Page 43 of Silver-Tongued Devil
His smile started slow, and that glow was more of a spark now, moving right up toward “flame.” He said, “That does sound mighty unappealing, darlin’. But I still get dibs.”
The nagging little voice in Dakota’s ear tried to buzz at her while she changed into her suit, but she shut it out. She didn’t care what that voice said. It was just a swim. The lake was out there beckoning, she was hot, and Blake hadn’t done one thing to try to make her stay on Monday. He’d let her choose, and he was letting her choose now. He was a guy who could hear “no.” And he was going to take care of Russ.
Plus, he was fun. She was allowed to have fun.
She didn’t see him when she came out of the bathroom, but when she headed down to the first floor of the house and out to the lake, there he was, already in the water. She headed down there, relishing the cool grass under her toes, moving more cautiously over the sun-heated boards of the dock. And when she dropped her swim bag and took off her glasses, he called out, “Come on, Dakota. Show me how it’s done.”
Forget caution. She backed up, got a running start, leaped out as far as she could, hit the cold water and felt every bit of the shock of it, came up laughing, and told Blake, “Whoa. That’ll wake you up.”
She didn’t hang around and talk to him, though. The water was still cold, after all, or maybe she just needed the release. She swam hard all the way around the point that separated Blake’s house from the next one along the lakefront, and then back again. She didn’t bother to check whether he was coming, but she saw him powering past her, moving smoothly, swimming the same way she was. Like he wasn’t messing around. Except that he was faster.
When she got back to the dock again and turned in a circle, he was still with her. She swam over to the dock and pulled herself up, then grabbed for her glasses. Which was why she was able to watch him getting out. He put two palms on the wood of the dock, shoved up with a flash of ridged muscle in arms and shoulders, and was out of the water with a grace she could only envy.
“Whoa,” she said, rubbing a towel over her hair, then wrapping it around her waist. “You’re pretty good at that.”
“What, swimming? So are you.” He slicked his wet hair back with one hand, but didn’t go for a towel. He just stood there, tall and lean, his swim trunks riding low on his hips, showing her that vee of muscle again. Maybe he could tell she was looking, because he smiled at her, sweet and slow, and just like that, she was heating up.
She said, “I was mostly talking about the way you got out.” She was teasing. She knew it, and she didn’t care.
“Well, now, darlin’,” he said, his voice and accent both deepening, that dark-molasses sound that made her knees weak, “I could say the same thing, except that my mama raised me to be a gentleman.”
“Oh. That’sverysmooth.” She was tingling from the way he looked, and how he looked ather,but she was laughing, too. “That supposed to be a comment about what? My legs? My butt? Let’s say that I know it’s a view. You could call it a panorama. Probably too much of one.”
“Oh, no.” He was still smiling, but the smile had changed some. “That’s not too much. That’s a Southern boy’s hello-baby. That’s biscuits and gravy you got going on there. That’s a long, slow good time, sweet tea in the porch swing and your sweetheart in a pretty little dress, shoving off with her bare foot and giving you that come-on-boy smile. That’s bourbon and Coke and Friday night, is what that is.”
Wow.She held onto her cool, but it wasn’t easy. “Huh. That was pretty good. That’s your Southern-gentleman description of my… assets?”
“Oh, yeah. I can do a whole lot better, though. Want to hear it?”
“Ah… we’ll call that a ‘no.’”
He sighed. “That’s mighty disappointing, but I’ll get over it in a second. Come on, wild thing. Let’s go up and get some iced tea, now that you got me all thirsty for it, sit for a couple minutes.”
“I should get back to work.”
“So should I. Fifteen minutes.”
She did it, too. He didn’t change out of his suit, and neither did she. He leaned back in the same chair where he’d eaten lunch, and she put her towel on the chaise, but this time, she lay back in it. She pushed a knee up like a bathing beauty, then had to laugh at herself. She so was not.
“You know,” she said, putting her arm up over her head and letting the sun bake her a little, “you’ve got quite the way of making a woman feel good.”
He turned his head to grin at her. His hands were laced behind his head, his ankles crossed. Biceps and abs and chest, all right there on display, but he didn’t look like he was posing. He just had it all to show, like he couldn’t help it. And then there was the long red line of a healing scar down the middle of his right knee. That was a show, too. A different kind of show. “Well, Miss Dakota,” he said, “we aim to please.”
She tried not to shiver. “So what do you think of your house?” she asked, going for safer territory.
“I think it looks real good. Can’t wait to see my eagle hanging up in that window.”
“Mm. That’ll be today, if you don’t waste too much of my time here. If you’re leaving tonight, I’ll do your bedroom and bathroom, all that, before you get back. They’ll take a while.”
“You can hang my flower, too. I do want my flower.”
“You want to show me where?” she asked. “Lots of people put them in the master bath. A little more… private.”
“Oh, no. I want my flower in the bedroom. Maybe I’ll put my shell in the bathroom, though.”
“You’re pretty confident you want it.” Her voice was languid. The exercise, the sun’s rays, Blake’s voice… they were all doing their best to melt her bones.
“I do tend to run that way,” he said. “Confident. And, ah… I tend to know what I want. But I already told you that.”
