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A thousand stars shone down on him and the full moon lit the deck as he searched for the damn cigars. He’d just located them when a splash turned his head toward the water. There was a shadow down there.
Someone was at the boathouse.
More intrigued than anything, Teague tossed his cigars back into the compartment where he’d stowed them and on silent feet, moved across the deck and down the stairs.
It was so bright that it didn’t take much for his eyes to adjust and even before he hit the dock, he knew who it was out there.
Sabrina.
She was sitting at the end of the dock, dangling her feet in the water as the soft breeze of the lake lifted her hair into a cloud around her shoulders. She turned slightly and dragged some of that hair off her face. She was so damn small. So delicate.
A powerful need erupted inside him, and yet wasn’t it was a need that had been there for days? A need he’d been trying to push back.
Silently he moved forward, his bare feet not making a sound. Teague didn’t stop until he
was inches from her, and hell, that honeysuckle scent surrounded Sabrina. It rode the wind and he inhaled a heady shot of it.
For several long moments, the water lapped at the edge of the dock and it was the only noise in his ears. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and when she pushed back a tangle of hair, his eyes fell to the exposed skin at her neck.
He wanted to taste her there.
He took another step forward—not even thinking—and then stopped himself. What the hell was he doing? This right here was dangerous. Why in hell was he contemplating getting involved with a young widow who had two kids?
He couldn’t be good for them. Hell, he hadn’t been good for anybody in a long, long time. Even before Syria.
“Are you going to join me or stand there all night?”
Her voice was soft and she spoke haltingly, as if unsure of herself. Her shoulders were hunched a bit and she looked so damn vulnerable. It tore at something inside him.
Teague took the last few steps and then he was beside her, sitting down on the dock, dangling his feet over the edge.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
She shook her head, not looking at him, but staring up into the big night sky. “No. It’s a bit of a problem sometimes.”
“Something we have in common.”
She looked at him then, lips slightly parted. “What do you do about it?”
What hadn’t he done? “I used to drink a lot. And then there were the pills. Took me a while to realize those things only made it worse, so now when I can’t sleep I—”
“Walk around in your underwear?”
He laughed softly. “You complaining?”
Her tongue darted out and his gut tightened when she let her eyes roll over him. “No,” she whispered.
“Good to know.”
She glanced away then, those small delicate shoulders hunched forward once more. He eyed those shoulders for a long time, enjoying the play of shadows along her upper arms. Abruptly he jumped into the water and she glanced up sharply, those eyes of hers glistening under the summer moon.
The water at the end of the dock reached his neck and he moved along the side to where it was shallow. When it was at his waist, he stopped and glanced over to her. “How about that swim lesson?”
She was silent, watching him, and her chest rose and fell, her nipples hard and easy to see through the thin material of her tank top. She was so feminine. So damn breakable. When she slowly pushed up onto her knees, with all that hair around her shoulders and those big eyes looking at him, it took everything inside him to stay still and not scoop her up into his arms.
She was unsure. He could see that. Hell, he was unsure. But this thing between them, whatever it was, he wanted to explore it and a jolt ripped through him when he realized how badly he did.
Or maybe it was more that he needed to.
