Susan Carlisle - One Summer At The Lake

‘Can’t. You’re a stranger. And they’re sour.’

‘Georgie!’

Isandro’s head lifted at the sound of the musical voice with just a hint of attractive huskiness.

‘I’m in here!’ The kid bellowed back into his right ear, making him wince.

A moment later a figure appeared in the doorway. The body that matched the voice was not a let-down—anything but! Tall, slim, dark-haired with the sort of figure that filled out the faded denim jeans she wore to perfection. His immediate impression was of sinuous supple grace and an earthy sexuality that hit him with the force of a hammer between the eyes. Though the main physical response to her appearance was somewhat lower than eye level.

Isandro’s aggravation levels reduced by several notches as he studied this new arrival, who didn’t just have a great body but a vivid, expressive face he found himself wanting to look at. Stare at.

She possessed the most extraordinary eyes—electric blue that tilted slightly at the corners—and a mouth that made any man looking at it think of how it would feel to taste those plush pink lips…Isandro exhaled and reined in his galloping imagination. He had a healthy libido but he prided himself on his ability to control it.

‘Georgie, you shouldn’t be in here. I’ve told you. Oh…!’ Zoe stopped halfway through the open doorway of the study. Her blue eyes flew wide as she sucked in a tiny shocked breath, registering the presence of the tall figure who was towering over her niece.

The strange reluctance she felt to enter the room was strong, but not as strong as her protective instincts, so, with a cautious smile pasted in place, Zoe stepped forward.

There had been many occasions in her adult life when she had been accused of being too trusting, too inclined to assume the best of others, but since Zoe had acquired responsibility for her seven-year-old twin niece and nephew she had developed a new caution that bordered, she suspected, on paranoia, at least when it came to the safety of her youthful charges.

Under the pleasant smile, her newly awoken protective instincts were on full alert. She moved towards the man whom she had not seen outside. And she would have noticed him, because despite the casual clothes—expensive casual—he definitely wouldn’t have blended in with the carefree and relaxed people milling around outside.

She doubted that face did relaxed or carefree.

Without taking her eyes off the incredibly handsome stranger any more than you’d take your eyes off a stray wolf—and the analogy was not inappropriate, as he had the entire lean, hungry look going on—she held out her hand to her niece.

‘Come here, Georgina,’ she said in a tone meant to convey a sense of urgency without overly alarming her niece. Not that the latter would be likely—Georgie was friendly to a fault and she had no sense of danger whatsoever. Real parents probably knew how to make their kids sensibly cautious without scaring them witless and giving them umpteen issues later in life…but Zoe wasn’t a real parent and most of the time she felt like a pretty sorry substitute for not one but two brilliant parents.

She took a deep breath and fought her way clear of the oppressive weight of emotions that continued to hit her when she wasn’t expecting it. There wasn’t time to feel angry at fate or the drunk driver whose carelessness had taken away the twins’ parents. There was barely time to comb her hair some days!

‘I’m sorry. I hope Georgina wasn’t bothering you.’ It was more polite than ‘what the hell are you doing in here?’ but in her experience it was always better to try a smile before you brought out the big stick.

Though it would take a very big stick indeed or even a small army to make this intruder leave if he didn’t take the hint, she thought, sliding a peek at him under her lashes and looking away quickly. The heat climbed into her smooth cheeks as she realised her scrutiny was being returned, though there was nothing remotely surreptitious or apologetic about the way his dark eyes were wandering over her.

She flicked her plait back in a businesslike manner over her shoulder and, raising a brief cool hand to her cheeks, she wished that her protective instincts were the only reason she could feel the heavy, frantic beat of her heart in every inch of her body.

She’d never come across a man who exuded such a raw, sheer maleness before and it was deeply weird, not in a pleasant way, to find her indiscriminate hormones reacting independently to the aura he projected. She pressed her hand protectively to her stomach, which was quivering the way it did when she found herself in any situation that involved high places and the possibility of falling.

Logic suggested he was no danger to Georgie, just another visitor to the Fun Day who’d got lost or was just plain nosy but…the fact that she was the person whose job it was to protect the twins from everything bad in the world meant that Zoe was taking no chances.

‘Now, Georgie, please.’

With a show of reluctance and a big sigh the copper-headed little girl responded finally to the note of command and slid out of the chair. But Isandro wasn’t watching. His eyes were trained on the sliver of pale, toned midriff that was on show. The tantalising flash of flesh vanished as the woman’s hand closed over the child’s. Drawing her in, she bent to speak, saying something to the kid that made her nod before running out of the door.

Isandro watched as the young woman straightened up, throwing the fat plait of glossy dark hair over her shoulder again, exposing the firm curve of her jaw and the long elegant line of her pale throat.

The recognition that his response to her had been primal, out of his control, produced a frown that faded as he put the situation in perspective. Just because he had experienced an unexpectedly strong physical response did not mean he couldn’t control it…Since his failed marriage he had never been in any form of relationship that he couldn’t walk away from, and he never would.

She straightened up. ‘Sorry about that.’

Now the child was gone some of the tension seemed to have left her slender shoulders, though a degree of caution remained in the blue eyes that studied him now with an undisguised curiosity mingled with a critical quality he was not accustomed to seeing when a woman looked at him.

Isandro’s smile held a hint of self mockery…If she had not been beautiful would he have chosen to be amused…?

His appreciation of beauty was not restricted to architecture. He put this woman somewhere in her early twenties, young enough at least to wear no make-up and look good. Her clear skin was flawless, pale tinged with the lightest of roses in her smooth, rounded cheeks. She was not just sexy, she was beautiful.

Not in the classical sense perhaps, and absolutely nothing like the sort of woman he normally found attractive. For starters he dated women who worked hard at and took pride in their appearance. This woman’s grooming left a lot to be desired, but her oval face with wide-set, slanting blue eyes, delicate carved cheekbones and wide, full lips had an arresting quality that combined sexiness with a sense of vulnerability.

Vulnerability was another thing he avoided in women. Needy was just too time-consuming, and time was a precious commodity.

His response simply proved that sexual attraction was not an exact science. Her look was not even smart casual, more scruffy casual. Despite his unflattering assessment of her style he was conscious of a heaviness in his groin by the time his eyes had made the journey up the length of her lusciously long, denim-clad legs. Tall and slender but with feminine curves that the oversized white shirt she wore did not hide, she really did have a delicious body—and she would scrub up well, he decided, picturing her in something silky and insubstantial, and then in nothing at all.