Page 46 of Alone With You
“Yes.”
His pulse leapt. Was it his hopes rising? Was she really saying yes to more than just a naked swim? He wasn’t imagining that look on her face. But he didn’t have much time to contemplate it, because she leapt up, pulled off her tee-shirt and bra. Tossing a dare over her shoulder, she raced naked to the stream.
He followed more leisurely, enjoying the view as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. The water only came hip-deep on her in the middle of the stream. She bent down until her head went under, and then surged up, water sluicing over her body. He nearly lost his footing, so distracted. He couldn’t wait to join her and pull that water-slick body against his own.
Time had lost all meaning by the time they’d had enough of swimming and emerged to dry each other off with the clean side of the picnic blanket. Jenny had slicked her hair off her face and he found his attention drawn to the hollow beneath her cheekbones, the shape of her earlobes. Raking his own wet hair off his forehead, he turned away to grab her clothes and get a handle on himself
“Dress, you shameless thing.” He pressed a tee-shirt against her naked, grass-flecked belly, “before I think of a new way to break decency laws.”
“Promises, promises.”
He pulled on his own underwear and shorts to the sound of her soft laughter reaching for his tee-shirt just as the laughter died with a yelp.
He turned to find her grimacing. “What is it?”
“A darn bee,” she said, in a strained voice, as she clutched her upper arm. “I didn’t see it lurking in the sleeve.”
He reached for the wallet in his back pocket as he strode to her side. “For a botanist, you get stung a lot.”
“Only the second time. Okay, maybe the third.” She danced a little, wincing. “And the last two times happened when a certain swaggering man was around, stripping me naked and distracting me from stinging insects.”
He raised a brow. “I didn’t strip you down the first time.”
“You stripped me with your eyes, Logan, and you know it.”
“True enough.”
She flashed him a wicked look, twisted slightly by pain, then offered up her arm. He pushed up the short, capped sleeve, seeking the welt. He edged her out of the shadows, and once the sun hit her arm he saw the black dot of the stinger. He scraped it out with a flick of an edge of a credit card.
She said, “You’re very good with your hands.”
“At your service, darling.”
She frowned at the spot. “It looks bigger than last week’s sting.”
“Size matters,” he teased, but his attention was diverted by a splotch on her throat.
“You brought antihistamine this time, right?”
She blinked, looking sheepish. “Um…maybe?”
His breath hit the back of his throat. “You don’t have any.”
“I meant to pack it.” She tilted her head. “I’ve had a few other things on my mind this week.”
He took a good, hard look at her face, irritation rising, at her, and at himself. He was probably overreacting. He’d overreacted so much in the months after the incident in the Amazon, he’d stopped diagnosing patients altogether. That pink splotch on her throat could be anything. Atypical dermatitis. Blotching from the heat and humidity. Stubble burn.
“Okay, I get it.” She pulled a grimace. “I’ll take some as soon as I get home.”
“Not good enough, Red.” He pressed back of his hand against her forehead. “Are you feeling hot?”
She gave him a sexy grin. “Sure am.”
“Jenny.”
“What?” She laughed. “You’re so intense and serious all of a sudden. Is this your doctor face?”
He forced his face neutral as she absently scratched at her throat again, making the alarm bells in his head clang a little louder.
