Without warning, Sawyer kicked them into a dance and Carmen promptly tripped over both their feet, almost falling. With a curse that came out on the wings of a laugh, Sawyer caught her. “Just follow what I’m doing,” he said against her ear, hoisting her upward. His fingers sat low on her hip, burning through the fabric of her shirt.

  Carmen shivered at the brush of his warm breath. Forcing herself to relax against him, she nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “You can do it,” Sawyer said over the music. Then he tipped his head and brushed his lips against her cheek.

  “Okay,” Carmen breathed, “but I refused to be held responsible for any injuries.”

  AFTER MIDNIGHT, CARMEN dropped onto the foam slab that the hotel had the nerve to call a bed. Her cheeks hurt from smiling and her veins hummed with alcohol and laughter. Without sitting up, she squirmed out of her jeans and flung them across the room. Then she pulled the blankets over herself, snuggling down in the pillows. The stupid grin was still straining across her mouth.

  She had been sure Sawyer would kiss her at the door when he walked her back to the hotel, but he had not. Only lifted her knuckles to his warm lips, sending goosebumps scrambling up her arm. Bending at the waist, he gave her a deep bow and a “my lady” before grinning at her. Then without turning around, he stepped down the hallway and promptly tripped over the carpet runner and fell on his ass. Giggling at the memory of Sawyer’s face as he windmilled his arms in the air to save himself, Carmen drifted into the soundest sleep she’d had in days.

  Chapter 7

  “INTERESTING WARDROBE choice for a hike.” Sawyer’s appreciative tone greeted Carmen as she stepped through the garage doors the next morning. “I didn’t know if you would make it this morning.”

  Carmen’s face flamed as she tried to tug down the edge of her denim skirt closer to the tops of her knees. She was almost out of clothes and having planned poorly for the trip in the first place, it limited choices. She scrunched her nose. “This is all I had clean.” At least she had brought her running shoes. “And it takes more than a few beers to slow down a Maclean.”

  Carmen expected Sawyer to tease her further, but he grazed over her bare legs. She shifted from one foot to the other under the weight of his darkened look. He turned his back to her and tinkered with something in one of the many toolboxes for a moment, cleared his throat, then closed the lid with a loud clang.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here, and I’m not complaining about your choice of threads.” He strolled over and hooked her pinkie with his as he moved past. With a gentle yank, he pulled her outside.

  It was hot. Carmen wasn’t accustomed to the full, unfiltered power of the sun. No smog to block the rays here. She grimaced and glanced up at the sky, her mother’s voice ringing in her head, “Really, Carmen, the last thing you need is more freckles.”

  “Do you have any sunscreen?”

  Sawyer glanced over his shoulder at her. The hair at his temples was bleached almost white, his skin tanned enough to incite envy in most people. “No, I haven’t bought any yet.” He shrugged. “It’s only July.”

  Carmen stuck out her chalky, freckled arm, brandishing it in front of his face. “Half Irish, remember? Let me outside on a sunny day in December and I’d burn.”

  Sawyer chuckled. “We’ll find you some.” Still holding her pinkie as if making some prolonged promise, he led her around the side of the garage.

  “Wait. Is this your truck?” Carmen pointed an accusing finger at the blue Ford gleaming in the sun in front of them. Sawyer grinned the sort of toothy, prideful smile men save for their vehicles and firstborn sons.

  “Stunning, isn’t she?” He ran a hand over the sparkling hood, a glazed look of reverence on his face. Carmen half expected him to plant a kiss on the chrome bumper.

  “Wait a darn minute.” Carmen put her hands on her hips and gave him an icy stare. “You made fun of my car for being old! This thing is just as old.”

  He scowled as if Carmen was lobbing insults at his grandmother. “This thing is a 1973 Ford F-150. Mint. She isn’t old. She is a classic. There is a huge difference.”

  Carmen crossed her arms over her chest. “She is older than we are.”

  With a long-suffering sigh, Sawyer pulled open the passenger door and flourished his arm. “Will you be gracing us with your presence or not?”

  “Makes it sound as if I’m about to have my first ménage à trois with a truck,” Carmen muttered as she climbed onto the leather bench seat. Sawyer let out a shocked snort. The engine roared to life with the veracity old trucks have the habit of retaining, and Carmen had to admit it was a sexy sound. The truck suited Sawyer. Inherently masculine with no superficial pizzazz, just strength and quality.

  As they left town, it struck Carmen that he was nervous. His hands tapped against the wheel in a repetitive staccato and worried at his bottom lip with his teeth. It surprised her to see him fidget. Last night he had been the opposite, walking the knife’s edge between confident and cocky.

  “Music?” Carmen asked so suddenly that Sawyer twitched in surprise.

  “Sure. There’s a book full by your feet.”

  She grabbed the nylon case of CDs and flipped through The Black Keys, Kings of Leon, Foo Fighters. She stopped at a copy of The Beatles Greatest Hits and pulled it free, slipping it into the CD deck.

  “Classics in a classic.” She smirked at him and bobbed her head in time to the music as she perused the rest of his collection.

  “Hold the phone!” Carmen sat bolt upright and clutched the CD book to her chest.

  “What?” Sawyer looked at her sideways in confusion.

  “Is this—” Carmen began. “Oh, my God.”

  His eyes fell on the CD and colour surged to his face. “No! No, it’s not.”

  “It is!” Two people were embracing on a white background—curly hair, white dress. She turned to him eyes huge with excitement. “Dirty Dancing soundtrack.” Carmen hissed. He shook his head hard enough that strands of hair clung to the scruff on his face.

  Carmen punched the eject button and put the Beatles back in the case. “Sorry, guys, but this is too good.”

  “That belongs to my sister,” Sawyer said. “She left it in here.”

  She ignored him and hit play, then began to croon in her most annoying shower voice. Sawyer laughed and attempted to cover his ears while he steered with his elbows.

  “Please, leave the singing to Bill Medley,” he complained.

  “Ah, ha! I knew it. This is your favourite song of all time.” The music sped up, and she danced the best she could in the confines of the cab. Sawyer threw his head back and laughed some more. The rich sound melded with the notes of the music. Chorus. Duet. With a dimpled grin, he sang along. He was much better at it than she was.

  CARMEN WAS STILL HUMMING after they parked in a small lot at the base of the mountain. Around them, the trees threw spires of shade across the pavement, and she relished their touch as they made their way to the mouth of a path. Her eyes strayed up guiltily to find Sawyer watching her. With a wince, she pressed her lips together and made a zipper motion across them, her ribs stretching under the pressure of contained giggles.

  Being out in the fresh air was liberating. Carmen longed to hike away and leave all her problems behind her. Every moment she spent with Sawyer was healing some of the little cracks in her heart. Laughter came quickly and often. The way he listened when she spoke with the sweet, slight cock to his head made it appear he cared about what she was saying. It was not a feeling she was used to. There were the stares he thought she did not notice, the sensation of being wanted. For the first time in too long, Carmen felt like a woman.

  Ducking her chin to hide her chronic smile, Carmen followed Sawyer, lulled by the steady crunch of their shoes on the trail’s gravel surface.

  The day grew hotter as they moved. Even the birds tired of their trills and songs. Though for the most part they were protected by foliage as they walked, Carmen’s hair stuck to her brow in clumps, and she had a sweaty pool in the small of her back by the time Sawyer ushered her forward to come and stand beside him.

  “Is it always so hot?” She panted as she stepped up beside him. “I’m accustomed to three days of heat followed by a month of rain.”

  “It is always this hot and this beautiful and this fresh and clean.” He turned so he was facing her. She hoped her sweat stains were not too visible.

  “Here, I want you to go first.” He jerked his chin, indicating she should continue to follow the path. Carmen slipped past him, rounded the bend and gasped, stopping so abruptly Sawyer had to seize her shoulders to keep from tripping over her.

  “Shit.” Big hands squeezed, steadying them both. Together they stood in silent admiration. Below the ridge where they stood, a small lake lay nestled in the valley. Bright and definite as sapphire, it winked up from its setting of the verdant brush.

  “Tell me we are going down there.” Carmen glanced up at Sawyer. His rough hands were still on her shoulders, and despite the heat, she relished the contact. Though she was reluctant to move and lose his touch, she still itched to run down to the water and submerge her overheated body in the shining depths.

  “We are going down there.” Sawyer chuckled, and the vibrations ran through Carmen’s back. Large fingers moving in soft tandem circles against the skin on her shoulders, spreading a liquid flush through her muscles. Goosebumps rose along her arms, and she had to suppress a shiver.

  He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “Hope you brought your swimming suit.” That time she could not stop the shiver. Disappointment quenched Carmen’s excitement. “You didn’t tell me to bring a swimming suit.” Of course, she hadn’t brought one. It hadn’t crossed her mind to take one from the drawer when she left her apartment, let alone with her on a hike.

  Sawyer shrugged. “Oh well. I must have forgotten.” He straightened, tossing her a crooked grin as he brushed by and started down the trail.

  “Hey! What do you mean, oh well?” Carmen scrambled after him, but he did not answer; he just held his hand out behind his back and waggled his fingers. Heart in her chest, propelled by excitement or fear, or both, Carmen slipped her fingers through his.

  When they reached the rock-strewn shore, Carmen kicked off her shoes and walked straight into the water with a moan of relief. The air was cooler on the banks and held the bright tang of freshwater and the earthy, mineral smell of wet rock and foliage. Staring out over the sparkling water, Carmen breathed, imagining the lake’s touch moving over every inch of her skin.

  The thought of an hour hike back to the truck in soggy denim was the only thing stopping her from submerging herself. She stepped further, letting the water crawl up to her calves, and sighed.

  “Just take it off,” Sawyer said from behind her.

  Carmen whirled, narrowing her eyes at him. “Pardon me?”

  His half-smile oozed boyish mischief. “Your clothes. I’ll turn around. You’ll regret it if you don’t go for a swim.” His fingers went to the button on his shorts as he turned away. “Tell me when you’re ready so I can come in too.”

  Carmen swallowed; her mouth bone dry suddenly. Sawyer turned his back and pulled off his shirt. “Screw it.” She grabbed the hem of her tank and yanked it over her head, wading back to the shoreline and laying it over the nearest rock. With another glance to check Sawyer’s back was still turned, she unclasped her bra and set it on top. In her haste to be free of her clothing, she stumbled and almost fell. She could not bring herself to remove her black cotton undies.

  Crossing her arms over her bare chest, she jogged back into the water. A few strides further, and she was swimming. Carmen cut through the silken water with long strokes, pulling herself toward the middle before realizing she had forgotten to tell Sawyer she was ready.

  Treading water, Carmen turned back to the shore and raised a palm to block the blinding rays glinting off the surface. He must have heard her go in, or he had broken his promise not to watch because he stood halfway between her and the shore—Triton, returning to his kingdom. Water undulated around his hips while the sun played in the loose strands of his hair.

  Carmen bobbed at the surface like a chunk of driftwood, knowing she should not be staring but not bothering to tear her eyes away. Sawyer was in up to his chest when he caught her gaze over the rippling expanse. With a comical raise of his brows, he puffed his cheeks with a giant gulp of air and disappeared.

  Carmen’s inhibitions slammed back with a punch. Where would he come up? She crossed her arms and used her legs to keep her head above water. He held his breath for ages. A niggle of fear for his safety started in her chest just as a cloud of bubbles rushed to the surface a few feet away.

  Drops sparkled on his long lashes as he surfaced, blinking at her, puffing as he tried to catch his breath. With a grin, he kicked closer. “You’re an excellent swimmer.”

  “I spent ten years as a lifeguard and competed throughout high school,” Carmen said.

  The tendons of his forearms bunched as he pushed sodden ropes of hair away from his face. “Why did you stop?”

  “Who says I did?” Carmen’s legs burned. She wondered if her breasts were visible through the water.

  “Your tone did and your expression.”

  Damn, the man was perceptive. Carmen gave him a half-hearted smile. “Life got in the way, I suppose.”

  “Work?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  Sawyer continued to keep a respectful distance between them, and Carmen uncrossed her arms, moving them through the silken water.

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Sadly, yeah.” She had learned a lesson or two about giving up something she loved for a man.

  “And you miss it,” Sawyer stated.

  “I really, really do.”

  “We too easily forget the things that make us happy.” A note in his voice spoke of personal experience. “Life gets in the way and time slips by . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “I enjoy my job,” Carmen said. Even she heard the note of wistfulness in it.

  “But . . .” Sawyer cocked his head, waiting.

  “But, Dr. Phil, you’re right. I miss swimming a lot.”

  He stroked his chin and nodded in what had to be an impression of said doctor. “You’ve busted me, Carmen. I can be quite Phil-osophical.”

  “Oh my God.” With the flat of her hand, she sent a spray of water at his face, laughing. “You ridiculous man.”

  With a dramatic sputtering, he ducked under the water, popping up again on the other side of her. “Race you to that log!” He splashed a return volley in Carmen’s direction, and then he took off, levering himself forward with long pulls of his powerful arms. Carmen forced back a laugh at the sight of his butt cheeks, white as alpine slopes peeking out of the water, and took off in pursuit.

  It only took her a few strokes to pull up beside him. Modesty had prevented her from telling him of the medals she had won when she was younger. Carmen’s childhood had been a whirlwind of swim meets and lessons.

  She reached the log first, Sawyer a split second behind her. He laughed, a free, infectious sound that caught her up, pushing away the memories. Holding the floating wood with one hand, Sawyer shook his head like a dog, spraying them both with water.

  “All right, you’re fast.” He grinned, the shifting surface of the lake reflecting in his eyes. “Beat me fair and square.”

  Carmen dipped below the surface, then came up, shoving the mass of wet hair off her face. Her muscles were singing with the familiar burn of exertion, and her heart pounded. She was not sure the reaction was entirely due to the exertion—more than anything; she wanted to move closer to Sawyer. Feel the warmth of his slick, wet skin sliding against her own. Her breathing hitched.

  “So, do you do this a lot?” Carmen asked after a moment.

  “Hmm?” He was half floating, face tipped up, allowing the sun to stroke the already tanned planes of his cheeks.

  “Swim, hike . . . skinny dip?”

  He did not open his eyes, but his lips curved at her question. “Darlin’, I do it so often I just call it swimming.”

  Chapter 8

  CARMEN WAS WATCHING him again. Her gaze burned a trail over his back as Sawyer walked out of the water. He had not told her to overt her eyes. There was not a bashful bone in his body. Never had been, and if she wanted to look, then let her. Maybe the sight would break the wire-taut tension between them. The need to kiss her had nearly floored his resolve more than once. Still, Sawyer would let Carmen make the first move—he would give her that. He’d made a promise to himself. Pulling his boxers on, he turned.

  She looked away, ducking at the waist to wring water from her hair, hiding behind the red curtain. She had slipped her bra on when Sawyer wasn’t looking; between that and her modest black underwear, she may as well have been wearing a bikini. Her body was slim but strong. When she straightened, the rope of her hair fell between her breasts almost to her belly button. Sawyer snatched his shorts up, crushing the fabric in his hands to keep from going to her. He wanted to touch her with a ferocity he had never experienced. His fingers twitched with the longing to run themselves over the curves of her body.

  The minute their eyes met, a surge of excitement rammed straight through his gut and down to his cock. He watched with fascination as a red flush began in her chest and moved up her neck to spill across her cheeks. Sawyer swallowed. It was going to be pitifully obvious what sort of thoughts he was harbouring if he didn’t turn around. Sawyer spun on his heels, presenting her with his back as he pulled on his shorts.

  All he could think of was Carmen’s pale skin glowing beneath the waves as they swam. Sawyer took a deep breath. At this rate, he’d never be able to turn around. Taking a few deep breaths, he thought about hockey, how much he hated watching it, and then for good measure, his white-haired grandma baking cookies. Then, when his erection still hadn’t totally given up the ghost, he tucked it into the waist of his shorts and cinched them up tight.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23