Leslie Kelly - Into the Fire

He stared into her eyes, which were a fine pale blue that picked up the light reflected on the shimmering surface of the water. Her lips were parted, her breath coming in audible gasps, much like his as they both recovered from the adrenaline rush of his accident.

Close up, she was every bit as enticing, though perhaps in a different way, than she’d been from a distance. Her features were softer, sweeter than he’d expected, given her killer figure. Her heart-shaped face was creamy smooth, and beneath the smeared makeup he could see the tiniest freckles dotting her nose. She looked younger than he’d thought. Definitely not as put together, calm and cool as she’d appeared when she entered the room. Yet the innocent blue eyes and freckles definitely suited the sprite who’d climbed onto the trampoline.

She stared back, looking as though she recognized him. Nate nearly muttered a curse. He waited, wondering if she’d prove to be fan or foe, if she’d coo that she’d read all his articles or tell him to grow up and get a real job.

She did neither. Instead, she sighed, again seeming to be disappointed for some reason, and said, “I didn’t see you struggling under the water so I thought you were unconscious.”

“The chair hit me in the head.”

When she immediately lifted a hand to check his brow, he said, “I’m fine. It just took me a minute to get my bearings.”

She pushed his hair back, and the touch of her hand made most logical thought disappear from his brain. Her gesture was gentle, concerned, but the feel of her skin on his felt loaded with additional sensation.

“A minute’s a long time to figure out you’re underwater.” She drew her hand away, looking at her fingers in confusion, as if she, too, had felt something unusual where flesh had met flesh.

“You’re right. Maybe it wasn’t a full minute,” he replied softly.

“It was more like twenty seconds.”

“Okay. But twenty seconds too long. I was starting to see my life flash before my eyes.”

She raised a skeptical brow. “Really?”

“Well, no, not really, but I did have the sudden thought that I need to call my mother.”

“Your mother?”

“To thank her for putting me in swimming lessons, and to wish her a happy birthday.”

“You didn’t swim,” she told him.

“I would have. Ten more seconds, tops. Maybe fifteen. Probably. But I still owe you my life. Thanks again.”

She started chuckling. “Do you always talk so fast?”

“Always. In my family, if you don’t talk fast, you never get a word in edgewise.”

“Is it really your mom’s birthday today?”

“No. It’s Monday. But while I was under there, I realized if I drowned three days before her birthday, that’d probably ruin the occasion and she’d never forgive me.”

This time she laughed out loud. “You do realize this isn’t exactly a typical conversation to be having while treading water, fully dressed, in someone else’s swimming pool,” she said, her eyes alight with amusement.

“Better than the party.”

“Yes, I saw you there earlier,” she admitted, staring at him intently. “Why on earth did you come here?”

“To hide out,” he said, greatly relieved that when she’d recognized him a few minutes ago, it had been from the party and not from his work at Men’s World. If she didn’t know him, didn’t know his name, maybe she would talk to him like the man he really was, not the man he appeared to be in print.

She hadn’t said anything, so he continued. “I couldn’t take another minute of jovial conversation with people who’d stab me in the back in a second to climb up one more rung of the publishing ladder.”

She nodded slowly, obviously understanding, possibly even agreeing. “Okay, I can buy that one. So you were just sitting here by the pool and you accidentally tipped your chair in?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, great, you were watching me, right? That’s what happened. You were playing Mr. Peeping Tom and you tipped yourself right into the pool where you could have drowned. All to get a glimpse of a woman’s underwear.”

“Well, come on, you gotta admit, that is some pretty fine underwear.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I suppose you’re an underwear expert?”

“No, not really.” He grinned. “Frankly, I prefer boxers to thongs. I’ve always thought thongs would be terribly uncomfortable. But you look like you do okay in yours, so maybe I’ll try them sometime.”

Nate almost regretted baiting her, but she had certainly provided the opening. Now, would she haul herself out of the pool and stalk away in a huff? Or did she have a real sense of humor to go with the killer curves?

Then he saw it. A heartbreakingly gorgeous grin curled her lips, her eyes sparkled, and she chuckled. He heard his own sigh of relief.

Beautiful. Sense of humor. And she’d saved his life. Could things get any better?

LACEY DIDN’T LIKE flirtatious men. Okay, well, that wasn’t quite true. She liked Raul, and heaven knew he loved to flirt. But Raul was different. As strange as it seemed, given his reputation with women, she considered him safe. Because he was her brother’s age…and her best friend.

This man, however, was far from safe. Gorgeous, sexy strangers with dimpled smiles who flirted and made her heart leap and her thighs quiver were definitely not safe.

She’d been shocked when she realized he was the man who’d caught her attention at the party. Within a few minutes she’d realized Raul had been messing with her—this guy was no bonehead. He was sexy, charming and gorgeous. She should have run for cover as soon as he made the mouth-to-mouth comment. Because that had put all kinds of interesting images in her mind!

Instead she continued to hold onto the side of the pool, wearing her sodden dress, which would probably never be free of the scent of chlorine, grinning at the mental picture of him in a thong. “I know of a site online that sells men’s thongs.”

“And you would know this because…”

“Because I bought a pair for a friend as a gag gift last year.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A friend?”

“A female friend who was getting married. She tells me if it hadn’t been for the yellow duck on the front, she might have been able to talk her husband into wearing them during their honeymoon.”

“I’m with him on that one.”

“I suppose you’d prefer your basic black.”

“It works so well for you. I’ll follow your example.”

Lacey should have felt like sinking beneath the water at the realization that this man really had been sitting here watching her on the trampoline. But she laughed again instead. “So do you make a habit out of sneaking peeks at strange women’s underwear?”

“You don’t seem strange. At least no stranger than anyone else at tonight’s gala,” he said earnestly. “Do you make a habit out of breaking into other people’s gyms during parties?”

“I was hiding out, like you,” she admitted. “I hate cocktail parties.”

“Me, too. Smiles on the lips, never in the eyes. Superficial conversations. Everybody on the make trying to find someone to hook up with who they won’t have to bump into at work the next week.”

He sounded sincere, which surprised Lacey. “That’s exactly how I feel.”

“I’d much rather be treading water in a soaking tuxedo.”

“Which is hopefully not rented.”

“It is.”

“I don’t think you’re going to get your deposit back.”

“Maybe I’ll buy it. This might prove to be my lucky suit.” Though his tone remained flirtatious, his eyes held a note of serious intensity.

He had beautiful eyes. Green with circles of gold at the center that Lacey somehow felt she could get lost in. They were rimmed by thick black lashes that were unfairly long for a man. And his mouth—that gorgeous, smiling mouth she’d fantasized about after seeing him across the room at the party—was every bit as intriguing close up.