In The Best Man's Bed

“Last night,” he said, scooping his son into his arms.

“You didn’t kiss me good night!”

“Of course I did. But you were sleeping so soundly, you didn’t know.”

“I’m scared when you go away, Papa.” The sweetly-rounded arms crept around his neck and held on tight. “What if you forgot to come home again?”

“Don’t be scared, mon petit,” he said. “Parents never forget to come back to their children.”

“They do, sometimes. I heard Tante Josephine say that’s why I don’t have a mama.”

Damn you, Lisa! Inwardly cursing his ex-wife, he said, “You’ll always have me, son,” and made a mental note to remind his aunt to watch her words around the boy.

Adrian wriggled to the floor and tugged at his hand. “Teach me to swim some more, Papa.”

His glance slewed back to the pool. She’d ventured in a little farther and was floating on her back, with her hair fanned out around her head like the tentacles of a pale sea anemone. Just as well she wasn’t expending much energy. Any sudden movement, and she’d lose the flimsy excuse for a bathing suit clinging precariously to her frame.

To her very slender, distractingly feminine frame.

He turned away, annoyed again. “Not right now, son. Later, perhaps.”

“But you said you would as soon as you came home again. You promised! And you’ve been home for hours!”

“You’re right.” He sighed, accepting defeat.

“And you told me it’s bad to break a promise.”

“Right again.” He buried a smile. “Okay, you win. Give me ten minutes to clean up and change, and we’ll have a quick lesson before breakfast.”

Perhaps she’d be gone by then, and they’d have the pool to themselves.

The water lapped around her like warm cream. Very pleasant, very relaxing. I could make a habit of this, she thought, stretching luxuriously and breathing deeply of the flower-scented air. Given enough time and exposure, I might even learn to enjoy it.

From within the house came the faint clink of dishes and the whispery sound of soft-soled shoes hurrying over marble-tiled floors. She had no idea of the time, but it occurred to her that if the servants were readying breakfast for the family, she should vacate the premises. She had no wish for further contact with Ethan Beaumont. She’d seen enough of him, for one day.

But even as she rolled over and swam sedately toward the steps at the corner of the pool, a child in bright blue swimming trunks came roaring across the terrace, squealing with glee the whole time. And right behind him came Ethan.

“Wait!” he called out.

But the child either didn’t hear or chose not to, and with another squeal, shot through the air like a bullet and landed practically on top of her. The relatively calm surface of the water churned in a turbulent froth, smacking her in the face and blinding her. Choking, she lunged for the side of the pool, misjudged the distance, and went under.

To panic when she knew all she had to do was stand up and she’d find herself only waist-deep in water was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop her from flailing and thrashing around like a wild thing. The humiliation of that exhibition, though, paled beside the insult of suddenly finding herself being hauled upright by the hair.

Spluttering, she surfaced again and came eyeball to eyeball with Ethan Beaumont. He knelt on the tiled deck, his mouth quivering with suppressed laughter. “Idiot!” he said softly.

“Caveman!” she spluttered. “Do you make a habit of dragging women around by the hair?”

“Only when they’re in danger of drowning or otherwise causing themselves grievous bodily harm.” Releasing her, he rose smoothly to his feet, and she saw that he’d exchanged the denim shorts for black swimming trunks which showed rather more tanned skin than she felt able to cope with at that moment. “Stay put and I’ll give you a lesson on water survival.”

“No, thanks,” she told him, but she might as well have saved her already tortured breath. He’d turned away and was striding to the other end of the pool, and any inclination she might have had, to escape while she could, faded as she watched him. Tall, broad at the shoulder and narrow at the waist, he moved with the sort of masculine grace few men possessed.

A splashing at her side drew her attention to the child treading water furiously to stay afloat. “That’s my papa,” he panted, his sweet little face beaming with pride. “He can teach you to swim. He can do everything.”

Perhaps not everything, she thought, swinging her gaze back just in time to see Ethan Beaumont dive into the pool so cleanly that he barely caused a ripple, but I can see why his son might think so. The man is frighteningly competent.

He surfaced next to her, his hair seal-dark against his skull and water streaming down his torso in sparkling rivulets. “Lesson number one,” he said. “Learn to be comfortable with your face submerged.”

“It’ll never happen,” she said flatly. “At least, not with me.”

“That’s what Adrian said, in the beginning. But he soon changed his mind.” He looked at her inquiringly. “Have you met my son?”

“Not formally. I’d hoped to meet him last night, but by the time we’d finished dinner, it was past his bedtime.”

“Then allow me to introduce you now.” He extended his arm for the child to grasp. “This is Adrian, who just turned five.”

“Hello, Adrian.” She smiled at him. He was a beautiful child, black haired like his father and with huge dark brown eyes fringed in long black lashes. “I’m Anne-Marie.”

He smiled back, but Ethan frowned disapprovingly. “I prefer that he call you Mademoiselle.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she didn’t care what he preferred, but decided it was something better said when they didn’t have an audience. So, keeping her smile in place even though doing so made her face ache, she said, “I should be getting back to my quarters. Solange is surely awake by now, and wondering where I am.”

“No hurry,” he said, clamping his free hand around her wrist. “I sent a message for her to join us for breakfast on the terrace. She should be here any moment. We’ll make use of the time until she arrives, and start your swimming lesson. Now, to begin—”

“I’m sure you mean well, Ethan,” she said, taking private delight in the way his mouth tightened at the familiarity, “but just as you have your preferences, so do I have mine. And I prefer not to take advantage of your offer, especially not if it means leaving your son to his own devices when he’s clearly expecting to spend this time with you.”

He released her just long enough to boost Adrian onto the pool deck and murmur something in his ear which sent the boy scooting over to a canopied stall loaded with towels and swimming paraphernalia. Then, turning his attention back to her, he said implacably, “Adrian doesn’t mind waiting a few minutes. So, to begin, I’ll fit you with a face mask. That way, you’ll be able to see under water without discomfort to your eyes.”

“I don’t want a face mask. I don’t want a lesson. How much more plainly do I have to put it?”

“You’re afraid.”

“Yes, I’m afraid. Is that all right with you?”

“No, it isn’t. As long as you’re cavorting in pools on my property, I’m responsible for your well-being. I could ensure it by forbidding you to use them, but in this climate they’re less a luxury than a necessity. So for your own comfort and my peace of mind, I must insist you allow me to teach you the rudiments of water safety.” He paused and surveyed her mockingly. “If a five-year-old can master them, surely a woman your age can at least try to do likewise?”

For a moment, she glared at him without replying, but already the heat was intense and she knew that, as the day progressed and the sun climbed higher in the cloudless sky, it would only get worse. So when it became obvious he wasn’t about to accept silence as an answer, she said grudgingly, “Much though I loathe to admit it, it’s possible you’re right. On all counts.”

He selected one of the two masks Adrian had dropped on the side of the pool, declared with irritating superiority, “Of course I am, so let’s get on with it,” then proceeded to clamp the wretched contraption snugly over her face, and adjust the strap holding it in place. “How does that feel?”

“Fine, I suppose,” she said, vibrantly conscious of his touch and the proximity of their near-naked bodies. Although harmless enough on the surface, there was something implicitly intimate about the situation.

“Excellent!” Quickly, he slipped on the other mask, and taking her by both hands, backed away from the steps.

Instantly, the fear grabbed at her. “Don’t pull me into deep water!” she begged, resisting him.

“Relax, Mademoiselle! All we’re going to do is remain perfectly still and look at the bottom of the pool, like so….” He took a breath, lowered his face into the water, blew out a stream of bubbles, then raised his head. “Very simple, very safe, yes?”

“You make it look easy.”