Millions To Spare

“Your legs okay?” he asked, catching up again.

“Are you actually inspecting my inner thighs?”

He grinned unrepentantly. “The saddle?”

“Yes. But they’re getting better.” She ordered herself not to feel self-conscious about the pink spots.

Alex dropped back again.

“Are you out of shape,” she called back to him. “Or are you checking out my butt?”

“What do you think?”

“Back up here, sailor.” But she couldn’t help hoping he liked what he saw. In fact, she hoped he craved and coveted what he saw, and he could wallow in the knowledge he’d never have it.

She realized she was being both conceited and churlish. But she didn’t care. If he was going to tease her at every turn, he deserved everything he got.

They made it to the top of the steps, and she gazed at the gush of water racing down the slide.

It was steeper than she’d expected, and she slowed to a stop. She wasn’t exactly afraid of heights, but she did have a healthy respect for their ability to cause catastrophic injury.

The slide was long.

And it was very steep.

And the squealing children jumping into the rings and sliding down it apparently had a death wish.

Alex came right up behind her, peering over her shoulder. “What?”

She shook her head.

“Are you scared?”

Heck, yes, she was scared. “Maybe.”

“Really?”

She shot him a look. She really didn’t need his attitude at the moment.

“Then we’ll go together,” he offered with unexpected kindness. “You’re going to love this.”

A few others were going down in double tubes, mostly adults and small children.

Okay, small children were also hopping into rubber tubes by themselves and streaking down that flimsy, slippery, scary-

She tried to take a step back, but she bumped into the wall of Alex’s bare chest. The contact distracted her for a second. The man was definitely not out of shape.

“It’ll be fun,” he promised.

“Have you done this before?”

“Not here. But back home. As a kid.”

“Was that a dig?”

“Not at all. You can do it, Brittany.” He took her hand.

His grip was strong, and a funny feeling invaded her stomach. When she looked into his eyes, she wasn’t quite as frightened.

“If I die…” she warned him in a dire voice.

He grinned and urged her over to the edge, where an attendant held a double tube.

Not giving herself a chance to change her mind, she clambered into the front. Alex hopped in back.

She closed her eyes, and they pushed off. Cool water splashed them, and her stomach plummeted with the drop.

Alex gave a whoop of delight.

“Do you have your eyes open?” he laughed.

She shook her head.

He leaned forward and placed a wet hand on her shoulder. “Open your eyes,” he said more gently. “Come on.”

She opened one.

Water splashed over the bow, and she scrunched it shut again.

He shifted in the tube to put his cheek against hers. “You can do it.”

She focused on the strength of his hand, his arm, his body. She slowly squinted both eyes open.

They weren’t moving as fast as she’d feared. The sides of the ride seemed relatively high. And they were pretty much sticking to the middle of the channel.

“We’re halfway,” Alex informed her.

She glanced around at the palm trees, the foliage and the colorful people in the ponds and rides around them. Then she glanced down at herself. The combination of her bikini and her sprawled position in the tube was downright provocative. And then she realized Alex was staring over her shoulder and looking at exactly the same thing.

An unfamiliar, prickly flush came over her skin. She should want to move. She should care that he was staring. She should care about what he must be thinking.

But she didn’t. It gave her a heady sense of power that had nothing to do with revenge for his teasing.

Then they splashed into the palm-decorated pond at the end of the ride.

“You did great,” Alex rumbled, as an attendant slowed their tube.

Alex hopped out, then helped Brittany get to her feet in the shallow pond.

“You want to do that again?” he asked, without letting go of her hand.

Yes, she wanted to do it again.

She wanted very much to have Alex’s arm around her bare shoulders, his gaze on her body, his gravelly voice in her ear for another ride down the slide.

It was a little tacky, and probably foolish.

“Earth to Brittany.”

“Sure.”

“That a girl!”

They splashed their way down a number of the gentler slides. Then they attempted surfing in the flowriders pool. Alex succeeded, but Brittany failed miserably. So instead, they played in the wave pool on some of the tamer toys.

Finally, growing tired, they climbed into an inflatable ring for a lazy ride down the river that wound through the park. They drifted under bridges and beneath the shade of sprawling trees, gazing at the blue sky, and groups of people on shore, who looked worn-out at the end of the day.

“Did you have fun?” asked Alex as the current carried them around a curve, into a quiet, lushly forested area of the park.

“You know I did.”

She’d quickly turned into one of the squealing, grinning kamikaze riders.

“You get to do things like this back home?”

She shook her head. Back in London, there were fun days, of course. But there was also her job. And there were a lot of duty days in between. Her family was involved in numerous charities, so there were gallery openings, balls, luncheons, speaking engagements and planning, lots of planning.

She trailed her fingertips in the river water. “My job is only part-time. But I also represent the family.”

“Represent the family? That could mean anything.”

“We support a lot of charities. I plan parties, dress up, give speeches, write letters, travel.” For some reason, her life didn’t seem all that exciting at the moment.

“How do you cope,” he drawled.

“Are you trying to ruin a perfectly nice day?”

His expression turned completely serious. “Do you like it?”

“I…” Yes. She liked it. Did she love it was more to the point. She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do. Then again, she’d never really done anything else.

“Sometimes it’s great,” she said to Alex. “Often it’s boring. Last week, I had lunch with the Royal Ornithological Society for a celebration of the yellow hooded oriole.”

Alex quirked a grin.

“They had slides, many, many slides on the various scientific theories of evolution and species habitat.”

“But you’re not an ornithologist.”