Worth the Risk_ A Contemporary - Megan Hart Page 0,16

but finely boned. He had sexy toes.

Putting her mind firmly back to the task at hand, Laila held out her hand and pulled him to a standing position. Hal groaned at the movement. His shirt, thankfully, fell down to cover him to his thighs, so she was spared the sight of him in his briefs.

"Where's your suit?"

"In my bag."

Silly question. Laila dug around until she found one, an outrageously skimpy black bikini bottom. She held it up. "This?"

Hal groaned again. "Keep looking. That's--the special bathing suit."

Laila couldn't help it. She laughed. "Special for what?"

Hal merely glared at her, and she decided not to press him. She dug around further, pulling out neatly folded stacks of clothing. Hal's suitcase was like Mary Poppins' carpetbag: endless. Finally, she found another suit. This one was normal trunks with a Hawaiian print and drawstring.

"Do you think you can put this on by yourself?"

He nodded, gritting his teeth. "Go. Bathroom."

"Me? Or you?" He gave her another look and Laila felt cruel. "Okay. Just holler when you're ready and I'll come out. And while I'm in there, let me get you some aspirin or something. Please?"

He didn't speak, but only nodded. Men. Still, she felt bad for him. Her own thighs and ankles were sore from not riding in a while, and she hadn't been thrown into a watering trough to end the ride. She could only imagine how poor Hal felt.

Several long minutes later, he called that he was ready. Laila left the bathroom and handed him three red pills and a glass of water. "Take these."

He did. He'd managed to get his trunks on, at least, and his jeans. "Can we please go now?

"Can you make it?"

"Yes, Laila, I can make it."

"Just asking," she said.

By the time they'd walked the distance to the outdoor whirlpool, Hal was shaking and he'd taken her hand. Of course, he'd taken it in response to seeing her brother Mark and his wife Debbie coming down the path toward them, but he hadn't let go even after they passed. At this time of day, the gazebo and hot tub were deserted, though Laila suspected more than one pair of watchful eyes peeked at them from the windows in the lodge.

Hal sank into the water with a sigh of relief so great it was almost a sob. "Thank God."

"I'm sorry, Hal," Laila said sincerely. "We didn't have to go on the ride this morning."

The hot water seemed to be reviving him because he actually managed a smile. The sheer charm of it made her catch her breath. Laila looked away, concentrating on skimming off her clothes and dipping into the hot water before the cool air could do more than tickle her.

"You mean you didn't tell them I'm a champion rider as well as a champion proctologist?"

"No." Actually, she hadn't told them very much at all, though there'd been plenty of questions. She'd usually managed to duck the more probing ones. "You didn't do so bad."

He raised one eyebrow at her. "If you call getting tossed into a vat of slimy, freezing water not too bad, then I guess you're right."

He had a good sense of humor about himself. Laila liked that. Ian would never have admitted to being anything less than an athletic god. For him to do anything less than perfectly was impossible--at least in his own eyes.

"I hope I'm not interrupting the canoodling," interrupted a booming male voice.

"No, Uncle Ira. Of course not." Laila smiled weakly up at her grandfather's younger brother. "Are you coming in?"

The massive man with the infectious grin chortled. "If you two love birds don't mind."

"Not at all," Hal said. His voice had returned to normal.

The hot tub must be working for him.

"Hey, Myrna! Lou! Yetta! The kids aren't fooling around! C'mon in!"

All at once, the empty hot tub became nearly overcrowded as Laila's aunts and uncles joined them. What had seemed like gallons of water between she and Hal had shrunk to microscopic drops as they were pressed closer to one another to accommodate the crowd.

His thigh, delightfully rough with crinkly hair, slid against her smooth one. His hip nudged hers beneath the bubbling water. His calf--she could feel the muscles she'd so earlier admired--rubbed hers, slipped away, then snuck back again for another stroke. The water caressed them, tickled them, bubbled around and over them, bringing them together and forcing them apart.

Dear Lord, Laila thought somewhat faintly as the steam rose all around her with her family's laughter. I am getting