by Karen Foley
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely.” He raised his leg off the recliner and waggled his toes at her. “See? No worries.”
“Okay.” Taking the protector in her hands, she worked it over the bottom portion over his foot. Jamie tried to help by holding his leg up and away from the chair. Rachel pulled the latex over his knee, and then realized she was quickly running out of cast. Any further, and her fingers would encounter the warm, golden skin of his thigh.
“Can you take it from here?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
Jamie wasn’t fooled. “Coward,” he accused softly, but took hold of the rubber edge and deftly pulled it up to his thigh.
Using the attached squeeze bulb, Rachel sucked the excess air out of the protector until Jamie’s leg was literally vacuum sealed inside the latex.
“Nice,” he said, smoothing his fingers over his leg. “There’s no way any water is getting inside.” He looked up at Rachel and smiled, and her insides went a little mushy. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
She stepped back as Jamie swiveled his leg to the side of the chaise, and reached for his crutches. Rachel handed them over, and watched as he deftly rose to his feet. He looked over the pool.
“Should I use the steps, or the diving board?”
“Jamie!”
She was honestly shocked he would even consider jumping off the diving board with his injured leg.
“The steps,” he confirmed, seeing her expression. Sliding his sunglasses over his eyes, he adjusted his crutches under his arm.
“Here, let me help you.”
“Nope, I got this.”
Rachel watched as he made his way to the shallow end of the pool, sat down at the top of the wide steps that led into the water, and laid his crutches aside. Still seated, he lowered himself into the water, one step at a time, until he was floating up to his chest.
“Ah,” he breathed, rotating his arms in the water. “This feels incredible.” He looked up at her and grinned. “C’mon in, the water’s great!”
The cool blue of the water did look inviting. Rachel couldn’t recall the last time she’d just enjoyed being in the sun and water. There was no way she could shed her cover-up and get into the pool without Jamie seeing her, so she just took a deep breath and pulled the gauzy garment over her head, and tossed it onto the nearby chair.
“You look…incredible,” Jamie said. “That’s, er, a good color on you.”
The raspberry bikini probably made her skin seem even whiter, if that was possible, and Rachel resisted the urge to look down at herself, just to be sure everything was adequately covered. Then, aware of Jamie’s eyes on her, she walked to the steps and made her way into the water with as much grace as she could manage.
“There,” Jamie said, when she was finally floating beside him. “Doesn’t that feel good?”
“It does,” she agreed. “How is your leg?”
“Never better,” he assured her. “Nice and dry.”
He had sidled up beside her, and before she could react, he put a hand on top of her head and pushed her beneath the surface. She came up, spluttering and indignant, slicking her wet hair back from her face.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded, when she could speak.
Jamie laughed, unrepentant. “Because you looked so uptight and self-conscious. Be glad I have a broken leg, otherwise I would have picked you up and thrown you into the deep end.”
“Why, you—” Mindful of his leg, Rachel braced her hands on his shoulders and attempted to return the favor. But instead of going under, Jamie hauled her against his chest.
Rachel could have pushed away. It would have been easy enough to do. Instead, she let him steer them into deeper water. She wasn’t going to fool herself into believing she hadn’t seen this coming, or that it wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped might happen. Jamie was a gorgeous man, and she would be kidding herself if she said she didn’t find everything about him sexy as hell.
She slid her arms around his neck, and he held her in place with one strong hand against her back. His body was warm and sleek and muscular, and the water sloshing between them made wet, sucking noises. Knowing she was heading into dangerous—forbidden—territory, Rachel slid her leg against his good one, reveling in the slippery-rough sensation against her sensitive skin.
He propelled them to the side of the pool and kept them balanced there with one arm on the edge, before removing his sunglasses and setting them on the tiles.
“What are you doing?” Rachel asked.
“What I’ve been wanting to do since I first saw you getting out of that Porsche,” he muttered, and lowered his head.
The kiss was hot.
Searing.
Rachel had expected the sweet tenderness of their earlier kiss, but this one obliterated that memory. This was something primal, urgent. Jamie’s mouth slanted over hers, and his tongue mated with hers in a slick, hot glide that made her muscles clench, and her bones go soft. She shifted closer, and there was the unmistakable thrust of his arousal against her abdomen. The sensation caused an instant reaction, as her sex bloomed with heat.
She became aware her hands were stroking Jamie’s shoulders, and alternately spearing themselves through his short hair. He was making deep noises of pleasure and approval, not unlike when he ate something delicious. The sounds further amplified Rachel’s arousal, and she had an almost overwhelming urge to ride the hard muscle of his thigh. Anything to assuage her mounting desire.
As if he knew what she wanted, Jamie intensified the kiss, licking deeply inside her mouth as he slid his hand over her hip and cupped her rear, urging her closer. Rachel complied, curling one leg around him as she pressed herself against his rigid length. Jamie gave a groan, and slid his hand inside the stretchy material of her bikini. He squeezed her buttock, his hand massaging the flesh and pushing her against his erection.
Rachel moaned softly, and reached between their bodies to cover him with her palm. Through the cool, wet material of his swim trunks, he was hard and hot.
She needed to touch him.
She quickly worked the lacings at the front of his trunks, and loosened them just enough to slip her hand inside. When she wrapped her fingers around his length, he jerked reflexively. He dragged his mouth from hers, and his breathing was ragged in her ear.
“God, that feels so good,” he said hoarsely. “I want to be inside you.”
His other arm came around her, lifting her into a better position. But without his free arm supporting them against the edge of the pool, they both sank below the surface of the water.
Rachel came up first, gasping for air. Jamie came up behind her, and pulled her toward the shallow end until their feet touched bottom. When she would have turned toward the steps that led out of the pool, Jamie caught her arm.
“Wait.”
Rachel gave him a cautious look. His expression was taut, and beneath the clear waters she could see he was still aroused.
So was she.
If the water hadn’t served to douse their rising passion, Rachel was certain she would have had sex with Jamie right there, in the pool, his broken leg be damned.
“I feel like I’m always apologizing,” she said, her breathing still uneven.
“Then don’t. The only thing I’m sorry for is letting go of the damned edge.”
He gave her a lopsided smile and tugged at her until she stepped closer. She was careful to keep some space between them, and she fixed her attention on his face. No way was she going to look down at his broad chest, or his cobblestone abs, or lower to where his partially unlaced swim trunks were tented at an impressive angle.
“Jamie,” she protested softly, seeing the expression in his eyes.
“What?” he demanded.
“We can’t do this.”
“Why not? We both want to.”
“But it’s not right.”
“Why? Because you’ve decided it’s not?” He tipped his head and
looked into her eyes. “We’re both free, consenting adults, Rachel. Who would we be hurting? Nobody.”
“It’s too soon.” As excuses went, it was pretty lame.
“Really? Because you said you hadn’t lived with Deke for almost two years. The marriage was over long before you got those divorce papers. So who’s kidding who?”
Did Rachel want to drag Jamie out of the pool and finish what they’d started? Yes, badly. But she’d have regrets afterward. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept with a guy for the sheer pleasure of it, without having the construct of a committed relationship. Had she ever? Maybe, once. When she’d been in college. And as much as she’d loved the sex, she’d hated the self-recrimination that came later. She wasn’t like other women she knew, who fully embraced their own sexuality and pursued their own desires without guilt or worry. Besides being her brother’s friend, he was her client. She wouldn’t cross that line again.
“I can’t, Jamie,” she said now. “It has nothing to do with my not wanting to—I just can’t.”
“Can’t?” he asked. “Or won’t?”
Rachel tugged her arm free. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, damn it, it does matter.”
Rachel gestured helplessly. “I won’t have sex with a guy when I know there’s no possibility of anything more.”
“How do you know?” He held up a finger in warning. “And don’t tell me it’s the age difference, because I’m not buying it.”
“Look, Jamie,” she entreated softly. “You’re a great guy—really. You’re gorgeous and you’re smart, and any girl would be lucky to have you look twice at her.”
“Just not you, huh?”
He sounded bitter and looked disappointed, and Rachel had the distinct impression it went deeper than just being told she wouldn’t have sex with him. She’d let him down on some elemental level. But she couldn’t tell him the truth—if she let her guard down and allowed herself to act on her feelings, their relationship could easily get out of control. She didn’t want to risk falling in love with Jamie Colter.
He would only break her heart.
Chapter Eight
Rachel didn’t go over to Jamie’s house the following morning to cook him breakfast. She didn’t go over at lunch, and she didn’t check to make sure he had everything he needed for dinner. In short, she spent the entire day avoiding him.
She’d thought she’d have the courage to take whatever he offered, but had quickly come to the realization she was a complete coward. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she’d made with Deke. He’d also been a client, but she’d allowed herself to be flattered by his good looks and sweet words. She’d allowed herself to be swept away by his charisma, putting his needs before her own, doing whatever he asked of her until she’d lost her job, lost herself, and finally lost him.
Instinctively, she knew Jamie wasn’t anything like Deke. He would never belittle or insult her. Instead, his eyes heated when he looked at her, and when he’d held her in his arms, she’d felt as if she was the most desirable woman on the planet.
And that was the problem.
How was she supposed to resist him, when every cell in her body ached for his touch? She’d spent the entire night tossing and turning in her bed, recalling every luscious second of those moments in the pool. She remembered how hot and thick he’d been in her hand, and the deep, sexy sounds he’d made in his throat when she’d touched him. She could still feel the hard calluses of his palm on the bare skin of her bottom, and she’d wanted him to explore further.
Call her cowardly, but she couldn’t face him. Not yet. Not until she got her own rioting emotions under control.
She peeked through the curtains at the house across the street for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, but there was no sign of Jamie. A wooden fence surrounded the backyard and concealed the pool area from view. Was he out there, lounging by the water? Was he angry with her? Did he even think of her?
Her phone rang, startling her, and she guiltily dropped the curtain back into place, even as hope flared it might be Jamie on the other end.
“Hi, Mom,” she answered, after seeing the number on her display. “How’s the cruise?”
“Wonderful. We just pulled into port at Maui today, and we finally have phone service again. How is everything going?”
Her mother’s tone was cheerfully innocent, but Rachel knew better.
“Mrs. Colton talked with Jamie, didn’t she?”
“She’s concerned, since Jamie said he hasn’t seen you yet today.”
“That’s all he said?”
“I think so.” There was a pause. “Why? Did something happen?”
Rachel walked into the kitchen, pulled out a stool and sat down. “No.”
“So everything is fine?”
“Of course. Jamie’s a big boy. If he needs me, he’ll call.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I am. He doesn’t need a nursemaid, Mom, and if there’s an emergency then he has my number.”
“But what if he’s fallen? What if he’s unable to call you?”
Rachel closed her eyes and counted to five, praying for patience. “You said he just talked to his mother. He’s fine.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. But I think we’d all feel better if you just went over and checked on him. Not now, because that might seem suspicious, but maybe in a little while.”
“Good night, Mom,” Rachel said into the phone. “Enjoy Maui.”
She could hear the smile in her mother’s voice. “Good-night, darling. Go check on Jamie.”
Rachel hung up with a groan. If she didn’t know better, she might just think her mother was doing a little old-fashioned matchmaking. Setting the phone down, she scrubbed her hands over her face and then looked at the clock. It was past eight o’clock, and her grumbling stomach reminded her she’d hardly eaten all day.
Now she stood up and opened the fridge to stare moodily at the shelves. Unlike Mrs. Colter, her own mother had not stocked the house with Rachel’s favorite foods, and aside from the usual condiments, salad fixings, a half dozen eggs, and a chilled bottle of white wine, the shelves were mostly bare.
With a sigh, Rachel pulled the bottle of wine out and set it on the island. She was reaching for a wineglass when the doorbell rang. Frowning, she walked into the living room and peeked through the window. Jamie stood on the front steps, balancing easily on his crutches as he waited for her to answer the door.
Anticipation and dread warred inside her, and for a moment she actually considered not answering. As if sensing her watching him, Jamie looked toward the window where she stood, saw her peeking out, and gave a nod of his head.
Damn.
Drawing in a deep breath, Rachel quickly smoothed her hair and opened the door, determined to maintain a friendly, professional demeanor.
“Hi,” he said, and gave her a rueful smile. “I come bearing gifts—sort of. Consider it a peace offering.”
“Oh?”
Rachel tried to appear indifferent, which was difficult considering how good he looked. He’d managed to pull a pair of dark, loose sweatpants on over his cast, and wore a long-sleeved white T-shirt that hugged the planes of his chest and emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. The words Virgin Islands were printed on the length of one sleeve. That’s when she realized he wore a backpack.
“So, are you going to make me stand out here all night, or can I come in? You know you want to know what I have in here.”
Wordlessly, she stood back and let him in. He made his way to the kitchen and eased the backpack off, setting it on the surface of the island.
“Ah,” he said, seeing the bottle of wine she’d left there. “Great minds think alike—I see we’re on the same wavelength.”
Setting his crutches aside, he eased himself onto a stool. Reaching inside the backpack, he drew out a bottle of red wine, and then a second bottle of white wine, along with two blocks of cheese and a box of crackers.
“And crackers,” Jamie added with a grin. “Since I haven’t seen you all day, I thought maybe we could have a drink and swap stories about our day.”
Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Okay. I sat on my butt all day and did nothing. You?”
Jamie laughed. “You’re not getting off that easy.” He twisted on his stool and glanced out through the sliding doors that led to the backyard. “I seem to recall your parents had a fire pit. Is it still there?”
“It is.”
“Great. Why don’t we move this party outdoors, and I’ll get a fire going?” Without waiting for her response, Jamie stashed everything, including her bottle of wine, back into his backpack, and stood up. “Grab a couple of glasses, and a plate for the cheese and crackers.”
Without waiting to see if she would do as he asked, he turned and made his way to the sliding doors. Shaking her head, but feeling inexplicably more cheerful, Rachel reached for two wineglasses and a small plate. Following Jamie outside, she set the dishware down on a small table. Unlike Jamie’s backyard, which was dominated by the deck and swimming pool, Rachel’s parents’ yard was a profusion of lush gardens and flower beds bisected by meandering paths.
Closer to the house, there was a sunken, circular bluestone patio with a stone fire pit in the center. Several chairs, including a double-chaise with matching side tables, had been artfully arranged around the pit and an overhead arbor had been strung with delicate fairy lights. The sun had already set, so Rachel flipped the lights on. The fire pit had already been set up for a fire, courtesy of Rachel’s dad, so all Jamie had to do was ignite the fire starters that had been tucked beneath the stacked wood.
“There,” he said in satisfaction, as flames started to lick at the edges of the wood. “That should get going in no time. Do you need a blanket?”
The temperature had dropped with the setting sun, and Rachel realized it was fairly chilly outside. She wore a pair of jeans and a light top, and now she nodded. “Good idea. I’ll just go grab one.”