Susan Connell - Rebel's Spirit

Rising up on her toes she strained for a look outside the privacy fence. There was no one in sight.

No one to catch her in the act.

No one would ever know.

She lowered her heels to the roughened surface and bit back a smile.

“Except m-me,” she said as another shiver began shaking her five-foot, eight-inch frame.

True, the unadulterated thrill of a stolen skinny-dip should not be reason enough to brave blustery November temperatures…but it was. And she knew why. This wasn’t just anyone’s swimming pool. Fate had made her the temporary tenant of Show-No-Mercy Hanlon, the nemesis of her senior year.

His Clark Kent appearance notwithstanding, one censoring look from those riveting hazel eyes and Mr. Hanlon had had her trembling with fears she couldn’t even name. She still had to wonder why half the girls in Follett River High had managed to have major crushes on him—the history teacher from Hades. She shook her head. Some things, she guessed, were destined to remain a mystery to her.

Who cared? she thought, raking her fingers through her short, dark hair. She’d just found out that Show-No-Mercy Hanlon, now a professor at the local college, would be out of town until the end of the week. A smug smile of satisfaction was already tugging at her shivering lips. It had taken ten years and a twist of fate, but she was finally going to pull one over on him.

Loosening her towel, she twirled the bright red terry cloth above her head then pitched it over her shoulder. As goose bumps covered her body she could almost hear the raving voices of her old friends.

“Are you crazy, Reb? If Hanlon catches us, we’ll be stuck in detention so long they’ll be putting brass name plates on our chairs!”

Yes, this idea was most likely crazy. Certainly juvenile. But with Christmas just around the corner, even Santa’s reindeer couldn’t have dragged her off this diving board. “This one’s for you, Hanlon!”

Running forward, she kicked up into the chilly autumn air then let loose a bloodcurdling whoop as she cannonballed into the pool. Steeling herself against the numbing cold, she began pulling herself through the water. Only sheer willpower kept her below the surface. The trip to the shallow end was upstream all the way, but that was no surprise. Wasn’t everything in her life?

Raleigh Hanlon heard the shout and splash as he stepped out of his car in the driveway. Prayers and curses shared equal time under his breath as he sprinted for the gate. The old nightmare slamming against his heart was real again. “Hold on!” Why in hell had he put off closing the pool for so long? He riffled through his key ring, dropping it once before he located the right key. “Please, hold on. Dammit, don’t die!”

Jamming the key into the lock, he gave it a hard twist, then kicked open the six-foot wall of wood. As he began struggling out of his jacket he saw the red towel lying behind the diving board and then the dark-haired form in the water. “I’ll get you out. Just take my hand, Buddy. Buddy, take my hand!”

Raleigh’s frantic movements stopped abruptly when a head, then shoulders surfaced at the shallow end. His heart.was still hammering against his rib cage as he slumped against the fence. The whole business was a prank. A thoughtless, irresponsible prank. Anger welled where seconds before sheer terror had ruled. He was getting too damn old for this.

Pushing off the fence, he opened his mouth to speak. A split second later the intruder stood, stark naked and facing away from him. Raleigh slowly closed his mouth. His need to chastise vanished as he took in the sight before him. The incident might have “high school prank” written all over it, but she certainly didn’t.

The slim brunette’s womanly form glistened as if it were a live pink statue. Liquid light sparkled at her shoulders, played near the indentation of her spine and reflected off the pleasantly defined muscles in her back. His gaze dropped to where gentle wavelets were splashing against her firm bottom. The sight almost made up for the unfortunate placement of the pool which had her at the far end and facing away from him.

As he kept his gaze fixed to her backside he felt an undeniable tug of pure male awareness. Or was it recognition? Did he know her? He dragged his hand along his jaw as the need to call out to have her explain her presence slipped farther back in his mind.

When she pressed her thumbs against the sleek curves of her hips, all his righteous questions began disappearing from his head. Who cared how she’d gotten into the locked pool area? Who cared why she’d chosen his pool? Whoever she was, she was alive and presenting an admirable case for voyeurism. Dripping with a dangerous mixture of innocence and eroticism, she made every fantasy he’d ever had pale next to her reality.

As another revelation hit him, he shook his head. He’d spent his adult life teaching history, and only this moment did he finally understand how men could fight great wars over beauty such as this.

Right now he was waging war within himself. Should he continue to stare, or was it time to speak up? A smile pulled at his mouth when she laughed out loud then smacked the surface.

As he considered his dilemma further she let out an impassioned “Gotcha!” then leaned back into the water.

His heart thumped as he caught a glimpse of tightened pink nipples, an expanse of smooth, pale flesh and a neat triangle of dark hair at the apex of her thighs. Then water ribboned over her, distorting her perfection to a surreal dreamscape where fantasies melted and only heroic efforts could retrieve them.

He shoved an uneasy hand through his hair as memories of Buddy rushed in. He was no hero, he reminded himself. Hell, he couldn’t even keep a naked woman out of his pool.

Impatience over the battling images got the better of him; he didn’t suffer fools lightly, especially himself. His gaze circled the pool area, then landed back on the form moving through the water. He might be waking up in a hot sweat at three in the morning over this vision, but she’d be gone by then. Sent on her way with a stern warning he was already composing in his mind.

Judging the finishing point of her underwater swim, he walked down the landscaped steps to it and waited at the end of the pool until she came to him.

One last, languid stroke brought her to the surface. And there it was again. Even with her eyes shut and water streaming over her face and hair, he had an even stronger feeling that he knew her. Before he could place her, she was reaching up then closing her fingers over the top of his shoe. Her gracefully athletic move to haul herself out ended abruptly as she twisted her head to look up at him.

“You!” she said, releasing her grip. Sputtering, she dropped below the surface. A second later she came up clutching for the pool edge and shoving wet hair from her eyes. Eyes he’d seen before. Eyes filled with fear…or was that indignation? He cocked his head as a flashback jolted through his consciousness.

Struggling to catch her breath, she locked gazes with him. “You’re not supposed to be back until the weekend. W-what are you doing here?”

Indignation. Definitely indignation. “What am I doing here? This is my property. The question is, what are you doing here?”

Her mascara had smudged below her eyes, making them somehow bluer and wider and more vulnerable than he was sure she would want them to appear. She blinked, and the water beading on her lashes plopped onto her cheekbones.

“I’ve moved into Alan’s apartment.” Her gaze never left his as she pointed toward the garage.

“He never mentioned subletting. When did you talk to him about moving in?”