Page 25 of Reckless Kiss

“Okay. Don’t be a stranger.”

Erica tossed her phone onto the chair beside her and looked across the lawns. How had she gotten to the age of thirty-two and divorced? She had no home she stayed in for very long, spending much of her time on location or holed up in her London home to prepare for her next role. It was no wonder her ex-husband looked for comfort elsewhere. She was never at home.

“Snap out of this,” she said to thin air.

Closing her laptop, Erica took her electronics inside and left them on the dining room table. It was time she started her endurance training. Once she was changed into her swimsuit and had donned her Kaftan, she locked up and took the same route Archer had shown her earlier. The sun was still high in the sky and warm in the early evening. The nearer she got to the pool, Erica could hear and then see there was a man swimming laps, front crawl. His muscled arms came out of the water as he sliced through at speed. Archer reached the far end and lifted his body as high as possible, using his hands flat on the side of the pool. Erica thought he would get out of the pool. Instead, Archer stayed in the same position looking out to sea. He seemed deep in thought, gazing out at the ocean.

Not keen to disturb Archer, she dropped her kaftan on the chair near the shallow end and walked into the pool. As soon as she was out of her depth, she began to tread waterlike she’d been taught. Positioned halfway down the length of the pool, she turned her back to Archer and straightened her legs but kept moving her arms so that she could pivot in the water. When she returned to look at Archer, he was inches away from her.

“Am I interrupting your session?” he whispered, looking at her mouth.

She wanted to kiss him, and his focus on her lips wasn’t helping. She sank under the water and stayed there for as long as her lungs let her break the tension. Erica came back up with Archer’s hands under her arms. He yanked her out of the water to the surface. He kept his hands under her arms, his wrists pressing against the sides of her breasts.

“What are you trying to achieve apart from giving me a heart attack?” he said.

“I wanted to kiss you, so to stop me from doing that, I sank under the water to practise holding my breath.”

“What?”

Erica laughed at his confusion, and delight rolled into one.

“You want to kiss me. Kiss, me?”

“Why not? You’re hot as hell. But we don’t know each other, so kissing you would seem inappropriate.”

“This is like a god damn role reversal. Isn’t it supposed to be the man who lusts after the woman making all the moves?”

“Welcome to equality Archer. Do you feel liberated?”

She laughed again at his furrowed brows, the thinning of his lips, and the way he held her more firmly. He seemed to be considering his next move. Erica licked her bottom lip and smiled at him. She was back underwater as he removed his hands from her torso a second later. Erica came to thesurface quickly and looked for Archer while smoothing back her hair. Turning in circles, using her arms, she found him back at the other end of the pool, staring at her.

He climbed out of the pool using a move she envied. He hauled his body out with his arms, hooked his foot on the flat, and stood up. She was right about seeing him soaking wet. He was perfect. Erica glanced down his chest, his stomach, admiring his muscles bunched as he breathed deeply, and then she saw his erection, plain as day. Her eyes shot back up to his face. Erica was startled at the pain she saw etched on his face.

“What are you doing all the way over there? Come back into the water.”

“I can’t,” he said, choking out the words. “Believe me, I really want to, but it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Are you married?”

Archer barked out a humourless laugh.

“No, I am not married.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No. Just leave it, Erica.”

“Boyfriend?”

“I’m straight and, as you can see, attracted to you, but I can’t get back in the pool. I’ll see you around the estate,” Archer said, snatching up his towel, and jogged out of sight through the dense trees at the side of the pool.

“Maybe he doesn’t like his women talking directly,” she muttered to the water.

Brushing off the rejection, Erica practised treading water, speed swimming, and then her basic synchronised moves, which she’d been taught back in London. Her coach was a gold medallist in the Olympics and a stern taskmaster. Erica knew what she needed to do every day to prepare forher role, but something about Archer’s pained expression made her give up on the day and head back to her cottage.

She didn’t even know his second name, and already she was feeling hurt by his apparent dislike of being attracted to her.

Chapter 15

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