Page 27 of Stone Rules

“Not a problem, dear. That yummy Mr. Stone kept me company. If I was forty years younger . . .” She giggles like a school girl.

I laugh. “I’m not sure Mr. Buttermaker would appreciate that.”

“Oh, that old biddy wouldn’t know the difference. Since the day he retired twenty years ago, he only makes love to his Lazyboy recliner.”

“Mrs. B!”

“I’m old, dear. Not dead.” She winks at me, slipping on her yellow flowered flip-flops before walking away.

I put my towel down and make my way over to my usual swimming lane.

Ethan watches me. Of course he does. I swapped out my one-piece swimsuit with a sturdy yet sexy bikini.

“Mrs. B likes you,” I say.

His eyes rise from their survey of my body. But it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before—splayed all over his desk in fact. “Rule number five—be nice to little old ladies.”

“I like that one.” I give him a smile before diving in, hoping my bottoms stay on when I hit the water.

I swim for twenty minutes, the entire time acutely aware of Ethan’s eyes on me from where he’s perched on the side of the pool.

Finally, when I can’t stand it anymore, or maybe because I’m simply too breathless to continue my swim under his heated perusal, I stop at the end of a lap and ask, “Something wrong with your legs? You forget how to swim or something?”

“I finished earlier,” he says, sinking back into the pool and darting under the lane dividers separating us. He pops up before me, dripping wet and looking even sexier than he did at lunch when he had me caged to the wall.

“And yet you’re still here.”

Half of his face turns upward into a devious smile. “So I am.”

Despite the warm water of the pool, my skin prickles as if a cool breeze is flowing over me when he inches closer.

“What did Devon want?” he asks, nodding to the clear glass separating the pool from the rest of the gym. I wasn’t aware he was watching that exchange. I’m not sure if I should be mad or flattered.

“What does he always want?”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” His fist hits the water.

“I told you, Ethan, I can take care of myself.”

“So you’ve said.” His hand comes up to trace the faint outline of my fading bruise, more visible now that I have no makeup on. Feeling his light touch caress my face, a ball of need bursts to life in the pit of my stomach.

He frowns, studying my face. “Where were you when it happened?”

I try to remember what I told the girls. Did I give them details? “Uh, I couldn’t sleep, so I went out and did some window shopping. It was stupid, I know. But like I told you before, I’m fine. Believe me, the guy looks much worse than I do.”

Not wanting him to prod anymore, I ask, “What’s your issue with Devon? And what does it matter to you who I date?”

Instead of an answer, he splashes water on me like an adolescent.

“Oh, you did not just do that, Stone.”

“What are you going to do about it, Tate?”

“Nothing, you toddler.” I climb out of the pool and then I turn around to face him, launching myself over him, doing a perfect cannonball in front of him, splashing him square in the face.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” he says, shaking the water out of his hair.

I swim away from him, but he reaches me quickly under the water, jerking me back to him by my feet.

---