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There was a pause, a long time of quiet. He was about to call out again when he heard footsteps.
It was Julia. At the sight of him in the hot tub, she stopped dead.
She stood beneath the orangey bulb that illuminat
ed the covered deck. He hadn’t seen her since the diner, and yet—to be honest—he’d thought about her often. He couldn’t help noticing how pale she looked, how thin and drawn. Her stunning bone structure now looked edgy and sharp; her chin was pointier than before.
But it was her eyes that caught him, held him as firmly as a child’s grip on a favorite toy.
“A hot tub, Doctor? How clichŽ.”
“I went climbing today. My back is killing me. Get in.”
“I don’t have a suit.”
“Here. I’ll turn off the light.” He pressed the button and the tub went dark. “There’s wine in the fridge. Glasses are above the sink.”
She stood there a long time. So long, in fact, he thought she was going to decline. Finally, she turned and left. He heard the front door open and close. A few moments later she returned, holding a wineglass and wearing a towel.
“Close your eyes,” she said.
“I can see your bra straps, Julia.”
“Are you going to close your eyes?”
“What are we, eighth graders? Are you planning on spin-the-bottle later? I doubt—”
She walked away.
“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “My eyes are closed.”
He heard her return, heard the muffled thump of the towel landing in a chair and the quiet splashing of her getting in the hot tub. Water rippled against his chest; for a split second he thought it was her touch.
He opened his eyes.
She sat pressed to her side of the tub, her arms at her sides. The white lacy bra she wore had gone transparent; he saw the creamy swell of her breasts above the fabric and the water, and the dark spots of her barely covered nipples.
“You’re staring,” she said, sipping her wine.
“You’re beautiful.” He was surprised by the thready tone of his voice, surprised by how much he suddenly wanted her.
“I struggle to calculate how many times you’ve said that to women foolish enough to get into this tub.”
“Are you foolish?”
She looked at him. “Absolutely. But I’m not stupid. Stupid would be naked.”
“Actually, you’re the first woman who has ever been in this hot tub.”
“Clothed, you mean.”
He laughed. “Those see-through scraps are hardly clothed. But no. I mean the first woman—clothed or naked—to be here.”
She frowned. “Really?”
“Really.”
She turned slightly, looked out at the lake. In the charcoal-hued distance, two white trumpeter swans floated lazily on the surface of the water. Moonlight seemed to make their feathers glow.
