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The two girls had the bodies for their skimpy bikinis and short shorts, but Noah's gaze never left Gen's as she headed in his direction. She thought one of them made a passing flirtatious comment, but a polite, faint smile was his only response.
She shouldered her tote as he slid off the piling, walked toward her with a loose-hipped stride. She was glad she'd dared to wear her two-piece. It wasn't hugely sexy, but the top did show off her breasts well without being in constant danger of falling off. She'd worn a pair of cut-off shorts over the bottoms. She might take them off later. Maybe. It was silly to be self-conscious, since Noah had seen her naked, but somehow the focus of all that had been Lyda's reaction. This felt different, just the two of them, and he looked so good. Wouldn't it be nice to be like a guy, not measuring his looks against her own, just enjoying a full ogle of his appearance?
"Hi gorgeous," he said, making her decide right off it was going to be a nice day. He gave her car a look as it subsided. "I can fix that for you. It's just an ignition timing issue."
"Really? I might take you up on that. If you let me pay for it, of course." She pushed on before he could shrug that off, as she knew he would. "Tyler keeps threatening to buy me a new car. I'm always deathly afraid I'm going to show up for work one morning and he'll have done it. I told Marguerite I'd quit if they did something like that."
"You don't want Tyler to be your sugar daddy? In an entirely platonic, Marguerite-maybe-wouldn't-cut-up-my-body-for-shark-bait way?"
His eyes danced and she pushed at him. He caught her hand, held it against his chest, his fingers sliding over her palm and knuckles. "I'm glad you came," he said.
She took one of those unsteady breaths his touch seemed to cause, and curled her fingers to stroke the lightly furred flesh beneath them. "Me too. Are you going to teach me enough to keep me from drowning?"
"Absolutely. If you offer me food. Or sexual favors. I accept either as payment."
"Guys are so easy."
"I thought we already discussed that." He pointed down to the bulkhead, where a two-man sailing craft waited, the mast raised and sails furled, ready to go. "If you want to hit a restroom before we head off, there's one in the marina office."
"Okay."
A few minutes later, she was ready. He'd stowed her tote, and offered her a hand onto the boat. He was sitting next to it on the floating dock, his feet holding the craft, keeping it steady as she stepped into it and sat down where he directed her.
"In the beginning, I'll sail her, and talk you through the basics. Then you can start helping out. By the end of the day, you'll be able to single hand her."
"So you can sit back and do nothing."
"Except watch you."
Then he was in the boat with her, casting off. He did it all so smoothly, she didn't have a chance to feel any trepidation, though she might have if she'd realized how small their boat was and how big the channel was. But he projected such calm, not at all concerned as he navigated the motorless boat among the power boat traffic. She sucked in a breath when the boat tipped.
"Very normal," he assured her. "It's going to heel when the wind catches it. That's part of what makes it go, and the closer you can hold it to the wind, the faster we go. The trick is not letting the wind overpower it and capsize us."
"Which is not going to happen."
"No." He promised. "Let's do a tack. Move with me. One, two...now."
He did that with her a few times, until she could do it with reasonable ease, moving from side to side of the boat with him as needed. Once she fell into the rhythm, she could enjoy looking at their surroundings, which included him. Leaning out over the water, his ab muscles tight, thighs taut, bare feet braced against the opposite edge of the boat. Holding onto the boat with her other hand, she slid her fingers over those abdominal muscles, wanting to feel.
He glanced her way, but he didn't stop her. She caressed those shifting muscles, enthralled with them. Enthralled with him. Still, she wasn't sure what was allowed, so she contained herself, withdrew her hand.
He'd made her don a lifejacket, but he wasn't wearing his. While she appreciated the access that provided her questing hand, as well as his effort to make her f
eel more secure, she wondered if that was more of what Lyda had implied. So protective of others, but not of himself...
She was glad he'd warned her about the sunblock, because the reflection of the sun on the water which felt so good would nevertheless fry tender skin. He was so evenly tan, she expected he spent a lot of time out here with his students, but he had the faint coconut aroma of sunblock as well.
A boat went by with a black Labrador on the bow. The dog was wearing a yellow life jacket and wagging his tail. With his majestic profile, he looked like a figurehead. The lolling tongue and dancing eyes made it clear he was ready to fling himself in the water the moment his master gave the go-ahead. Noah pointed out a set of kayakers paddling closer to the shore, one of whom had a dachshund sitting on his lap. The little dog was also wearing a lifejacket.
When she asked, teasing, how Lyda's cats would react to boating, Noah gave her a slow smile. "It depends. Farclaws will lie in the birdbath on hot days. Sleep there, even. I think it just has to be their idea. They're a lot like their mistress in that regard."
After about an hour of sailing, he maneuvered them into a quiet cove and loosened the lines, letting the sails flap and slowing them to a drifting halt. "Okay, let me show you the basics of handling her yourself. When you're comfortable, we can go back out again where you can really put her through her paces. Then we can park and have some lunch. This is a nice secluded place to relax and take an afternoon nap."
"Okay." It occurred to her, the things that could happen during such a siesta, but there was no innuendo to the friendly suggestion. This time there'd been no instructions, no indication that Lyda was "giving" him to her. Caressing his abdominals was one thing, but more than that? She could ask him, of course, but felt shy about it. Maybe because if Lyda had said no, it would feel like rejection.
Noah touched her collarbone, bringing her attention back to him. "Take off the lifejacket. You need to put on some more sunblock, because you're turning red in a couple places. Lyda and Marguerite will have my ass if I let you get burned."
She unclipped the jacket as he retrieved the tube from stowage. When he proffered it, she met his gaze. "Will you put it on me?"
