That Carolina Summer (North Carolina) (2 page)

As she watched, the handsome waiter paused near another group of guests. One of the men in the small party caught her eye. Her pulse quickened with interest, her eyes lighting up. He was wearing a pair of black swimming trunks; the rest was all hard sun-bronzed flesh. The man was tall, a couple of inches over six feet, wide shoulders tapering to masculine slim hips.

As he turned slightly, Annette glimpsed the angular planes of his profile, slanted forehead, high-bridged nose and a strongly carved jawline. The sun's rays glinted on his dark brown hair, revealing its copper lights. Annette calculated that he was somewhere in the early thirties, a virile male specimen in his prime. Her glance strayed to his left hand, but there was no wedding ring—no jewelry at all, which meant absolutely nothing.

“I really don't understand how you can be so analytical about men,” Marsha sighed. “Haven't you ever seen anyone that turned you on?"

Two minutes earlier Annette would have given her sister a negative reply. She had always been too intelligent to let her imagination run away with itself. At nineteen, almost twenty, she had dated a great deal, but she had never pretended even to herself that she was serious about any of the string of boyfriends. Annette had always been positive that she would instinctively know when she met the right man. And the signals were going off like crazy this very second.

“Yes,” she said. “I have seen someone who turns me on. As a matter of fact, I'm looking at him right now,” she informed her sister with calm certainty.

“What?” Marsha blinked at her, because it wasn't the anticipated answer. Her head swiveled to follow the direction of Annette's gaze. “Who?"

“The man in the black trunks.” A thread of excitement ran through her nerve ends, tying them together.

Marsha looked. “Who is he?"

“I don't know—yet,” Annette qualified her reply, because she was going to make it her business to find out. Her boldness always made Marsha uncomfortable. She felt her sister's uneasy glance on her.

“You don't know anything about him.” It was almost an accusation.

Annette gave Marsha a look of indulgent patience. “But you can bet I'm going to find out."

Her gaze returned to the blatant sexuality of the stranger, so obviously male that he had no need to prove it. He was saying something to a female member of the group. Annette couldn't hear the words, but the slight breeze carried the husky timbre of his voice to her ears. She liked the sound of it as it shivered through her, like rough velvet drawn across her bare skin.

A uniformed figure crossed in front of her vision, briefly distracting her gaze. Annette recognized the blond waiter returning with their drinks. Her keen mind began working immediately. She welcomed him with a wide smile.

“That didn't take long,” she remarked.

“It's all part of the service to keep the hotel guests happy.” His glance volunteered to go beyond the call of duty as he handed Marsha her glass and walked around the lounge chair to give Annette hers.

“Thank you.” She set the glass down and reached for the check to sign it and charge it to the room. “Who is that man over there?” Annette asked with seemingly idle interest. “The one in the black trunks. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can't place where I've seen him,” she lied.

“You must mean Joshua Lord,” Craig replied.

Annette was careful to keep the focal point of her gaze on the waiter. The more attention she paid to him, the more information she'd get out of him. “Where have I heard that name before?” she wondered aloud, frowning.

“Among other things, he owns this resort. The Lords are one of North Carolina's old wealthy families,” he explained, eager to impress Annette with his knowledge of the rich.

“Really,” she murmured, and sent a glance in Joshua Lord's direction. His dark head was tipped attentively toward a bikini-clad redhead. “His wife is certainly a striking woman."

“That isn't his wife,” Craig informed her, not noticing Annette's faint smile of satisfaction. “Josh isn't married. Judging by the variety of female visitors that have dined in his suite, he's too busy to settle down."

“I imagine all he has to do is crook his finger.” Annette sipped at her glass of tea and smiled up at the waiter, matching his knowing grin. “You said he lives here at the hotel?"

“Yes, he has a private suite."

“How convenient,” she murmured with a throaty laugh.

“It certainly is,” Craig agreed, but Annette was thinking how convenient it was for her, rather than the convenience of a hotel staff it provided for Joshua Lord.

One of the guests at poolside called out, summoning the waiter. His mouth crooked in a regretful smile. “Excuse me. I'll see you around."

“Bye.” Annette watched him walk away, then let her gaze travel to Marsha. “Didn't I tell you I'd find out all about him?"

Marsha eyed her uncertainly, revealing the inner misgivings she had. “I don't know what you gained. Yes, you do know his name, where he lives and the fact that he isn't married, but a man like ... Joshua Lord ... can have practically any woman he wants. You said so yourself,” Marsha reminded her. “What makes you think he'll be attracted to you?"

“Because I'm going to see that he is,” Annette stated, and laughed softly at her sister's apprehensive expression. “Don't look so worried, Marsha,” she admonished. “It will be easy."

“You've said that before.” Marsha wasn't convinced.

“It's always worked out the way I wanted it to, hasn't it?” Annette reasoned.

“One of these times it won't,” Marsha warned. “And you're going to find yourself in big trouble."

Annette just laughed and sought out the object of her interest again. Various plans were already beginning to take shape in her mind and would need to be sorted through. There was more information she needed before she could settle on any one course of action. In the meantime she would have to be flexible.

As she watched, Joshua Lord detached himself from the group and walked toward the pool. He had an easy flowing stride, corded muscles rippling along his thigh and leg beneath sun-browned flesh. There was a lazy confidence about his bearing, an aloof awareness of his surroundings.

The couple that had been cavorting in the pool earlier had climbed out to collapse in happy exhaustion on a couple of deck chairs. There was no one else in the pool when Josh Lord dived in. A second after he'd surfaced midway across the pool, Annette was reaching for her petaled swim cap.

“Where are you going?” Marsha asked, staring.

“For a swim,” Annette replied with a confident gleam in her eyes. “You remember what Aunt Helen always said: don't wait for your ship to come in; swim out to meet it.” She tucked the ends of her hair under the cap. “I'm on my way to meet my ship. Want to come?"

“No, thanks.” Marsha picked up the book she'd been reading. “Don't involve me in any of your schemes."

A faint smile played at the corners of Annette's mouth as she turned away and walked to the edge of the pool. Her sister's refusal was expected. Marsha wasn't very athletically oriented, preferring to be a spectator rather than a participant. Nothing was guaranteed to drive Annette crazy quicker than sitting on the sidelines. She was a natural competitor—and the higher the stakes, the more she enjoyed the game. A hint of danger just added to the excitement.

At the edge of the pool Annette paused to study the lone swimmer lapping the pool. She mentally timed the powerful stroke, but his pace was leisurely, which suited her purpose to a tee. Once he was clear of the immediate area, Annette arched and dived cleanly off the poolside, slicing into the water without a sound. She swam underwater for several yards and surfaced alongside him.

His brown eyes flicked over her in mild surprise. Up close, Annette could see the easy male charm in his strong features, a lazy sensuality lying in the chiseled lines. The potency of it heated her blood. She guessed how wide-eyed and innocent she looked as she blinked the water from her lashes.

“Hi.” Annette spoke quickly before he could swim away. “Are you doing laps?"

“Yes.” There was a faint narrowing of his gaze.

“Do you mind if I swim with you?” she asked, and offered the explanation, “It helps if I can pace myself against another swimmer."

“I don't mind.” There was a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. He was used to women seeking him out. She would have to be very subtle.

“Good.” Annette struck out for the far end of the pool with a clean strong stroke.

All the hours she'd spent training on the college swim team were about to pay off. But not yet. Annette didn't attempt to outdistance him or even increase the pace he'd been swimming previously. She wasn't foolish enough to believe she could outswim him even with her expertise in the water, but she could make him take notice of her—eventually. First she wanted to settle into a rhythm; the tempo could always be increased later.

For the entire length of the pool, Annette remained even with him, fully aware that he was holding back the same as she was—only he didn't know that. With each breath she looked at the dark-haired swimmer opposite her and the cleaving strokes of his muscled arms.

At the end of the first lap she did a racer's turn, not trying for speed. She was a half length in front of him, the maneuver catching him off guard. This time Annette didn't try to take advantage of it as he quickly caught up with her. When their eyes met briefly on a mutually timed breath, there was a gleam of respect in his. Annette turned her face into the water and effectively hid her smile. He picked up the tempo slightly and she stayed with him.

She counted the laps, concentrating on her stroke. Past experience had taught her that she lost her kick after a mile. She waited until she had only two lengths of the pool left to go, then she made her move, putting everything she had into the turn and launching herself off the side of the pool. She was more than a length ahead of him when she surfaced and struck out for the other side at race tempo.

Before Annette made the final turn he had caught up with her, as she had known he would. But she had his full attention. Nothing attracted it quicker from a man than to have a female challenge his male superiority. She would have thrown the race in order to let him win, but it wasn't necessary.

On the last lap he was easily outdistancing her. Annette used every ounce of her reserve strength to keep respectably close. The instant her hand touched the side of the pool she stopped, even though he continued. Her lungs felt ready to burst.

With the assistance of the water's buoyancy, she levered herself out of the pool with her arms, swinging her legs out of the water to recline at fight angles to the edge. Annette drank in gulps of air, her breasts heaving with the effort to fill her lungs. Pulling off the swim cap that had kept her hair half-dry, she leaned backward on her elbows. Her head was thrown back, exposing the curve of her throat and catching the sheen of the sunlight in her blond hair.

“Are you quitting?” It was a taunting challenge, and Annette half turned, one elbow supporting her weight. Josh Lord was treading water, eyeing her exhausted state with male complacency, even white teeth showing against sun-bronzed skin.

For a brief instant she was irritated to see he was barely breathing hard at all, but the feeling was forgotten as his gaze traveled over the curves of her figure, lingering a scant second on the swell of her breasts.

“Yes,” Annette admitted in a voice that was attractively breathless. “A mile is my limit. Thanks for the workout."

“Anytime, kid.” He turned in the water and swam leisurely away, missing the look of shock, then anger, that swept through Annette's expression.

Kid! With a sudden surge of energy she rolled to her feet and crossed to the lounge chair next to Marsha's. Her temper was simmering at a low boil. So he thought she was a kid! The light of battle stormed in her gray eyes.

“What happened?” Marsha recognized that look and inwardly trembled at what it might mean. “Did it backfire?"

“Not exactly.” Annette stretched out in the lounge chair to let the sun dry her, closing her eyes. “I accomplished what I set out to do.” Namely, to get Josh Lord to notice her, and she had succeeded in that. But at the moment, this “kid” had to do some rethinking. It would be simply too immature to tell him that she would be twenty in just a few days.

Through slitted eyes Annette observed him climbing out of the pool a few minutes later. His wet hair gleamed almost black, its burnished highlights temporarily hidden. The sheen of moisture on his flatly muscled body gave his deeply tanned flesh a polished look. His hard male physique started a quivering sensation in her stomach as Annette imagined what it would be like to be next to it.

He draped a towel around his neck but made no effort to dry himself. When he cast a glance in her direction, Annette was glad her eyes appeared to be closed. She didn't want to be caught watching him. A ripple of satisfaction eliminated any lingering irritation. Even if he considered her a “kid,” he was aware of her. For the time being she was willing to settle for that.

As Josh Lord left the poolside area to disappear down one of the walkways, Marsha laid her book down. “Here comes Dad and Kathleen. Robby must have finally woken up from his afternoon nap."

Annette sat up as her father and stepmother approached, a black-haired little boy tugging impatiently at Kathleen's hand to hurry her. She smiled, liking the picture the three of them made with her father's arm possessively around the shoulders of the attractive auburn-haired woman. It was always reassuring to see how much in love the two of them were.