LITMIR.BIZ

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went to change.

      And if this bikini didn’t work, that was okay: it was stage one. She had something much flimsier to try if she had to break out bigger ammunition for stage two.

      Maybe she should convince him to go for a house call. His pool or the one at her place. There were pools to be had in LA where she could lure him with privacy and tempt him with tiny bikinis.

      Not a great plan, but it was better than the trench coat. At least in theory.

      * * *

      “This exercise is not as advertised,” Liam said, sliding into the hotel’s rooftop pool he’d rented for the evening and had closed an hour early for his therapy with Grace, watching her across the pool where she stood in a black bikini so small only microkini enthusiasts would say it wasn’t revealing enough.

      The woman’s bathing suits just kept getting smaller.

      She dropped the towels she’d been carrying at the edge and slid into the water.

      “It’s water. We’re going to be walking and swimming tonight, working the joint in three different ways.”

      “And we could have done this at the clinic. I know what you’re up to, Watson.”

      Driving me crazy.

      The use of her last name got her attention and Grace swam to his side of the pool, no doubt because it was faster than walking, even though the water wasn’t more than waist deep on him. She stopped and stood in front of him, the water sluicing down her body, rippling over that soft, golden skin. He sighed and leaned back against the side.

      True to her guarantees, his ankle improved a little every day. But his willpower? That was now limping along.

      What came next? Topless pool therapy day?

      Having a private pool suddenly seemed like a really legit reason for investing in real estate.

      If he were into one-night stands, he’d find some woman to get naked with just to relieve the stress that spending every day with Grace in progressively smaller bathing suits was putting on his libido control.

      “Not going to deny it?”

      “Deny that I’m up to something?” The smile she gave him flashed so wickedly that he had to look anywhere but at her.

      She maneuvered until she was beside him, facing in the same direction, and murmured, “You need to go a little deeper.”

      Deeper. Yes. Really...deep.

      “Quit that,” he bit out. “Just tell me what to do.”

      “Quit what?”

      Like she didn’t know what she was doing. “Don’t play innocent with me. I’m onto you. Don’t do that...provocative...well, it wasn’t exactly dirty talk but you know we do that. Sexy double talk.”

      She pointed across his chest to the deeper end of the pool. “So you knew what I meant. Good. Move a little that way. The water should come up to your ribs. We’re going to do some walking in the water. Back and forth here for a warm-up and then each time we’ll move a little farther up the pool to progressively shallower water, so you’ll be taking more weight on it each time. See how far you can go up. Then the same thing tomorrow.”

      “Is this the new measurement system?”

      “Yes. Your range of motion is greatly improved so now we’re working on slowly increasing strength.”

      “And are you going to admit what you’re up to?” He asked the question but started walking in that slow, mostly submerged, bouncy fashion across the short length of the pool, staying in the same water depth.

      She stayed beside him as he did as instructed, like he needed help or a safety net. Would it be better or worse if she were out of the pool and he got a view of her skimpy bikini every time he came toward her?

      “You want a confession?”

      “Yes.” He stopped at the other side of the pool and turned around to start the return trip.

      “I thought you didn’t want to know all the details of what’s going on in my head.”

      Frustration reaching snapping point, Liam paused long enough to brace his good leg against the bottom of the pool for support.

      Grace stopped and looked at him, concern in her eyes.

      Before she could say anything, he grabbed her by the waist, jumped as high as he could, and chucked her a few feet away from him in the water. He’d thrown that woman in the pool more times than he could count as teenagers. Usually in more shallow water, or from the side of the pool, where he could really get a good fling on her and send her flying. The ribs-deep water made that harder, but she still went under with a satisfying splash.

      When she came up sputtering and laughing, he nodded and continued walking. “I don’t. But apparently it’s the only way through this. So out with it.”

      “I’m done playing it safe,” Grace said, still smiling from the reminder of their old, more innocent games, as she approached him again to resume walking.

      “That means what?”

      “That means that I’ve realized that just because I’m afraid of losing again it doesn’t mean that I can live with myself if I don’t try.”

      “You should be able to.” God help him, he wasn’t going to make this easy on her. She had to get the idea to stop. “It isn’t going to work. No matter how nice it might be. It can’t.”

      * * *

      Grace took a deep breath and as they reached the edge of the pool, ushered him about a foot higher, into somewhat more shallow water. “Again,” she said, dealing with the therapy first while working out what she wanted to say. Considering the way they’d been circling one another for days, she hadn’t expected him to approach this head-on. He wanted it all out in the open again, or so he claimed. No matter how badly that had gone last time. And she was completely out of instincts on it. It had all boiled down to simple facts: he enjoyed kissing her. He’d wanted her then, he still did now. That wasn’t going to change because she found her spine again and tried to convince him.

      “I’ve spent years wanting that night to have gone differently and I want to know. I want my night. With you.”

      “Grace—”

      “Just wait. I know what you’re going to say. We can’t because of Nick, who I’m sure is putting just as much—if not more—pressure on you than he has been on me to stay apart. He said you’re a player and I will just get hurt. Just like your last girlfriend was.”

      “He’s right. About us. You’re built for forever, and I won’t ever marry. It’s not for me. So you would get hurt.”

      “You’re not a player. You’re a serial dater, but you’re not a player. You have relationships, otherwise they couldn’t end up badly and in the news. The only reason I was news was because of how recently you broke up with Simone Andre, and because now she’s in rehab.”

      One thing to be thankful for. At least Grace didn’t sound like she blamed him for Simone’s drug problem, but he didn’t want her thinking that. It didn’t have anything to do with them, but he didn’t want her to see him as recent gossip had been painting him.

      “The stuff about Simone isn’t true. I didn’t just get done with her and move on. I didn’t break her heart and turn her into an addict. I broke up with her because she was an addict. And I wanted her to get help. And she has. She’s in rehab and I’m really glad, but, like I told you before, rumors and gossip spring up about everything, even stuff that isn’t true. I don’t need to make her life worse, and she’s not the one telling people all this, so I don’t correct the idiotic stories I see that paint me as the bad guy. Right now, I’m the stronger one. I can carry this for her. I can handle lies, it’s the true stuff that hurts.”

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