“We’re going to put this around your middle until you’re confident.”
She was pretty sure that was going to be never, but she kept that thought to herself.
“All right.”
He strolled across to her. “You’re planning on swimming in a towel?”
If it had been an option, then she would have taken it. He might be unselfconscious about his body, but she wasn’t. She wished now she’d just walked out of the changing room in the suit, instead of drawing attention to herself. Better still, she wished she’d picked out a suit herself. Surf and Swim in the harbor would probably have stocked at least ten swimsuits more suitable than this one. Something actually designed for swimming. This one looked as if she was trying to seduce him.
Knowing that the longer she left it, the worse it would be, she let the towel fall.
Face burning, she met his gaze. “You’re thinking I should have worn a more serious swimsuit, but I don’t really have the shape for any sort of suit, and Skylar bought me this one—” Her voice tailed off, and her cheeks grew redder by the second. “Do you want me in the water?” Oh, God, why had she phrased it that way? Now it sounded as if she were propositioning him.
“That would help.” His voice was roughened and raw, and he flung the towel back on the bench and slid back into the water himself.
Dying of embarrassment, Emily sat on the side and dangled her legs in the water. Staring down into the blue depths, embarrassment gave way to another emotion. A hollow pit of fear sat where her stomach was supposed to be.
Through the spangled surface of the pool she could see the bottom, but sliding into water seemed like the most unnatural thing in the world.
She probably would have sat there forever had Ryan not moved in front of her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
No. “Yes.”
“In that case, put your hands on my shoulders.” His firm command cut through her building panic.
“You want me to slide in?”
“Yes. You’re going to be fine.”
“Lizzy had her first lesson with Rachel this morning. She can’t stop talking about it.”
“Emily.” His voice softened a little. “Put your hands on my shoulders. I won’t let you fall, and I won’t let you go under the water.”
Unable to postpone the moment any longer, she steeled herself and put her hands on his shoulders. Her palms made contact with hard, unyielding muscle.
“I don’t want to hurt your shoulder.”
“You’re not hurting me.”
“You’re gritting your teeth.”
“That’s not—” He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “Never mind. Just do this. Every moment you hesitate makes this harder.”
Taking a deep breath, she slid into the water. It was deliciously cool against her heated skin, and that might have been a relief if it hadn’t been for the fact that the movement of sliding in brought her body in close contact with his.
Her thigh brushed against the hardness of his, and she heard him curse softly.
“Sorry—” Anxiety made her clumsy, and she gripped his shoulders with her hands, then realized she might be hurting him and forced herself to relax her grip.
“You’re doing fine.” He put the float around her, demonstrating how it would support her weight, showing her how to move her limbs.
“For now, get used to being in the water. You won’t go under the surface because you have the float and you have me. We’ll stay in the shallow end.”
For a man whose defining characteristic was restless impatience, he was a remarkably patient teacher.
An hour later she swam the width of the pool with just the float, and he complimented her on her style.