dove in.
The water welcomed her, engulfing her in its warmth. She surfaced, letting it buoy her. Her hair floated around her like seaweed, alive and free, and she luxuriated in the sensation.
So it took her a moment to realize she was still alone in the pool. She glanced up.
Francesca looked at her like she’d lost it, but the woman was too reserved to comment.
“Aren’t you going to come in?” Carrie asked halfheartedly, propelling herself forward.
She didn’t think Francesca actually would, but then the woman took a deep breath, peeled off her robe, and crouched at the side of the pool.
Carrie admired the expensive-looking sky blue bikini. She knew it—the woman had a body to die for. With her hair done up in its twist and the jewelry, Francesca looked like she’d stepped off the set of a magazine shoot.
Okay, she officially hated the woman. Francesca was smart, successful, had a great wardrobe, perfect legs, and Max. Plus, she could eat all the pastries she wanted and not agonize over the size of her butt.
Some women had it all. Shaking her head, Carrie went under, paddling for what seemed like ages before coming up to the surface and doing lazy laps. She hadn’t realized it before, but she’d felt parched. It’d been ages since she’d done any swimming, but with each stroke she felt more invigorated. All her worries faded, and she felt peace. She came back to the top and floated on her back.
“Ms.—uh, Carrie, do you get the opportunity to go swimming in San Francisco?”
So much for peace. “No.”
“Of course. It’s fairly chilly year-round, isn’t it?” Pause. “Maybe a friend of yours has an indoor pool?”
“I work all the time.” She rolled onto her stomach and dog-paddled. “I never have time. Playing hooky isn’t a habit.”
“It isn’t?” Francesca asked as if it was hard to believe.
Stopping at the lip of the pool, Carrie rested her head on her folded arms. Maybe if she humored Francesca and answered the questions, the woman would leave her alone. “All I do is research and work. I’ve been here eight days, and instead of taking advantage of the amenities I’ve holed myself up in my room each night reading an obscure Chinese text for my thesis.”
“Do you enjoy your work?”
“I knew the first time I saw an ancient text that I’d found what I was meant to do. Something bigger than myself. So I’m not sacrificing anything with all the work.” At least she didn’t think so, despite what her mom said. “Is that how you feel about working for Max?”
Francesca’s brow furrowed. “Of course.”
She didn’t sound so sure. Carrie almost pointed that out, but then she decided it wasn’t any of her business. If the woman wanted to talk about it, she’d listen, but she didn’t feel like dragging information out of her.
The question seemed to have done the trick. Francesca sat at the edge of the pool, quiet and introspective.
Finally. Carrie lolled onto her back and drifted free. Arms spread out, she felt the water caress her, over and under her suit—all over her body, like a lover’s touch.
She heard footsteps but didn’t bother to look up. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving already, Francesca.”
“She is, in fact,” a masculine voice growled.
Her eyes popped open. Not just any masculine voice—Max’s.
Chapter Fifteen
M ax stepped onto the patio and into a dream. Or a nightmare, depending on how he looked at it.
And he looked. He couldn’t help it. Carrie floated in the pool, her face registering bliss—the kind of bliss that, in the dark of night, he imagined giving her. The only thing wrong with the image was her bikini. In his dreams, she wasn’t covered by anything but his hands and mouth.
“Sir.”
He glanced right.
Francesca stood, as regal and composed as if she were in one of her power suits, and slipped into a robe. Interesting how the sight of her didn’t rouse him. At all. But seeing Carrie’s glistening skin, he craved
The water welcomed her, engulfing her in its warmth. She surfaced, letting it buoy her. Her hair floated around her like seaweed, alive and free, and she luxuriated in the sensation.
So it took her a moment to realize she was still alone in the pool. She glanced up.
Francesca looked at her like she’d lost it, but the woman was too reserved to comment.
“Aren’t you going to come in?” Carrie asked halfheartedly, propelling herself forward.
She didn’t think Francesca actually would, but then the woman took a deep breath, peeled off her robe, and crouched at the side of the pool.
Carrie admired the expensive-looking sky blue bikini. She knew it—the woman had a body to die for. With her hair done up in its twist and the jewelry, Francesca looked like she’d stepped off the set of a magazine shoot.
Okay, she officially hated the woman. Francesca was smart, successful, had a great wardrobe, perfect legs, and Max. Plus, she could eat all the pastries she wanted and not agonize over the size of her butt.
Some women had it all. Shaking her head, Carrie went under, paddling for what seemed like ages before coming up to the surface and doing lazy laps. She hadn’t realized it before, but she’d felt parched. It’d been ages since she’d done any swimming, but with each stroke she felt more invigorated. All her worries faded, and she felt peace. She came back to the top and floated on her back.
“Ms.—uh, Carrie, do you get the opportunity to go swimming in San Francisco?”
So much for peace. “No.”
“Of course. It’s fairly chilly year-round, isn’t it?” Pause. “Maybe a friend of yours has an indoor pool?”
“I work all the time.” She rolled onto her stomach and dog-paddled. “I never have time. Playing hooky isn’t a habit.”
“It isn’t?” Francesca asked as if it was hard to believe.
Stopping at the lip of the pool, Carrie rested her head on her folded arms. Maybe if she humored Francesca and answered the questions, the woman would leave her alone. “All I do is research and work. I’ve been here eight days, and instead of taking advantage of the amenities I’ve holed myself up in my room each night reading an obscure Chinese text for my thesis.”
“Do you enjoy your work?”
“I knew the first time I saw an ancient text that I’d found what I was meant to do. Something bigger than myself. So I’m not sacrificing anything with all the work.” At least she didn’t think so, despite what her mom said. “Is that how you feel about working for Max?”
Francesca’s brow furrowed. “Of course.”
She didn’t sound so sure. Carrie almost pointed that out, but then she decided it wasn’t any of her business. If the woman wanted to talk about it, she’d listen, but she didn’t feel like dragging information out of her.
The question seemed to have done the trick. Francesca sat at the edge of the pool, quiet and introspective.
Finally. Carrie lolled onto her back and drifted free. Arms spread out, she felt the water caress her, over and under her suit—all over her body, like a lover’s touch.
She heard footsteps but didn’t bother to look up. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving already, Francesca.”
“She is, in fact,” a masculine voice growled.
Her eyes popped open. Not just any masculine voice—Max’s.
Chapter Fifteen
M ax stepped onto the patio and into a dream. Or a nightmare, depending on how he looked at it.
And he looked. He couldn’t help it. Carrie floated in the pool, her face registering bliss—the kind of bliss that, in the dark of night, he imagined giving her. The only thing wrong with the image was her bikini. In his dreams, she wasn’t covered by anything but his hands and mouth.
“Sir.”
He glanced right.
Francesca stood, as regal and composed as if she were in one of her power suits, and slipped into a robe. Interesting how the sight of her didn’t rouse him. At all. But seeing Carrie’s glistening skin, he craved
Similar Books
