He's No Angel (Heaven Can Wait Book 1) (12 page)

Chapter Eleven

“Emma!”

From beneath the water Emma heard the muffled shout of her name. She tried to claw her way to the surface yet for several seconds she didn’t move. Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but then her feet hit the lake bottom. She gave a mighty upward push. An instant later she emerged from beneath the chilly water’s surface and pulled in a sputtering breath. Once again her feet touched the bottom and she realized the water only reached her shoulders.

“What the hell was that?” she muttered, heart pounding as she struggled to shove aside the tangle of wet hair covering her face. Her fingers knocked askew her glasses, which had somehow miraculously not been washed off her face.

“Emma… Jesus! Hold on. I’m coming.”

She straightened her glasses then peered through the water drops clinging to the lenses and saw Liam tip himself from his now nearby kayak and plunge into the cold water. He was at her side in a blink, grasping her arms and looking at her with concern-filled eyes. “Emma. Are you okay?”

“I’m… yes.” Yes, of course she was. Her feet were planted firmly on the bottom. She nodded and her glasses slipped down her wet nose. “I’m fine. Just surprised.”

“What happened?”

“Beats me. One second I was admiring the lighthouse house, the next I was admiring the lake water up close and personal.” A shudder ran through her, one she fought to squelch. She firmly shoved down the buried memories being underwater threatened to resurrect.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his gaze assessing her, clearly looking for injuries.

“Only my pride.” She gave a self-conscious laugh and pulled herself together. “I’m sure you’re impressed by my extreme gracefulness. Just like a ballerina-- that’s me.”

He ran his hands up and down her arms. “I’m just glad you’re not injured.” He frowned. “Did it feel like the kayak hit something? An unwater obstruction? Maybe a tree branch?”

“I didn’t feel anything. I probably just moved wrong or shifted my weight in a bad way. Graceful is not my middle name.”

“You sure you’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine. Just wet. And very surprised to be wet. And glad I wore waterproof mascara.” She laughed. “Not that that’s a huge help given my current unfortunate hair and clothing situation. Speaking of which… ” A shiver rippled through her and her teeth clacked together in an involuntary chatter. “I don’t know about you, but I’m about to turn into a Popsicle.”

Before she could so much as inhale, he’d scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed no more than a Kleenex and strode toward their kayaks which bobbed next to the seawall. It was a show of pure male strength (‘cause she weighed a heck of a lot more than a Kleenex) that catapulted all her girl parts into the red zone.

“Hey, I’m fine,” she protested, a statement rendered somewhat weak when she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Really. I know rescuing people is what you do for a living, but you can throttle back here. We’re only in a few feet of water, I’m wearing a life jacket, and even if I wasn’t I know how to swim.”

He halted next to their kayaks and gave her a look so filled with heat there was no way she’d ever come close to Popsicle status. “Too bad,” he murmured, his hot gaze flicking to her lips. “I was looking forward to giving you some mouth to mouth.”

Whoa. Definitely not cold any longer. “I see. Well, I never said I couldn’t use some mouth to mouth. Only that I didn’t require rescuing.”

“Good to know.” He settled his lips on hers in a kiss that started out slow and soft, then quickly morphed into hard and demanding. It certainly made her forget all about the fact that her ass cheeks skimmed the cold water. When he lifted his head it was all she could do not to whimper and beg for more.

“Wow,” she said, breathing hard, clinging to his neck. “Note to self: falling out of one’s kayak has definite fringe benefits.”

“For me as well. My place is in the next cove. You okay to paddle back?”

“Of course. I don’t melt when I get wet.”

“Noted. And may I say how impressed I am with what a good sport you’re being.”

“Actually, I think it’s pretty funny. Besides, it’s not as if I’m the only one who’s all wet. Even though it wasn’t necessary, I appreciate you jumping in after me.”

“All part of the service.” He gently set her into her kayak then held it steady as she shifted her butt to situate herself.

She grabbed her paddle and smiled at him. “All ready… ” Her words and grin both faded when she saw his face. “Liam, you look pale. I’m so sorry-- I should have asked if
you’re
okay. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m good. But I have to admit I had a bad moment when I saw you go under the water.” He frowned at her life jacket. “You were completely under for at least five seconds. The vest should have prevented that.”

“Clearly I was weighed down by all those cookies I ate at our picnic. But no worries. I popped up like a cork. Like you said, I was only under for a few seconds.”

“Yeah, but it felt like a few years.” He reached out and brushed a wet curl from her cheek. “How about we head back to the cabin and get out of these wet clothes?”

That soft question, asked in that husky voice, combined with the heat in his gaze… sheesh. This guy was potent with a capital P. The inner voice that should have been cautioning her to wait, to not jump into anything with this man too quickly, remained completely, utterly mute. “Get out of these wet clothes… is that code for ‘wanna get naked?’”

His fingers trailed lower, brushing over her collarbone. “First and foremost it’s about getting you warmed up. Between the cold water and the sun going down, chill is going to set in pretty quick. But after that… yeah. I know we talked about taking it slow, but damn, Emma. I already feel like I’ve known you my whole life. So… what do you think?”

I think I’d rather get naked with you right here and now. But time and place, Emma. Time and place.
In light of his admission she felt it only fair to say, “That whole known-you-my-whole-life thing? I feel exactly the same way. And it’s not as if we just met yesterday. Technically we’ve known each other for a month.”

“Agreed. Although technically we’ve known each other one month, four days, and--” he consulted his waterproof watch, “three hours and four minutes. Give or take a couple of minutes.”

Her eyes widened. “You made that up.”

“Did not. I marked the date and time I met you on my calendar with a smiley face and a heart.”

“Okay, I
know
you made
that
up.”

He grinned. “Maybe. But the point is I do remember that day very well. So, about that whole ‘wanna get naked’ question… ?”

“
Ego te putabam nunquam rogare
.”

“I’m hoping that’s Latin for ‘I think Albert Einstein himself couldn’t have come up with a better idea.’”

“Close. It means ‘I thought you’d never ask.’”

~~~

Liam was pretty damn proud of his control. They’d arrived back at his dock, pulled the kayaks from the water, stored them in his garage along with their life vests and now he was unlocking the cabin door-- all that without snatching her into his arms and stripping her bare. As far as he was concerned he deserved a freakin’ medal.

But job one wasn’t about getting her naked. It was about removing those wet clothes and getting her into a hot shower. Her skin was pale and cold as marble, the rims of her lips were tinged with blue, and her teeth had chattered the entire way back to his dock. Yet she hadn’t uttered a single complaint, in fact had totally laughed off the incident. As far as he was concerned, that said a lot about her, all of it good. Which only made him like and admire her more. He’d dated more girls than he cared to recall who would have freaked out in a similar situation.

An image of Emma falling out of her kayak, sinking beneath the water’s surface flashed in his mind and his fingers tightened on the key he held. His heart gave the same powerful sideways lurch he’d experienced at that moment, a lightning bolt of stark, utter fear, one way out of proportion to a simple tipping over of her kayak. Yet something hadn’t felt right about the incident, still didn’t. He hadn’t seen her do anything that would have caused her to capsize. And then the way she’d gone under, and stayed under in spite of her life vest… the whole thing was just weird.

That blink of time she’d been underwater had sliced about a decade off his life. He was well equipped to handle emergencies, but for those seconds he’d experienced a depth of terror unlike anything he’d ever before felt. One that replaced his “let’s take things slow” mantra with “life is short, let’s not waste time.”

He knew what he wanted. He wanted Emma. Not just for tonight, but tonight was a good place to start. And she’d made it clear she wanted him, too-- at least for tonight. ‘Nuff said. Time to put the old
facta non verba
into practice. But first they both needed to warm up.

He unlocked the door then pushed it wide to allow her room to enter. “Welcome to my Home Improvement Project.”

With her arms wrapped around herself to preserve her body warmth, she crossed the threshold. He followed and after closing and locking the door, immediately took her hand and led her forward at a brisk pace.

“Wow, this is great,” she said, the words sounding choppy through her chattering teeth. “Much bigger than the word ‘cabin’ suggests, yet the wood walls, floors and beams really give it a cozy, cabin-like feel.”

“Glad you like it. I’ll give you a tour. Later.” He led them directly to his bedroom and kept going into the attached master bath. Releasing her hand, he opened the glass shower door and turned on the hot water spray full blast. Then he turned to her. And found her looking at him through huge golden brown eyes magnified by her water-spotted glasses.

A groan of pure want rose in his throat. Damp, disheveled curls fell to her shoulders. Her wet turtleneck and jeans clung to her as if they’d been painted on, showing off killer curves and erect nipples. “You look damn good all wet, Miss Librarian.”

She huffed out a quick laugh. “I’m sure I look like road kill.” Her gaze traveled down to his Topsiders then back up. “You, on the other hand, look as if you just finished a photo shoot for some fancy resort.
So
unfair.”

“Clearly you smacked your head when you fell overboard. Enough chatting. Take off those clothes and get in the shower. I’ll toss your things in the dryer then put on a pot of coffee.”

“What about you?” she asked toeing off her sneakers then yanking off her dripping socks. “In case it’s missed your notice, you’re wet, too.”

“I can wait a few minutes. I’m from Chicago. I’m used to being wet and cold.” He pointed toward the shower and shot her a mock frown. “You. In there. Now. I’ll be back.”

“Fine.” She set her glasses next to the sink, then grabbed the ends of her turtleneck, yanked it over her head and held the garment out to him. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re very bossy?”

Every thought he’d ever had, along with a few he hadn’t yet had, drained from his head at the sight of her breasts swelling against the cups of her lacy black bra. She’d asked him a question, but since he couldn’t recall what it was, he just wordlessly took her shirt. Before he could recover enough to even draw a breath, she unfastened her jeans and shimmied out of them, leaving her clad in that bra and a wisp of matching lace panties.

Good thing the sight of her, wet, curvy, almost naked and sexy as hell rendered him unable to do anything other than stare because if he’d been able to move any part of his body he would have swallowed his tongue. Which would have been very bad because he had all kinds of plans for his tongue.

She held out her jeans but Liam simply couldn’t move yet. She settled her free hand on her hip and tapped her bare foot against the tile floor. “You intend to just stand there and stare, Mr. Bossy Pants? Or do you want to put these in the dryer?”

Dryer. Right. He reached for her jeans. “I’ll, um… ” His voice evaporated as his eyeballs took a tour of all those gorgeous curves encased in black lace.

“Put those in the dryer?”

Liam’s gaze snapped back up to hers. Humor glittered in her eyes. “Dryer?” He looked down at her wet clothes he held. “Oh. Yeah. Dryer. I’m on it. Go get warm. I’ll, uh, be back.” Yeah. Hopefully with a renewed ability to speak English.

He turned and quickly left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Then he paused, closed his eyes, and took a couple of much-needed deep breaths. An image of Emma wearing that black lace bra and panties flashed behind his eyes and a groan of raw want rumbled in his throat.

“Dryer,” he repeated, heading across the room. “Eye on the ball, dude.”

He headed down the hall to the small laundry room where he stripped down to his boxer briefs then tossed his wet clothes along with Emma’s into the dryer and turned it on. He then hit the kitchen. As he scooped coffee grounds into the filter, he considered the step he was about to take: spending the night with a woman. He knew it would come to that because there was no way he’d want to take Emma home after making love to her. No, he was going to want to fall asleep with her wrapped in his arms and wake up with her in the morning.

But spending the night with a woman… he hadn’t done that since the high rise fire.  Because of the nightmares that disturbed his sleep. Nightmares that left him bathed in sweat and shaking. Because he knew it would lead to questions. Questions he had no intention of answering. Bad enough that he had to relive the scene when he slept. He sure as hell didn’t want to replay it while he was awake.