Page 101 of Four Dates and A Forever
“I was actually just—”
“About to lose your suit?”
“Not expecting Rhett until tomorrow,” she finished, referring to his older brother who was her renter.
“I’m not expecting Rhett at all,” he replied, amusement thick in his tone.
“I don’t understand.” Although, her gut understood perfectly. “You’re my new tenant?”
With a mischievous grin, he walked toward the stairs, every step revealing more of his delicious body until he was within reaching distance and the water only hit his thighs. He reached out and she took a step back—up the stairs and out of the pool.
He froze, and that grin turned into a smile as he scooped up the robe and held it out to her. “Disappointed, Jillian?”
And that’s when she saw it. The knowledge in those deep, blue eyes. He knew about her little crush. A silly—but very real—schoolgirl crush that caused her to blush whenever he so much as looked her way. Heck, every time she was within the same square mile as him, she stumbled over her words or gawked at him.
Like she was now. And here, all this time, she assumed she’d played it cool. It was clear she had not.
“What? No.” She was in trouble, that’s what she was. She took the robe, which was dripping wet, and used it as a shield for her body. She shivered at the warm water on her chilled skin. Or at least that was the story she was sticking to. “Sorry, I’m just a little confused. You’re Darcy’s brother-in-law who rented my place?”
“Is that a problem?”
A gigantic one. “No, but I’m still a little startled.” She was also panicked and thrown and incredibly turned on. “When Darcy called last week, saying her brother-in-law needed a quiet place to decompress, I thought it was Rhett, because of all the craziness surrounding his separation. I didn’t even look at the signature on the lease. I just assumed …”
He lifted himself out of the pool, water sluicing down his body, and she forgot what she was talking about.
“You’re probably one in a handful of women in the world who wouldn’t check out the famous Rhett Easton’s signature. The rest of us only share his last name.”
She shrugged, then grabbed the towel she’d intended on using and held it out for him, quick to pull her hands back when he took it. “More of a country fan myself.”
“I’ll add that to the list of things I like about you.” He towel-dried his hair in a way that was all things manly, then wrapped the towel around his waist. It didn’t help, his chest was still bare, his shoulders glistening in the moonlight. It was his smile. That genuine and warm smile that always made her nervous. Because smiles could be deceiving.
“We barely know each other, so it must be a short list,” she said.
“It has more than three items. Yours?”
She ignored this. “You weren’t supposed to come until the tenth. Today’s only…” She silently counted off all the activities she had accomplished this week and grimaced. “It’s the tenth. I am so sorry. I lost track of the days. Well, not the days, because Sammy and I are practicing days and he wakes me up every morning to tell me what day it is, but we haven’t reached actual dates yet, which is why I’m here dressed in this, interrupting your swim.”
“You aren’t interrupting. In fact, the pool’s a bit lonely with just me and my thoughts,” he said. “You’re welcome to join.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.” She pulled on the robe, tightening the belt and sending droplets of water splashing on the concrete. “The pool is part of the rental. It’s for you. For the summer.” God, every time she was around Clay she came off as having an IQ equivalent to a pack of gum.
His eyes locked on hers and held. It was the kind of stare that told her he was making a conscious effort not to look down. The kind of stare that made her nervous. She shivered again—but for a whole other reason.
“Are you aware that the robe is sheer when wet? And, um, clingy?”
“Oh my god.” Her robe was more than sheer; it made a wet T-shirt contest seem tame. She had almost shucked the suit altogether. At least she’d kept on a bikini—a teeny-weeny bikini that she only wore when alone. The last thing she’d ever want was Clay comparing her to the cleat chasers in triangles and dental floss he was usually seen with. Then again, a muffin top might be less embarrassing than being caught in a swim-dress her grandmother would have worn.
“Are you saying I can’t invite friends?” he asked.
“Of course not. It’s your place to do whatever you want with whoever you want and, wow.” She closed her eyes. “I just said that.”
“You did.”
Great,now she was sweating in uncomfortable places. “I meant that the pool is all yours. I already talked to Sammy about how we aren’t to bother you while you’re here. And if my uncle hounds you to join his poker night, he’s trying to fleece you.”
“I’m a pretty good player.”
“He cheats. Sleight of hand, card counting, stacking the deck. He was a professional hustler in New York before moving here. Some people call him a crook.”
