“Whaddaya say, V? Quaint couple or obnoxious newlyweds?”
“You can’t be serious.” Oh, he was serious all right. As a death sentence. She could read at least that much about him. Trying another tack, she said, “You’re not even in your suit.”
“Last I checked, the ocean didn’t have a dress code.” Starting at the top, he began unbuttoning his shirt, exposing several inches of gloriously tanned skin with each flick of his fingers. He kicked off his sandals, shrugged out of his shirt, and dropped it on the stool without ever taking his eyes from her. “Come swimming with me.”
Good Lord, he was stunning. Vanessa had dated plenty of guys, and some of them were in impeccable shape, but not one of them held a candle to the man standing in front of her. He looked like a bronzed god, all muscled and toned.
Broad shoulders framed a defined chest with dark, flat nipples she’d like to flick her tongue over. His torso, completely smooth and hair-free, lent complete access to the visual treat that were the hills and valleys of his abs. And those obliques that arrowed in a V to taper down to his— Oh, damn, snap out of it, Nessie.
“I could just thwart your attempts at affection, you know.” Holy shit, she couldn’t stop! A swim actually sounded amazing. Water had never looked so inviting. But for the life of her, she couldn’t accept the invitation without eliminating all the possible outs first.
“You could. But then people would get the impression Reid and Lucie were on the rocks before they even get hitched.” He winked. “What else you got?”
Nothing, that’s what. A big. Fat. Nothing. And if something deep inside her started jumping for joy, it was only because she wanted to wade into the Pacific waves. Not because she wanted to have fun with her best friend’s older brother.
“Fine, I’ll play it your way. I was planning on swimming later anyway, so all I’m doing is moving up my own plans.”
Untying the knot at her hip, she removed her sarong and crossed the few feet to where he stood. She tossed it over his head and kept walking past him toward the edge of the water, making sure that her hips swayed like a supermodel on a Paris catwalk. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the very thing she’d hoped for: Jackson, clutching her sarong and staring after her with an awestruck look on his face. She didn’t bother hiding her smug satisfaction when she called back, “Now who’s not ready for a swim?” and then dismissed him as she waded into the waves lapping at the beach.
The warm water felt heavenly, and the sand squished between her wriggling toes. Her long curls whipped around her face in the salty ocean breeze. Just as she tucked the sides behind her ears, a pair of muscled arms grabbed her from behind and yanked her off her feet. She squealed in protest and tried to squirm free, but her annoying assailant refused to listen to her pleas for release. Probably because she couldn’t stop herself from laughing as he splashed into deeper waters.
“Jackson, come on, put me down!”
“Not on your life, MacGregor. You’re a cruel woman teasing me like that, and you need to be punished.” Then he unceremoniously tossed her into an ebbing wave.
She sank under the surface, but then quickly pushed up from the bottom. As she sprang to her feet, the salty water streamed into her mouth and she spit it out, pushing the hair out of her face and taking in big gulps of air. It didn’t take her long to find the giant of a man standing a couple feet away, laughing his ever-loving ass off.
Narrowing her eyes, she sank back under the water, grabbed his ankles, and yanked them toward her as hard as she could before breaking through the top of the water…just in time to see the end of his backward fall. The ensuing splash drenched her again, but it didn’t wash away her smile as he resurfaced and used his hands to squeegee his face.
His look of surprise morphed into the evil grin of a predator homing in on his prey. Lowering his arms out to his sides, he flexed his fingers like he was preparing to draw his guns at high noon or ready himself for an epic takedown. Since he wasn’t wearing a hip holster with his cargo shorts, she assumed it to be the latter.
She started to back up, one slow step at a time. But every time she stepped back, he stepped forward. “Jackson, I only returned the favor. We’re even now.” Another step back. Another step forward. “Come on, what’s fair is fair, right?” Another step. A quick glance to gauge the distance to the safety of the bar. Damn it. Too far. And he knew it.
Mischief danced in his eyes, and the devil drew up the corners of his lips. The low rumble of his laughter made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
“Jackson?”
“Run, little rabbit,” he said. “Run.”
Vanessa whispered a curse and spun around to make a break for the beach. An attempt that proved to be as futile as they’d both known it would be.