Hannah hesitated a moment, then stepped forward. “How do I know I can trust you not to stab me?”
He held up his hands and said with mock seriousness, “Steady as a sailor on a Saturday night.”
“Oh,” she choked out. “I feel much better.”
He grasped the folds of the shorts in one hand, maneuvering the safety pin through the fabric with the other. She stared off into the distance, too unsettled by the expanse of his bare chest and the proximity of his blonde head to her left breast to worry about the likelihood of his stabbing her.
“There!” he exclaimed a moment later, standing up to survey his handiwork. The shorts were hitched a little higher on the side he’d just fastened together, and the shirtsleeves reached to her elbows. “Well, it’s not designer fashion, maybe, but under the circumstances….”
She glanced down at the ridiculous outfit and laughed, despite herself. There by the side of the lake, beneath an old oak tree, Hannah dropped whatever remnants of self-consciousness she might have been holding on to. It was spring. The first swim of the year. She and Will had more in common than she’d ever thought. She was wildly attracted to him, and it seemed pointless to deny it to herself.
“Ready?”
“If I can manage without losing one or more articles of clothing on the way.”
“No problem. But we’ve gotta do it fast. No chickening out. Okay?”
She nodded confidently, determined to keep up with him.
“Then let’s go.” He took her hand, and they ran toward the shore, their bare feet tender against the twigs and pebbles disguised in the grass along the way. They hit the sand and then leapt into the water, two strides deep before taking the final plunge.
The water swallowed them. Within seconds, they came scrambling to the surface, Hannah shrieking, Will chuckling.
“Ahh,” she screamed, her body shocked by the still frigid water. She flapped her arms, then tried to hold on to her shorts, which threatened to come off despite the pin. “It’s freezing!”
“You’re wearing more than I am,” he hooted.
“You knew it would be this cold!” she accused, still sputtering and slapping a spray of water in his direction.
“Me?”
“Yes, you!” She aimed another at him, missed, then tried again and landed one smack in the center of his face.
“All right,” he yelled. “Now you’ve asked for it! Time to go under!”
He came after her then, his powerful strokes eliminating the space between them, even as she set off in the opposite direction at a respectable pace. He grabbed for her foot, lost his hold, surged forward and hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her to him.
She fought him, determined he wouldn’t dunk her. He merely reeled her in far enough that he could stand, then imprisoned her with both arms.
“Will Kincaid, if you don’t-”
He yanked her beneath the surface, his arms still locked about her, and using the bottom of the lake as a springboard, he sent them both shooting out of the water like a cork out of a hundred-year-old champagne.
She sputtered and coughed, choking on her own laughter as she wiped the hair from her eyes.
He was laughing, too. “Know what they say about paybacks.”
Uh-huh,” she said with a grin, lunging forward and sending him sprawling backward under the water.
Since she couldn’t touch bottom, she had precious little time for bravado. He was back at her again, tickling and threatening until she gave in and went under. So it continued, a game of jack-in-the-box, one up, one down, until they were breathless and giddy with laughter. Yelps and splashes echoed within the otherwise silent cove, the sounds of carefree youth, newly discovered attraction.
He towed her closer to shore, his chest rising and falling with the effort. He turned to face her, mischief still dancing in his eyes and water dripping off his chin.
Hannah could barely breathe for the stitch in her side. A giggle slid past her lips and then died when she met his gaze.
The laughter faded from his face, as well. And he stood there, one arm around her waist, the desire in his eyes clear, the uncertainty just as plain.
She could only stare up at him, eyes wide, lips parted, while her body yearned for something she was reluctant to identify.
The water licked at the shore. The faint scent of newly bloomed honeysuckle perfumed the air. And they stood there, gazes locked as Will reached down and brushed the side of her neck with his fingers, his thumb rubbing across the fullness of her lower lip at the same time. His hand swept lower and brushed across the neck of her shirt, skimming the crest of her breasts, outlined by the wet fabric.
She tilted her head back, staring up into those compelling blue eyes, unable to move, unwilling to move, for fear the moment would end.
He continued to study her, his hand now caressing the curve of her jaw. A silent question enveloped them. Do we go on, or do we stop here?
Hannah’s lips parted, in protest or surrender she couldn’t have said. But once he touched the moistness there, the answer didn’t matter. With a barely audible sigh, he leaned forward and kissed her, his lips gentle and soft, a sweet testing of the waters. He pulled back, his warm breath caressing the corner of her mouth, his eyes questioning.
In her gaze, he must have seen the answer he sought. He pulled her close and lowered his mouth to hers in an explanation that held little of the gentleness of that first touch.
She wound her arms tightly about his neck, her breasts pressed flat against his slick bare chest. Will groaned and the kiss went wild, his mouth working feverishly against hers, teeth grazing, tongues hot and searching, breaths short and incomplete.
He reached down and swung her into his arms, making for the shore, water dripping from their limbs.
He knelt and placed her on the grass, following her down with, “Hannah. Hannah.”
“Will.” Whether she’d murmured his name in protest or permission, she didn’t know.
But it didn’t matter as their mouths sought once more what they’d started there in the water. Hannah now felt as though a blue flame had licked its way up her body. Her hands were in his hair, on his shoulders, caressing, memorizing.
He held himself up on one elbow, leaving the other hand free to roam, pressing the throbbing pulse at the base of her neck, slipping up into her hair, then skimming down to hesitate at the bottom of her clinging shirt, before slipping inside to mold to the curve of her waist.
The kissing went from barely contained to out of control, hot, combustible. Will groaned and moved his hand to her breast, then to her back to undo the hook there.
He lifted his head long enough to look down at her, searching for some sign of denial or acquiescence. She closed her eyes and shuddered softly, but just then, a fishing boat came around the bend, its engine shutting off as it came to a stop in the cove.
She struggled upright. Will groaned, looked over his shoulder, then sat up and moved to block her from view.
His voice sounded strangled when he said, “It’s all right. It’s that same boat.” He hesitated, dropped his head back, drew in a deep gulp of air. “Hannah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let things—”
“It’s okay. We should go.” Mortified now by her total loss of control, she jumped up and ran for the Wagoneer, her face redder than the still-dripping shorts. She grabbed her clothes from the front seat and headed for the trees that Will had previously used for cover.
With jerky motions, she fumbled into her skirt and blouse, wringing out the shirt and shorts before leaning over and forcing herself to breathe evenly. Straightening, she closed her eyes and then resolutely walked toward the vehicle.
He stood there waiting for her, an uncertain look on his face. “Hannah—”
“I should get home, Will,” she said quickly. “Aunt Sarah will be wondering where I am.”
“Can’t we just talk—”
But she couldn’t look at him. “Please, Will. Just take me ho
me.”
He stared at her a moment longer, then nodded and climbed into the Wagoneer.
Chapter Twenty-seven
A week passed and Hannah didn’t see Will. They’d turned in their project and both received an A. Will ducked out of class without so much as looking at her. In fact, he’d ignored her since the afternoon he’d taken her home.
Crushed and humiliated, she threw herself into her schoolwork in an effort to forget that afternoon and what had almost happened between them. She couldn’t think of it without getting red in the face and hot all over. She could only imagine what be must think of her. She had almost convinced herself that he was probably used to girls responding so completely to his attentions.
Before that day by the lake, Hannah had only been kissed once. The boy had been Mark Sawyer, and there had been nothing about the dry furtive gesture that had inspired her to explore it further.
No, what had happened between her and Will could not have surprised her more. On her own part, at least, she knew it had been the result of accumulated years of infatuation. On the night he’d dropped her off, she’d closed herself in her room praying that she hadn’t imagined the message she’d seen in his eyes that afternoon.
But a week later she knew she had. And so she told herself it didn’t matter, that she’d been foolish to think anything would come of it. The sooner she stopped thinking about him, the better off she’d be.
But the following afternoon, something happened that took her by surprise. She was sitting in the family room when the phone rang. Sarah answered it and called from the kitchen, “Hannah. It’s for you, dear.”
Pulse racing, she picked up the extension on the table beside her with a shaking hand.
“Hello.”
“Hannah? It’s Tom. Tom Dillon.”
She remained silent for a moment, too surprised to speak.
“You there?” he asked.
“Ah, yes, I’m here.” She flipped the book in her lap shut and frowned, curious.
“Yeah, well, the reason I was calling—there’s a party next weekend out a Brad Manning’s place. I was wondering if you’d go with me.”
Again, she was too taken aback to respond. Taken aback and, if she admitted it, disappointed. Somewhere deep inside, she’d harbored the hope that Will might call. The thought now seemed ridiculous. “Thanks, Tom, but I don’t think so.”
“Oh, come on, Hannah,” he cajoled. “I’m sorry about what I said in class last week. Guess I was a little jealous. Will’s always so lucky. He got all the scholarships, and he gets all the girls, too.” He laughed uneasily, as if he hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. “Anyway, everybody’s got to have a little fun now and then. We won’t stay late if you aren’t having a good time. How’s that for a compromise?”
She hesitated, at a loss for a reply. She’d had few opportunities to turn down dates. And certainly not from guys like Tom Dillon. Tom was popular with the girls, although not as popular as Will, but good-looking in an all-American-boy way and well liked as far as she knew. Hannah thought how unsophisticated she must have seemed to Will. He’d probably been embarrassed by the thought of admitting to his friends that he’d taken Hannah Jacobs to the lake. Maybe if he saw that Tom had asked her out, he’d see her in a different light.
Aware that all her reasons for accepting the date were unfair to Tom, she accepted, anyway, and without knowing it, set about changing her life forever.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Hannah reached into the grocery store freezer for a box of broccoli and jumped when a hand clamped down on her shoulder, pulling her back from the past. She whirled around to find herself face-to-face with Tom Dillon.
Just the two of them. Face-to-face for the first time in more than ten years.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, Hannah.” His face cracked in a smile that highlighted the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Dressed in the brown sheriff’s uniform, he kept one hand on the holster at his side.
She took a step backward and pressed her fingers to her mouth. It was spooky to have the object of your thoughts materialize before you. She dropped the box of broccoli into her basket and said, “I have to go.”
“Wait a minute, Hannah.” His voice held a note of irritation as he reached for her arm and pulled her to a halt. “You’ve been avoiding me for years. Is that any way for two old friends to act?”
She gave him a level stare. “We were never friends, Tom.”
“Now, I wouldn’t say that,” he said, his tone mocking.
She jerked her cart around and moved it quickly down the aisle. “Leave me alone,” she said abruptly. “I don’t have time for this.”
“But then, you wouldn’t have time for anything now that Will’s back in town,” he taunted, following her. “That’s what you wanted all along, wasn’t it? A chance with Will?”
Cold anger raced through her, turning the blood in her veins to ice. She came to an abrupt stop and wheeled on him, her eyes narrowed in fury. “You have some kind of nerve!” she snapped.
“To speak the truth? Everybody knows he’s been hanging around your doorstep.” Tom gave her the once-over. “Although I can’t for the life of me imagine why. Not with all the hot babes he must have had over the past few years. A big star like him—”
She caught her breath and turned to bolt down the aisle. “I don’t have to listen to this.”
Tom’s shoes squeaked across the linoleum floor as he trailed after her, his tone casual. “No, you don’t. Just one old friend trying to do another a favor. You settled for second best once. Maybe you’d like to try it again.”
The implication behind the words rang clear. She swung around, staring at the glassy leer in his eyes. A fear she thought she’d buried years ago sprang to life within her. “Leave me alone, Tom,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice.
“You’re setting yourself up for a fall. You oughtta know that. Will Kincaid’s got no use for somebody like you. But maybe you’d like to let him play with you for a while before he goes back to L.A. and the women he’s got waiting there.”
Feeling the blood leave her face, she forced her voice to remain level as she said, “Get away from me. Get away and stay away. Or so help me, I’ll march right down to that sheriff’s office and give them reason to question your right to wear that uniform.”
Tom stared at her for a long moment, the gleam in his eyes doubting her threat. After all, it had been ten years. Who’d believe her?
He backed off, anyway, his palms raised in surrender.
Revulsion welled within her. She shoved the cart away from him, and almost ran down the aisle and around the corner, where she stopped and leaned her head on the handle.
The old familiar shame pulled at her, threatening to overwhelm her. It was your fault. All your fault.
Dear Lord, would it never go away? Would it never be over?
Chapter Twenty-nine
After his evening with Hannah, Will spent most of the next morning on the phone with his agent, Dan Caulson. Dan couldn’t understand what the devil was going through Will’s head, and he told him so more bluntly than most people on a man’s payroll would have dared.
“You’ve got umpteen offers for commercials and other campaigns, and all you want to do is hide out in some godforsaken little town in Virginia,” he accused indignantly.
“I grew up in this godforsaken little town,” Will reminded him wryly.
“No chance you’re gonna give Grace another shot?”
“That’s over, Dan.”
Dan gave a snort of disapproval. “Only because you wanted it to be. You know how many guys would give their eyeteeth for a piece of that action—”
“Dan-”
“All right, all right,” he said, letting up. So when are you coming back to L.A.?”
“I don’t know.”
“When do you think you might be able to provide me with that information?” Dan asked in exasperation.
Will leaned back in hi
s chair. He could see Dan as clearly as if he were in the room with him, smoking one cigarette after another. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“The clock is ticking, Will. The notoriety you won from the Super Bowl won’t last forever. I’ve got offers from all the big names-”
“I know, I know, Dan. I just need a break, that’s all.”
“Take a break in a few months. Get some contracts under your belt, and then you can head down to the islands with a few bikini-clad lovelies in your suitcase. But right now, you’ve got work to do.”
“I don’t need the money, Dan,” he declared reasonably.
“You know, that’s your problem.” Dan sighed into the phone. “You’ve always been able to draw the line at enough. I need clients who don’t understand the meaning of the word.”
Will chuckled. “I believe I’ve lined a few of those pockets in that fifteen-hundred-dollar suit you’re no doubt wearing at this very minute. It’s not my fault you’ve got so many of them.”
Dan laughed. “Yeah, you try having a wife with charge accounts at every boutique on Rodeo Drive.”
“I’ll send you a pair of scissors, old boy. My treat.”
Dan cleared his throat and said, “Just get yourself back out here to earthquake country. That’s all I ask. You should’ve outgrown your hometown by now. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you got a little woman stashed away in those Virginia hills. There’s sure as hell something keeping you there.”
“Give it up, Dan. I need a break, that’s all. I’ll be in touch.” And with that, he hung up.
Dan’s words had touched a nerve. He leaned back in the kitchen chair, stretched his legs out in front of him and clasped his hands behind his head. He didn’t even know why he was still here himself. It just felt right.
And regardless of what Dan had said about his outgrowing the place, it was his home. Nothing could change that.
But Hannah had accused him of the same thing, hadn’t she?
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