Page 4 of Point of Mercy

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll make it back,” she said, knowing that riding with him would only spell trouble.

“Will ya, now?” he drawled in a voice as rough as sandpaper.

“Yes.” She eyed her clothes and prayed for the cover of darkness.

“What’s your name?”

Did it matter? “Heather.” Anything to get rid of him so she could fetch her clothes and get dressed.

“Hmmm. You work in the kitchen?”

“That’s right.” So he was one of the men the girls were fawning over.

He didn’t say anything to this bit of news, just stared down at her, and she wondered at the picture she must make—pale skin beneath the dark ripples, hair wet and plastered to her head, face awash with embarrassment, white legs moving quickly as she tried to stay afloat. “Look, if you don’t mind, I really could use some privacy.”

A slow smile spread across his chin. “What if I do mind?”

Drat the man! Her fists curled for one frustrated second and she started to sink, her chin sliding under the water’s cool surface. Sputtering, she accused, “You’re no gentleman.”

“And I doubt that you’re much of a lady,” he said, working the heel of his boot with the toe of the other.

Heather nearly jumped out of her skin. He wasn’t really thinking of diving in and joining her, was he? To her horror, he kicked off both boots, yanked off a pair of dusty socks and started pulling his arms out of the sleeves of his jacket. “Wait a minute,” she said, surprised at the breathless tone of her voice.

“Wait for what?”

“Whatever it is you think you’re going to do—”

He stripped his jacket and shirt from a torso as tough and lean as rawhide. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him and only a smattering of gold-brown hair that arrowed down over a tanned, hard chest and a washboard of abdominal muscles.Lean and mean.Even in the darkness she saw a bruise, purple and green, discoloring the skin across one shoulder. “I don’t think I’m gonna do anything. IknowI’m goin’ for a swim.”

“But you can’t—” she cried, as his shirt and jacket fell onto the pile of boots and socks.

“Why not? I’ve been swimmin’ here since I was ten.”

“But I’m here and…”

“You won’t bother me.” A devilish, off-center smile flashed in the coming darkness and he didn’t pause once at the waistband of his jeans. They fell away with thepop, pop, popof buttons.

Heather averted her eyes. She’d never seen a naked man before,and she was certain this man wasn’t a good one to start with.

“You’re not the first girl to swim here with me.”

“That’s comforting,” she said, her voice filled with sarcasm. “And I’m not a girl—”

“That’s right. My mistake. You’re alady.”

Heather felt a tide of color wash up her neck. She was out of her element. Way out of her element. And yet she was fascinated as, from the corner of her eye, she saw him yank off his jeans and in one lithe motion, dive into the river. She caught a glimpse of white—his underwear as he dove—and that was all it took. As quickly as he was in, she was out, scrambling into her clothes.

Dear God, how had she gotten herself into this mess? One minute she was fantasizing him and the next he was there, taunting her, teasing her with his smile, playing dangerous games with his gaze.

Her hands were cold, her body wet and her clothes clung to her skin. She didn’t bother with her bra or panties; she was only interested in covering up as much as possible in the shortest amount of time. Heart thundering, icy fingers fumbling, she found the tab of the zipper of her shorts just as she heard him break the surface of the water. All she wanted to do was get out and get out fast!

She started for the path.

“Leavin’ so soon, darlin’?” he yelled across the rush of the river. “I didn’t scare ya off, now, did I?”

Miserable beast!

He still thought this was a game! She tried to ignore the challenge in his words. “I was done anyway.”

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