She waggled her brows at him. 'Under my buccan' hat.'
He threw back his head and laughed. 'Ready to try it again, matey?'
'Sure.' She eyed him up and down. 'But this time you get in first.'
Chris paddled the canoe and covertly observed Melanie through the dark lenses of his Ray-Bans. She was nearly dry and sat with her eyes closed, her face turned up to the sun. He noted with amusement that she sat perfectly still, clutching the edges of the canoe with a white-knuckled grip.
His gaze slid over her and his stomach tightened. Her hair curled in wild profusion around her face, the sun shooting the brown locks with shafts of reddish fire. Her skin glowed with the sheen of some kind of sunscreen that made her smell like a delicious combination of coconut and pineapple. She reminded him of one of those tropical drinks with the paper umbrellas-sweet, cool, and scrumptious.
His gaze drifted downward, taking in her long, slim legs. She'd left her soggy Nikes on the dock to dry, and now her pink-tipped toes peeked at him. Even her feet were cute. Chris shook his head. Damn, he had it bad.
And the fact that she was such a good sport about getting dunked in the lake made him like her even more. Every other woman he knew would have pitched a hissy fit in a similar situation.
But not Melanie. Nope, she'd just taken it in stride, wrung the water out of her clothes, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and grown determined to beat the canoe at its own game.
That unassuming, unfussy side of her appealed to him more than any perfectly made-up, exquisitely groomed woman ever had. A mental image of her, disheveled from a bout of frantic lovemaking, flashed in his mind and he had to stifle a groan. He decided to get a conversation going before he melted into a sweaty puddle.
'Has Glenn called you about your review?' he asked in a casual tone, gliding the craft slowly through the calm water.
'No, but Bob Harris said it would take about two or three weeks. I'm praying it goes well. This loan means everything to me.'
'One is going to be a liquor store. I don't know about the other one.'
Chris's stomach clenched. She didn't know.
He considered telling her but decided to wait until after he'd talked things through with Glenn. There was no point in destroying her weekend, and he knew the news would do just that. And he refused to ruin their time together with speculation over something that might not be a problem at all. At least he hoped it wouldn't, although his pesky inner voice told him differently. Firmly pushing his concerns away, he asked, 'So what do you think of canoeing?'
She pursed her lips. 'It's fun. I like the ride, the breeze, being out on the lake. Of course, being in the lake was not quite so much fun.' She eyed his dry shorts with a pointed glare.
'Have you noticed,' she continued in a reflective tone, 'that every time we see each other we end up wet? We met in the rain, swam in the pool at the cookout, and now this.' She glanced down at her wrinkled shorts and shirt. 'And between your suits and my shorts, one of us always seems to end up with ruined clothes.'
Chris nodded slowly. 'Now that you mention it, yes. We've definitely developed a pattern.'
'Seems so.' Her gaze drifted down to his dry socks and sneakers before returning to his face. 'Of course,
'I know better than to get into a canoe with a novice.'
'Ah. So you set me up. You knew I would end up in the lake the minute I stepped into this dug-out log.'
'I had a pretty good idea, yeah.'
'Hmmm.'
He caught the impish grin spreading over her face. He knew trouble when he saw it.
'You realize,' she said in a casual tone, 'that no matter how fast you paddle this tub you'll never make it back to the dock dry.'
He dug the paddle in, trying not to laugh. 'I can try.'
Her smile widened, deepening her dimples, and Chris's heart thumped. She looked so damned adorable, challenging him, her eyes filled with laughter, a piece of seaweed stuck to her shirt.
Stunned by the enormity of the revelation, he barely noticed when she yelled, 'Banzai!' and tipped the canoe, dumping them both into the lake.
Melanie surfaced and shook her hair out of her eyes. Chris came up next to her, sputtering. He pushed his hair back with his hands and Melanie gulped. Good grief. How the heck did he manage to look so sexy? She was sure she looked like two miles of bad road.
He settled his dripping sunglasses on top of his head. 'You dunked me,' he said, standing up. The water lapped at his chest. Sunlight bounced off his tanned, bare shoulders, and droplets glistened on the thatch of dark chest hair visible above the water.
Why, oh why, had the blasted man taken off his shirt? To torture her? Those firm muscles under golden skin had bunched and flexed every time he dug the oar into the water. Jeez. The guy was more tempting than chocolate. Than double, triple chocolate with whipped cream and a cherry on top.
She forced her hands to remain at her sides-not an easy task when her fingers literally itched to reach out and touch him. 'Dunk you? Damn straight. You put me back in that tippy little sucker and I'll do it again. I've decided I'm not canoe-inclined. I'm definitely a cruise ship sort of girl.'
He grabbed her arms and hauled her up against him. Melanie caught her breath as she bumped into the hard wall of his bare chest, and her pulse speeded up to triple time when she looked at his face. His eyelashes were spiky from the water, and his eyes darkened with that look she was not only coming to know, but to anticipate with bated breath. That look he got just before he destroyed her with his kiss.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and waited to be wrecked.
He lowered his head and kissed her with such slow, long, deep perfection, she could practically feel steam rising from her skin. The stunning contrast of the cool lake water, the hot sun, and the hard man pressing against her soft curves did her in. She knew exactly where this was leading, and it had nothing to do with martinis.
Running his fingers through her wet hair, he whispered her name against her mouth. 'Melanie…'
Lost in a passionate haze, she answered, 'Chris…'
'The canoe is sneaking away.'
It took a moment for his words to sink in. She finally lifted her head and looked behind her. The upside-down canoe floated a good hundred yards away. The paddle was nowhere to be seen.
He walked her the short distance to the dock and helped her climb up. 'I'll be right back,' he promised, pushing off with a splash.
While he was rescuing the canoe and returning it to the rental booth, Melanie busied herself setting up their picnic lunch. She needed an activity,
When Chris joined her, she handed him a frosty lemonade and watched him polish it off in a series of long swallows. Good grief. Even drinking lemonade, he was beautiful.
He flopped down on the blanket and helped himself to a sandwich. Melanie nibbled on her turkey club, trying to define the fluttering in her stomach. That same half-thrilling, half-terrifying sensation she experienced every time she looked at him. Every time she thought of him. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying it wasn't what she suspected but knowing it was.
'What's up, Mel Gibson?' he asked in a teasing tone. 'You look so serious.'
