Slow Burn

He was getting out of the water, all six feet plus of him, asking someone to toss him a towel. Spencer got out, too, chin high, determined to keep her dignity intact.

Danny came toward her, offering her a towel, a grin and a thumbs-up sign. “I wasn’t worried,” he teased softly. Like Reva, he had a disposition like gold and an encouraging grin for everyone. He could be very serious, though. Danny wanted to change the world. He had always been the idealist in their crowd. “I guess I know you too well.”

He made her smile as she accepted the towel. “I’m not feeling much like a picnic anymore. I’m going to sneak away,” she told him.

“I’d sneak away, too, except I don’t want to go home,” he admitted. He wrinkled his nose. “Mom’s there with her bridge club discussing the charity auction.”

She grinned. “I’m not going home. I’m going to Sly’s. He’s down in Key West, looking at an old place some eccentric intends to save. I’ll have the house all to myself.”

She wanted to be alone. To lick a few wounds. Danny seemed to understand. Danny always seemed to understand everything. She never got an argument from him.

She slipped away quietly.

Sly didn’t live in a rich neighborhood, certainly not like the one her parents had chosen. His house was like his business—old. It was a testament to all that he did.

It was on one of the city’s oldest golf courses, with nice—but not outrageous—houses surrounding it. It was what they called “Old Spanish,” with lots of arches, balconies and a courtyard entrance, and another courtyard to the side, surrounding the pool, which was a fairly new addition. Sly liked golf, but he liked his privacy more.

Despite the air conditioner in her brand-new Jeep, Spencer arrived at the house feeling hot and sticky and cranky. She left the car in the driveway, brought in her grandfather’s mail and set it on the Victorian buffet in the entry. Sly lived quietly, without live-in help. And he believed strongly in the work ethic, though he had told Spencer he agreed with her parents and was glad she hadn’t taken a job through high school, because keeping her grades high was just too important. “Money can be lost, young lady,” he used to tell her. “I had friends who lost everything in the Great Depression, but you know what? Even then, some of them were left with something—and that was an education. They had the know-how to pick their fannies back up out of the dirt and get going again.” But he didn’t mind letting her work a bit for him, house-sitting when he needed it, keeping an eye on his mail and bills when he wasn’t there. She fed Tiger, his fat alley cat. The arrangement worked well for her. She loved his old place; she’d learned a lot about building from him, and she appreciated the craftsmanship of the place.

She climbed the stairs to the guest room and found one of her sleeveless summer dresses in the closet, and underwear in a drawer, and ducked down the hall to the main bath, where Sly had installed a whirlpool to add to the value of the home. She turned the water to hot and the jets up as high as they would go, then stripped off her bikini and sank in, hoping the warm water would ease away some of humiliation of her encounter with David. She sank down beneath the water, letting it soak her hair.

The next thing she knew, there were hands on her shoulders. She nearly inhaled the water, she was so frightened, but he jerked her out of the water too quickly. To her amazement she found herself staring at David Delgado, still damp, still in swim trunks, but unarguably right there with her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing now?” he demanded.

She stared at him, incredulous. “I was about to wash my hair!” she responded furiously.

“What?” He sounded stunned.

“What did you think I was doing?”

He looked taken aback. Abashed. Even embarrassed. “Damn it, Spencer, I knocked about twenty times. And when I came in and found you, you were underwater and you weren’t coming up!”

“You thought I was trying to drown myself. Over you? Oh, my God! And you’re supposed to be so wonderfully humble!” she seethed.

He sat back, balancing on his ankles. His teeth were clenched, his eyes narrowed. “You really are a piece of work, aren’t you, Spencer Anne Montgomery?”

She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to feel or hear his contempt. She stared straight ahead, belatedly realizing that she was naked and feeling terribly vulnerable. She hugged her knees to her chest. “Since you think so little of me, David Delgado, I’d appreciate it if you would let yourself back out of my grandfather’s house and leave.”

He stood. He was going to leave, she realized. Just like that. He was walking away. Of course, it was what she wanted him to do. Wasn’t it?

She stood up, wrenching a huge white towel from a nearby rack and winding it around herself. He was already out in the hallway, and she followed him. “Rich doesn’t mean evil, you know!” She felt as if she were choking. She didn’t know whether she wanted to hit him or to…

He turned around, staring at her. “I came to see if you were okay. You left so quickly, I was afraid you might have hurt yourself, and I know you would have been too proud to let anyone know.”

She waited a second, trying to decide whether he was insulting her or offering her a strange compliment.

“I really did know what I was doing.”

“It was dangerous, Spencer.”

She exhaled. “Maybe. But just a little.”

They stood there in the hallway then, staring at one another. Though Spencer could feel her wet flesh growing cold in the air-conditioning, she felt hot and flushed at the same time.

“Are you going back to the rock pit?” she asked him finally.

He shrugged. “I guess not. The party’s probably broken up by now. Did you want to go back?”

“I guess not. I imagine everyone’s gone off to get something to eat by now.”

He grinned. “We were having a picnic.”

“Yeah, but you know that crowd. No ice-cream sundaes on a picnic. Too many bugs.”

“No doubt,” he agreed. He paused again. “You want to try to find them?”

She kept staring at him, wishing she knew what to say. She didn’t really want to do anything. She wanted him, his attention. No distractions.

No Terry-Sue.

She shook her head. “No. Umm, Sly’s fridge is always full.”

David nodded. “He’s got a great pool out there, too.”

“Yeah, he does. You’ve been in it, haven’t you?” She didn’t quite know David’s relationship with her grandfather, but she knew he’d been to the house.

“I’ve never been swimming here,” David said simply.

“Well, there’s always now.” She tried to say the words lightly.

“Look, if you wanted to be alone…” he began.

She shook her head. “No, really. Sly is gone for the weekend, so the place is mine. Go on out the side door. I’ll just put my suit on and join you.”

He shrugged and headed for the stairs. Spencer dived into the bathroom and plucked her bikini from the floor. She donned it in two seconds flat and went flying after David.

He was already in the water, swimming cleanly from one end of the pool to the other. She dived in after him, recklessly going straight for him. She caught his ankle, dragging him under just after he surfaced for a breath.

She jackknifed as far from him as she could while he came to the surface, sputtering, deep blue eyes glittering with laughter as they touched on her. “You do like to live dangerously, don’t you, Miss Montgomery?” he asked her.

“It’s the only way!” she called back. He kicked off the bottom, coming after her. Spencer let out a little shriek and started down the length of the pool. She was good, but he was stronger and caught up with her just as she reached the deep end. He let her get a breath, then dragged her down.

She would gladly have given up breathing altogether. His arms were around her, her body crushed flush against his. She could feel the muscles in his arms, the bones in his hips, the shape of his sex beneath his swim trunks. It was intoxicating. She’d never in her life felt anything like what she was feeling now. A strange, almost unbearable excitement.

They came to the surface together. He could stand where they were; she couldn’t. His arms remained around her, and he was looking at her. It was different from his angry look or his amused look. The water reflected a strange light in his eyes. “Spencer,” he said huskily. “You should—”

He was going to push her away. She couldn’t let it happen.