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I find myself returning his smile.
“Anyway, I truly appreciate this,” I say, surprised at the bubbly giggle that erupts from deep within my belly. “I know how weird it is, I really do. But I won’t go into the backstory again because—well, that didn’t go well.”
“Your mom’s bad back. The grandkids.”
I nod. “Exactly. It’s complicated.”
“Things get that way.”
“Unfortunately, they do. Let me just say that this is a big help to me for many reasons. And I’m sorry if I’m pulling you away from family stuff. Five minutes a day is all I ask.”
“I’m not here with a family, exactly. This is no big deal.”
“So, you’re—er—” I stop myself just in time.
I can’t do it.
I can’t ask if he’s here alone. That’s as bad as one of those sleazy pickup lines people use at bars: ‘Do you come here often?’
I’m not going to sink to Butcher Steve sleaze-status.
I refuse.
“Yeah,” he says casually, like I didn't just choke up mid-sentence. “Here solo, pretty much, so no biggie. No girlfriend to get all hot and bothered if we talk too long or whatever. Actually, this was a good meeting spot. I haven’t checked out the hot tub yet.”
“It’s handsome.”
Oh, no.
That was a slip-up. Maybe he didn’t hear me call the hot tub handsome.
His sandy brows raise. The corner of his mouth twitches up, and his green eyes twinkle.
Shoot.
He did hear me.
“I mean—it’s hot,” I stammer.
Oh, lordy. I need help.
I think my current state has to do with the fact that I can see six different muscles ripple on his shoulders when he moves his arm. Or the thousand-watt nature of his adorably lopsided smile. Or… his eyes.
They’re deep and green and so warm when they rest on mine.
“Yeah, it is pretty hot. Beautiful setting, too.” He’s leaning in slightly so I can hear him over the jets. “I’ve never been anywhere this stunning. I’m enjoying the view.”
Is this really happening to me?
He gives me this deep, meaning-laced look as he says he likes the view. His point is crystal clear. He likes the view of me.
The butterflies in my belly give way to something much more intense.
The desire grows when I realize for the first time that half the hot tub has cleared out. The group of folks toweling off around us must have been related. They laugh and chat as they walk away. Now there are many vacant spots, and yet this man—Mr. Hunk, Stunt Devil—and I remain mere centimeters apart.
Our bodies aren’t touching, technically.
But the water swirling around us fills the tiny gaps between our limbs. If I moved, even slightly, we’d be thigh to thigh. Hand to leg. Arm to shoulder.
