You're What?!

But in a flash he wasn’t behind her. Without moving her head, she watched his long legs slip into the water next to her.

Whose idea was this, anyway? Spending the afternoon with this…this handsome, eyes-of-steel, male person. She let her breath out slowly, trying not to show her anxiety.

He splashed water in front of him with his feet, still not saying a word. Just when she thought she couldn’t take the silence another moment, he spoke.

“What are you hiding beneath that white thing?” He turned his head and she caught his devilish smile. “Midriff bulge or an appendix scar?”

Michelle straightened her back. “Neither. I…I didn’t want to get sunburned.”

He arched a disbelieving eyebrow. “Okay. Leave it on.”

That did it. She never could back down from a challenge. Implied or otherwise.

As with removing a bandage, she decided fast was best. She stood, untied the sash, dropped the cover and dived into the tepid water. Doing a perfectly clean crawl, she swam the distance of the pool and back to Kevin before stopping for air.

Her chest was heaving rhythmically below the surface. Kevin was staring at her openmouthed, his gaze at water level.

“Nice…stroke,” he said, his eyes eventually straying north.

She caught her breath. “Want to race?” At least it was something physical that wouldn’t get her in trouble.

“I don’t know.” He cocked his head to one side and smiled. “You’d probably win. I’m not in the best of shape.”

“I noticed.” She smiled back before diving deep, coming up near the far end. When she turned and swung her wet hair from her face, he was inches away, his smooth freestyle carrying him past her and to the wall.

With elbows hooked over the edge he eyed her as she came alongside. “How many laps?” he asked.

His breathing was already labored. This would be a piece of cake. She glanced to the opposite end, then back to his challenging smirk. “How does five sound?” She fully expected him to protest.

He took a couple of deep breaths and exhaled loudly. “I’m ready when you are.”

She positioned her hands and feet behind her, gave him one last look, then shouted, “Go!”

They started with a flurry, arms flying. Right, left. Right, left. Kevin was half a length in front of her.

No big deal. So he was a sprinter. She was a long-distance runner.

She let him set the pace, purposefully holding back, measuring her energy. He wouldn’t be able to keep it up. Let him have his ego intact a little longer.

Michelle pushed off the wall as he came out of his turn and stayed with him through laps two and three and into four. Finally, he slowed his pace, his arms chopping instead of slicing through the water, less splash on his kick.

Keeping her same steady rhythm, she pulled alongside, then passed him on the last turn. He was gassed. No doubt about it. But then her own lungs were begging for relief, too.

She could do it. Just half a lap. God, her legs were tired. They felt like dead weights pulling her down. She slowed slightly, gliding the distance with each stroke, hoping the next one Would result in her fingers touching the wall. Two more. Three max.

There was a splash beside her followed by a wake. She pulled hard and touched the wall.

A second behind Kevin.

Gasping for breath, she hung on to the side with one hand and wiped chlorine from her eyes with the other. Kevin’s chest was heaving as fast as her own. He was inhaling, exhaling, lips white with exertion.

But still, she didn’t miss his smile of victory, the glint in his you-didn’t-think-I-could-do-it-did-you? eyes.

“Let me guess,” she said between gasps. “Besides choir, you were on the swim team?”

“The first couple years. Then I got too busy. It’s been a long time since…” He eyed her steadily, his words trailing off.

For some reason, she didn’t think he was talking about swimming anymore, which did nothing to slow her heart rate.

Michelle pushed off the wall and floated on her back, keeping her ears below water, listening to the muted sounds of her own labored breathing. She tried to relax, but the race was no longer the cause for her discomfort. Kevin was an interesting, multidimensional man. Okay. Sexy. Not a model-perfect specimen, but a man with depth, a passion seething right below the surface. She’d heard it earlier when he sang, and seen it these past few minutes in the way he attacked the lane. It wasn’t just the competition that pushed him. She sensed something far deeper in this man—and the observation attracted and alarmed her at the same time.

She heard a splash and lifted her head in time to see his lean torso clear the water and amble over to his towel.

It was only Tuesday. How could she make it to Saturday without succumbing to this growing fantasy? As Kevin had started to say earlier, it had been a long time since.

She swam to the side of the pool nearest her cover and, giving her suit a few last-second modesty tugs, used the steps and left the water.

Kevin wiped his face, then eyed Michelle standing by the ladder as she tightened the sash on her thin white cover-up. Within seconds, the moisture of her suit penetrated the outer fabric and her puckered nipples were clearly visible.

He groaned inwardly, feeling a tightness in his trunks. He hadn’t thought it possible he’d experience such feelings again. Maybe it was merely lust. God knew he was overdue for a little action. But what bothered him was that he liked this woman and he wanted to know what made her tick. He’d always prided himself on being able to see past people’s masks. Now he wondered what some man had done to Michelle to leave her so defensive and wary, so competitive and conflicted.

When he regained control of his traitorous body, he walked over to her, curious what persona she’d display next.

“What shall we do now?” he asked, a smile quirking his lips.

“We?” Her gaze darted back and forth. She picked up her beach bag and looked past him. “I don’t know about you, but I want to get out of the sun, put on some dry clothes and maybe do a little shopping.”

There was no invitation to join her. He took the hint with a mix of relief and disappointment. “Maybe I’ll catch up on some reading back in my room, take a little nap.” She didn’t move. Had he misread her? Had she been expecting another response?