by Tracy March
For a split second, Paige looked stunned. “What does that mean?” she asked as they neared the ticket window.
“You’ll see.” Big words, considering he wasn’t exactly sure what he meant himself.
“We’ll have two combo tickets,” Paige said to the pleasant clerk.
Lane pulled his wallet from his back pocket and paid for the tickets while Paige was still rummaging in her purse.
“Thank you, sir,” the clerk said with a lilting accent, handing him the tickets. “Enjoy.”
They stepped away from the window. “Thanks for paying,” Paige said. “I owe you.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said lightly. “What’s the combo deal? We get to see and smell the volcano?”
She stuck her nose in the air and inhaled deeply. “The smell is free. I mean, they’d have to give that away, right? Or maybe they’re just prepping us to buy the Island Sulfur–scented candles they sell in the gift shop.”
Lane smiled as they headed up the steps to the overlook. Some of the things she thought of would never cross his mind.
A group of tourists and a guide gathered at the far end of the overlook. Paige and Lane stepped up to the railing to view the sprawling, hilly, burned-out crater. Random areas boiled, spewed, and steamed.
“Wow.” He’d imagined the surface of the moon looking like that. “Pretty cool, in a disturbing kind of way.”
“We’re standing over a magma chamber,” she said.
“Thanks for the warning,” he teased.
“Seriously. The magma heats the rocks above it, then they heat the rain and seawater that seeps up into the substratum. That’s what makes everything bubble and hiss—” She raised her eyebrows and gazed at him pointedly. “And threaten to blow.”
His pulse picked up its pace. “I totally get that,” he said. “But it’s been a while, I’d say.”
“Hasn’t erupted since 1766, but this place is still the hottest, most active geothermal field around.”
How the hell had she made that sound sexy? “Were you a geology major?”
“Nope. Culinary arts. But I am smarter than a box of rocks.” She grinned, and slipped the brochure out of her purse. “I did my homework.”
“Evidently.” He pulled his iPhone from his pocket and stepped back from the railing. “Let me get your picture.”
“Sure,” she said, surprising him. She was totally different from Stephanie, who’d always shied away from a camera, only letting him snap a picture after the moment was lost. Paige cocked her head and flashed a dazzling smile right before he clicked the camera. Lane checked out the photo of her looking amazing against the steamy, barren backdrop. He’d definitely captured more than the moment with that shot. Pleased with what he saw, since it was perfect for what he had in mind, he loaded it into a text message, brazenly typed “Smokin’ Hot,” and handed her the phone. “Wanna send it to yourself as a souvenir?”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she looked at the picture and read what he’d typed. She keyed in her number, hit send, and gave the phone back to him with a knowing look. “Slick move, Doc.”
He shrugged. “It was less awkward than asking for your number.”
She scrunched her nose as if she regretted giving it to him.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s the sulfur. I could use a heavy dose of sensory adaptation right about now. Hopefully it’ll smell better when we get to the mineral baths.”
“Mineral baths?”
“Yep.” She nodded. “That’s the combo part of the ticket. Stinkin’ volcano and soothing mineral baths.”
“Soothing? Sounds kind of girly.”
She rolled her eyes. “I hated to say therapeutic because you might just freak out on me right here on top of the magma chamber. But I’ll risk it and tell you that the waters are world renowned for reducing stress and curing rheumatism. If you rub the mud from the pool on yourself, it’ll make skin problems disappear.”
“You really believe that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “I know better than to argue it with you.”
Lane cut her a look.
“Whatever!” she said with a laugh. “This is the part I’m banking on.” She skimmed her finger down a section of the glossy brochure, stopped at the end of a paragraph, and read, “Our guides confidently boast that a dip in our magical waters makes every visitor look ten years younger.”
There she went with that magic thing again. He rolled his eyes.
“You just wait.” She playfully flipped her ponytail. For a blissful second he smelled something other than sulfur when he caught the fresh vanilla scent of her hair. “One dip in that Black Water Pool and I won’t even be legal anymore.”
Lane shook his head. He didn’t have a lot of faith in the fountain of youth claims about the mineral baths, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a dip with Paige—that’s what a laid-back guy would do. Besides, he’d get to see her in a bathing suit sooner than he’d thought, and he’d been thinking about it since she’d mouthed off at him in the barbershop. It also meant he’d be stripping down to his trunks, too. Despite the state of his career and personal life, he was buffer than he’d been in years, and the timing couldn’t be better. After everything had fallen apart in Austin, the only way he’d kept what little sanity he had was by going for long runs and then hitting the gym for grueling sessions of weight lifting.
She jutted out her chin and gave him a challenging look. “So are you in, or not?”
He nodded cockily. “I wouldn’t miss this transformation for anything.”
Chapter Nine
Paige was so focused on Lane’s abs that she nearly missed the spellbound look on his face when she came out of the changing room in her bikini. One corner of his mouth quirked up mischievously as he checked her out, looking positively edible in a pair of white swim trunks that hung just low enough on his narrow hips. His abs were so defined she could count them, all the way up to his smooth pecs and tightly muscled shoulders. And there were no chicken legs on this guy, which might’ve detracted (a little). His calves were sturdy and well-developed. She swept her gaze over every sexy inch of him and reminded herself to breathe. Nothing she’d baked in Sweet Bee’s had ever looked so delicious.
“I don’t think you’ll be needing any of that magic mud, Doc,” she quipped, because she couldn’t think of anything else appropriate to say out loud.
He tipped up his chin. “You either.”
Paige hated the feeling of heat rushing to her face, but she couldn’t stop it. She’d dated her fair share of good-looking guys, but something about Lane had her wanting to impress him more than she had the others. He could piss her off in a heartbeat, but he was smart, sexy, single, and super-buff. And those were just the adjectives that started with S. Given time, she could wear out the entire alphabet describing him. Don’t forget stiff and stubborn.
“So maybe we should just skip it,” Lane teased. He’d seemed hesitant at first, but now she’d swear he was excited about going in the mineral baths. Trying to get him to shake his uptight image might be fun.
“No way, mister. There’s mud in there with your name on it.”
Beneath an electric-blue sky, they made their way over to the Black Water Pool. The tropical sun tingled on Paige’s bare shoulders. She tried to hold back a step so she could get a good look at Lane from behind, but he matched her pace, even slowing some, seeming to have the same idea about her.
“Are you trying to look at my butt?” she asked.
He nodded, the curve of a smile on his lips. “Absolutely. Could you do me a favor and make it a little easier?”
She faced him and walked backward slowly. “Not a chance.” She turned around, walking in step with him. “Nothing easy to get is worth having.” She unfolded her brightly striped towel and wrapped it around her waist, knotting the ends at her hip.
“That’s just wrong,” Lane teased. “At least I was honest.”
Th
ey stepped onto the rustic patio that surrounded the Black Water Pool. Adjacent to the mineral baths was a wall of sheer rock where a cheery attendant stood. She greeted them with a smile and nod. A large tree shaded a portion of the bath that was about the size of an average backyard swimming pool. Several people, dressed in shorts and T-shirts or bathing suits, sat at the edge. They dangled their feet in the dark water—so dark there was no way they could see their toes.
“I’ve never seen water that black before,” she said, now a little hesitant herself. “Unless it was toxic.” She’d chosen her brown bikini with a gold shimmer, thinking it could withstand exposure to the mud without noticeable damage, but now she wasn’t so sure.
Lane reached out and tugged at the knot of her towel, his fingertips skimming the super-sensitive skin at her waist. A rush of sensation pulsed through her, lingering long after his touch. The towel quickly fell free. He caught it before it slipped to the ground and slung it over his shoulder. “Consider this your first time,” he said, his tone low and sultry.
Good Lord… Paige could hardly blink. If this was any indication of the doc’s bedside manner, she could only hope for long-term, intensive treatment.
“You ready?” he asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
They took the steps into the pool together, their feet disappearing into the black water, then their knees, up to their waists and almost to Paige’s shoulders.
“It’s warm.” She clenched her teeth as her feet sank into the muddy bottom of the pool. “And squishy.”
She was surprised to see him looking as excited as a five-year-old. “I’d guess a hundred-one to a hundred-two degrees—with a high slime factor.”
“Ever said that to a patient before?”
He shook his head. “Not that I haven’t wanted to.” He grinned, flashing his dimples without a warning.
“One-hundred-and-one point six Fahrenheit,” the attendant said with a lilting island accent. Paige imagined the woman could make a string of curses sound like a lullaby.
“Your guess was pretty close,” she said to Lane.
“Pretty close? I was dead on.”
“Dead’s not a comforting word to hear from a doctor.” Paige splashed black water on his chest and watched, mesmerized, as the rivulets ran down his temptingly touchable pecs. She quickly snapped out of her daze when he dipped beneath the water, then came up with two fistfuls of mud and plopped the pitch-black slime on her shoulders. She gasped, grabbing his wrists, but not tightly enough to keep him from massaging the mud onto her skin. It happened so fast she didn’t know whether to be shocked, disgusted, or turned on. She settled for a little of each.
Lane shook the water from his hair, seeming satisfied. He looked even hotter all wet, if that was possible.
“Gross,” she said, even though she thought she might melt as his strong hands smoothed soft mud on her shoulders. She couldn’t wait for her turn to slime him.
“Medicinal properties,” he teased. “Remember?” After covering her shoulders, he swept his fingertips along her neck, taking his time and lightly swirling circles all the way up to her earlobes.
Her breath hitched. “I can almost stand it on my shoulders, but the squishing between my toes is creeping me out.”
With one swift move, he swept her off her feet and cradled her to his solid chest. Her stomach jumped into her throat. “Put me down!” She playfully flailed in his arms but he held tight.
“Do you want mud squishing between your toes or not?” His eyes glinted with mischief. Paige realized she was a fool to keep fighting. Up-close-and-personal with his pecs was a pretty awesome place to be. She blinked the water from her eyes and looked up into Lane’s. He bent his head down and lifted her up so his face was just inches from hers.
Holy crap, he’s going to kiss me! Paige’s heart did a backflip with a twist. They’d already gone from truce to lip-lock?
“Better?” he asked, his breath warm and minty, his gaze fixed on hers.
For once, she was speechless, her pulse thrumming. After what seemed like forever, she found her voice. “A little,” she teased. “I’m still covered in mud.” Did she really want to kiss the guy who didn’t seem to care if she couldn’t make the rent on Sweet Bee’s next month? Besides, one kiss could make the rest of her time in St. Lucia really awkward. Or really incredible.
“Then maybe it’ll be a lot better,” he said softly, “if I do this.”
Paige tensed, still unsure about which way she wanted this to go. Her mind argued no while her lips screamed yes! He drew her closer for a moment…
Then unceremoniously dunked her into the water.
…
Lane had totally wanted to kiss Paige, but then he’d second-guessed himself—and her. Was starting a vacation fling the best idea? He’d never had a one-night stand, or any relationship he knew would be temporary from the get-go—especially with someone he disagreed with, and that was being generous. She had brokered a truce between them, but he kept thinking back to Maple Creek and how she’d outed him to Mrs. Hawthorne, then had barely spoken a full sentence to him at the blood drive. She had no idea where he was coming from. Regardless, she was incredibly hard to resist, with her sultry gaze and shimmering lips, and her lithe body pressed close to his. Maybe they could forget about Maple Creek, at least while they were in paradise.
Paige emerged from the water looking feisty and determined, her fists full of mud. She quickly slimed most of it across his pecs then clapped her muddy hands against his cheeks, pulling him close.
His heart revved. Is she going to kiss me?
“It’s time to get serious with the mud.” She released him and smudged a glob of black goo on the end of his nose. “There. Where’s my camera when I really need it?”
Lane playfully swiped the mud off of his nose. The attendant smiled and the other visitors seemed amused as they gathered and left. Before he could dip in the water and rinse his face, Paige began smoothing out the mounds she’d heaped on his chest, her delicate hands and fingers teasing him with the lightest touch. She disappeared beneath the water and came up seductively soaked, with more mud in her hands, and carefully covered every exposed inch of him. When she was finished, she took a step back and studied her work. “Perfect,” she grinned. “Now you won’t need sunscreen.”
“You two belong in the Pool of Love,” the attendant said.
Uh-oh. That was the last place they belonged.
Paige furrowed her brow as if she were thinking the same thing. “Pool of Love? I know what this must look like, but we’re barely even friends.”
Lane awkwardly released Paige, letting her stand on her own in the creepy mud. She’d pretty much read his mind again, and said exactly what he’d been thinking.
“You should still go see it,” the attendant said. “It’s a smaller, clear-water pool near the old Ventine Baths. Cooler than this pool…and more private.” She smiled coyly, as apparently Paige’s argument hadn’t convinced her.
Lane ducked underwater and scrubbed the mud off his nose. There was no way he wanted to have a conversation about the Pool of Love with black mud smeared all over his face. Maybe it was a good idea to cool things off some, even though the name of the place suggested more heat. He emerged to see the attendant still looking at them expectantly.
Paige gave him a sidelong look and shrugged. “Gotta love a combo ticket. Might as well see everything while we’re here.”
She smiled at the attendant and did him the huge favor of stepping out of the pool ahead of him. Needless to say, the view might’ve been the best he’d seen in St. Lucia so far, but when she turned around and faced him, dripping wet and sun-drenched, she gave him an even better one.
Lane inhaled sharply. Maybe the Pool of Love was a perfect place to start a fling.
Chapter Ten
“Is this what you had pictured?” Lane asked as they stood at the edge of the pool. The guide had been right. It was more intimate and private—surrounded by wal
ls of stacked or sheer rocks, some covered with flowing vegetation, then the slope of a rising mountain—and the water was clear and welcoming. A small waterfall cascaded from the far wall.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s nice.” She stepped into the pool, which was much shallower than the last one, reaching only to her knees. “I thought it would be deeper, though. You know, I figured there might be some kind of lore about lovers drowning here and that’s where the name came from.” She lifted one of her narrow shoulders. “Guess that’s just hyper-romantic thinking based on too much Shakespeare.”
“I didn’t take you for the Shakespeare type.”
“No? Would you believe me if I told you I almost named Sweet Bee’s ‘To Bees or Not to Bees’?”
He grimaced. “You’ve got to be kidding, because that’s just…bad.”
“You’re right. I am kidding, and it is bad.” She smiled as she took a few steps farther into the pool. “Coming in?”
Lane caught up with her. The water was cooler than the Black Water Pool, but still pretty warm. “I’d call this one at about eighty-eight degrees.”
He led her to the back of the pool near the waterfall, where they sat next to each other on a couple of rocks on the bottom and stretched out their legs.
“I’d say eighty-nine,” she said with a playful smirk.
“Just to be disagreeable.”
She grinned, looking stunningly sexy in the St. Lucian sun, the gold shimmer in her brown bikini top glistening every time he risked a glance at it, which was often. Her hair was beginning to dry, and she swiped away a stray lock that the trade winds had blown across her face.
Lane noticed a small, pink heart tattooed on the inside of her wrist framed by the opening of the narrow silver bangle bracelet she wore. “Let’s see that tattoo.”
She proudly presented her wrist, and he had a closer look. The tattooed heart had a thin black outline, the artwork simple and precise. “That’s nice.”
