Playing with Trouble - Amy Andrews Page 0,76

kid with people she didn’t really know. But she’d done it with Cole, hadn’t she? And Shannon and Caleb seemed like good, sensible people. They certainly didn’t look like they wanted to add an extra kid into the mix, so she didn’t think they’d try and snatch Finn.

Plus, they could see the playground from the pier.

She looked longingly at the lake, then at Cole, who was staring at her with an expression that she imagined the wolf was wearing when he looked at Little Red Riding Hood.

Her insides contracted at the possibilities.

“Okay, sure,” she said, dragging her eyes from Cole. “That’d be wonderful. We won’t be long.”

“Take as long as you need.” Shannon waved her hand dismissively. “We’ll bring him down to the lake when the kids are done playing if you want.”

With that decided, Jane called out a goodbye to Finn, who barely looked up, and she and Cole were walking down to the shoreline. She had the strongest urge to slide her hand into his as they walked side by side, but she quashed it, folding her fingers into her palm.

They weren’t Caleb and Shannon. They weren’t a couple. They weren’t together.

As soon as their feet hit the pebbly beach, Cole stripped off his shirt, tossed it on the sand along with his cane, and said, “Last one in is a rotten egg.”

Jane laughed at his less-than-speedy hobble, knowing she could probably take him if she wanted but preferring to watch his magnificent form as she undressed. He was dive-bombing into the lake as she ambled onto the pier, the boards warm on the soles of her feet.

“C’mon,” Cole called, treading water a dozen feet out from the end of the pier, grinning at her, his curly hair even springy when slicked back. He reminded her of Finn and his exuberance.

Walking to the end, excruciatingly aware of his eyes on her and maybe, just maybe putting a little extra swing in her hips, Jane executed a perfect dive with minimal splash. Cool water caressed her skin as she swam underwater for long moments. It was pure bliss—almost erotic—against her already sensitized flesh.

When she popped up not far from Cole, there was nothing she wanted more than to swim right into his arms and kiss him. But she was conscious of the eyes around them—the teenagers down the beach, Shannon and Caleb at the playground, and Finn.

So she splashed him instead, then took off, swimming back toward the pier. She heard his whoop and was conscious of him following her, and hell if she didn’t let herself be caught as he latched on to her ankle and dragged her backward.

“Gotcha,” he said as she faced him, and they smiled at each other, Jane’s heart flipping over as she splashed him a second time and was off again.

They messed around like that for a while, splashing and catching each other and tussling in the water. Hands grabbing, fingers sliding over cool, wet skin but not lingering—functional, impersonal touches only. But neither of them was wearing very much, and her body reacted constantly to every single brush of his skin on hers until she was in such a heightened state of alert she was surprised the lake wasn’t simmering all around her.

“We’d better go back,” she said reluctantly after about twenty minutes. Shannon said to take as long as they wanted, but Jane didn’t want to impose too long, and, frankly, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep her hands to herself.

She struck out for the pier, conscious of him following behind at a more sedate pace. When she reached it, she folded her arms on top of the boards to anchor herself in place and rested her chin on the warmed wood. The sun beat down on her exposed arms and shoulders, and she shut her eyes for a moment, reveling in the lick of heat on her shoulders and the coolness of water below her breasts.

Opening them again, Jane took in the scene on the shore. Down a way to the left, the teenagers were still messing around, and, off to the right, she could see the playground. Caleb was pushing one of the girls on the swing while Finn was on the seesaw with the other. His boyish laughter drifted toward her on the light breeze.

And then that all faded to black as a bulky forearm, roped with muscles, encircled her folded arms on the pier and a big hand slid around her middle, pulling her

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