Page 36 of What About Love

“It’s not a date, idiot,” she muttered.

Twisting to ensure neither ass cheek was hanging out, she eyed the exposed skin of her thighs and upper back. Amazingly, it was unmarked despite the number of lashes she took. Not a hint of pink remained. And why did that make her sad?

She shook her head at that ridiculous notion and stomped out of the locker room.

As she approached the pool, she easily located T. Women surrounded him, four in all. Two near her own age, one with graying hair, and one stunning knockout of indeterminate age. From a distance, Angie placed her anywhere from thirty to fifty. Her killer body was impressive with big tits, flat abs, and toned thighs, all of which were bound to attract a second glance from T. Irritated by their fawning, she was more put out with herself for caring.

He’s not for you,she reminded herself, for the millionth time that morning. Without a greeting, she tossed her towel on a chair and kicked off her shoes. Selecting an empty lane, she dove in. Falling into a brisk but steady pace, with each stroke, she kept up an internal chant;don’t lose your heart to Antonio Minelli.At every flip turn, she reminded herself;he doesn’t have it to give.

Twenty laps of freestyle had passed when she slowed, grabbing the edge of the pool for a short breather. Trying not to seem obvious, she scanned the pool deck for T. When that didn’t pan out, she twisted to where she’d last seen him. Again, no gorgeous, dominant trainer was to be found. What grabbed her attention, however, was the wall of water surging toward her in the lane on her right.

Mesmerized, she watched as a dark head lowered while thickly muscled arms and broad shoulders rose out of the water. As he neared, he executed a perfect butterfly turn then dolphin-kicked his way toward the other end of the pool. Once she’d pried her jaw from the pool floor and wiped the drool from her chin, she scowled and pushed off, following in a much less powerful and inelegant butterfly. Leave it to T to do the hardest stroke flawlessly and make it look effortless.

Ten more laps—two of the butterfly, which was all she could manage, the rest a moderately paced freestyle—and she was done. Swimming crosswise over the lane ropes, she headed for the ladder and climbed out. Finding her towel, she leaned against the cool tile wall as she tried to catch her breath.

T was still going strong and continued for another ten laps. Impressed by his endurance, she watched as he didn’t slow by a second until the tail end of the tenth. Then, diving under, he performed another textbook turn resurfacing a good six or seven meters from the wall, thanks to his long body, and began a slow crawl—a cool down lap, she assumed.

Reaching the near wall, he stopped and popped up. Pushing off in the opposite direction, he floated on his back as he allowed his breathing to slow. Angie watched his slick, tanned body gleaming golden under the lights as it floated atop the water, his chest rising and falling from his exertion.

Out of breath,she thought with wonder;he is human after all.

Mostly dry, she stood and wrapped the towel around her waist sarong-style. As she slipped on her flip-flops, he dove under the ropes and swam to the ladder. When he emerged in a sheet of water a moment later, she tried not to salivate over his dripping, practically bare body.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep from staring at the smoothness of his broad, powerful chest, or the dark hair of his underarms, exposed when he lifted both hands, biceps and forearms flexing to run his fingers through his drenched hair, brushing it off his face.

She didn’t dare drop her gaze below his waist where his wet trunks would cling to him like a second skin. She couldn’t anyway, with her brain locked onto the washboard on his abdomen, counting way more than a six-pack.

Moving across the pool deck toward her, he lifted both arms over his head and, with hands clasped together, arched his body from side to side, and then forward and back as he did his post-swim stretches. As she lusted over his perfection, she nearly came on the spot.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying, your boyfriend is hot, sister,” a voice declared.

Dragging her eyes away from the water-god who had emerged from the pool, Angie cast a sidelong glance at one of the young women who had been flirting with him earlier. She didn’t spare Angie a glance as she walked by, her attention solely on T. Not saying a word, she didn’t correct her inaccurate boyfriend assumption, convinced that her tongue had suffered a stroke and she would blather unintelligibly.

T was close enough to overhear, however, and stopped stretching. He leaned over and grabbed a towel that had been lying unnoticed beside her own on the same chair.

“Morning, darlin’,” he drawled in a low greeting, his voice a little gruff from his exertion. Her eyes followed the towel as he ran it over his face and rubbed down his chest and arms. “You didn’t say hi when you arrived.”

“Um, you, uh, seemed otherwise occupied.” Mentally kicking her ass for acting like a love-struck fool, she silently chided herself to snap out of it.

“Shame on you. I needed rescuing, and you dove into the pool without batting an eye.” He gave her a teasing wink while lightly swatting her behind with the towel before draping it across his shoulders and hanging onto the ends. “Swimming was awesome. It’s been a while.”

The light swat on the butt reminded her of the many he’d given her on the cross. She turned away to pick up the goggles she’d forgotten to use. Anything to distract herself from his glistening wet chest.

“It looked to me like you could give lessons. Your technique was perfect. Did you swim in school?”

“No. Football was my game.”

“Ah.” She nodded, still not looking up. “Middle linebacker, I’ll bet.”

“You know football?”

That drew her eyes back to him. “Seriously? Are we in Texas?”

“Yeah, what was I thinking?” He smiled ruefully. “This was nice. Cross-training might be the way to go. We had a pool growing up. I was like a fish back then, practically living in it during the summer. Although I didn’t really learn technique until the Army.”

“They teach swimming in the Army?”

“I was Special Forces, Ang. They don’t let you in if you can’t swim. I had the basic knowledge. They helped me perfect it. I also dive and jump out of planes occasionally.”

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