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“In the hotel pool,” she said.
Kat slid off the bar stool and headed for the lobby. Pausing on the carpet, she glanced back at Brody. He’d pulled out his wallet and tossed a few bills on the bar. Slowly, he slipped it into his back pocket and looked up at her. The pain she’d witnessed in his brown eyes lingered.
Kat stepped onto the hardwood floor, knowing he’d follow her. Whatever happened in the morning when he learned she’d replaced Dr. Westbury, tonight would be worth the repercussions if she could ease his concern for that lost child.
Seeing Brody Summers in his underwear, that was just a bonus. And where she had to draw the line. There would be no peeking beneath. Not tonight. Unless he was wearing white boxers . . .
She turned to face him. Raising an eyebrow, he stopped by her side. His large mountain-man muscles made the hallway leading to the pool feel small and cramped. Away from the bar, he seemed steady and sure.
Maybe she’d imagined his need for a late night dip in the pool? But then his questioning gaze locked with hers and she saw the barely leashed frustration that he wasn’t out on that mountain.
“What color are you boxers?” she demanded.
His brow furrowed as if he was beginning to question her sanity. “I’m not sure—”
A buzzing noise followed by a ring interrupted. Brody glanced down at the phone in his hand.
“A text?” she said.
Brody gave a curt nod as he lifted the phone, his fingers moving over the screen. “From one of the guys on the rescue squad.”
“Whatever it says,” she said softly, “it’s not your fault. You did your job and sometimes that is all you can do. I need you to trust me on this. Bad news rips into you, but you can’t let it tear you apart. OK?”
He nodded as he read the message, and she wondered if he’d heard her. She could feel the tension radiating off him.
“They found him.” Brody leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “The ten-year-old kid. He has a broken ankle from the fall. He’s scared and dehydrated. But he’s alive. He’s on his way to the hospital now.”
“That’s good.” Kat ran her hands over her skirt. His relief was palpable. And she shared the feeling. She’d witnessed parents free-falling into grief when a child’s well-being hung on the line. Knowing crisis had been averted—for the family, for the little boy, and for the rescuers—she felt as if a physical weight had been lifted from her shoulders, even though she’d never met this family.
“I guess you don’t need that swim after all,” she said.
“Kat.” Brody opened his eyes, his gaze connecting with hers.
The pain she’d witnessed at the bar had faded into the background, replaced by a flare of desire so primal and fierce that her body tingled as if he’d run his hands over her.
“How did you celebrate?” he asked, his tone low and rough. Oh goodness, she wanted to hear him whisper dirty things in her ear all night. And she wanted to see him stripped down to his boxers.
“When your best was enough and everything turned out OK,” he continued, his gaze running over her. “What did you do?”
“Sometimes . . .” she murmured, the heat and wanting trampling her common sense like a herd of elephants.
Brody had allowed relief to open the door to lust. She knew she couldn’t take her walking, talking fantasy to bed like this. But she couldn’t resist a chance to flirt with her crush for a li
ttle while, free from the pain that had pulled at him since he’d left the mountain.
“ . . . sometimes,” she continued, “I like to celebrate with a swim.”
Chapter 3
BRODY PARKED HIS willpower in the hall and led the blond doctor through the door marked Pool. If his brothers saw him now they would laugh their asses off. He’d driven up to Portland to save two families—the stranded hikers and his own. Instead, he was taking an emergency room doctor who probably sent the men of New York City racing to the ER with a long list of fake ailments for a swim. But he couldn’t walk away.
Beyond her beautiful face, he’d witnessed the relief in her eyes when she’d learned that the kid was safe. One look at her and something inside him had snapped. For the past few months he’d navigated a boatload of stress through choppy waters. And heck, he wanted a break.
His grip on her hand tightened, his mind focused on the here and now. The feel of her soft skin. The sound of her breathing, which quickened as they moved through door. Every sound she made suggested her desire matched his, poised to spiral out of control.
A few paces into the warm and thankfully empty pool room, he turned to face her. Her breath caught as he stared into her eyes. Hesitation? Heck, maybe she’d read his mind and knew he wanted to bypass the pool, taking her straight to his bed.
“Brody, if you’re having second thoughts, we can head back into the hall and call it a night. But if you want to stay and, um, celebrate, I promise I won’t take advantage of you in your underwear.” She spoke in a low tone that left part of his body hoping he could convince Little Miss Perfect to break her word.
