by Leanne Banks
“There's a pond beyond the trailer.”
“I didn't know you brought a bathing suit with you.”
“I didn't,” she said and let him chew on that while she walked in front of him.
“Love makes us do amazing, wonderful things…and really stupid things too.”
—SUNNY COLLINS'S WISDOM
Chapter 18
She tore his heart out and stomped that sucker flat when she didn't go skinny-dipping.
Michael followed Katie from a distance as she shucked her tennis shoes, but not her shorts and T-shirt. There was no way he was going to glue himself to his computer screen after she dropped her little bomb. The sun shone on the water and her hair bounced in a ponytail pulled high on her head. In his mind's eye, he could see her as a child, eager to wash away whatever was bothering her by taking a swim. He'd done the same a few times when he'd had the opportunity.
Katie walked to the edge of the pond and turned around with her hands on her hips. “Are you just going to stand there and watch or are you going to join me?”
Smart mouth woman. It would serve her right if he let her stand there and yell while he hiked back to the house.
“Are you afraid you can't beat me in a race, city boy?”
She was obviously goading him. It was working. Michael strode to the lake and pulled off his shirt, then started on his belt.
Katie's eyes widened. “You're not taking off your pants.”
“I can't race in slacks,” he said, pulling down the zipper.
“But—but—” She turned to the lake and jumped in.
Michael laughed when she surfaced with her head turned firmly away from him: “Who's afraid now?”
“I'm not afraid,” she said vehemently; “I just didn't think you would take off—”
“Everything,’’ he finished for her, then jumped into the water wearing just his boxers unbeknownst to her. He surfaced and swam to her side. “Just because I'm a city guy doesn't mean I've never been skinny-dipping.”
She gave a double take. “Oh, really. When did you—” She broke off as if she realized her curiosity had gotten away from her. “Never mind.”
“You forgot. I told you one of my aunts lived in the country and they had a pond.”
She tossed him an assessing glance “How long since you've been swimming?”
About a week since he'd visited the gym. He shrugged. “I haven't been dunked in a pond in years.”
She smiled. “Race you to the other side and back?”
“I'll give it my best shot.”
“Okay. On-your-mark-get-set-go,” she said in one breath and got two strokes in front of him.
Michael shook his head and felt the lick of excitement and something lighter inside. He took off after her, catching up in a short time. He reached the other side of the pond just before she did and headed for the finish line, surprised when she nearly caught him at the end.
Gasping for breath, she flipped onto her back and floated. “You tricked me.”
“No, you just ass umed that since I was from the city, I hadn't spent much time swimming. Wrong assumption.”
“I figured you were the weight-lifting machine sort. I figured you wouldn't want to get wet. So how often do you swim?”
“Three or four times a week. You?”
“Four” she said, shooting him a quick glare.
Michael was too distracted by the outline of her breasts on her wet T-shirt to pay much attention to her scowl.
“What are you grinning at anyway?” she asked, then glanced down at her shirt and gave a little shriek. She abruptly sank into the water up to her chin.
“I've seen you before,” Michael said. “Why the sudden modesty?”
“I don't know. This is different.”
“Since you're not rescuing me from a bunch of drunk rednecks.”
“Don't remind me.”
“And I'm not making love to you.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it as if she couldn't remember what she'd intended to say.
“We can change that last one,” he said, moving closer to her.
“Or not,” she murmured. “Do you have cannonball experience?”
“Limited.”
“Are you telling the truth?”
“Swear. Why?”
“We could have another competition.” She frowned. “Except you're naked.”
“No I'm not. I'm wearing my boxers.”
“Oh,” she said, her expression a combination of disappointment and relief. “We can have a jumping competition. Whoever makes the biggest splash wins.”
“Wins what?”
“Just wins,” she said looking at him as if he were dense. “Isn't winning enough?”
“Sometimes. Okay, I'll play.”
“The only thing is that you have to agree not to look at my shirt while I'm jumping.”
He hesitated a half beat before he thought of a loophole. “I agree.”
She frowned at him. “Are you sure?”
“I'm sure. I won't look at your shirt while you jump.”
She waggled her finger at him. “You better not be lying or you automatically lose.”
“Lose what?” he asked, unable to smother a chuckle.
“Just lose. You will be a loser. Now you go first.”
“Why me?”
“Because I'm a generous person.”
“You just want to see what you need to do to top me,” he said, but pulled himself out of the water. Recalling that summer spent with his cousins; he leaped into the air, folded his legs underneath him, and flung himself into the water. When he arose, he shook the water from his hair and treaded next to Katie. “How'd I do?”
“Not bad,” she said with a sniff. “For a novice.”
He smiled, enjoying her playful snootiness. He suspected she didn't reveal this side to many people and he felt strangely exhilarated that she'd done so with him. She wouldn't feel safe letting her guard down with most people, but she did with him.
“Remember not to look at my shirt,” she told him and climbed out the side of the pond.
Standing on the side, she folded her arms to cover her breasts and squinted her eyes at him. “You're looking.”
“I'm studying your technique,” he insisted.
She muttered something he couldn't hear, then did a little hip-hip-hop. She went airborne and reared back, landing at an angle on her back with one leg extended and one folded against her belly. A huge spray of water shot around her.
She surfaced, smiling, so pleased with herself that he had a tough time resisting the urge to kiss her. “That was a good one.”
“How do you know?” Michael asked; “You didn't see it.”
“I felt it. You can't deny it was good.”
“It was,” he grudgingly admitted. “How does such a small person as you make such a big wave?”
“Technique,” she said, tossing him a saucy grin.
“Okay. My turn again. Best two of three.”
She shrugged as she treaded water. “We can do the best ninety out of one hundred and I'll; still beat the pants off of you.”
Her tone got under his skin, and his skin was already way too itchy for her. He swam close to her, pulling, her against him. “Is that what you want? To beat the pants off of me?”
She gulped “It's just an expression.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, coating his voice, with disbelief.
“It is,” she insisted. “I was only—”
He cut her off by dunking her. She sputtered to the surface, cursing him, but he just laughed and swam to the edge. Imitating her technique, he threw himself into the water at an angle. It stung like hell, so Michael figured he must have made a big splash.
Katie sniffed. “A little better, but not much,” she said when he came up for air.
“What do you mean? I did what you did”
“You tried to do what I did. I told you it's all about technique.” She took her turn and delivered another s
tunning splash. Then he followed with another attempt; Soon, she became so eager to show him her technique that she forgot to cover her breasts. Michael didn't forget to look.
Afterward, she grabbed her towel and covered her shirt and collapsed on the grass. Spreading his shirt beneath him, he joined her. “You lied,” she said, her eyes closed and one of her hands slung over her forehead. “You looked.”
“I did not look at your shirt,” he told her.
Leaning up on her elbow, she shot him a quick glance of disbelief. “I saw you look.”
“I wasn't looking at your shirt.”
“Oh, yes, you—”
“I was looking at your breasts.”
She hesitated, blinking, then narrowed her eyes. “In order to look at my breasts, you had to look at my shirt.”
“No, I didn't. The water made your shirt transparent. So transparent I could tell you the circumference of your nipples in centimeters.”
She worked her jaw, then clamped her mouth shut and sank to her back. “I still say you cheated.”
“Well, I lost the game anyway. It's not as if I had anything else to lose,” he said, chuckling as he moved closer to her.
“What about your honor?” she asked sternly, but the way she bit her lip made him think she was pulling his leg.
“When it comes to your breasts, I'm a weak man.”
“So I should remove temptation.”
“You should remove your shirt, shorts, and panties.”
Her lips lifted in a small but sexy grin. “But I'm not wearing panties.”
Michael groaned and lowered his mouth to her. She tasted like spring and summer, laughter and sex, and he couldn't get enough of her. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and dared her tongue to dance with his. He wanted all of her to dance with him. He caught her sigh and drank it in, then pulled back slightly to catch his breath. He was already hard.
“I like the way you play,” he said staring into her clear, clear eyes. Something told him he could count on the honesty in those eyes.
“I don't have time to play very often,” she admitted.
“Neither do I. You did it to distract me.”
Her eyes widened, then she looked away. “I did not. I took a swim and you followed me.”
“As if I wouldn't when you said you didn't have a bathing suit.”
She shrugged. “How could I know that?”
“Good guess,” he said, and took her outrageous mouth again. This time, the heat swelled between them and she moved with restless arousal. When she wove her fingers through his damp hair, his own arousal banged like a drum inside his head; He slid his hand beneath the towel to touch the hard outline of her nipple against her wet shirt.
She sucked in a quick breath and drew back, her gaze dark with the same wanting he felt. “I didn't bring the condom.”
“You won't need it,” he told her, although it might kill him. “We're just going to kiss each other until our brains explode.”
At the same time that he wanted more than anything to slide into her and lose himself inside her, he also wanted to take his time. It was strange as hell, but he wanted to give her things she'd never had, and one of those included kissing her until they were both crazy from it.
Late that afternoon, Wilhemina steeled herself for the onslaught of argument, and persuasion she knew Katie would make. Although Wilhemina believed Katie was a goodhearted person, she also knew Katie wouldn't get her monetary bonus if Wilhemina didn't marry someone her father approved of. She also knew that Michael wouldn't get what he wanted if she decided to stay in Texas.
The fact that her decision to stay could upset so many apple carts made her stomach hurt, but the idea of leaving Douglas upset her far more. She had never been so happy in her life.
A knock sounded on the door and Wilhemina tensed. She was resolved and nothing Katie could say would change her mind.
“‘Wilhemina,’’ Katie called, her voice mingling with the whining sound of the screen door opening.
“You can come into the den,” she said, poking her head around the corner. “We can sit in here where it's cool.’’
Katie walked into the den and offered a tentative smile. “You look like you're, feeling better.”
“I am,” she said and sat down. “I still want to stay with Douglas.”
Katie sank into a chair and sighed. “I know. I can see that.” She looked away for a moment, then met Wilhemina's gaze. “I wouldn't feel right if I tried to tell you to leave. You haven't had the privilege of making a lot of your own choices because your father or someone else has made them for you. I think you should make this choice on your own.”
Wilhemina sat in stunned silence. She had expected Katie to threaten, cajole, manipulate. She had expected anything, but this. “But this means you won't get the money.”
Katie's eyes deepened with sadness, then she shook her head as if to shake off the emotion. “Yeah, and it's disappointing, but this is complicated.”
“What about Michael? I half expected him to put me in a straitjacket to get me to go back to Philadelphia.”
Katie winced. “Well, I can't say that Michael is quite at the same place that I am.” She opened her mouth and hesitated. “There's only one thing that he mentioned that you might want to think about.”
Wilhemina's stomach tightened in a knot. “What?”
“You might be ready for your father's fury, to be disinherited and cut off. You might be strong enough for that, but I don't know Douglas well enough to make that judgment.”
Wilhemina immediately rose to Douglas's defense.
“Douglas is very strong. He's the strongest, kindest man I've ever met.”
Katie nodded, but she didn't look convinced. “That's great, but your father isn't known for being kind. Your father is known for being ruthless. I don't know if you've seen what he's done to competitors, employees who have disappointed him, and even ex-wives.”
Wilhemina's stomach tightened further. “What do you mean? Do you think he would try to do something to Douglas? What could he possibly do to him?”
Katie shook her head. “I don't know. If Douglas has a mortgage, your father might be able to get his hands on it. All I know is that your father has destroyed powerful, highly sophisticated men. I don't know what he would do to a hog farmer.”
Wilhemina felt nauseous at the images that raced through her head. “I hadn't thought about that,” she managed in a husky voice.
Katie gave a sad smile. “You haven't had time to think. You've had yourself a whirlwind romance with a cowboy.”
It was more than a whirlwind romance, but Wilhemina didn't correct her. Her head began to ache. “I'm going to have to think about this.”
Rising; Katie nodded and put her hand on Wilhemina's shoulder. “I understand. Just let me know in the morning. Michael and I need to get back to Philadelphia.”
Her heart heavy, she closed her eyes for a second, then met Katie's gaze. “I thought you were going to try to force me to leave.”
“I don't envy your decision, Wilhemina, but I trust it.”
Wilhemina felt tears burn her eyes. “You know, nobody ever thought I had enough sense to trust me.”
“Maybe nobody looked close enough,” Katie said with a soft smile.
“You're a good friend,” Wilhemina said and really looked at Katie. “You look different with your hair down. Pretty. And the jean skirt looks nice too. You shouldn't go back to the old way of wearing your hair up and plain clothes.”
“You know, Wilhemina, I've been thinking about doing just that.” She squeezed her shoulder again. “I'll scoot back to the trailer. Okay?”
Wilhemina nodded. “Okay,” she said, and her mind returned to how Douglas would be able to survive the wrath of Ivan the terrible. Gentle, wonderful, kind Douglas. Ivan would shred him into little pieces and feed him to the dogs and she wouldn't be able to stop him.
That night she fixed spaghetti with sauce from ajar and Douglas acted as if
she'd prepared an elaborate meal. Katie, bless her, had discreetly allowed Wilhemina and Douglas privacy by fixing sandwiches for her and Michael at the trailer. After dinner, she and Douglas danced in the dark in the den to the songs of Mark Wills, one of Douglas's many country music CDs. The feeling of Douglas's arms around her was so sweet Wilhemina closed her eyes to savor every moment.
She cherished their lovemaking that night and the next morning.
“You're leaving, aren't you?” he asked when she couldn't look him in the eye afterward.
She nodded, stroking his shoulders and chest. She wanted to remember every intimate detail, the way his skin felt and smelled, the way he breathed, the feel of his laughter vibrating against her, and the sound of his voice. Something told her everything she'd learned about Douglas during the last few days was indelibly branded on her soul. Her chest felt so heavy and tight she could hardly breathe, let alone speak.
“Not quite good enough for Ivan Rasmussen,” he mused; skimming his fingers through her hair.
Wilhemina couldn't hold back the tears. She shook her head. “Too good for Ivan Rasmussen,” she corrected.
“That doesn't make a lick of sense,” Douglas said with a frown.
“I don't think I can explain it. You just need to know that you are the absolute best man I've ever met.”
“In bed,” Douglas clarified.
“And out,” she said meeting his gaze.
“Well, if that's true, then you'd be a fool to leave me because I want you to stay. I hadn't realized how lonely I'd been until you came and I didn't feel that way anymore.”
She tried to swallow over the lump in her throat “I don't want to go, but I think it's the right thing to do.”
“For whom? Your father.”
She fought a deep scratchy irritation that bubbled deep below her skin. “It's not about pleasing my father. It's about avoiding his nasty temper.”
Douglas went perfectly still. “He wouldn't dare try to lift a finger to you.”
She shook her head and smiled sadly. “No, but I don't like thinking about what he'd do to you.”
Douglas frowned at her in confusion. “I can take care of myself. Do you really think I'm so weak that your father could do anything to damage me?”
Wilhemina felt her smile abruptly flatten. “You don't “know my father.”
