There it was, my in. “Do you mean after the accident? When you almost drowned?”
And just like that, he sat and then stood up. He picked up a T-shirt and shrugged into it. Covering up. Aces.
I stood there, feeling like an idiot. He raked a hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” I began, hating the way I’d tried to pry. “I don’t mean to—”
“I’m sorry,” he interrupted. “I’m not used to talking about…anything other than swimming, really.”
“No, I should respect your privacy.” Damn Tori and her advice. Chase and I had had such a nice thing going between us, so easy and warm with just the right dash of flirtation. Then I’d gone and frozen things up.
“I would, ah…” He searched for words, sounding distraught. “I would like to get to know you better.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t what I expected him to say. He took a step toward me, almost closing the gap between us and he had that burning, intense look in his eyes. I could almost feel myself swaying toward him.
“Emma.” He reached out a hand and drew it lightly under my chin, grazing my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. With his gaze fixed on my mouth, he licked his lips.
“I should go.” The words that came out of me were completely at odds with my body. I had to ball my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching out and wrapping them around his broad, hard shoulders, digging my fingers into his muscles, drinking in his kiss like my life depended on it.
“You should go,” he breathed, giving me such a low, sexy, heavy look I bet we were fogging up the windows. He could have me stripped naked and underneath him in ten seconds flat. I’d do my best to make it five.
But somehow I took a step backward. And I didn’t knock into anything. If I had, he would have reached out to steady me and then it would have been all over. Any contact would have been like a match to a flame. Who knew when we would have come up for air? He might not have even made it to Rio.
But one step away led to two which somehow got me to the door, his gaze never leaving me.
I paused a moment, hand on the door handle, giving myself one last pep talk about the righteousness of leaving. I shouldn’t let things get messy. I shouldn’t be unprofessional. I knew better than this. With a nod, I managed to leave. Once the door clicked behind me, I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
Damn, I hated acting in my own best interest. Why couldn’t life be more like the romance novels I enjoyed, where the bad boys always turned out to have a heart of gold? Maybe Chase was one of those rare gems, the one in a million with an undeservedly bad reputation? The guy who’d never fallen for anyone before, until he met The One? Who would just happen to be me, of course.
Not going to happen. That kind of thing happened on my Kindle, not in real life. I’d had some slap-in-the-face reminders of that. I wouldn’t go down that path again. Especially not when I had so much at stake.
So what that standing next to him intoxicated me, his masculine scent and the heat radiating from his large, solid body making me literally weak in the knees. It didn’t matter that the way he looked at me took my breath away, the longing in his eyes matching my own. That sense that we had a rare connection, that there was something between us deserving of time, attention and lots and lots of wild sex? I had to tamp that down.
It was just going to take a lot of long runs to work out the excess energy. And cold showers. Because I honestly didn’t know how much longer I could hold out.
CHAPTER 6
Chase
“Eighteen days, man!” It was my buddy Liam on the phone. We’d known each other since we were kids and the sound of his voice always took me back.
“Crazy, right?” I shook my head. The games would be here before I knew it. Funny how little stress I’d been feeling about that fact. Emma was fantastic at keeping my mind occupied. If only I could get my body in on the action, too.
“Guess what? I got the time off.”
“No way!” Last we’d spoken, he didn’t think he’d be able to make the trip to see me swim. He had an all-access pass waiting for him, of course, plus I’d happily cover his plane ticket, but the firehouse where he worked on Naugatuck, a small island off the coast of Massachusetts, was so short-handed during the height of tourist season he hadn’t thought he could pull it off.
“Yeah, the guys made it happen. I’ll see you in Rio, Chevy!” No one called me Chevy but my old friends, the gang of four I’d grown up with. The summer we’d been thirteen we’d all hung out watching classics like Fletch over and over again. With a name like Chase, of course they had to nickname me Chevy.
I could picture Liam, so handsome and friendly and outgoing his nickname had become Magnum. It had multiple meanings: larger-than-life, related to magnet as in chick. And of course, all those re-runs of Magnum P.I. we’d watched had sealed the deal with lady-killer Tom Selleck and his sidekick mustache. Of us all, Liam was the most approachable, the one who actually smiled and remembered people’s names. And now he was coming to see me swim.
“That means a lot, man.”
“I wouldn’t miss it!” He had been there to cheer me on back when I was 18, too, in Beijing. We’d been such kids then.
“I’ll send you the dates. I couldn’t get the whole time off, but I think I’ll be there for the last four days you swim.”
Sweet. I was lucky to have a friend like Liam. A friend who’d saved my life. So chill and normal and laid back, you wouldn’t think he had much in common with me, Mr. Intense. But he was like the brother I’d never had.
My snobby parents hadn’t exactly approved of my friends on the island where we spent most of our summers. Well, they approved of Ian because he came from old money, the type of family that owned authentic Van Goghs. Their home on Naugatuck was one in a dozen family properties. To new money like my parents, old money was as irresistible as catnip. But working class Liam, the son of a fireman and a cook, and Jax, all tatted up, the son of a construction worker and a hotel maid? No, they did not make the cut. Especially after all the shit that went down with the boat.
But Liam had remained my truest friend, never letting me drop off his radar no matter how much I got those horse blinders up and over my eyes. He always managed to get right direct in my line of sight and wave real big. Over here, dumbass. It’s your best friend. Lighten up.
He’d like Emma. He wouldn’t try to hit on her, either. Liam was a class act. He’d be able to tell right away, the wa
y I felt for her, she was not on the market.
Except, of course, she was. Nothing had happened between us. Yet. But that constant drumbeat in my head of “touch her, touch her” was getting louder and louder. And all the reasons not to were getting pummeled like an unprepared defense witness under cross-fire interrogation from a highly-paid litigation attorney. She wasn’t distracting me from my goal, pulling me off course, she was helping me reach it. And, yes, on the surface it seemed undeniably cheesy and wrong to hit on your physical therapist. But I wasn’t interested in a one-night stand with this woman. One night would never be enough.
Liam and I talked for a few more minutes, catching up, until he got called to do something at the station house. And I, of course, had to head to another workout.
“OK, you go keep up the pace. For now,” he warned me. “But remember, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” That had been another favorite of ours, The Shining. Talk about a classic flick.
“I know,” I admitted.
“Once you win all those gold medals we’re gonna shut down Rio.”
“I hear you, Magnum.”
“Shut. It. Down.”
“You’re sure you’re up to it, old man? I’ve heard Rio parties pretty hard.”
“Then you better bring your big boy pants.”
“You know I don’t wear any pants.” Liam always gave me shit about the tiny little Speedos I paraded around in. I was so used to it by now, I didn’t even notice my constant state of near-nudity. Except when I was around Emma.
“All right, it’s a plan. And Chase, two things.” He paused and I listened. I could tell from his more serious tone he had something to say. “When these games are done, you’re gonna need to get yourself a life.”
“OK, Dad.” I sounded dismissive, but I knew he was right.
“But until they’re over, swim fast.”
“Always do. Now you go save some lives.”
“You bet.”
He’d found the perfect job for himself, the hero every day, a professional rescuer responding to emergency calls as a firefighter. What would I do with myself after the games were over? I might train for another Olympics. I knew it could be done. At the next games I’d be 30, on the older side for peak competition, but it wouldn’t be impossible. Honestly, I hadn’t given it much thought. I’d been so focused on eight days in Rio when I’d swim my nine events, five individual—the 400 IM, 200 and 400 freestyle plus 200 and 400 butterfly—and four relays. The years afterward had barely crossed my radar.