Lonergan's Secrets: Expecting Lonergan's Baby / Strictly Lonergan's Business / Satisfying Lonergan's Honour

She glanced around her and he knew what she was looking at. Emptiness. Except for the oak trees standing like solitary guardians around the ring of the lake, they were alone. The ranch was a good mile east of here, and the highway ten miles south.

“Look,” she said and dipped again, the water lapping at the tops of her breasts. “You’ve had your peep show, but it’s cold and I’m tired. I’d like to get out now.”

“Who’s stopping you?”

Her eyes went wide and dark. “Hello? I’m not getting out of this water with you watching me.”

Something like guilt nibbled at the edges of a conscience that was already too noisy. But he ignored it. Yes, he should look away, but would a starving man turn down a steak just because it was stolen?

“You could turn your back,” she said a moment later.

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Now, if I do that, how do I know you won’t hit me over the head with something?”

“Does it look like I’m carrying a concealed weapon?”

He shrugged. “A man can’t be too careful.”

She nodded, dipped low enough to have the surface of the water lap at her throat, then muttered, “Perfect. I’m naked and you’re the one threatened.”

A wind kicked up out of nowhere, rustling the leaves on the oaks until it sounded as if they were surrounded by a whispering crowd. She shivered and dipped even lower in the water, and another ping of guilt echoed inside Sam.

He tipped his head back to look at the star-studded sky before looking at her again. “It’s a nice night. Maybe I’ll camp out right here.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“No?” Beginning to enjoy himself, he pretended to consider it. “Maybe not. But the question remains. You getting out of the lake or do you know how to sleep while treading water?”

She huffed out a disgusted breath and slapped one hand against the water. “I’m getting out.”

“Can’t wait.”

“You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

“That’s been said before.”

“Color me surprised.”

“You’re still in the water.” He unfolded his arms and stuck both hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Must be getting pretty cold about now.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Told you I’m not going anywhere.”

She gave another quick glance around at the dark country surrounding them, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of the cavalry riding to her rescue.

“How do I know you won’t attack me the minute I get out of the lake?” she asked, eyes narrowed on him.

“I could give you my word,” Sam said, “but since you don’t know me, that wouldn’t be worth much.”

She studied him for a long minute and he had the weird sensation that she was looking far more deeply than he would like. But after another long minute she said, “If you give me your word, I’ll believe you.”

Frowning, he pulled one hand from his pocket and scrubbed the back of his neck. A beautiful, naked trespasser trusted him. Great. “Fine. You have it.”

She nodded, but another long minute or two ticked past before she started in toward shore. Something inside him quickened. Anticipation? Excitement? It had been long enough since he’d felt either, he couldn’t be sure. But the moment came and went so fast, he couldn’t explore it or even take a second to enjoy it.

Moonlight dazzled on her wet golden skin as she walked out of the water and up the short incline to where her clothes were stacked in a neat little pile. He watched her and felt a hot, pulsing need rush through him with enough force to stagger him.

She was tall and lean, with small, firm breasts, narrow hips and a tan line that told him she didn’t usually skinny-dip. He could only be grateful that she’d chosen to tonight. Somehow those tan lines made her nudity that much more exciting. Paler strips of skin against the honey-brown tempted a man to define the edges of those lines.

Desire stirred and heat pooled inside him.

She was magical in the moonlight, and it took everything he had to keep from grabbing her up and pulling her close. It was like watching a mermaid step out of the sea just long enough to tempt a man.

“You are amazing.”

She faltered slightly, then lifted her chin and stood tall and proud, no embarrassment, no hesitation. And Sam knew he should feel guilty for staring at her, taking advantage of the situation.

But damned if he could.

In seconds, she’d yanked on a T-shirt and stepped into a soft-looking cotton skirt that swirled around her knees as she bent to pull on first one sandal and then the other.

Hell, he should be thanking her. She’d taken his mind off the past, made facing this lake and the memories again much easier than he’d expected.

“Look,” he said as she straightened up, “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time, but seeing you here surprised me and—”

She slugged him in the stomach.

Didn’t hurt much, but since he was unprepared, all his air left him in a rush.

“I surprised you?” Maggie Collins grabbed her long brown hair, held the mass off to one side and quickly wrung the excess water from it before flipping it all over her shoulder again.

Amazing. He’d called her amazing.

She could still feel the flush of something warm and delicious as he watched her. It was as if she’d felt his touch, not just his gaze, locked on her. And for just one brief moment she’d wanted him to touch her. To feel his hands sliding over her wet skin.

Which only made her madder. She looked him up and down dismissively, then lifted her chin. “You rotten, self-serving, miserable…” Oh, she hated when she ran out of invectives before she was finished.

Inhaling sharply, she threw her shoulders back and gathered up her tattered pride. She’d about had a heart attack when she’d first seen him, standing on shore, watching her in the darkness. But the initial jolt of fear had subsided quickly enough the longer she’d looked at him.

Maggie’d been on her own long enough to develop a sort of radar that told her when she was safe and when she was in danger. And none of her internal warning bells had gone off, despite the fact that he hadn’t been gentleman enough to either leave or turn around.

He wasn’t dangerous.

At least not physically.

Emotionally—now that might be a different story. He was tall and gorgeous—already worrisome—and then there was the gleam in his dark eyes. Not just the flash of desire she’d seen and noted—but an undercurrent of something sad and empty. Maggie’d always been attracted to wounded guys. The ones with sad eyes and lonely hearts.

But after getting her own heart bruised a few times, she’d decided that sometimes there was a reason men were alone. Now all she had to do was remember that.