Page 53 of Kissing for Keeps
He chuckles, and we both look at our feet, the soft swishing of the water the only sound. My mind isn’t on the spreadsheet. It’s not even on the wedding. It’s on the guy next to me and how much I’m enjoying this—sitting next to the pool with him, dipping our feet in—and how Ishouldn’tbe enjoying it.
Jack’s staring at the water, a slight frown on his brow. This would sure be a lot simpler if he wasn’t so easy to be with and if he wasn’t so preposterously attractive.
“Do you ever think about that night?”
My breathing stops, and so does the swinging of my feet. Jack’s still staring at the water, gripping the edge with his hands and leaning forward with his arms straightened so I can see the outline of his tricep muscle.
“What night?”
He glances over, but I flick my gaze to the water and keep my face impassive. The way my heart is hammering is evidence of precisely the night he’s referencing, though.
His gaze lingers, burning my cheeks with each second. He turns it to the water and shakes his head. “Never mind.”
My stomach squirms. I’m a terrible person.
“You ready to head back?” he asks, his voice way too normal for the question he just asked.
I scoff. “Who’s the dull one now? You tryin’ to cheat me out of my fifteen minutes?”
His responsive smile sets my conscience more at ease. “No, I just thought your fun-o-meter might be maxed out.”
I look at him, and we enter a stare-down. “You want fun?”
He puts a hand on my shoulder, the teasing light in his eyes belying the concerned expression he wears. “Careful now. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Our stare-down lasts all of two seconds before I shove him into the pool. But I’ve made a fatal miscalculation. His hand is still on my arm, and he takes me with him, plunging us both into the cold, dark water.
I burst to the surface for air at the same time he does, my toes barely touching the bottom.
Jack’s smiling—just as he always is—and he runs a hand through his dripping, disheveled hair, combing it out of his face, acting like this is some stupid cologne ad instead of war.
I push off the bottom of the pool and use the momentum on the way down to shove his head into the water. But, again, he pulls me with him, and after a struggle, we both emerge, gasping for air.
“You want to go again, Sheppard?” he says breathlessly. His hands are grasping my wrists, keeping me from pulling the same move. He’s a few inches taller than me, which means his head and shoulders are above water. It also means his t-shirt is plastered to those shoulders in an entirely unhelpful way.
I consider my options, wondering if I can swipe his feet from under him. A movement behind him catches my attention. It’s a flashlight in the distance, and it’s coming toward us.
“Security,” I hiss.
Jack glances behind him, then pulls me by one hand toward the opposite side of the pool.
“Shh,” I say, mostly to the water as we do our best to run through it.
We reach the edge, and Jack lifts himself out of the pool. Even amidst the rush to get out, I can’t help but notice his body. I blame the water. And also his body.
“Come on.” He’s reaching his hand toward me, waiting while I admire his impromptu change into a skin-tight suit.
He helps me out of the water and, keeping hold of my hand, pulls me onto the grass.
Clothes dripping with salty pool water, we run toward the ruins, sending glances over our shoulder at the increasingly near flashlight, which is casting its beams over the grass and toward the pool.
Jack ducks under the danger sign strung across the tower doorway, then lifts it for me, and I slip underneath.
If I thought it was dark outside, it’s nothing compared to the darkness in the cold, damp base of the ruined tower. I blink a few times to bring things into focus, and a narrow, winding stone staircase comes into view.
“Over here,” Jack whispers, pulling me away from the staircase and toward the curved stone wall.
The sound of our labored breathing and our clothes dripping on the dirty stone floor fills the small space, and we strain our ears for sounds of the security guard.
