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Authors: Carolyn Zane

Tags: #Romance

Weekend Wife (9 page)

BOOK: Weekend Wife
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Will. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she tried to conjure his image up in her mind, but visions of Ty’s extraordinarily handsome face interfered with her reception, and she finally gave up. The niggling worry that absence was definitely not making the heart grow fonder with Will bothered her. Maybe she could talk it over with Erica, if she had a chance to call her. But then again, maybe not. Erica would only gloat, telling her that she always fell in love at the drop of a hat, and then probably threaten to kill her for making her stand in for her latest passing fancy. Poor Erica. Emily winced as a pang of guilt assailed her. Hopefully someday her twin would forgive her for making her spend her summer with the widower Will and his two holy terrors.

* * *

“Hey, hey, hey! Relax,” Ty commanded, peeling Emily’s arms from around his neck. She was coughing and sputtering and—unfortunately for Ty—grabbing at anything solid she could get her terrified hands on, including his nose, ears and hair. “You’re okay,” he soothed, pulling her weightless, slippery body into his arms and up against the solid wall of his chest.

Coughing, Emily clung to his neck and nodded, only letting go long enough to push her new, fashionably short bangs out of her eyes.

“Okay?”

“Heh—hmm.” She coughed.

“I guess this means we should hold off on the high-dive lessons for a while,” he joked as he slowly floated her over to the pool’s shallow end. “At least until we master dog paddling.” They’d been in the pool for more than an hour and Emily was no closer to swimming than a concrete block.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her hair out of her face and stared at him with large, fearful brown eyes.

Drops of water glistened on her full, sensuous lips in the moonlight, and Ty had to fight the overwhelming urge to kiss her into oblivion. She probably wouldn’t buy the rehearsal excuse this time. The reverberation of his heartbeat echoed in his head over the whine of the pool pump, and he knew that she was beginning to affect him a little more than he was comfortable with.

Squinting, she shifted to a position where she could more comfortably peer into his face. “I almost drowned once, when I was little,” she admitted, reticent to reveal too much about her past. “And I haven’t been very good around water ever since.”

Ah-ha! So that’s why she got seasick so easily and couldn’t swim. She was afraid of drowning. “Understandable.” Ty nodded. “But all the more reason for you to learn to swim. Here. Let’s try floating again,” he suggested, anxious to concentrate on something other than the amazingly smooth texture of her slick skin. Rearranging her across his chest, he slid his hands behind her back, and immediately she wound herself tightly around his body.

Ty smiled wryly down at her. As amazingly enjoyable as he found this to be, he knew that if she was ever going to float—and if he was going to hang on to the last vestiges of his control—she had to chill out.

“Sweetheart, relax,” he pleaded, as though coaxing a frightened child. “I promise I won’t let go. There is no way on earth you can drown. Honest. It’s only three feet deep at this end.”

“Th-th-three?”

“Three.” He grinned. “Come on. Stand up.” When she did, Ty put one hand on her smooth, bare midriff, and the other in the middle of her back. “Let’s try floating on your back. I promise I won’t drop you. Scout’s honor.” He held up three solemn fingers.

“Okay,” she whispered tentatively, and pinched her nose tightly shut.

“Just relax,” he instructed, wishing he could follow his own advice. He was strung more tightly than an electric guitar. That neon pink scrap of material she called a swimsuit was doing shameful things to his libido. “And try,” he said, attempting to get her to loosen up a little, “not to pinch your nose off.”

She stuck her tongue out at him as he swept her into his arms. Slowly, Ty lowered her body into the water, cradling her bottom on his bent knees and supporting her legs and head with his arms.

“There now.” He smiled down at her. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

Quickly shaking her head, Emily concentrated on relaxing. “No...um, not bad, really. Just strange.”

“Yeah, but that’s true of everything until you get used to it. Here, let’s go over to where the water is a little deeper.”

She nodded up at him, her wide eyes never leaving his face.

“Now, look, you’re nearly floating by yourself,” he said proudly, trying not to notice the tiny patches of swimsuit bob and sway as they broke the surface of the water. Holy heart failure, he thought, willing his breathing to slow down. There was no way that Roxanne could ever compete with
this
at the side of the pool. Emily was perfect. Tightening his grip—to reassure her, he told himself—he led her farther into the deep end.

She beamed up at him, obviously proud that she hadn’t panicked yet.

“All right, it’s only four and a half feet deep here. You can still stand up if you want to, so remember to stay relaxed, and keep breathing deep, slow breaths.” Sucking in a lungful of air, he demonstrated for her, his chest moving her up and down in the water as he breathed.

Pulling her head out of the water, she rolled her eyes expressively and tried to speak around the hand that still held her nose tightly shut. “I’mb not habing a baby here. Just don leb aby water geb in by bouth, so I can breab,” she instructed him nasally.

She was so incredibly beautiful, even with her cheeks puffed out that way. How he’d love to skip the rest of this lesson and...

No. He couldn’t do anything to blow her trust now. And not just because he needed her help with Roxanne.

“If you’re ready, I’m going to let go of you. Whatever you do, stay calm. If you start to sink, I’ll grab you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Ty took a deep breath, and slowly, ever so slowly, pulled his hands out from behind her back. “I’m only holding you with one hand,” he informed her enthusiastically.

Eyes shining, she asked, “Really?”

“Really. We’ll just stay like this for a second or two while you get used to floating.”

“Okay.” Her eyes still clung to his, as though they were some kind of lifeline that contained the supernatural power to elevate her.

When he felt that she was totally relaxed and ready, he made his move. “Here we go,” he warned as he slowly removed his remaining hand from beneath her back.

She was floating. All by herself, she was floating. Ty experienced a surge of accomplishment he hadn’t felt in years. A feeling that he had done something important. Even more important than acquiring new business for Connstarr.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered to her, his chest swelling with happiness. “You’re floating. All by yourself. I’m not even touching you.”

The happy smile on her face turned upside down. “You’re not?” she asked worriedly.

“No!” he crowed. “You’re on your own.”

“I am?” she shrieked just before she sank like a pair of lead gangster shoes.

“You were.” Ty sighed as he dived beneath the surface to fish her up out of the water. When he emerged, predictably, he was wearing a gasping and sputtering Emily, coiled firmly around his shoulders and chest.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, burying her nose into his neck, disappointment filling her voice. “I must have panicked.”

“Hey,” he said as he gently pried her face out of the crook of his neck so that he could look at her. “You did it!”

“I did?” She sniffed, rubbing the water out of her eyes and probing his for the truth.

“Yes!” He threw back his head and yelled, jubilant over her first tentative victory.
“You did it!”

“I did it?” she shouted, laughing with him and hugging him tightly around the neck.

Slipping his arms around her slender waist, he hugged her back, thrilled by their breakthrough. “You sure did.” He pressed her snugly into his arms and squeezed, kissing the top of her head, her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks.

She stilled in his arms and looked slowly up at him, her eyes still shining with pleasure, and he became suddenly aware that she was cradled against his body with nothing but two, practically nonexistent, pink slivers of material separating them. And—much to his chagrin—he felt himself begin to react to her in a way that was purely physical.

His throat grew dry as he battled the tension that was coiling so tightly in his gut. The smell of the chlorine seemed intoxicating, and Tyler was sure she must be able to feel the chugging locomotive that was his heartbeat thudding against her breast. Swallowing hard, he knew that he should climb out of the pool now. Before it was too late. But it was already too late.

A tiny whimper of protest sounded from somewhere deep in her throat as he lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips over hers. But if she objected, she made no move to stop him, and—disgusted with himself for his own lack of control—he increased the pressure and kissed her deeply. Slowly at first and then, as he built steam, more savagely.

Backing her into the shallow end, he lifted her up onto the built-in steps, and leaned heavily against her, cradling her head against the edge of the pool. She tasted of water and wine, and the combination increased rather than quenched his thirst for her. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t seem to find the wherewithal to resist her, and as his mouth roughly plundered hers, he knew he was no better than Roxanne.

He’d always prided himself on his ability to remain objective with his co-workers. What was it about Emily, then, his latest employee, that allowed him to step over lines that he’d drawn years ago?

Stop!
his conscience urged him, even as he tore his mouth from hers to continue his assault down along her jaw to her neck and from there to the place where the water met her breastbone.

Small, mewling sounds of pleasure coming from deep within her throat only served to fuel his craving—a craving so voracious it threatened to drown him. Kneeling on the steps, between her legs, he grasped her head in his hands, and pulled her mouth back to his. Her soft, full lips blended perfectly with his, and he lost all rational idea of where his body ended and hers began.

It was okay, he told himself, feeling her hands twining around his neck, pulling him closer into the soft arch of her body. This was all just part of the plan. If they were really going to fool Roxanne, this research they were doing would come in handy.

Bull!
his conscience barked, louder this time. This was no experiment. She was beginning to get under his skin. Big-time. And before he damaged their tentative trust any more than he probably already had, he knew he had to stop now, or lose everything. Steeling himself against her potent allure, he slowly pulled his mouth from hers.

Gasping raggedly with frustration, he shook his head as if to clear the murky mess he’d just made, and wondered, now that he’d had a taste of heaven, how could he ever stay away?

Fool.

His conscience was playing hardball tonight.

Before he could change his mind, he gripped her upper arms firmly in his hands and hauled her up out of the water and onto the concrete deck. Emily gazed up at him, confusion mixed with hurt mirrored in her foggy expression.

Averting his eyes, Ty knew that if he didn’t look away, he’d haul her into the house and break every rule he’d ever made for himself, risking his career for a moment’s pleasure. He couldn’t let this happen. She was his employee, for crying out loud. His future at Connstarr rested on her willingness to help. And, homeless or not, he had the distinct feeling that this woman did not give her physical self lightly.

“I suppose we should probably call it a day,” he said gruffly, attempting to keep her at arm’s length, not trusting himself to be kind to her. The slightest bit of encouragement on her part and he would be lost. “I think that we’re probably as ready as we’ll ever be.”

She stared up at him, mortification written all over her lovely face. He could have kicked himself around the block for being such a heartless jerk.

“Uh, yes. Ready as we’ll ever be,” she repeated hollowly. “Good night,” she said curtly and, spinning on her heel, marched, shoulders square, into the house.

He stared after her, still suffering from a case of the bends, after forcing himself to surface so quickly from their kiss. Raking his hands over his face, he fell into the pool and let himself sink to the bottom. It was for the best, he decided, watching the tiny air bubbles that escaped from his mouth float toward the pool’s shimmery light. He’d be damned if he was ever going to treat someone in his employ the way Roxanne treated him.

Pushing off the floor of the pool, he soared to the surface and gasped for air. What an idiot. If he knew what was good for him, he would arrange for a red-eye to Boston that night. This situation was getting crazier by the minute. Last week, he’d led a perfectly mundane life as a normal, hardworking businessman. This week, he was a fugitive from his lust-crazed boss, fighting a growing desire for a street person he’d found at the side of the road.

He dragged himself out of the water and ran a towel over his head. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what new insanity lay ahead for him tomorrow.

“Women,” he muttered, and headed into the house.

* * *

After peeling herself out of her wet swimsuit, Emily pulled the new lacy nightgown Ty had purchased for the cruise over her still-damp skin. Leaning into the bathroom sink, she splashed cold water on her face in an effort to still the inferno that raged in her cheeks.

What in heaven’s name had prompted her to throw herself at her new boss that way? she wondered, shuddering at her wanton behavior in the pool. He obviously thought she was no better than the oversexed Roxanne. The look of disgust on his face as he’d sent her off to bed, like some kind of recalcitrant child, told her that.

Groaning, she stuck her whole head under the icy spray, and bit her lower lip in shame. When would she ever learn? Her sister was always accusing her of rushing headlong into what she fancied to be love.... And as much as Emily hated to admit it, her sister was always right.

But still, there was something decidedly different about her reaction to Tyler Newroth. She pulled her head out of the frigid water and ran a towel over her hair. Glancing up into the mirror, she could see where the stubble from his beard had turned her lips and cheeks a soft pink. Her heart did a full gainer with a half twist as she thought about their intimate swimming lesson.

BOOK: Weekend Wife
7.79Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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