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Terrific choice of words, Ms Best.
He gave a tight smile. At least she seemed to have forgiven him for that ill-advised comment about her lack of guts.
But as she sat on one of the rocks to dangle one cautious toe into the water, something glittered in the fold of pale flesh above the waistline of her panties. No way! She still wore a stud in the belly piercing she’d gotten at seventeen. So some remnants of the rebellious girl did still remain beneath the sophisticated veneer of the successful career woman.
The startling thought brought with it a renewed surge of excitement, followed by the unsettling feeling of connection.
Ignore it. She’s not that girl and you don’t want her to be.
She sucked in a breath as she eased herself off the rock. ‘Good God, it’s a miracle you didn’t stroke out jumping into water this cold at your age,’ she said.
‘Give over, I’m only thirty-seven,’ he countered, the teasing a welcome change from the razor-sharp snark. ‘And, anyway, I’m a guy. Risking death for no good reason goes with the territory.’
‘Tell me about it,’ she scoffed. ‘I’ve got a ten-year-old son who thinks he’s immortal.’
On a startled gasp, she dropped the rest of the way into the pool with a gentle plop. Shivering while she adjusted to the frigid temperature, she did a smooth breaststroke towards him. Her pale limbs glowed like lightsabres against the dark silted green of the water. ‘Wow, it feels glorious.’
She flipped onto her back to paddle away across the swimming hole, and his gaze snagged on the contours of her nipples, poking against the wet and pliant fabric of her sports bra like high-calibre bullets.
He did a shallow dive to duck back under the water’s surface, swimming down to explore the cold bottom of the pool, but it was already too late. Arousal sizzled through his system again like a firework ready to explode.
Mission accomplished, my arse.
‘I’m definitely going to get the recipe for this fried chicken from the resort’s chef.’ Halle bit into her drumstick, humming as she chewed, the sensual combination of spicy coating and chicken juices exploding on her tongue. ‘It tastes phenomenal.’
‘You do that.’ Luke grabbed another wing from the array of picnic food she’d laid out on their drying towels. ‘I just plan to eat it.’ He set about devouring it in huge mouthfuls.
‘I can see that.’ She frowned, her skin still zinging from the refreshing chill of their swim.
His hair had started to curl as it dried in the afternoon sun, the bronze strands highlighting the golden brown and adding to the ruggedly sexy combo of dusty hiking shorts, damp T-shirt and two-o’clock shadow.
His wet boxer briefs hung on a branch of mountain laurel, alongside her damp bra and knickers, making her even more aware of what they both didn’t have on beneath their clothing. Not that she needed reminding with her hypersensitive nipples rubbing the stretchy cotton of her T-shirt every time she moved.
Maybe she shouldn’t have taken him up on his dare. But she refused to regret it.
So what if he looked even better damp and her body acknowledged that? Surely any woman’s would after a ten-mile hike followed by the intense stimulation of a freezing-cold dip in her underwear. It was a purely chemical reaction. The result of millions of years of human evolutionary biology. It didn’t have any more significance than that. Luckily, she wasn’t a Neanderthal woman or a female ape, so she would never be compelled to act on the attraction.
‘Problem?’ He dumped the skinned bones into the hefty pile of debris he’d accumulated and wiped his hands on a napkin.
‘No,’ she lied. Her gaze flitted down to his feet, only to encounter the intimate curls of hair on his bare toes.
Get a grip, Queen Kong.
‘It’s just depressing to realise the man-sized appetite never goes away.’ She poured herself another glass from the canister of home-made lemonade Luke had chilled under the waterfall, ready to make small talk as if her life depended on it. ‘Aldo already manages to polish off a week’s worth of grocery shopping in three days. I may have to buy a pickup truck by the time he hits puberty.’
‘He’s ten, right?’
‘Um-hum.’ She nodded, grateful for the neutral topic. Using the empty backpack as a pillow, she stretched out on the sun-heated rock. Not looking at Luke was probably the smartest way to avoid noticing his Neanderthal attractions.
The warmth seeped through her clothing and she yawned.
The quiet hum of the local insect life, the burble of the falls and the scent of mountain laurel mixed with tree resin lulled her towards sleep. Maybe she wasn’t the outdoor type, but as wilderness experiences went, the past few hours had been surprisingly relaxing. Give or take the odd blast of Stone Age conditioning.
‘So do you know who Aldo’s dad is?’ It sounded so odd to hear Luke say her son’s name, it took a moment for his question to register. When it did, her mellow mood faded. Considerably.
She sat up, her unfettered breasts bouncing uncomfortably. His tone had been conversational rather than accusatory, but even so … ‘Of course I know who he is. Not that it’s any of your business.’
‘So why haven’t you told Aldo, then?’ he said, apparently untroubled by her indignation.
