"This will only take a minute," he promised and got out of the car. It took three.
Simon slid back behind the wheel and tossed a white paper sack in her lap, relieved she hadn't left him flat. "What's this?"
"Breakfast."
"I don't need…" Laura sniffed. "Did you get muffins?"
He smiled. "Why don't you open the bag and see?"
But she already had, with the single-minded concentration of a child ripping into presents on Christmas morning. Pleasure warmed him. He'd been right, after all. Maybe he was generally unperceptive, unfeeling, cold, but he'd been able to guess what she needed.
And if he was right about the muffins, his libido suggested slyly, maybe he was right about other things.
"Blueberry," Laura announced with satisfaction. "Lemon poppyseed, carrot, chocolate chip… Jeez, Ford, what did you do, buy out the store?"
Simon continued north on Harbor Street
, seasonably crowded with locals hauling boat trailers and vacationing families in SUVs.
"One of each," he said, uncertain again. Defensive. "I didn't know what you like."
"One of everything is a nice start." She peeled back the paper from a blueberry muffin and bit into it. "God, this is good."
He glanced at her, the flush along her cheekbones, the crumb at the corner of her wide, mobile mouth and a hum kicked up in his blood. Patience, he reminded himself.
She swallowed and licked away the crumb. "I suppose you think you're pretty smart."
"I'm a genius," he said calmly, surprising a laugh from her.
"Yeah, I guess you are." She leaned across the gearshift, straining against her shoulder strap to brush warm lips against his cheek. "A really sweet genius. Get any coffee?"
His body jumped. He inhaled sharply. Exhaled slowly. She was thanking him for breakfast, not inviting him to have sex, this wasn't about sex, this was about…
He made the mistake of looking at her again. She was watching him, her eyes direct and expectant, and he fell into her gaze and lost his train of thought.
"Hello? Coffee?" she prompted.
He wrenched his attention back to the road. They were lucky he hadn't driven up on the curb.
"Bottom of the bag," he said hoarsely. "Juice. It's better for you."
"Maybe I don't want what's good for me," she muttered, but she dug into the bag.
Simon clutched the wheel and tried hard not to think about all the things he could give her that wouldn't be good for her right now.
Laura popped the cap on her orange juice. "Where are we going?"
Simon detoured around a truck attempting to parallel park in front of a bait and tackle shop and turned right on Front Street. A strip of grass separated the road from the boardwalk. The sun beat down on glossy white hulls and weathered gray wood, on the bright sails and sparkling water.
"My boat's berthed here."
Laura lowered her juice bottle. "So?"
He pulled into his reserved spot in the marina parking lot. "It's a nice afternoon to go out on the water."
He saw the temptation and then the denial flash across her face. "I can't. I've got things to do."
"You've done enough." Strolling around the car, he opened the passenger side door. "Anyway, I wasn't inviting you."
She got out and crossed her arms against her chest. "So, you're dumping me here?"
"No." He grinned down at her indignant face. "I'm kidnapping you."
Sheer surprise kept her still long enough for him to retrieve the muffins and lock the car.
"Kidnapping is a Class 2 felony," she informed him.
But the spark returned to her eyes, the spark that had been missing before. Humor. Anticipation. He'd put it there. The knowledge made him feel proud, and humble, too. She was so beautiful with her strained face and shining eyes, and he was desperately afraid he was going to screw up.
He guided her toward the dock with a touch on her back, careful not to do anything that might spook her. "I'll take my chances."
She jumped easily onto the deck, ignoring his helping hand. "Guess I'll do the same. Do you remember how to pilot this thing?"
He freed the lines and followed her aboard. "It's coming back to me."
Laura tucked her hands into her back pockets, the pose creating some interesting body angles. "I'm glad."
He looked from her breasts to her eyes. "So am I."
Restlessly she strolled toward the cockpit. "You need any help?"
It pleased him she would offer. Pleased him to say no. He admired her tendency to take action and her confidence in taking charge. And admitted, to himself at least, that both pushed him to test her control. Egotistical bastard.
Positioning himself at the helm, he nodded to the curved companion bench. "Why don't you sit down? Relax."
Laura sat.
She didn't relax.
Not until they were away from the marina, the barking dogs, the shrieking kids, the Sunday fishermen, the flags and awnings of the waterfront. The twin engines putted past the buoy markers before throbbing to life. The bank slipped away, green and gold in the sunlight, and took her worries with it. The lake dashed on them, gray and white. A gull hung in the air behind the boat and then wheeled away.
Laura closed her eyes and let the wind lift her hair and her spirits.
It's a nice afternoon to go out on the water. Yes.
When was the last time she used a day off to do anything besides catch up on paperwork and laundry? She couldn't even remember. Ever since Tommy died, she'd been focused on making something of herself. On proving something to herself or to her boss or to the cops she worked with. There hadn't been time for dates or distractions or simple pleasures. She tilted her head back, accepting the gift of the sun, letting it soak her brain and bake her shoulders.
The tenor of the engines changed. The boat quivered and slowed. Laura opened her eyes. They were already at the island.
She squelched her disappointment. "Your approach is off," she called. "You'll miss the dock."
Simon's lean, dark figure was silhouetted against the glass of the cockpit. He didn't even turn his head. "I'm not aiming for the dock."
Fine by her. She'd spent too much time crawling over those planks last night, cataloging, photographing, searching for evidence.
She struggled to sit up on the narrow, padded bench. "Is there another way to the house?"
Simon guided the cabin cruiser expertly along the shore.
Trees bowed over the water, casting deep shadow and bright reflections. "Not unless we make a swim for it." She frowned. "Then, why…?"
"Dylan is staying at the house. And Julie." Simon glanced over his shoulder. "Even if you were in any shape to face them, I'd prefer to have you to myself for a while."
She could face anything. But…
I'd prefer to have you to myself for a while.
Her heart beat faster.
The boat nosed into a quiet inlet, where the rocks stretched out protecting arms to cradle a bowl of smooth, dark water. Trees shielded the view on three sides. Lake and sky bounded the fourth. Sun poured over the boat like honey, sticky and golden.
Simon dropped anchor and cut the engines. The sudden silence pressed down like a change in air pressure, making it hard to breathe.
He stepped away from the controls and stripped his shirt over his head.
Laura gawked. He had a man's body, hard and lean, with broad shoulders and well-developed biceps. He didn't look like any science nerd she'd known in high school.
He turned to face her, revealing flat brown nipples and an intriguing line of hair that ran over his abdomen and disappeared into his pants. Her throat went dry.
"What are you doing?" she croaked.
He raised one eyebrow. "It's hot."
Yeah, it was. Despite the faint breeze that stirred the trees and ruffled the water out on the lake, the sheltered cove was definitely warm. And staring at Simon Ford's half-naked body wasn't doing a darn thing to cool things off.
Laura licked her lips. "So?"
"I'm going in for a swim. Want to join me?"
She gestured to her jeans. "I'm not dressed for swimming."
His eyes glinted. "You could get undressed."
Her heart thumped. "We have statutes against public nudity."
"We're not in public. This is a private beach."
She tossed her hair over her shoulders. "I'm still too old to go skinny dipping."
"Suit yourself," he said easily, and dropped his pants.
Laura sucked in her breath. She was a cop. She'd been propositioned from the back of her squad car, chased perverts through the park, been mooned by high school kids out of car windows. The unexpected sight of male body parts did not send her into palpitations like the virginal heroine of a romance novel.
On the other hand, none of those males had had bodies as fine as Simon Ford's.
She exhaled. "I thought you were a briefs kind of guy."
"Boxers."
"Yeah, I can see that."
Along with a lot—a whole lot—more. Her gaze traveled from his hard chest shadowed with hair down to lean, powerful thighs, muscled calves, big feet. Heat spread and coiled in her belly.
She jerked her eyes to his face. He smiled at her lazily. He knew exactly what effect he had on her. Bastard. "Sure I can't tempt you?"
Her heart pounded. The air was thick enough to choke on.
"To swim," she said, feeling her way.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "If you're up for it."
It was a challenge. A dare. This kind of dare she could handle.
She grinned fiercely and got to her feet. "You're on."
Maybe she wasn't model thin or stripper lush. But she took pride in her well-toned, disciplined body. On this battleground, at least, she was a match for him. She tugged her T-shirt up and off. She unzipped her jeans and wiggled them over her hips.
Take that, Mr. Cool Science Guy, she thought, and kicked her jeans across the deck. Simon's eyes flared.
Her underwear was pale blue cotton. Basic. Boring. Cut high on the thigh, it provided as much coverage as a bathing suit. But even though it wasn't especially revealing, it sent the right message. She hoped. Here I am, take it or leave it.
She stood before him, shivering with nerves and lust. Take me.
Without a word, Simon walked past her to the swim platform at the back of the boat and dived cleanly into the cool, dark water.
Screw you, Laura thought, astonished.
Except apparently she wasn't going to get the opportunity.
Well. She thought about that as she watched Simon pull away from the boat, cutting through the water with the easy breathing and long, powerful strokes of an experienced swimmer. At least she knew now how he kept that amazing body in shape.
She knew very little else. She could only guess at his feelings. She wasn't even sure of her own.
Scowling, she sat on the edge of the platform and dangled her pale legs in the water. It was cold. Her toes curled.
What did she want from him, anyway?
His voice came back to her. What do you want? Promises?
And her reply: This isn't about what I want from you. It's about what I expect of myself.
She watched Simon strike out for open water with strong, confident strokes and realized she wanted more than comfort or an afternoon's escape. More than duty and rigid adherence to someone else's rule book. More than she'd allowed herself to have or imagined she deserved.
She wanted to dare and dream again, the way she hadn't since she got knocked up at seventeen. To take a risk that wasn't calculated. To live a little larger than life.
She wanted hope. Intimacy. Passion. And she wanted them all with Simon.
Now all she had to do was persuade him to give them to her.
She jumped into the water. And shrieked as the water closed over her head.
My God, it was cold.
She kicked for the surface, flailing around to warm up, figuring sooner or later she'd get feeling back in her extremities, when Simon's hard, warm hands grabbed her shoulders and hauled her close to his body.
"What's the matter? Are you hurt? Do you have a cramp?" Water spiked his eyelashes. Concern filled his voice. Which would have been great—he had beautiful eyes and she loved his concern—except she felt like a damn fool.
"No, I, uh…" She struggled to right herself in the water.
He thrust a hairy, muscular thigh between her legs to support her, pulling her closer with one arm. Hello.
She flushed. "I was cold, that's all."
Their bodies nudged together. Drifted apart.
He squinted at her. "You were cold."
"Yeah. In case you haven't noticed, the water's freezing."
"I noticed," he assured her. "It's a guy thing."
Her laugh bubbled up, surprising them both.
He loosened his hold on her waist. Their legs brushed underwater. "You sure you're all right?"
She nodded, both more relaxed and more keyed up than she could remember being in her life. "Sorry about the scream."
He smiled wryly. "Me, too. I was hoping I could practice my life saving skills."
Her heart zinged. But before she could respond, he released her. His shoulders bunched as he hauled himself up on the boat's platform. Water streamed from his hair, glistened on his chest, dripped down that intriguing line of hair. His wet shorts molded to his body.
Laura sucked in her breath and nearly choked.
"Hey." He leaned over and offered her a hand.
She didn't need help. Pretending she did seemed hypocritical. Conniving had never been her style. But in this case, Laura figured, a little hand-to-hand contact was worth it. Grabbing his wrist, she let him hoist her up. He was breathing hard. So was she. Now, she thought, as they stood there, practically naked and dripping wet, her heart beating faster, his eyes dark and surprised, the air around them charged like the lake before a summer storm.
Now.
Simon shook his head slightly and stepped back. "I'll get some towels. You need to warm up."
She was warm. Hell, she was hot. She practically steamed.
Confused, disappointed, Laura watched him walk toward the forward cabin door. Okay, conniving wasn't working. She'd have to go with direct.
"Was it something I said?" she yelled.
Simon turned around, keeping his distance. "What are you talking about?"
She opened her arms, disgusted with them both, the romantically impaired and relationship challenged. "This. Us. Look at me." Her panties were almost transparent. Her nipples stood out, bold exclamations of sex, against the material of her bra.
"I see you," Simon said quietly.
Which would have been totally embarrassing except it was clear—it was really clear, his wet boxers gloved his arousal, his eyes were hard and dark—that he liked what he saw.
Laura expelled her breath in frustration. "I'm available. You're interested. So what's the deal?"
Simon's body was taut. He did not move. "I don't want to take advantage."
"Of the situation?"
His eyes were serious, searching, the pupils dilated. "Of you."
A great surge of relief washed through her. He wasn't rejecting her. He was being considerate. The dumbass.
"Guess it's up to me, then," she grumbled. "Why do women always have to do all the work?"
And she jumped him. Literally.
She felt his body brace to absorb her assault, felt him harden with shock and then with need. Thank God.
Twining her arms around his neck, she planted a kiss full on his mouth. His arms rose automatically to hold her. His arousal pressed instinctively against her belly. Laura smiled against his mouth, loving the way his water-cooled skin heated at contact, the way his body adjusted to hers, angles to planes, bumps to hollows.
She kissed him again, longer this time, putting her heart and her soul and some tongue into it. He kissed her back, his hand comin
g up to mold her breast, the rasp of damp cotton against her nipple a pleasure-pain so intense she moaned. His touch gentled instantly, tracing light, dizzying circles through the wet barrier of cloth.
It was too much. It wasn't nearly enough. She reached for her bra, but Simon was ahead of her, flicking open the clasp, peeling back the cup, exposing her damp breast to the soft caress of the air.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
And Laura, previously bold, was suddenly, shyly self-conscious. She tugged at him as if she could cover herself with his body. He caught her hands, holding them away from her sides as he looked his fill. Inside, she softened. Her nipples, already puckered, tightened even more.
Simon bent his head and licked her, his hair cold and smooth against the side of her breasts, his tongue sleek and hot. She shuddered. So did he. He bent to taste her again, drawing her fully into his mouth, licking and suckling until her head spun and her knees buckled. He caught her and carried her two short steps to the narrow padded bench. Wrapping his hard, warm arms around her waist, he stripped her of her panties.
His face was hard, piercing as a laser in its focus, incandescent with desire. Abashed by his intensity, she pressed her thighs together.
But he knelt before her on the puddled deck, opened her with his fingers and put his mouth on her. Pleasure speared through her, jagged, dark. She struggled to keep her feet, swaying toward the demand of his clever, insistent mouth, arching away, held helplessly in place by his hands and the shock of pleasure. He teased, tasted, devoured as her emotions rocked and tension swirled and gathered in her body.
She grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged. Now.
He rose to his feet and swept her off hers. She heard the almost audible click as his brain turned on, as he gauged the hardness of the deck and compared the narrowness of the bench with the distance to the cabin door.
She didn't want him to think. She wasn't drowning in this sea of feeling and sensation alone. She wanted him wild and naked and soon. Now. Twisting in his arms, she overbalanced and fell with him onto the padded seat. She straddled him. Kissed him. And felt the storm that gathered inside her jolt through him like lightning.
"Laura." Just her name, with a tiny undercurrent of laughter.
She fumbled with the elastic of his boxers, frustrated by the clinging cloth and their tight quarters. "What?"
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