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At the sight of Des, the boy had sidled back down along the shoreline. His father was absorbed in his phone again, oblivious to the rescue effort. The boy plucked at the switches on the remote control box and looked at Julie. "He's not going to steal my boat, is he?"
"Oh, honey. Heavens no. He's going to get it loose for you."
"Oh." He brightened and, with a boy's typical relish, he foretold gore and doom for Des. "My friend Buddy says there's giant snapping turtles in there that can bite off your leg. And the most venomous snakes in the whole world."
"I think those are in Australia, not here." Though Julie saw several sizeable turtles on the platform, ponderously climbing over one another to avoid the dip of the boat's mast in its caught position. She hoped Buddy was a big fibber. She liked all of Des's parts, and didn't want any to fall prey to snapping turtles.
He'd reached the sailboat and seemed to be having trouble determining what had captured it. He sank below the surface. The ducks and geese circled, quacking among themselves at the oddity of a human swimming in their midst. Julie felt a trickle of unease. Damn it, Des. If he didn't emerge, and she had to go rescue him, she'd kill him.
"It's loose," the boy said excitedly as the boat started drifting their way. The remote also started to function again. As the child operated the controls, Julie heard a healthy purring noise from it, not the earlier futile tick-tick.
Des broke the water's surface a few feet away and started back to shore, his expression cheerful as he saw the boy navigating the craft in the same direction. Man and ship arrived at almost the same time.
As he trudged out of the water, he slicked his hair back, an effect that sharpened the planes of his face and made even more of his deep set eyes and moist lips. She'd been right about that plastering effect. Thank goodness the shorts were a dark fabric, else others at a greater distance would be enjoying the well-defined view she was getting.
"Hey, you said this isn't a date situation," he teased her. "No ogling. And no comments about cold water."
"A fine, male form is worth ogling, whether it belongs to a friend or more than a friend," she informed him. "I suppose you don't look at female strangers with nice racks."
"Of course not. That would be treating them like sex objects, and--" Whatever else he was about to say was muffled as she tossed his T-shirt over his face. He removed it, eyes twinkling, and used it to dry off before putting his feet back in his jeans and working them back up his still damp thighs.
She chuckled as he grimaced but managed it with an intriguing flexing of muscles. "It's like taking off one of those Chinese finger puzzles, in reverse," he complained.
"Hmm." She'd automatically put out a hand to balance him, but as he straightened, her touch drifted across his chest, over the short hairs glittering with water droplets. From there, she slid her fingertips up to his throat and along the strands of wet hair on his head. His eyes stilled at her caress and she almost drew her hand back, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. He tilted his head to brush his jaw along her wrist, but lifted a brow at her bemused expression. "What?"
"I like this look. Very...Tarzan."
"You can see all of it in the shower. If you agree that friends help friends scrub noxious water off one another."
She dimpled, but uncertainty nixed her overwhelming desire to agree. She stepped back. "Ahem. I think someone wants to talk to you."
Des turned. The boy had pulled out the boat and was walking over to them. "That was really cool," he said, sticking out one adolescent hand. "Thanks, man. I'm Lawrence."
"You're welcome, Lawrence." Des shook the outstretched paw. "Tell me about your boat."
The boy launched into an enthusiastic enumeration of the boat's specs that went far over Julie's head, but Des seemed to take it in stride.
"Hey, your rigging snapped here. Let's get that fixed. Do you know how to do a bowline?"
The boy didn't. He brought the boat's stand over so he and Des could prop the vessel up and go over the finer points of rigging knots. In the meantime, Julie noticed Lawrence's father had finally stopped checking his messages and realized his son was talking to a wet stranger.
"Dad, Des got my boat loose," Lawrence said as the man approached with an expression caught between fixed politeness and a scowl.
"Yeah. Thanks. Time to go. I'll pick you up some McD's on the way back to your mother's. Let's go."
As he strode past them with a grudging flicker of acknowledgement to Des and Julie, Julie wished she had a Taser handy. The boy bit his lip, but he saw Julie's look. "It's okay," he told her in a low voice. "He's kind of a jerk. I like Dan, my stepdad, much better. And my mom's really cool. But he's my dad, so..."
"He's your dad." Des shook the boy's hand once more. "You're pretty cool yourself, Lawrence. You take care of yourself."
"I will. Thanks again, man."
Des and Julie watched the kid go, trailing after his father.
"Thank God for Dan," Julie said hotly. "Else I was about to kidnap that kid and take him home."
"He'd like Betty's horses," Des agreed. He looked at himself and sighed. "Guess this calls it a morning for us, love. I should wash off before I start to glow. I'll drop you back off at the theater. Unless you're interested in that shower offer...?"
"I'm sticking to the friendship idea. Until after opening night," she allowed.
