the greenish blue water they were moving through on their test run, just beyond the surf line.
“Did you think to make certain I can swim?”
Joaquin looked over at her, his expression inscrutable behind his sunglasses. “You can’t?”
“I manage to stay afloat and travel short distances, but I’m not tackling the English Channel any time soon.”
A grin broke over his face. “I’ll keep you safe.”
As if! Nothing was safe when she was with him. Somehow he pried out her secrets. Somehow he incited her passion.
Straightening her shoulders, she sniffed. “Thank you,” she said, trying for dignified. “But I’m sure I’ll do just fine on my own.”
“I’m sure you will,” he murmured, throwing her another grin. “If we capsize you’ll float just fine on that stiff spine of yours.”
She sniffed again and refused to dignify the remark with any reply. The Continental Butler Academy had instilled in its pupils the idea that a sober reserve could smooth over the most strained of circumstances. And she was feeling quite strained right now, shoulder-to-shoulder with Joaquin Weatherford, the man who became less superficial to her with every conversation.
“Just relax, Sara,” Joaquin said.
But how could she, when not only was she too close to her employer, but she’d left the Nueva Vida unlocked and unattended, unless the nearby presence of little Lulu counted? Glancing in its direction over her shoulder, her breath caught.
“Oh,” she said.
Seeing the place from this new angle caught her off guard. How lovely it looked, with all the flowering bushes and the healthy green of the close-cropped lawn. She’d selected the umber-and-white striped material for the outdoor cushions and umbrellas herself, and they looked especially fresh and appealing from this distance. A matching sunshade shielded the master bedroom balcony, and she approved of the angle it created.
“It’s very nice, Sara,” Joaquin said, proving how good he was at reading minds. “What you’ve done with the house and the grounds.
“Thank you.” She returned her attention forward again. “I…I’ve been gratified by my work getting it into tip-top shape.”
He continued to study her face. She felt his gaze, but drew her butler reserve around her as protection.
“Is it that buoy?” she asked, pointing ahead.
The agreed-upon route was to circle the floating marker and then race back to the beach. Essie and RJ were idling in the water just ahead, waiting for Sara and Joaquin to get into the start position.
“Yeah. Ready to go?”
Biting her lip, she wiggled on the hard seat and hoped her legs didn’t give out too soon. “Okay,” she said, mostly to herself. “Ready.”
Joaquin bumped his shoulder to hers. “You don’t have to take the race so seriously, you know.”
She glanced at him, his handsomeness making her stomach hurt. “You don’t want to win?”
His grin spread wide and white. “I want to kick teenage butt.”
“Since I’m at your service,” Sara said, “then that’s what we’ll do.”
He laughed and she allowed herself a smile and then they caught up to the kids’ boat and the competition was on. Sara’s muscles screamed at her as she frantically tried to do her part in the pedaling. Essie and RJ took an early lead, but Sara kept her eyes on the prize. They were nearly neck-and-neck as they rounded the buoy, but as the kids had the inside track they once again were ahead as they aimed the boats toward the beach.
Just as she and Joaquin were gaining on them, the teens’ boat went strangely still. She glanced at Joaquin, saw him frown.
“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked as they came alongside the other vessel.
Without answering, the teens rose from their seats. At the same instant Sara registered they each held pails brimming with sea water, the contents were flung in their direction.
Sara sputtered, breathless from the sudden wet and cold.
Equally drenched, Joaquin called out a pleasant, “Brat!” but then made an abrupt lunge for his sister as if to drag her out of her boat. Essie laughed, struggling to keep away from her brother’s grasp, which only made him lean farther toward her as he delivered dire threats about introducing her to Davy Jones’s locker.
But it was Sara who went over the side.
One second she was riding the rocking boat and the next it tipped the teens’ way again and then tipped back, sliding her, like an oyster out of the shell, into the freezing ocean. For a moment she sank, shocked by the sudden change in circumstances, then her feet kicked, shooting her upward. As her head breached the surface, Joaquin’s hands