by Lily Danes
A pretty blonde sat behind a desk, checking people into the party. She wore a camp T-shirt that marked her as a counselor, and her name tag identified her as Jessica. Josh tensed as he approached.
Her gaze flitted to his chest. “Welcome, Josh. Lean down please.”
Confused, he bent at the waist. The blonde leaned forward and smacked his forehead.
“What…?” He reached up to feel a piece of paper affixed to his skin.
“Don’t pull it off. You’ll be disqualified.”
“From what?”
“Have you ever played Celebrity before?” His blank look must have been sufficient answer. “A famous person’s name is written on that paper. The game is to guess who you are. You can ask your fellow party-goers three yes or no questions. If you can’t guess who you are with the third question, you move on to the next camper and try again. The game begins in a few minutes, and the first five winners get prizes.”
Josh peered into the lodge. Everyone had a piece of paper on their forehead, and none of them appeared to be stumbling drunk yet. No one was making out in the corners. So much for the wild night Max had promised.
“This isn’t what I expected,” he murmured.
Jessica gave a knowing smile. “We’re just warming up. Once we break the ice, there’s no telling where things will go.”
He stepped into the lodge, and a giddy sense of freedom bloomed in his chest. No one knew him. Hell, he could have written anything on the name badge.
For a week, he could be anyone.
Josh grabbed a beer from an ice-filled tub and examined the lodge. Servers navigated the room, their trays filled with everything from pink drinks in martini glasses to shots of tequila.
That wasn’t why he was there. If he wanted to get drunk and act stupid, he could have gone to Boone’s.
He scanned the party, and his chest grew tighter with every passing second. She wasn’t there.
This was ridiculous. Yes, the mystery woman was gorgeous, but he’d only seen her for an hour the night before. No reason to act like a seventh grader with a crush.
“Is everyone ready to discover who they truly are?” Josh faced the stage, where a woman spoke into a mic. From Max’s descriptions, Josh thought she had to be Heather Tully, the camp owner. “You all know the rules. Cheaters will be thrown into Lake Waawaatesi at sunrise.” A murmur of laughter passed through the room. In late September, that lake wouldn’t be warm enough for swimming until the sun had kissed the surface for several hours. “If the other person guesses correctly, shout ‘Winner!’ and raise your hand. When that happens, everyone freezes. Prizes will be awarded as we go. Get ready…and three…two…one!”
The calm, orderly party sprang into action as everyone grabbed the nearest person and peppered them with questions.
A short brunette popped in front of him. Her name badge said Kim, and the paper on her forehead identified her as Alexander Graham Bell.
“Am I alive?” she asked by way of introduction.
“No. Am I?”
“Yes. Am I a woman?”
“No. Me?”
“Nope. Am I an astronaut?”
Josh sputtered for a second. “No. Am I…”
Before he could finish the question, Kim rushed away, looking for the next person.
Thirty seconds later, Josh knew he was under thirty, an entertainer, and asking about hair color made the other person confused.
“Winner!” The shout went up at the other end of the room, and the crowd quieted. A spotlight shone on a man in his late twenties. He wore black-rimmed glasses and a big smile.
Heather spun a small plastic globe filled with pieces of paper, then withdrew one. “The winner, aka Audrey Hepburn, will choose the music for the first hour of the beach party, and no one gets to complain.”
“Metallica!” The man punched his fist in the air, and mixed groans and cheers went through the crowd.
“Four more prizes to go.” Heather rang a small bell, and everyone took off.
By the time Josh knew he was a pop star with several top-ten hits, two more people had won.
Another woman appeared before him, a tall blonde with a wicked look in her hazel eyes. According to her name tag, she was Emma, though the paper on her forehead identified her as Robert De Niro.
His heart jumped to attention. It was the blonde woman from Boone’s.
He tried to be subtle as he glanced around, but her dark-haired friend wasn’t there. The damn mixer was doing its job. People had been forced to split up and talk to strangers.
Emma looked amused. “Hey pervert.”
Josh touched the piece of paper on his forehead. “I’m a pervert?”
“Not that. Well, maybe. I have my suspicions. I’m talking about you.”
He blinked. This woman didn’t know him well enough to know a single thing about him, let alone any perversions he might or might not have.
“I saw the way you looked at my friend. Like you were committing her ass to memory.”
“I wasn’t…” He stopped. That was exactly what he’d been doing. It was time to get this conversation back on track. Josh tapped the slip of paper. “Are my eyes blue?”
“No. So do you ogle all women or are you interested?”
The woman knew how to unsettle him. “That’s not a yes or no question. Am I on the charts now?”
“Sadly, yes. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No. Do I have more than one album?”
“You already asked three questions. I’m counting the pervert one. Do you have a job?”
“Yes.”
“Been in prison?”
“No.”
Emma nodded, seeming satisfied with the answers.
Someone whooped on the other side of the room, the sound of a correct guess.
“Only one prize left,” Heather called.
Emma grabbed Josh just above his elbow and marched him ten feet across the room. She planted him directly in front of the black-haired woman.
3
Ruby was glad she’d only had one vodka tonic since arriving. Another couple of drinks and she might have introduced herself by climbing the man in front of her like a tree.
A big, sexy tree with thick brown hair and the softest blue eyes she’d ever seen. “Hi.”
The perfect man lifted one corner of his mouth and tilted his head toward hers, like he was about to share a secret. “I’m Josh.”
“I know.”
When he blinked in surprise, she pointed at her name tag. “Ruby.”
She stuck out her hand. He studied it a beat too long, then wrapped his fingers around hers.
Her heart stuttered at the contact. His palm was warm, the fingertips ridged with calluses.
His smile spread, slow and easy. “That’s a nice name. Like your parents thought you were something precious.”
He was flirting shamelessly, like he had a lot of practice at it. As long as he kept looking at her like that, she didn’t mind. “Or my father was a huge Stones fan. My middle name is Tuesday.”
He tilted his head and studied her. “I don’t know if I believe that.”
It was the truth—the downside of being the daughter of two musicians—but Ruby widened her eyes to appear as innocent as possible. “I never lie.”
“Mmm hmm.” Josh glanced at her forehead and seemed surprised, like he’d forgotten they were playing. “Should we try to win the final prize?”
We. A single word, from a stranger no less, and her body warmed. She rolled her eyes upwards, as if to see her own name. “I know I’m a nineteenth-century painter, because whoever designed this game is a sadist.” She read his name and snorted.
“That bad, huh?”
It was a lot easier to guess than whoever she was, but Ruby couldn’t tell him that. “Am I an Impressionist?”
Josh mulled over the question. “Maybe? I think so. Probably.”
“Art history not your major either?”
A shadow flickered in his
eyes, there and gone. “Not so much. Am I in the tabloids a lot?”
“Oh yeah. Do I paint ballerinas?” It seemed unlikely he knew who Degas was, but damned if she wasn’t asking every single one of her three questions. Winning wasn’t that important.
“It’s entirely possible you paint ballerinas. Or flowers. Maybe kittens.”
She laughed without thinking, and his own smile widened.
“Have I ever been arrested?” Josh asked.
“Absolutely.”
He stilled as he considered her answers, then his eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. I’m not Justin Bieber, am I?”
She bit back a grimace. She had one question left to ask, and she didn’t want their conversation cut short even that much.
Instead, she stuck her right arm straight up. “Winner!” she called.
The room groaned in unison as the final prize was claimed. Josh still looked somewhat horrified by his second identity.
Heather took her time spinning the plastic globe, building suspense even though there was only one piece of paper left. She drew it out and unfolded it slowly.
“Justin Bieber,” she paused for the hoots and laughter to die down, “gets a really special prize. He will be the first person to stay in the brand-new luxury treehouse we built this summer.”
The jeers turned to sounds of disappointment.
Josh leaned closer to Ruby, and she did her best not to sniff him. His warmth and proximity were turning her brain to mush. “Do you know anything about this treehouse?”
She opened her mouth to tell him no—or maybe suggest they go find the treehouse and see if it had a bed—but music filled the room, drowning out her words. The organizers had decided the ice was broken enough and it was time to dance.
Ruby winced at the sound of bubbly pop music, the kind with videos filled with sexy dancers in a line. Not long ago, the label had insisted she take dance classes, but she barely mastered the box step.
There were a lot of things the label wanted that she hadn’t mastered.
Someone jostled her, pushing her forward. Ruby made no effort to steady herself. Instead, she tumbled against Josh. His chest expanded on a sharp inhale, and his hands settled on her hips—holding her steady or just holding her, she wasn’t sure.
His body was so warm, so solid. Even though her heart raced, she felt more secure than she had in months. She took a deep breath. He didn’t wear cologne, but something about his scent reminded her of woodsmoke, a hint of autumn against the hot summer night.
“Sorry about that.”
Ruby blinked at the man who’d knocked into her. The sticker on his shirt said his name was Cory. He gave her an embarrassed smile. “I probably need to slow down.” Cory held up his glass in illustration.
Reluctantly, she pushed herself back from Josh. He kept one hand on her hip, and she didn’t move away. “It’s all right.”
“You guys having fun? I was told this would be the classiest frat party I’ve ever been to. I think my friends undersold it.”
Ruby’s smile grew strained. Cory seemed like a nice enough guy. Handsome too, with green eyes and floppy blonde hair, though his vibe reminded her too much of the industry types she used to know, those guys whose cheesiness was so genuine that she could never tell when they were blowing smoke.
It turned out they were almost always blowing smoke.
Cory studied her, and Josh’s hand tightened on her hip. “Do I know you? You look really familiar.”
With those words, the ease she’d found while talking to Josh vanished.
No one was supposed to recognize her here. Her hair was back to its natural color, and she wore no makeup. Her weight was somewhere between her official photos and the tabloid ones.
Cory was squinting at her. She had to leave. Now. Before his drunken brain cells started working.
She detached herself from Josh. “I just have one of those faces.” Her cheeks were frozen around a strained smile.
Before they could respond, Ruby ducked around a group of people dancing next to them and disappeared into the crowd.
* * *
She was there, and then she wasn’t.
He spent the next ten minutes exploring the lodge, but there was no sign of Ruby. He caught sight of her friend, but Emma was curled up on a corner sofa with some guy, her lips too busy to answer Josh’s questions.
Minutes ago, the party had been fun and easy. Now, it seemed forced—the music too loud, the drinks too plentiful, the people too desperate to let go of their everyday lives. He didn’t want to be there anymore.
He exhaled in relief as he stepped outside. The night was warm enough for a T-shirt, but the air felt cool on his skin after the press of bodies in the lodge. Josh turned toward the lake, skipping the path in favor of crossing a long stretch of grass. Halfway to the water, he removed his shoes, wanting to feel the ground against his bare feet.
Nature was pretty damn nice. Life at the store was so all-consuming it had been a while since he’d taken time to enjoy it.
As Josh moved further from the party, the noise faded. Soon, it was quiet enough to pick up the soft lapping of the lake against the shore. Far to his right, someone splashed in the water, though swimming wasn’t allowed after dark. Plus, at this time of year it had to be chilly enough to make certain parts shrivel.
That might be exactly what he needed. His body had jumped to attention when Ruby fell against him, all warm and soft, and he felt charged. Time for the camp version of a cold shower.
Josh yanked off his T-shirt, then paused at the water’s edge. Under his jeans, he wore white boxer briefs. If they got wet, all modesty would be out the window.
Then again, this was summer camp. If someone wasn’t skinny dipping, they weren’t doing it right.
Leaving his clothes folded neatly on the dock, he dove into the water. It was warmer than he’d expected, and he relaxed into it. Josh swam freestyle for two hundred yards, pushing himself to go faster. He welcomed the sensation of his muscles bunching and releasing. Only when his breath came fast and his shoulders burned did he flip over to float on his back. Above him, the sky was littered with stars. They were always there, he knew, but most days he forgot to look.
Loud laughter broke the night as campers ambled along the water’s edge. Reluctantly, Josh rolled over. Better to swim back before anyone decided to join him, since it looked like a lot of people were viewing the camp rules as mere suggestions. After a few lazy strokes, he dove under the water, challenging himself to see how long he could hold his breath.
He overshot his target by a few feet and broke the surface underneath the dock. Before he could climb out, light footsteps sounded on the wood. They stopped a few feet from him.
Josh waited for a minute, but the person showed no sign of moving.
Since he has no intention of spending the night in the lake, it was probably best to announce himself. Josh cleared his throat. “I don’t want to scare you, but—”
He was greeted with a high-pitched yelp—a woman, then—followed by the thud of stumbling footsteps and a loud splash.
He bit his cheek, unsure whether to laugh or groan. For someone trying to avoid company, he wasn’t doing a great job of it.
As he emerged from underneath the dock, all the effects of his late-night swim vanished. Shrinkage wasn’t an issue, not with Ruby floating a foot away from him.
Her light blue T-shirt clung to every curve, and he could make out the lace of her bra beneath the cotton. Her nipples jutted forward, the hard tips practically begging for his mouth.
“My eyes are up here.” She sounded more exasperated than offended.
Josh wrenched his gaze upward. “Sorry. That was…” Extraordinary. Mouthwatering. “Rude.”
Ruby bobbed in the water, though she held onto the dock with one hand.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I was trying to warn you, but I think I did it wrong.”
Another woman might have glared at him, but Ruby snorted. “It�
��s not your fault I’m uncoordinated. Most people can turn around without falling into a lake. Are those your clothes on the dock? How long were you there?” Her gaze dropped and seemed to linger on his bare shoulders.
“Just a minute or two. What were you doing up there?”
She shrugged, and the small movement did remarkable things to her T-shirt. “Just looking for a quiet spot to think.” Her voice dipped, the words almost sad.
Ruby began to pull herself onto the dock, then froze. She sank back below the surface. “I don’t think they have a wet T-shirt contest scheduled for tonight.”
If they did, no one else had a chance. “Probably not. This isn’t spring break.”
When he didn’t move, Ruby gave him a pointed stare. “You could turn your back.”
He could. He should. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do. “If I do that, you’ll leave. You already ran away once tonight.”
“I didn’t run.”
“Didn’t even say goodbye,” Josh insisted. “You left me in the middle of the dance floor, so heartbroken I had no choice but to head for the lake, determined to end it all.”
“Uh-huh. You probably need to swim further out if that’s your goal.” She pointed to the large rock in the middle of the lake. “How about there?”
“I don’t think I can. You already broke my heart once tonight. I don’t trust that you won’t take my clothes the minute my back is turned.” He jutted his chin toward his shirt and jeans, still in a neat pile. “I don’t think there’s a wet underwear contest either.”
“You’re not wearing shorts?” Her gaze dropped to the surface of the water. Her throat worked as she swallowed.
“Nope. If I turn my back, you could take my clothes and force me to walk across camp. Everyone would know the exact size and shape of my dick. So you understand that you’re asking a lot of trust here.”
He knew he was goading her, but he wanted that picture in her head. If he was going to spend the night imagining her without her clothes, it was only fair to give her something to think about too.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why? Would you be embarrassed?”