Page 23 of Chasing the Dream

Normally, he would have declined the offer, but since he couldn’t stand, he agreed. “If you insist.”

“I do. Just sit there and relax while I take care of these.”

“Thanks.”

She stood up, and when she leaned over to take his plate, her tank top gapped open. While she seemed oblivious to it, the view hadn’t helped his situation at all. Morgan Delaney had cleavage. When had that happened? Oh, right, years ago when he’d been too preoccupied to notice, though she hadn’t had as much then as she did now.

She stacked the plates, and when she turned to walk away, he followed her with his eyes. He tried to relax while listening to her moving around in the kitchen: rinsing the dishes, loading them in the dishwasher, storing the leftovers in the fridge. Why was he so enthralled by everything she did? He hadn’t seen her for nine years, yet, now he could hardly keep his eyes off her!

He wished things were different. If she weren’t his sister’s friend and they were dating, he would have accompanied her to the kitchen, nudged her up against the counter, and…

“All done,” she said, reentering the dining room as he was dabbing his forehead with a napkin. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You look hot.”

“Why, thank you.”

Placing her hands on her hips, she shook her head at him, but amusement danced in her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“So, you don’t think I’m hot? Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

She giggled, and he enjoyed the girlish sound of it.

“I’m just warm from standing over the grill.” And from peeking down your top.

“We could go for a swim.”

How could he refuse? He’d been the one who’d told her to bring a swimsuit, and it would help cool him off. Still, it might be dangerous. “Are you sure?”

“This wouldn’t even be an option in Michigan, so yes, I’m sure!”

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled, and he wondered if it was due to the alcohol. Regardless, her enthusiasm was contagious.

“Let’s get undressed,” he said, rising from the table. At least his erection had gone down—for now.

“I think what you meant to say was change into our swimsuits,” she teased.

“Right. You can use the bathroom down the hall, and I’ll change in my bedroom.” Feel free to peek in.

She took her tote bag, followed him down the hall, and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

Okay. So, no peeking, then. While he was undressing, he thought about her doing the same thing right across the hall. Morgan Delaney was naked less than five feet away, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

He pulled on his swim trunks, went back into the hallway, and paused outside the bathroom door. He heard her rustling around, but then he quickly walked away before she opened the door and caught him standing there. He took two towels from the linen closet and then stopped in the kitchen and grabbed two more beers out of the fridge. Since she still hadn’t emerged, he decided to wait for her outside.

Placing the beers at the edge of the pool, he stepped into the shallow end and let his body adjust to the water temperature. Morgan had been right—swimming outside in March was unheard of in Michigan, but in Scottsdale, it was already in the mid-seventies, and his pool had been open for a while.

He waded further out until the water was up to the middle of his chest, and then he leaned against the side of the pool facing the house. He wanted to see Morgan when she made her grand entrance, assuming that was what she’d planned to do. He couldn’t imagine what was taking so long.

He opened a beer and took a slug, and then he heard the patio door slide open.

She stepped out wearing a white mesh cover-up, and her hair was piled atop her head in a haphazard bun.

Bits of color peeked through the mesh, as well as bits of skin. Here we go, he thought as she came closer and started to untie the cover-up.

“How is it?” she asked.