited for him to extract the three of them from this awkward situation.
He tried. “Uh, yes, I . . . uh . . . listen, why don't we go? ...”
But Mr. St. John was already pulling out a chair. “I'll take this window seat, Harper, so that you can sit over there beside your wife.” He motioned jovially for Jace to hurry. “Come on, sit down, I want to get to ordering. I'm hungry as a bear.”
Jace looked down into Kathy's glare and shrugged helplessly, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.
“We'll sit here,” he told the puzzled hostess. “Thank you.” And he slid into the seat next to Kathy, grimacing apologetically.
Kathy's hands were icy. She couldn't believe this— of all the restaurants in all the world!
“Is Jim coming?” Jace asked her softly while Mr. St. John perused the menu.
Of course Jim wasn't coming. That had been a ruse from the beginning, and she thought they'd all known it.
She often treated herself to lunch here at the Copper Skillet between workouts whenever she and Jim were in town. It was a change from the university cafeteria food and the only decent place to eat within miles. But Jim never came along.
She didn
't dignify his question with an answer. “I'm sure you two have a lot of business to discuss,” she said, gathering her things together. “So I'll just get out of your way.”
“Do they have draft beer in this place?” Mr. St. John boomed from behind his menu. “I love a good draft with a Reuben.”
Jace's hand was on her arm. “Please stay,” he murmured. “I'm sorry. I really didn't plan this.”
She hesitated, meeting his gaze and regretting it immediately. There was a boyish smile in his eyes that made her feel as though her edges were melting.
“I promise to be good,” Jace said.
“Of course he'll be good,” Mr. St. John chimed in, his jolly voice ringing through the room. “I'll see to that.” He beamed at Kathy as he set down his huge menu. “Now, tell me, darlin' ... what about the little Harpers?”
At first she wasn't sure what he meant. “The little Harpers?”
“Your children! Surely a fine young couple like you has a passel of children?”
Kathy looked quickly at Jace, remembering the letter and the little boy named Bobby who was named in it. But Jace's face was impassive. She couldn't read so much as a wince in his manner.
“I . . . no, I'm afraid we don't.” In fact we only met last night, she wanted to add. So there hasn't been much time for that sort of thing. “Everyone doesn't need to have children, you know,” she added a bit defensively.
“Of course not, of course not,” he said hastily, looking from one to the other. “Touchy subject,” he muttered to himself, but before he had a chance to launch a new one, the waitress arrived to take their order.
Kathy and Jace echoed Mr. St. John in ordering the Reuben. Then the two men put their heads together across the table and had a quick discussion on zoning permits, building codes, and contractors' fees. Mr. St. John had property he wanted Jace to look at. Jace had some plans that might just suit the property. By the time the Reubens arrived at the table, they'd come to some qualified agreements.
The food was good, the conversation guarded, but friendly, and all in all, Kathy had a good time. It was only when she thought of the possibility of Jim coming into the restaurant and seeing the three of them there that she got chills.
