“Thanks,” she shot back and tried to smooth her hair from her face. “I’m glad I could amuse you with my appalling state.”
“Not appalling. Adorable.”
“Oh.” Inexplicably, something in the way he said “adorable” brought warmth to her face, not to mention one other part of her body.
He thinks I’m adorable.
With the back of his hand, he wiped perspiration from his brow. She took pleasure in the sexy shift of his muscles and the heat in his dark eyes as they raked over her. Fire whipped through her veins and she dropped deeper into the water, a futile attempt to tamp down the flames.
“Here give me your hand. Let me help you.”
As he reached for her and she saw those big, strong callused hands of his, she did a quick tally. One, it was his fault she’d faltered in the first place. Two, he did get to see her all wet and aroused. And three, he too looked like he could use a little cooling off.
His palm closed over hers and he gave slight tug. She in turn braced her feet, gave a tug of her own and stepped aside as he came crashing into the water next to her.
A moment later he found his footing and stood. His gaze locked on hers and he wiped the water from his eyes. “What the hell—?”
His voice fell off and she guessed he’d read her desire, taking note of the way she was looking at him with longing in her eyes. Water dripped down his chest and she practically salivated, aching to trail those tiny droplets with the tip of her tongue. The cool water settled just above his waistband, prohibiting her from seeing the wet outline of his cock. She swallowed and resisted the urge to dive under the surface for a glimpse. Jesus, she couldn’t believe how lusty her thoughts had turned. A result of no sex for the last few months, she supposed.
She did a brief perusal of the area. All was quiet. Not a runner to be found. When she turned back to him, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, drinking in the refreshing splashes of Blueberry Lake from his mouth. Her gaze centered on his luscious lips and her libido roared for attention, demanding she do something about her sex life or lack thereof.
Maybe one little kiss, one quick romp in the water would help clear her head. Heck, it wasn’t in her nature to just jump into bed with a man—a stranger, at that—and she could hardly believe the direction her brain had gone. After all, she didn’t even know his name. Then again, maybe that was a good thing. He was nearly finished with the job at the inn and come nightfall she’d never set eyes on him again. Tomorrow she’d be refreshed and ready to go back to celibate Candace, no one the wiser that she’d gotten a little sidetracked.
He must have read her mind. His eyes darkened and turned serious. She watched his throat work as he swallowed, and he moved a measured step closer. As his body loomed over hers, he dipped his head and for a brief moment she thought he was going to kiss her. He reached out and pushed her hair off her face. She tipped her head to meet his gaze, and when a low moan rose up from her throat, something flashed in his eyes and he hesitated. A second later he gave his head a brisk shake, as if to clear it. Then he took a distancing step back and walked to the embankment.
What the heck?
“So we’re even then?” Even though he’d tried for light, she could hear the underlying lust in his voice.
“Even? Why would we be even?”
“You said it was my fault you fell into the lake. I can only assume that’s why you pulled me in here with you. To square things up? A little tit for tat?” When she didn’t respond, he turned to her. “Wasn’t that your reason, Candace?”
“Yeah, that was my reason.” One of many, but he didn’t need to know that just yet. Then something else occurred to her and she tightened, memories of the threatening letters filling her thoughts. Suddenly feeling very foolish and very vulnerable, she questioned, “How do you know my name?”
Without missing a beat he said, “I heard your friends call out to you. Earlier, at the inn.”
“Oh, right.” She’d forgotten he was within earshot when Lindsay and Anna had greeted her as she stretched on the front lawn.
“I’m Marc. Marc Collins.” He held his hand out, and as she shook it, she studied him a moment. Good guys were rare, but something in her gut told her Marc Collins just might be one of them, not that she’d always been such a great judge of character. But he had a strength of character about him, unlike the men she usually found herself attracted to. It also occurred to her that he gave off a protective vibe, making her feel absurdly safe with him. Truthfully, there was something about this man. Something trustworthy and fiercely protective that put her at ease.
Intuition told her she had nothing to fear from him. That he was a gentleman, a man of integrity. She considered things a minute longer. Marc was a paint stripper hired by Pamina, not some aspiring actor using her to get close to her father—heck he didn’t even respond to her advances, which proved he was different from any other man she’d ever met. And the painstaking care he took with his work proved he was a skilled laborer.
Candace was pretty damn certain he didn’t know who she was. Was there a chance there could be something more between them, that he could like her for who she really was, not for her daddy’s power and influence? Damned if she didn’t want to find out. But sadly, he hadn’t tried to hit on her. Even when presented
