the he—” A wave filled his mouth with dirty lake water. He spewed it out.
“Don’t...panic. I...have...you.”
Summer Delaney’s voice. What in the hell was going on? He twisted his torso to see what she was up to. Her arm slid under his chin and diagonally across his chest, catching under his armpit. She dragged him backward, giving everything she had to a sidestroke.
“Quit fighting me.” She spoke between strokes. “You’ll drown us both.”
She thought he was drowning? He started to tell her different, but his head was snuggled comfortably between her breasts, and the movement of her body against his was certainly pleasant enough. What the hell? He lay back and relaxed until he felt sand beneath him.
Summer crawled onto her knees, gasping for air, hovering over him. Her hand caught under his chin, tilting his head back. His mouth was already open. With a heave, she rolled him to his side.
He should stop her, but she moved so quickly and so efficiently, he found himself admiring her technique. If this had been a test, she would’ve aced it.
She’d managed to maneuver an arm under his side and had stretched out full length behind him, fists locked into place under his sternum.
“Are you mounting me, or are you about to perform the Heimlich?” He felt her stiffen.
Unfortunately, he’d done the same.
* * *
HIS VOICE DIDN’T SOUND LIKE any of the near-drowning victims she’d encountered. They gasped. They coughed. He...chuckled?
“Oh! You...you...” Her brain wouldn’t switch modes fast enough to supply her mouth with an appropriate moniker. She scrambled to her knees, still gasping from exertion, and pulled him onto his back.
His face wore a sober expression, but the side of his mouth twitched, and the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable.
Damn him! He was mocking her. Humiliation stung her cheeks. “You weren’t drowning.”
“No.” He smiled, and the early-morning sunlight brought a burnished glow to his tanned features. “But from the look on your face, you’d rather I had been.”
He leaned up and propped himself on his elbows, exposing a tattoo over his heart. Despite her curiosity, she wouldn’t allow her eyes to linger.
He didn’t feel the same way, apparently. When his gaze dropped from her face to her chest, his grin widened.
Summer followed his gaze. Her wet T-shirt and cotton bra, both white, had molded to her body, leaving very little to the imagination. She bristled. “A gentleman wouldn’t gawk.”
“My apologies, ma’am.” He gave the words an exaggerated drawl and sat all the way up, propping his arms on his bent knees. “That was good work, by the way. You did everything right.”
Normally, the praise would have assuaged her anger somewhat, but something about Rick Warren threw her emotional state completely out of whack. Suspicion reared its head. “Didn’t know I was being judged.” Surely, he wasn’t low enough to fake a drowning. Besides, he hadn’t been aware she was watching him. “If you weren’t drowning, what was with all the waving? What were you doing out there?”
He shrugged and cut his eyes away from her. “Just a ritual salute to morning.” The response didn’t quite ring true.
Damn, she was getting tired of General Warren’s secretive ways. Why all the mystery? What was he always writing in that folder, and why did he always close it when she approached? What was he hiding?
Probing would have to wait until she had more time. Right then, she would have to shower again and change clothes. The hair would have to live with the lake water in it until quiet time. And all because Rick Warren didn’t play by the rules he’d established.
“You shouldn’t be swimming alone for whatever reason.” She turned his own tables on him. “Rule number three. Never go anywhere near the water without a buddy.” Pulling her shirt away from her body, she stood. “You’ve broken the camp rules and set a bad example for the kids.”
“The kids aren’t up yet, and this is the only time I can work out.” He cocked his head toward her and raised a challenging eyebrow. “Would you like to be my buddy for the rest of camp?”
“Definitely not.”
“Didn’t think so.”
She heard his snort as she walked away, and her teeth clenched involuntarily. She stopped and turned back to him. “Hey, Mr. Assistant Director.” He swiveled his head toward her. “Can I just call you Ass for short?”
She didn’t wait for a response, just made another mental mark on the Problems with Rick Warren side of the board in her mind.