“Well, come on, you gotta admit, that is some pretty fine underwear.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I suppose you’re an underwear expert?”
“No, not really.” He grinned. “Frankly, I prefer boxers to thongs. I’ve always thought thongs would be terribly uncomfortable. But you look like you do okay in yours, so maybe I’ll try them sometime.”
Nate almost regretted baiting her, but she had certainly provided the opening. Now, would she haul herself out of the pool and stalk away in a huff? Or did she have a real sense of humor to go with the killer curves?
Then he saw it. A heartbreakingly gorgeous grin curled her lips, her eyes sparkled, and she chuckled. He heard his own sigh of relief.
Beautiful. Sense of humor. And she’d saved his life. Could things get any better?
LACEY DIDN’T LIKE flirtatious men. Okay, well, that wasn’t quite true. She liked Raul, and heaven knew he loved to flirt. But Raul was different. As strange as it seemed, given his reputation with women, she considered him safe. Because he was her brother’s age…and her best friend.
This man, however, was far from safe. Gorgeous, sexy strangers with dimpled smiles who flirted and made her heart leap and her thighs quiver were definitely not safe.
She’d been shocked when she realized he was the man who’d caught her attention at the party. Within a few minutes she’d realized Raul had been messing with her—this guy was no bonehead. He was sexy, charming and gorgeous. She should have run for cover as soon as he made the mouth-to-mouth comment. Because that had put all kinds of interesting images in her mind!
Instead she continued to hold onto the side of the pool, wearing her sodden dress, which would probably never be free of the scent of chlorine, grinning at the mental picture of him in a thong. “I know of a site online that sells men’s thongs.”
“And you would know this because…”
“Because I bought a pair for a friend as a gag gift last year.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A friend?”
“A female friend who was getting married. She tells me if it hadn’t been for the yellow duck on the front, she might have been able to talk her husband into wearing them during their honeymoon.”
“I’m with him on that one.”
“I suppose you’d prefer your basic black.”
“It works so well for you. I’ll follow your example.”
Lacey should have felt like sinking beneath the water at the realization that this man really had been sitting here watching her on the trampoline. But she laughed again instead. “So do you make a habit out of sneaking peeks at strange women’s underwear?”
“You don’t seem strange. At least no stranger than anyone else at tonight’s gala,” he said earnestly. “Do you make a habit out of breaking into other people’s gyms during parties?”
“I was hiding out, like you,” she admitted. “I hate cocktail parties.”
“Me, too. Smiles on the lips, never in the eyes. Superficial conversations. Everybody on the make trying to find someone to hook up with who they won’t have to bump into at work the next week.”
He sounded sincere, which surprised Lacey. “That’s exactly how I feel.”
“I’d much rather be treading water in a soaking tuxedo.”
“Which is hopefully not rented.”
“It is.”
“I don’t think you’re going to get your deposit back.”
“Maybe I’ll buy it. This might prove to be my lucky suit.” Though his tone remained flirtatious, his eyes held a note of serious intensity.
He had beautiful eyes. Green with circles of gold at the center that Lacey somehow felt she could get lost in. They were rimmed by thick black lashes that were unfairly long for a man. And his mouth—that gorgeous, smiling mouth she’d fantasized about after seeing him across the room at the party—was every bit as intriguing close up.
Lacey almost wished she were a different type of person. The type of person who could lean forward and kiss a sexy stranger, because if she didn’t find out what his lips tasted like soon, she was going to lose her mind.
She wasn’t that type of person, however. She was responsible and conservative, restrained and professional. Any lapses with trampolines, thong panties or to-die-for strangers with amazing lips were genetic flukes, not the real her.
Were they?
“I guess we ought to get out and dry off,” she said, hearing a note of regret in her voice. “I imagine I’ve already been missed. I don’t exactly know how I’m going to get out of this one.”
“Can’t you just slip out, go home without saying anything?” He pulled himself out of the pool, then turned to lend her a hand, easily hoisting her up to stand in front of him on the pool deck.
Before she could reply, she watched as he dropped his gaze to her bare shoulders, no longer covered by the straps of her dress, which had loosened and fallen down her arms. She breathed deeply. His eyes followed the movement of her skin, studying her throat, then moved down to the curves of her breasts. Her heart picked up its pace, beating wildly inside her as this man touched every inch of her body with nothing but his heavy-lidded stare.
She knew she looked a hideous mess. She also knew he wanted her. Not having had much experience with men, Lacey couldn’t really say how she could be so certain. Perhaps it was the furrow in his brow, the way his chest moved as his breaths deepened. The way his tightly coiled body radiated heat and energy so powerful she almost felt it snapping across the scant inches separating them.
But he never touched her.
Finally, Lacey pulled her thoughts together, ordered her pulse to stop racing and took a quick step away from him. He shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind, and she knew he’d been as affected as she by the charged moment.
“No, I can’t just leave,” she said, finally answering his question. “It’s complicated.” She didn’t want complicated right now. For the past several minutes, since she’d leaped into the pool after a stranger, she’d felt uncomplicated pleasure. Sharing laughter and heated glances with a gorgeous man was much better than worrying about J.T.’s plans for the evening.
His plans certainly weren’t going to go over very well if she showed up wearing a soaking wet cocktail dress. How could he officially introduce her to Baltimore society and the magazine executives when she looked like a drowned rat?
“I think I’m going to need to call a friend for help.”
“I should do the same thing. Do you happen to have a cell phone? Mine’s a little wet.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a phone and a small tape recorder, both of which dripped water.
“There’s a phone over there by the door,” she said. “There’s
