The Gentleman Rancher

She walked back up the steps, to the decorative tile edging the swimming pool. Standing there, running her foot across the surface of the water, she seemed to be weighing her next move. Ever so slowly, she directed her glance at him. “Then why aren’t you staying there?”

Jeremy wished people would stop asking him that. It was all he’d heard for the past two years. He let his shoulders rise and fall. “It doesn’t have any indoor plumbing at the moment.”

She strode toward Jeremy and looked at him as if he were an idiot. “You bought a place with no working plumbing?” Disbelief resonated in her low tone.

“I figured I’d get the septic tank replaced eventually and in the meantime it has…portable…accommodations for emergencies.”

“You have a port-a-potty on your property?”

“It was either that or build an outhouse. This seemed more practical.”

“I’ll bet.” She edged closer still. She seemed to be regarding him with the same fascination she would have shown an unfamiliar species in the Houston zoo. “Just out of curiosity… what was the deal-maker on the property?”

That, Jeremy thought, was easy. He gestured expansively. “It had to be a ranch and it had to have a water view.”

Taylor chewed on her lower lip. “I get the wanting to live on the water thing.”

Jeremy wasn’t surprised. Water had always soothed Taylor as much as it relaxed him.

“I don’t get the ranch.” She peered at him through narrowed lashes. “You’ve never been a cowboy.”

Nor did he intend to raise cattle, horses or any other form of livestock. He angled his thumb at the center of his chest. “I’m a gentleman rancher. And I wanted acreage around whatever home I purchased for privacy reasons.”

She tilted her head, considering. “Does it have a pool?”

“It’s got a dock…and private access to the lake,” Jeremy related with pride.

Without warning, she looked down into the water and smirked. “Nice.” She took her sweet time lifting her gaze to his. “What happened to your swim trunks?”

Jeremy grimaced, trying to ignore the way the blood was rushing to his lower half. All she’d have to do was look down again and she’d know exactly what was on his mind—at least subconsciously.

“They’re in the house.” He kept his voice casual, his eyes on hers. He smiled slowly, offering, “If you want to go and get them for me…”

Contrary as ever, Taylor replied, “Can’t say as I do.” Hips swaying lightly, she sauntered back to the opposite side of the pool, began emptying the pockets on her capri pants. She set lipstick, keys, a receipt or two, and some change down on a glass-topped patio table. Jeremy’s throat went dry at the thought of her stripped down, too. He cleared his throat, regarding her steadily. “Tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

Amusement rippled in her voice. “What do you think I’m doing?”

He flashed her a cryptic smile. “Taking off your clothes.”

“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.”

Treading water—naked—while she was standing up there, observing him, was tough enough. Having her in the pool with him… A chill of intense awareness rippled through him. “You don’t want to do this,” he insisted.

She smirked again, not the least bit dissuaded. “You only think that because you don’t have a clue how hot I am.”

Once again, Taylor O’Quinn was dead wrong. He had always known how sexy she was. It just hadn’t been a good idea, getting romantically involved with another first-year med school classmate.

He played it safe. Noncommittal. “I’m serious, Taylor.”

She chose to ignore the unsubtle hint. “So am I.” She lifted her arms above her head and engaged in a languid whole-body stretch. “If the sight of a naked woman bothers you—and it really shouldn’t, given how many years you’ve been a doctor now—then turn your back.”

And miss the show? No way!

He studied her, not believing she would really stand there and strip in front of him.

Then again, with the swiftness with which her capris and T-shirt had just come off… Clad only in a pale pink bra and panties that revealed a hell of a lot more than they covered, she reached around behind her.

Blood surged, low and fast. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with what she was about to uncover. In medical school, they’d had to practice giving other students physicals, before they examined any real patients. Jeremy and Taylor had been in the same Introduction To Clinical Medicine section. Hence, they’d both seen each other and eight other fellow students in states of undress. The experience had been humbling and instructional. It hadn’t been arousing—they’d been learning the art of being a doctor.

This was different. This was no classroom setting. He wasn’t in doctor mode. Nor was she…

He swore, then reluctantly gave her the privacy she deserved and turned his head.

Seconds later, the water splashed with the force of a clean, graceful dive. She swam along the bottom of the pool and came up, on the opposite side.

TAYLOR WATCHED Jeremy’s eyes widen as her shoulders broke the surface and he focused on the bra straps clinging to her. She couldn’t help it, she started to laugh.

She waggled her eyebrows at him. “Faked you out, didn’t I?”

“It would seem I’m the only one at a disadvantage, here.”

And Taylor wished like heck he wasn’t.

Seeing Jeremy’s buff body, even through the soft illumination of patio lamps and the filter of water, was a jolt to her system. Six foot two and muscled…everywhere. His broad shoulders and long limbs were all male, and imposing enough to make her feel out of her depth here. His hair was a very dark brown with the barest hint of red. These days the damp strands were on the short side, maybe an inch and a half long, and styled in the cut so popular with professional guys his age. But there was nothing usual about the high cheekbones and eloquent brow of his angular face. A blunt masculine nose topped an even more rugged jaw and the don’t-toy-with-me set of his lips.

She’d always been attracted to him physically, even when she couldn’t say they respected each other very much. Unbidden, the memory of the last time they had seen each other and the harsh words they had exchanged, returned.

“You’re making a mistake, Taylor. Don’t do it… Don’t quit!”

Disillusionment filtered through her at the memory of that angst-ridden time in her life.

Jeremy swam closer. “I guess this is the point where I congratulate you on your success as an author.”

It shouldn’t have mattered to her what Jeremy Carrigan thought. Any more than she cared about what her parents or her two surgeon-brothers thought of her career choice. To her chagrin, it still did. Taylor turned her gaze from the water beading on his sinewy shoulders. Struggling to ignore her reaction to his nearness, she sidestroked a short distance away. “You heard?”

Still treading water, Jeremy looked her square in the eye. “That The Guy Who Sailed Away and the Girl Who Found Herself is being turned into a movie starring Zoe and Zak Townsend?” He shoved a hand through his waterlogged hair. “It would have been hard not to know that, given how much it’s been in the news for the last six months.”

“The celebrity and entertainment news.”

“That’s still news.” He regarded her through squinted eyes. “So what’s next? Are you going to move out to Hollywood for good now? Write more books? More screenplays?”

She noted he didn’t seem to want her to do that now any more than he ever had. “No.”

“How come?”

She breast-stroked down to the opposite end of the pool and sat down on the lowest of the circular steps, so the majority of her body was covered by the soothing chill of the water. “I prefer writing novels to movie scripts.”

“Meaning what?” He studied her, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. “If they turn your next novel into a movie, you won’t write that screenplay, too?”