Entangled (Serendipity Adventure Romance Book 2) (9 page)

He swam away a little farther, not looking back, trying to force his mind back to his plan. So what if they were half naked in a waterfall? So what if she looked like a goddamn portrait of Venus, streaming water as she emerged from a shell?

He gulped a huge breath of air and dove. Deep, and forward, to where he could feel the waterfall pounding away. Forcing his eyes open, reaching around with his arms. Trying to judge how much depth they had and how much they needed for his crazy idea to work. Came up for air, calculating exactly where he was in the basin.

He’d been careful to keep his bearings as they hiked in. The roaring river wasn’t far downhill, and the bridge was somewhere to the left. That meant the place where he’d stashed his bike was somewhere downslope from this spot at the foot of the waterfall.

All within reach, if he calculated it right. Somehow, he and Cara would have to make it back here without the escort. But he had a plan for that, too. A crazy one.

He looked up at the waterfall. Crazy worked surprisingly well half the time. The other half… Well, it was one thing to risk his own neck. Another thing to risk Cara’s.

He dove again, keeping his eyes open. He couldn’t see far, but at least it didn’t sting like salt water did, back when he’d had to dive to clean
Serendipity’s
hull. Five powerful strokes and he still hadn’t hit bottom. Six. Was it deep enough?

He darted back to the surface and popped out right next to Cara. So close, that he practically came up between her arms.

So close, that for a minute, everything fled his mind. The escape plan, the calculations, the estimations of speed and time. It was just him and her and the panting breaths he was still heaving after staying under that long.

Back to the plan, idiot. Back to the plan.

Tobin.
Her lips moved, though no sound came out.

Before he did something dumb, like kiss her, he backed away. A couple of strong strokes got him around the outside edge of the pulsing stream. Two more and he snuck behind the curtain of the cascade. The roar of falling water grew muffled and the temperature immediately dropped ten degrees. Keeping the solid rock of the cliff to his back, he watched the silvery screen of water flow, nearly solid but for flickering glimpses of green foliage or blue sky. A cool, quiet little den to hide away in and get himself together. To remind himself that this was about her, not him. Not
them.

But there was a dream-like quality to that little scoop of air behind the waterfall. Enough that when the water before him darkened, then split as Cara entered his secret realm, he was slow to react. When he did, it was too late, because she swam right into his arms.

Their limbs acted on instinct and intertwined before his mind had any say in the matter. Because, yeah, he could live to a hundred and two and never forget how to hold Cara. Didn’t seem that she’d forgotten either, because she went straight into a hug and a straddle that begged him to pull her closer still. Each of them leaned forward for a kiss that was just like the waterfall: all power, all nature, all gravity. They met exactly in the middle, so it wasn’t him doing it and it wasn’t her. It was them, like
them
was its own living force with a mind of its own.

The kiss was sad and bright and hopeful, all at the same time, and it sucked him in.

Part of his mind tried to protest.
This is about her. Not her and me.

But his body screamed,
Us, us, us!
and he couldn’t let go.

Coming up for air was an afterthought, and they both gasped and blinked.

“What was that for?” he managed. Sneaking up with kisses was supposed to be his job.

She bent her forehead to his and stayed there a good long time.

“For old time’s sake,” she whispered, barely audible above the roar of the waterfall.

Old times. His heart ached just thinking about it.

“Tobin,” she whispered. “I wish…”

He let the sentence drift away, unfinished. Yeah, he knew all about wishes and regrets and how much they hurt, even when left unsaid.

Then Cara tilted her chin up, shook her head, and dove in to another kiss.

Her lips were soft, her breath sharp, her hips tight against his waist. The roar in his ears got louder, as if someone had just turned up the volume on the waterfall. She tasted every bit as good as she had six years ago. Or even better, because he was hungrier now. Sadder. Smarter. Or dumber, because Christ, what was he doing?

He squeezed as tightly as he dared, pressing her breasts flat against him so their hearts had a chance to do their own little cha-cha like their lips were doing one story up. If his eyes were open, nothing was registering there, because it was all the taste, the feel, the heat building a fire between them that the water of a thousand gushing rivers couldn’t put out.

The water was pure. Soft. Cleansing. Maybe if they stayed there long enough, it would wash the past away.

“Tobin,” she mumbled, her lips tickling his. “We really need to talk.”

“You talk, I’ll kiss,” he murmured into her ear.

“Tobin, all of this…”

She trailed off when he started nibbling his way down her neck. He couldn’t help it. Sure as a siren, she was drawing him in. The curve of her body, the soft skin… He’d almost started believing that reality couldn’t be as good as the memories, but it was every bit as good. Better, even.

His heart soared when Cara let out a little moan. Her lips moved again, her voice a whisper above the roar of the falls. “Tobin, you and me…”

“You and me,” he agreed, running his hands down her sides. Scooping her closer into his lap. God, why hadn’t he gone after her in all those wasted years?

Because she’d been pretty clear in expelling him from her life, that’s why. But up here in the jungle, far from her office and job, she was opening up again. Letting herself live and love for a change.

He let his hands explore her back, then trace her sides to the curve of her breasts. She arched into him and dragged her lips from his mouth to his ear, making hungry sounds. His cock was rock hard and jutting into her, and if he just tilted a tiny bit forward—

“Hola!”
came a squeaky voice in the foreground of the waterfall’s din.

His eyes popped open, and Cara’s, too, and both of them turned to the little boy wearing a wide grin.

“Amigos!”
the boy said, oblivious to what he’d just interrupted.

“Hola,”
Tobin groaned. A ripple of protest went through every muscle, every joint.

Cara buried her face in his shoulder, and though it wasn’t exactly what his body ached for, it was still a minor thrill. She hadn’t splashed and rocketed off his lap when she realized just how close they’d gotten, right?

He crossed his arms over her back and held her close, making a silent promise to himself.
Will never let go. Will not fuck up. Not this time.

Chapter Fourteen

One more kiss, and then he slipped away.

Cara watched Tobin vanish into the real world on the other side of the waterfall. Her whole body screamed for him to come back, but Tobin was gone.

The feeling wasn’t, though. The feeling that part of her could only breathe when Tobin was close. That an extra chamber of her heart had gotten into gear along with a whole new set of nerve endings that sparked and cried and came to life.

Holy Mary and Joseph, the man could kiss.

Tobin kissed the way he lived: all out, all heart, everything on the line. And the shine in his eye afterward swore that he only did that for her. No lies, no stories, no intrigue.

He was so easy to trust. But the minute her mind got back in gear, it felt awfully complicated to let herself love the world’s least complicated man. Especially with a dozen doubtful voices echoing in her mind.

He’s no good for you.

Why can’t you find someone more like his brother?

A man like that is bound to cheat on you sooner or later.

Her stomach had fluttered with butterflies a minute ago; now it sank like a stone. Maybe she’d heard those lines so often, she’d started to internalize them. The same way Tobin did with all the deprecating comments he turned into jokes.

She cupped a handful of water and let it drain slowly over her face. They were words, only words. Words had a way of tangling a person up until she was trapped in a net of her own making.

“Señora! Señora!”
The little boy waved eagerly for her to follow and dove out of that hollow behind the falls.

With a deep breath, she followed. But she must have shot off at the wrong angle because this time, the waterfall pounded on her back and drove her under.

She kicked and stroked, but the crushing force was too strong. The light dimmed as she was driven into darker, colder water. She kicked harder, trying to escape the pounding at the center of the falls, but got nowhere.

Down? Up? She squinted, trying to orient herself. The water foamed and bubbled all around. Her kicks grew more frantic, less coordinated with her flailing arms.

Tobin!
She wanted to scream.

She was just starting to panic that maybe she couldn’t do it when the pull released her — reluctantly. Two hard kicks — the kicks of her life — and she popped up to the surface, gasping for air.

She spent a long time blinking the water out of her eyes. The little boy was over on the edge of the pool, smiling and splashing without a care in the world. So he was all right. But what about Tobin?

She scanned the pool. Oh God, where did Tobin go?

Then he popped up — way up and out of the water, shooting up like he’d descended to lung-crushing depths — and heaved a couple of huge breaths. His eyes weren’t wild or worried, but calculating. Then he gulped some more air and dove out of sight again.

She let out a long, wavering breath.

It figured Tobin had it all under control. Just the way he mastered the steepest ski slopes, the biggest, craziest waves.

He dove over and over, until he finally took a break and went to floating on his back, eyeing the waterfall. Not appreciating it or catching it for a mental album — caption:
Beautiful waterfall where Cara jumped my bones —
or marveling, but calculating. What he was thinking, she couldn’t tell. Only that he was a man possessed with a mission of some kind.

Typical Tobin. Her dad called him lazy, but that wasn’t it. He was choosy, very choosy about what he put his passion behind. And right now, his passion seemed firmly fixed on exploring the depths of the pool beneath the waterfall, not on demanding that she explain whatever impulse it was that had her doing a lap dance on him behind the waterfall. As if she could explain, even to herself.

She swam back to the edge of the pool, clambered out, and sat on a rock in the sun next to his backpack. Chilly from the water, she rummaged in the bag for the little hand towel she’d seen him pack. She pulled it out and blotted at the water on her face.

Her foot knocked the backpack over, and her eyes caught on a book.

Last she remembered, Tobin had been into submarine adventure novels. Had his tastes changed over the years?

She pulled out the book and decided, nope. Not much. It was a worn paperback that looked like it’d been through a thousand hands. There was a square-rigged ship on the cover and a lot of exclamation points in the description. Judging by the glint of hero’s sword and the size of the heroine’s boobs, there was plenty of action between the covers
and
between the sheets.

She couldn’t hold back a smile. Maybe Tobin would let her read it when he was through.

Which, judging by the placement of his bookmark, wasn’t far off. She cracked the book open there, trying to guess what she’d find.

Something like “
Arrr,” cried Captain Jack as he swung from the mizzen to the deck
. Or maybe,
Claudette brandished the cutlass and screamed as she leaped to his defense
. Or maybe—

She stopped short. Not at the chapter opening, but on the bookmark — a photograph. A familiar one.

She gulped and looked up, afraid Tobin might catch her snooping, but he was still swimming, diving, engineering something in his mind. Clueless that she’d just found the picture he still carried after all these years.

The picture of the two of them on top of a white mountain in winter. Their cheeks were rosy, their grins a mile wide. They looked a little younger. A lot happier. And absolutely, unmistakably in love.

She turned it over, already knowing what the message on the back said, because she’d read what he’d penned there that Valentine’s day long ago, and dozens of times after.

A year ago we met on this very mountain and you changed my life. I’ll love you forever, Cara. Will you be mine?

When he said
mine
, he meant it, because he’d gotten down on the snow on one knee and asked if she would marry him.

She brought the hand towel back to her face to catch the extra moisture dripping down her cheeks.

Yes, Tobin, yes. I’ll be yours forever.

She’d added that part underneath later in the day, when they made it back to the bottom for the candlelight dinner he’d arranged.

On that February day, everything had been so perfect. And when she thought it over, everything about the six months that followed was pretty perfect, too. Right up to the awful day she’d screamed and cried and thrown that picture back in his face.

Go, Tobin. Leave. I never want to see you again.

She’d shrieked that part, and he stood there looking like a lost puppy who had no clue about his crime. He might have stood there a whole lot longer if her dad hadn’t barged in and thrown not just a fit, but a couple of chairs, too. All aimed at a man who’d cheated on his bride two days before his own wedding.

Except Tobin hadn’t cheated. He hadn’t lied.

She swallowed hard, and it echoed in her ears. She was slumped over her knees by then, rocking herself and wishing none of it were true. The pain she’d felt when she thought he cheated was nothing like the hurt he must have felt at being accused. By her.