Dawn Atkins - Still Irresistible

“No, no. You were here first.”

“It’s your springs.”

“Don’t be silly.” She bit her lip, uncertain as she often was around him. “You shouldn’t have to leave.”

“We could…share,” he said. “I’ll stay on my side.” He held up his hands. Like, what, he was going to jump her? His face felt hotter than the spring water, which hovered at one-oh-five.

“I…guess so.” She laughed nervously.

“I’ve got another beer….” He nodded toward it.

“I have a whole bottle of champagne we can share.” She bent to set down the bucket and her towels, the robe parting to show the curve of one breast, the top of a thigh.

She stood and started on the knot, then looked at him pointedly, circling a finger. Turn around.

“Oh. Yeah.” It was just that he wasn’t quite sure he hadn’t dreamed her. She seemed ethereal, like she could drift away like the mist of steam off the springs.

He pivoted to brace himself on the rough stones and waited, catching the quiet swish of fabric, the grind of her bare feet on the sand, then the small splash when she let herself into the water, her soft moan as the heat hit her.

God. He recognized that moan. He’d made her do that many times. Fighting to look neutral, he turned back. He had a great poker face, but with Callie all bets were off.

She’d filled out a little, her breasts were rounder and she was a half-inch taller, but her shape was the same.

Touching her had been heaven.

“This feels so good,” she said, leaning her head into the concave place in the rocks where they used to make love.

Don’t think about that….

He cleared his throat. “So, champagne…You’re celebrating.”

“Trying to.” A smile flitted across her face. “I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me.”

“True,” he said. It was nuts, but he’d keep his asshole blurts to himself. Instead he reached across the water for her bottle. “Shall I open it?”

She removed the mason jar and let him take it. “We can share the glass or you can drink from the bottle.”

“The bottle’s fine for me.” Deck popped the cork, the sound sharp in the desert silence. He poured Callie a dose, then tapped the neck of the bottle against her glass.

“To old times,” he said.

Her eyes flared and she shivered. No way was she cold in this water. Something else was going on and when she echoed his toast, her voice shook.

SIPPING THE CHAMPAGNE Deck had poured, Callie felt hotter inside than the steaming water that lapped at her shoulders. Deck’s eyes locked on, gleaming in the moonlight. Startled, she backed into a hollow in the rocks, the perfect indentation…

Uh-oh. This was where they’d made love.

Did Deck remember? He was looking at her that way.

The last thing she needed with water wrapping her in warmth like the best of all hugs, was Deck naked, a mere arm’s length away. She gulped more champagne, realizing too late that its fizzy deliciousness would unravel her inhibitions, making things worse.

Deck gave her a slow, big-as-the-sky smile. “Very nice…”

It wasn’t until he lifted the bottle that she realized he’d meant the champagne, not her. Whew.

“I robbed the ranch’s supply. I’ll have to replace it. Ernie’s carries champagne, right?”

“Even hicks enjoy the finer things. We don’t all toss back a brew, then go shoot up highway signs for a good time.”

“Come on. You know I don’t think that.”

He shrugged. “You left.”

“And you stayed,” she snapped back, defensive suddenly.

“To each his own.” Was he jabbing at her, defending his choice, or being nice?

“As long as you’re happy.” Did that sound condescending?

“Exactly.” Picking up the tension, he softened his next words. “Cal says your company’s doing well. You set up parties for celebrities, right?” He lifted an eyebrow, like he couldn’t believe she did that for a living.

“I do events, not just parties. There’s more to it than cocktails and tenderloin satay.” She held out her glass for more champagne. In Manhattan, top event planners were movers and shakers. Out here, though, she could see how it might sound, well, silly. “Human culture is built around points of celebration.”

“Okay….” Another eyebrow shift.

“Events can make or break a new company, a product, hell, a relationship. In the right atmosphere, the right combination of people, food, setting and entertainment, deals can be cut, business ties forged, critical negotiations conducted. My mission is to bring people together for meaningful outcomes.”

“I didn’t realize parties could be so, uh—”

“Complex? Crucial?”

“Uh, sure.”

Was he laughing at her? Probably. They both drank more.

“Maybe you could explain that some,” Deck said, clearly trying to be polite.

“Okay,” she said, deciding to pretend he was honestly curious. “First we consider the client’s goals and determine the proper venue and approach. Sometimes direct mail, product placement, print and broadcast advertising will do. Other times, viral marketing works. Often, and this is where I come in, entertaining key clients, opinion leaders, media or city officials are a linchpin to the campaign.”

She realized Deck’s eyes had dipped to where the water met the top of her breasts. Caught, he yanked his gaze upward and cleared his throat. “Please go on,” he said, gulping champagne, then refilling her glass.

“There’s the budget,” she said, fighting her response to his roving eyes. “That’s huge for client satisfaction and my revenue stream. Clients want the world. You should try creating an elaborate, sumptuous reception for five hundred on a shoestring. It takes artistry, attention to detail and fierce negotiation skills.”

“I’m sure you’re good at what you do, Callie.” Deck leaned closer. “You wouldn’t take a job if it didn’t challenge you.”

“Thank you,” she said, distracted by the sexual sparks flying between them. Funny how the pale light of the moon was all she needed to read him now. In broad daylight he’d been a mystery to her.

“You’re only as good as your last event,” she said to distract herself. “There’s a lot of pressure, and word of screwups travels fast.”

Her mind wandered to Deck, naked beneath the water. Was he aroused? She’d begun to feel the champagne. She had to keep them talking. “How about you? What else do you do besides the ranch? Not that that’s not plenty.”

Deck chuckled. “It’s okay, Callie. You don’t have to watch every word. We got off on the wrong foot.”

He reached across and touched her arm, his fingers warm from the water. She couldn’t help but sink lower and suck in a breath. “Okay. That’s good.”

Deck withdrew his hand slowly. “I stay busy. Civic BS in town—chamber of commerce, planning and zoning. I also consult with horse breeders and buyers all over the West.”

“And in your free time…?”

“I hang with friends. If I want music, I go into Tucson or up to Phoenix. For that matter, New York’s just a couple bags of salted nuts away. I’ve been there.”

“You were in the city? You didn’t call.”

“It was a long time ago. I was with someone.” He shrugged.

“But I would have taken you to dinner. We’re friends…”

“It was last-minute.”

He was right. With their history, a double date over martinis and sushi would have been awkward.

“So is New York all you expected?” he asked.

“All that and more.” She stopped herself. Why cheerlead? Naked in the springs, here with Deck, who’d always accepted anything she said, she told him the truth. “Is anything ever what you expect?”