Jennifer Greene - Pink Satin

“In.”

She gave him a sour look. “What if I just plain completely change my mind about this?” she asked casually.

“Then we’ll go home, foolish one. Obviously. But an hour ago, you were embarrassed as hell that you couldn’t swim. Of course, the ocean’s not the place to teach anyone to swim, but this will do beautifully.” He motioned impatiently to her again.

“I would just like to discuss this a little longer.”

“You’ve been discussing it for over fifteen years. The lady should have known enough to get back on the bike after she fell off.”

“I got on the damn bike after I fell off,” she said dryly. “This is different.”

“It is not.”

“It is. Oh, hell!” She could have delivered a long dissertation about how the reaction of teenage boys to her figure in a swimsuit had been another reason why she’d never developed her swimming talents, but she didn’t. She could never have told Ryan that; she’d never shared those embarrassing moments with anyone.

She slid her legs into the pool and then jumped, feeling the cool, clear water immediately rush and enclose her flesh to her ribs, but no higher. She dipped down, just to where her breasts would be modestly covered by water. She’d forgotten how delicious that feeling of weightlessness was.

The other resort guests should have been enjoying the pool, but most of them were sitting in lawn chairs absorbing the sun. Greer was totally unfamiliar with the resort. Ryan had stopped on the cape at the first place with a pool. The owners had accepted a bill from him for their right to use it.

The man could move incredibly fast when he was in the mood. And at the moment, his arms very swiftly, protectively enclosed her. She shivered free from that touch, staring at the droplets of water on his chest. And then up to his face. His hair was slicked back, wet from his dive, and for some reason his eyes looked bluer right now. Endless blue, a captivating sky blue. And those eyes wouldn’t let her alone.

“This is silly, you know,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. “First of all, I’m fine in the shallow end, and it’s not as if I don’t remember the strokes. I really did know how to swim once.”

“Feel comfortable enough to prove it?”

“Of course.” She raced him the width of the shallow end and then again, and then again. She was rusty and slower than molasses and increasingly annoyed with herself. One really didn’t forget how to swim. And it had been so long…she’d forgotten how deliciously buoyant water was, what it felt like to slice through that smooth coolness and just savor the sensuality of the water. On the last lap, because it was the only possible way to beat him, she dipped her head under, felt a moment’s uncertain panic, and swam the last of it underwater.

She should have known she couldn’t win. He was grinning, languidly relaxed with his arms outstretched at his sides, when she surged up with water dripping in her hair and eyes. “Feel good?”

She nodded.

“Not scared?”

She brushed the hair away from her eyes and tugged up her suit straps. “I feel like a perfect idiot,” she said lightly. “I won’t even mention coward. It’s too humiliating.”

He immediately pushed off from the side of the pool, gliding next to her, his hands sliding to her waist. “You’re a long way from a coward, Greer,” he whispered. “I never thought that. You think you’re the only person who’s ever been afraid of something?”

“All right. What phobias have you got?” Greer obliged. She was certainly more than sick of her own at the moment.

“Mice.”

“Mice?” Her eyes sparked with amusement.

He nodded solemnly, his sun-browned face inches from hers. “Can’t stand ’em. I had a little argument with a black bear in the woods once, and weathered that fine. But give me a mouse running across the room and my machismo immediately shrivels up. So there.”

“Mice are adorable,” Greer mentioned. “I’ve always loved mice.”

“And you love swimming. Just not in deep water, right, lady?”

He captured her waist in his hands. The water skimmed over her ribs, then her breasts, then her throat, as he propelled her closer to the deep end. And they hovered there, their faces above the water, Ryan’s arms securely around her. Deep water. Damn deep water, Greer thought suddenly. She could feel the brand of every one of his fingers on her bare waist.

“You afraid of anything else?” she asked breathlessly.

Her senses were picketing her rational mind, having a strike for unfair deprivation. She’d never felt deprived before. It was just now. The way the tips of her breasts grazed his bare chest. The way his shoulders felt slippery beneath her arms. The way her legs had to fight against the water’s special gravity, not to move toward his, not to let thighs touch thighs. The water no longer felt cool, but warm, silky, inviting.

Danger was a sultry, sun-warmed day, a sky so blue it hurt her eyes.

“Just a little deeper,” Ryan coaxed. “Hold on now.”

She held on. He didn’t give her much choice. His hands slowly glided down her spine to her hips, lifting her, forcing her to wrap her legs around him for security. Security, on the other hand, was becoming an elusive commodity. Her pelvis was intimately cradled against his flat stomach, and her breathing suddenly wasn’t normal.

“There must be something else you’re afraid of besides mice,” she said frantically.

He considered exactly how delicious it would be to make love to her in the pool, and then banished the fantasy before it went too far. “Sure. My dad’s temper. I figure I’ll still be afraid of it when I’m a hundred and three.”

Greer’s eyes worriedly studied his. “He wasn’t…mean to you as a kid?”

“Mean, no. Mad a lot, certainly. I was a rambunctious kid. But my father’s reprimands were all noise; he wouldn’t hurt a flea. Of course, I didn’t know that when I was young. I’d hear that roaring voice and shake in my boots. The last time I heard it, he was ticked at something he’d done wrong-and I still shook in my shoes. I was six inches taller than he was, but I still shook in my shoes.”

She chuckled. “I’d like to see you shake just once,” she said suspiciously, finding it hard to believe that a roaring father or a harmless mouse could upset this particular man’s equilibrium.

“Can do,” he murmured, and she stopped smiling. His hands loosened their hold on her bottom and her body was suddenly free, free to slide down the length of his. His mouth had gently dropped on hers before she realized they were in deep water, that his feet could touch bottom but hers couldn’t.

Ryan had no intention of letting her drown. Not in water. In a slow, languid motion he crushed her mouth, felt her lips part beneath his, and gently, coaxingly touched tongues with her. If there had been an audience of millions, he wouldn’t have much cared.

Above the water, Greer could hear laughter, from a thousand miles away. And the sound of children cavorting in the babies’ wading pool. And a roaring in her ears that might have been the distant ocean. Ryan’s kisses were gentle, coaxing, layered one after the other until her lips felt swollen and overwarm and trembling. But that was above the water.

Below, she could feel the hardness of him pressed against her. His hands possessive on her hips and thighs. The heat of his body, an honest primal heat that he made no effort to hide from her.

He wouldn’t hide. And Greer had never thought of herself as hiding from emotions; she was simply an expert at controlling them, at taming those rare unruly feelings that had no place in her life. All five senses seemed to be working against her today. Her heart refused to listen to her head. Her arms tightened around Ryan’s neck, and her hips rubbed against his. She broke off from his kiss to bury her lips in his throat, and she clung to him, feeling the hot sun beating down, hearing his ragged breath.

She loved this man. She loved the way he made her laugh, she loved the way he protected her, and she even loved the way he challenged her. In a minute, she was going to feel frightened about the consequences of that love, but not yet.

“Greer?”

She kept her eyes closed, buried in the crook of his shoulder. “Unwise to start something like that in the middle of a crowded pool,” she mentioned.

She heard the breath escape his lungs. “I want to make love with you.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve wanted to make love with you from the day I met you.”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not going to push you,” he whispered.

“Yes, you are,” she murmured. “Or I wouldn’t be getting this feeling that you don’t give a hoot in hell that a dozen people are watching us.”

“I don’t.”

“I know that.”

“Greer. Stop inviting.” His hands clamped around on her slowly moving hips, to stop their seductive nudging against him.

“Why?”

“Because I need to be sure you really want this as much as I do.”

“Do I actually have to scream yes in front of all these people?” she teased softly. She felt his eyes searching hers. All she did was look back at him, but the next moment they were leaving the pool so fast she was breathless.

Ryan automatically locked the door behind them. His eyes skimmed the corner motel room, noting water-blue carpet and furnishings, the small balcony where draperies stirred restlessly from the ocean breeze, the king-sized bed. He saw, yet paid little attention.

His eyes weren’t about to leave Greer for very long.

She’d parted the drapes and flung open the glass doors of the balcony the minute she stepped into the room. Their silence was immediately broken by the distant crash of surf, the faint scream of a gull on the beach.