he was direct. Bordering on rude. And he made her feel as if she were doing something bad—just by his tone. She’d hate to be on the witness stand with him on the cross-examination team.
‘Roasting peanuts. What do you think?’ OK. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to start the day with her new boss, but really.
Those gold flecks in his eyes sharpened. ‘You like them dry roasted?’
‘Yeah, with lots of salt.’
‘I prefer mine honey coated.’
Well, bully for him. She grimaced. She bet he had a million wee honey-coated peanuts in his little black book.
‘You swim for exercise?’ His gaze quickly skimmed over her again.
‘I swim because I like it.’ Despite the fact he had the knack for getting her back up faster than anyone she’d ever known, he also had the ability to turn her on faster than anyone too—just like that. Just by standing there, too close. Too naked.
She felt mightily glad he had that towel draped round his waist. The mental images in her mind were dangerous enough. Speedos or shorts? Her brain presented a slide show of the various options. As the water trickled off him, she tried really hard not to watch the path of each droplet down the honed muscles. Whoever would have imagined the body he had going on under that shirt and tie? Incredibly broad shoulders, tight pecs and a light scattering of chest hair that traced down the defined six-pack abs and disappeared below the towel, an arrow leading to…well.
The silence had been a little long again so she jerked her attention back to his face instead of his body and broke it. ‘You swim for fitness?’
He nodded. ‘Always have. Used to compete. I swim here every morning and sometimes I swim in the outdoor pool near my work on my lunch break.’ That explained the smooth golden tan that showed off those muscles. She didn’t think he’d have the time for much sunbathing. She was impressed he actually took a lunch break. Then again, look what he did with it—worked out.
Competitive swimmer. Competitive lawyer. Over-achiever. No doubt about it, this guy was driven. And here she was wearing only the tiny bikini her sister had given her over summer. Her one item of designer clothing—a gorgeous hibiscus floral fabric cut in a way to flatter. Probably not standard indoor-pool attire if the serious one-pieces around were any indication.
‘I’ve never competed. I just like being in the water.’ She checked out the shoulders again. ‘You were swimming in the fast lane, I guess?’
He nodded. Yeah. He would’ve been one of the two battling it out.
‘You?’
‘Oh, you know. Slow lane. Nice and easy.’
She was selling herself short. OK style. Outrageous swimsuit. Daniel had spotted that flower-covered bikini stretching out up and down the pool. She had a good technique. She had a great body.
Daniel had had many an exhausting session in the pool but he’d never felt breathless the way he did that very moment. He felt mightily glad he had that towel draped around his waist. Clinging wet swim shorts weren’t much of a covering and with her standing so close like that his body threatened to show its appreciation of that bikini in the most basic way.
But he knew that already. The jeans and singlet top from yesterday had shown him that. But was it ever magnified today in the scraps of material clinging to her now. That bikini belonged on the beach. Preferably a private one with just him for company and a couple of refreshing drinks because, oh, boy, were they going to need them after…
He blinked. He wasn’t having an erotic fantasy in the middle of a public pool, was he? He blinked again. Yes. Impossible not to when confronted with the vision of temptation before him right now. Her hair hung down her back in a loosely coiled thick wet rope. It gleamed darker when wet. As he’d suspected the day before, the tan was all-over-body. And the body was ripe—lush curves that threatened to spill out over the bikini bra cups. Soft rounded flesh peaked to hard nipples. He knew they were only budded from the cold of the water, but they were begging for a hot mouth to cover them, draw them in and tease them. His.
Frowning, he looked down, determined to shake this surge of inappropriate lust. No cowboy boots this time. Instead he saw perfectly painted toenails. Vixen red. Now that was appropriate.
He needed to get this conversation back on an even keel. ‘I’m going in to the office but I’ll see you at the club later.’
‘Sure. I’ll be there with bells on.’
That wasn’t an image he needed right now. Not when he saw her decorated with tacky Christmas bell earrings on and nothing else.
He hesitated. ‘You’re OK to get back home?’
‘Of course. You’re going straight to work from here?’ She looked surprised. Well, it was only coming up seven a.m. now.
He shook his head. ‘No, I live on the parade. I always get a coffee at the café halfway along, then head home to change and get to work.’ He didn’t know where the suggestion came from; all he knew it was out of his mouth before he’d had the chance to think and keep it shut. ‘Why don’t you come with me and talk me through your plan of attack for the club?’ He added a final bit to ensure he was coming on the boss, not just coming on. ‘I’m assuming you’ve made some plans and have more ideas since last night?’
‘Of course. I have a list to get on with today.’ She wasn’t looking at all comfortable. He realised she was still dripping wet and hadn’t even had the chance to wrap her towel around her. Hell. He was stalling so he could check her out some more in that glorious bikini. Big mistake. Lust city was not his destination this week. He had a case to work and an obligation to fulfil for his cousin.
Mind you, she was hardly snapping up his offer. If anything she looked threatened. Why? She fidgeted—definitely uncomfortable. What was she hiding?
‘Come on. Go get dressed. I’ll get you a coffee. You look like you could use it.’
Her colour had drained, leaving her looking tired. More than a little intrigued, he gave her no chance to refuse. ‘I’ll meet you out the front in twenty minutes.’
She surprised him by being there in fifteen. He’d anticipated she’d be twenty minimum. But, no, she strode out of the change room only a second after he’d exited the men’s. Her hair, still damp, hung in wild waves down her back. He’d said he preferred a more combed look. He’d lied. His fingers itched to rake through the mass, he ached to feel the strands trail across his face.
Her equilibrium appeared to be restored and the edgy look was back in her eyes. The look that said, Cross me and I’ll have something to say about it. He liked to cross—he liked the sparring they’d had so far. Chin high, she raised her brows at him. Accepting her challenge, he turned and headed towards the door, expecting her to walk with him. She did. Satisfaction kicked. Adrenalin burned.
He stretched out at his usual pace—fast. He liked to know where he was going and he liked to get there. Her legs were moving faster, he couldn’t help the sidelong glance to check the way her hips swayed in the tight denim. ‘I’m not going too fast for you, am I?’
‘Generally I prefer to take things a little easier, but I can keep up.’ She shot him a look. ‘I know you’re busy.’
He answered at face value, pretending to ignore the little dig. ‘Time is precious. Often I have my dictaphone with me and work on the walk.’
‘A multitasking man?’ she gushed. ‘You amaze me.’
He grinned. ‘Oh, I have a lot of talents.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
The morning was bright and clear. The sun spread in sparkles on the water, the wind was non-existent and Daniel felt invigorated. He held the door for her at the café. She walked through it as if she’d never expected anything else. Matching him for putting on