close to him.
“Ten,” he said. “Want me to wait till you catch up?”
“That’s a good handicap,” Lauren said rashly. “I’ll race you one lap.”
His raised eyebrows hardened her resolve. Then he smiled, a slow, warm smile that made her want to touch his wet cheek with her hand. “You’re on. We’ll start from a racing dive at that end.”
He swung up easily onto the deck, then pulled her smoothly up beside him. “You call it,” he offered.
Lauren took her stance. “One two, three—dive!”
She sensed that he hit the water a fraction of a second later than she did. He had given her that small advantage, but he wouldn’t hold back, she thought. Then all conscious thought was suspended as Lauren worked her body through the water with every ounce of skill and training and willpower she had. She might not win, but by God, Michael would know he had been in a race.
She reached the end of the pool too quickly and twisted into her best racing turn. As she flashed out for the return length, she caught a glimpse of a bronze arm cutting the air a few feet away. Michael was level with her. Grimly Lauren stroked, giving it the extra surge her swim coach had taught her to use. Michael didn’t know it, but he was racing with a girl who might have made the Olympic team at sixteen, if her parents had not refused to permit her to attempt to qualify. And she’d spent an hour swimming nearly every day of her adult life.
She slapped her hand on the edge of the pool, only to see a big brown hand come down at exactly the same minute. Then, panting and starting to laugh helplessly, they clung to the deck and faced each other.
“You are some classy lady, Lauren Rose,” Michael said, pushing his black hair off his forehead. “And before you ask me, no, I didn’t let you win.”
“You could have beaten me if the pool were a couple of meters longer,” Lauren admitted. “That was my best effort.”
Michael shook his head admiringly. “It was good. I had no idea I was in the company of a swimming master, or is it mistress?” he amended, with the warm, wide grin. “Want to go another few laps for fun?”
Lauren was suddenly tired. “I’ll give it a pass this time,” she said, turning to the ladder.
Michael swung up on the deck and extended both hands. “Want a lift?”
She didn’t, actually. The sight of that wet, bronzed body, firm and well-muscled, with a mat of black hair tapering down to his brief black trunks like an arrow sent alarms off along her nerves. She really didn’t know who he was, or what had been his purpose in looking for her the night before. Still, she had to admit he hadn’t sought her out this morning. She’d found him. Taking his hands, she drove down powerfully with her feet as he lifted. She shot up onto the deck in a movement as graceful as a ballet dancer’s.
He caught and held her for just a moment, to make sure she was steady on her feet. That brief contact of wet skin to bare wet skin sent a charge through Lauren’s body. It had been a long time, she realized, since she had felt just that special thrill of awareness of a male. No, to be honest, she had never felt it before. Whatever Al’s other strengths, he had never made her so conscious of her sexuality—so aware of herself and almost frightened. She turned quickly to pick up her towel.
“You’re very beautiful.” The deep voice was softly abrasive, stirring her to unwilling response. She peered at him above the towel she was drying her face with. He wasn’t smiling; his gray eyes were openly assessing as much of her body as he could see. Lauren remembered she was wearing one of her own designs, a one-piece, well-cut-out suit that flattered a full figure more than a bikini did. It was a curving blend of violet, blue, and rose in a flowing line that made the most of her rounded breasts and hips without neglecting her small waist. It was short enough to make her legs look long and graceful. It gave her confidence now, in the face of the man’s declaration of her beauty.
“Thank you,” she said simply, with a rather tentative smile.
“I wish you’d call me Mike,” he requested.
“Thanks for a good workout, Mike,” Lauren said, catching up her robe