40-Love - Olivia Dade Page 0,1

Four things, to be precise.

First of all, she was fighting to catch her breath through her coughing, but that was temporary. No real problem there.

Second of all, the tall dude in the distance was looking in her direction, but he couldn’t see her clearly from so far away, and he turned his back to her again as soon as he ascertained she wasn’t drowning.

Thank Christ for that.

Because third of all, her goddamn bikini top was…gone. Totally, irretrievably gone. Nowhere in sight. Either the knot at her neck had unraveled or the top had simply slipped over her head while she was underwater.

And that was a real problem, because fourth of all, a group of freakin’ kids—why the hell were they up so early?—was suddenly splashing into the water, shrieking happily as they tried to dunk one another. A couple of them were carrying floats and boards, and they appeared bound for deeper water.

Where she was. Topless. A high school assistant principal on a family beach.

She could see the mugshot and the local news headlines now: Buoys of Terror: Assistant Principal Dunn Corrupts Innocent Children with Her Enormous, Naked Gozangas.

No school would make her principal then. Certainly not Marysburg High.

Crossing her arms, she tried to cover as much surface area as she could, but there was no hiding that amount of boobage. Anyone who came close would know she wasn’t wearing a top, even if they couldn’t spy her nipples.

The room keycard tucked into a secret pocket in her bikini bottoms wouldn’t help her now, and neither would the towel she’d carefully spread onto her chosen beach lounger. Belle was still asleep in their room.

Sure, Tess could move further out into the water until the kids left, but they might follow her. Besides, she wasn’t a strong swimmer, and Shark Week had left certain indelible impressions on her brain. From what she’d seen through her fingers, braving deeper waters meant becoming human sushi. And at some point she was going to have to return to shore, children or no children.

There was only one thing that could help her. One person.

Shit. This was going to suck worse than the school’s last audit.

Careful to keep both nipples covered with her right arm—a harder task than she’d anticipated, given how her boobs’ natural buoyancy and the waves made them shift in the water—she waved her left and raised her voice loud enough for Oblivious Guy to hear.

“Hey! Excuse me, sir!”

He didn’t move.

She tried again, abandoning diplomacy in favor of specificity. “You there! The really tall dude with the brown hair and that cowlick in the back!”

At that, he turned and squinted in her direction.

The children were getting closer, their shouts becoming ever more piercing.

“Yes, you! With the, um”—no other good descriptor came to mind, since water covered most of him, including his swimwear—“shoulders! And the face! Can you please come here?”

A lazy smile dawned on that face, a face she now realized—to her vast regret—was both handsome and smugly amused. Dammit, the last thing she wanted was help from a twenty-something bro. But it wasn’t as if she had much of a choice, did she?

“Thank you for noticing my best features.” He raised a cocky brow, moving a few steps toward her. “The ones you can currently see, anyway.”

He emphasized his vowels in a way she didn’t entirely recognize. The accent sounded kind of British, but not exactly. And was he…was he winking at her?

It didn’t matter. She could survive a bro, European or not; she couldn’t survive losing the principal job because of public indecency charges.

“Please come here!” she repeated, desperation in every syllable. A few dozen feet more, and those kids were going to see everything. Everything. “I need your help! Now!”

That self-satisfied grin still playing on his lips, he flicked her a salute. “On my way.”

Finally, he began a slow crawl in her direction, and God, she didn’t have enough time for this man-shaped tortoise to get up to speed. So she dove toward him and began—appropriately enough—a quick breaststroke, hoping the splashing of her arms and legs would disguise her topless state from any onlookers.

He arrived in front of her sooner than she’d expected, those long limbs propelling him through the water with enviable ease.

Then he stood, and water poured from his broad shoulders and glinted from his dark lashes as he scanned her up and down. Oh, Lord, he was tanned and muscular and way too pleased with himself.

Whatever. She only needed him for one simple task: grabbing a