He's No Prince Charming (14 page)

My parents.
At that thought, she closed her eyes and sighed. She had snowed them into believing she was living off endorsements and royalties when, in fact, she couldn’t even score local commercials, and except for the random placement of some of her songs in movie sound tracks, royalties were a thing of the past as well. A few B-list reality show offers had come her way, but she had refused to go that route. And while she despised lying to her mother and father, she hated for them to worry even more.

Besides, she told herself as she hummed and rowed, she had a plan. “Country music star,” she said with a firm nod. If Jessica Simpson could do it, so could she, right? Dakota shook her head and decided not to think about her problems and issues, and to simply enjoy a nice little cruise around the lake.

The sound of water lapping against the shore and birds chirping overhead caused a sense of peace to wash over her in a way she hadn’t experienced for a very long time. The sunshine felt warm on her skin and the air smelled earthy and clean. She inhaled deeply, turned her face up to the clear blue sky, and smiled.

And then a bird pooped on her.

Wincing, she lifted her sunglasses and angled her head to view a grayish-white splat on her shoulder, which was bared by her buttercup yellow halter top. After lifting the oars into the boat, she looked around, hoping to find a rag or towel of some sort, but came up empty. With a groan she glanced at the bird poop and wondered what to do.

“Well, duh,” Dakota muttered, and looked down at the water, thinking she could splash off the offending goo in a jiffy. But as luck would have it, right after she leaned over the side of her little vessel and scooped up a handful of water, a tricked-out fishing boat went zooming down the center of the lake. The unexpected wake caused Dakota’s boat to bob, and with a scream, she tumbled headfirst overboard.

The water felt shockingly cold on Dakota’s sun-warmed skin. With a muffled curse, she surfaced, sputtering and coughing, her hair covering her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she dipped beneath the surface to untangle her hair and smooth it back from her face while wondering how she was going to hoist herself back up into the boat. She realized she could swim to shore without too much effort, but hated having to go to Trace for help yet again. Before she could think more about her plan, a strong arm snaked around her waist and yanked her to the surface of the water.

“What?” she sputtered and looked back over her shoulder. “Trace? Where in the world did you come from?”

“I was making my rounds in my boat when I saw you fall in. Don’t worry, I’ve got you now,” he said, skillfully treading water while holding Dakota.

“Got me? You thought I was drowning?”

“Well, yeah!” His chest moved up and down, and she could tell he was really worried.

“Trace, my daddy taught me to swim when I was a toddler. I’ve been coming to this lake since I was a baby,” she assured him, but felt a warm and fuzzy feeling that he was so concerned.

“Then why in the hell did you fall in if you are such an expert?” he asked, clearly annoyed. “I about broke my neck haulin’ ass over here!”

The warm and fuzzy feeling evaporated, and she twisted around in his arms, refusing to feel guilty. “A bird pooped on me! I was simply washing it off when some jackass came flying across the water and forced me overboard.”

“That jackass was Grady taking paying customers out to fish!” he ground out, and shook his head. “So much for your promise of keeping a low profile, Dakota.”

“I didn’t ask for, nor did I need you to, rescue me.”

“Well, you screamed. Again. To me, a female scream means a cry for help. For you, a scream is normal conversation.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, and wanted to push away but knew she couldn’t hoist herself up into the boat, so she was at his mercy. “All I wanted was some peace and quiet. I love it out here on the water.” She shrugged. “I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. Now, if you would just shove me up into the boat, I’ll be on my way,” Dakota said, and wished his bare shoulders didn’t feel so good beneath her hands. He was shirtless and, she guessed, in swim trunks. With his dark hair slicked back from his face he looked starkly masculine, and the urge to pull his head down for a hot kiss made her push at him and twist from his hold. “Okay, give me a shove.” She turned and angled her butt at him.

The thought of putting his hands on her ass made Trace so hot, he wondered why steam wasn’t rising from the water. And it sure didn’t help that Dakota’s cotton halter top molded to her like a second skin, making it obvious that she was braless.

“Well?” she asked over her shoulder, and then said, “Oh no! My flip-flop’s floating away!” Without warning, she started swimming out into the lake.

“Dakota, wait!” Trace saw the ridiculous flower-topped flip-flop bobbing in the water. The problem was that there were several fishing boats out, and this area was a no-swimming zone. A speedboat coming by wouldn’t be watching out for swimmers, and his heart pounded with the same fear he experienced when he saw her fall into the water.

Truthfully, he usually made his rounds to check up on things later in the day. It had been
her
he was checking up on this morning. “Dakota, get back here!” Trace shouted, but she kept swimming toward the rubber shoe. With a curse, he shot out after her, but she was a strong swimmer and had a head start on him. “Dakota! It’s dangerous!” he tried to warn as he swam as fast as he knew how. Sure enough, out of the corner of his eye he saw a boat zipping toward her.

Trace doubled his efforts while praying the driver spotted the sun glinting off of her blond head. She reached for the flip-flop, but must have heard the whine of the engine and froze for a second before turning and swimming like the hounds of hell were after her. The boat passed a good six or eight feet from Dakota just as Trace reached her side, but in his mind it was still much too close for comfort.

“Ohmigod!” she shouted, and with wide eyes threw her arms around his neck and clung while waves from the wake washed over them.

Trace wanted to be angry, but she shivered in his arms. “Hey, you’re okay,” he soothed, and tightened his hold on her. “Let’s get you back to the boat.”

She nodded into the crook of his neck. “Where did he come from?”

“He shot out of a cove over there. Dakota, Willow Creek is strictly for fishing on this side, so the boaters don’t look for anyone swimming. It isn’t a no-wake zone this far from the marina, so they tend to fly like a bat outta hell down the main channel of the lake. I should have a talk with Grady about slowing things down.”

Dakota shook her head. “No, don’t ruin their fun on account of my stupidity.” She blew out an exasperated sigh. “I am such a train wreck!”

“Stop saying that,” he murmured in her ear, and if they hadn’t been bobbing near the middle of the lake, he might have kissed her. “Come on, swim next to me.”

“Okay,” she glumly agreed, and moments later they were back at the boats. “All right, toss me up there, and I swear I’ll stay out of trouble. Maybe I’ll just head back to the cabin and crawl back in bed.”

Now, that was an image he didn’t need in his head. “No, you come with me. There’s a ladder on my boat over there,” he said, and pointed to his Sea Ray Sun Sport. “We can tow the rowboat back to shore.”

“All right.” She reluctantly nodded, and swam over to his boat.

Trace unfolded and lowered the metal ladder before moving to the side so she could climb up onto the swim platform.

“Nice boat,” she commented.

“Thanks,” Trace managed to answer, but he just about swallowed his tongue when he saw that her thin white shorts were all but transparent from being wet, allowing him to see the outline of her panties. He swallowed a groan and willed his body not to have an immediate reaction that would be embarrassing in his board shorts that laced up the front. He should have averted his gaze, but simply did not have the willpower not to keep his eyes glued to her ass.

Trace opened his mouth to tell Dakota he was going to swim and pull her rowboat over to his when her hands slipped off the top rung.

“Whoa!” she shouted, and her very cute butt landed on his surprised face. Poetic justice for his ogling, he supposed, as he sunk beneath the water with Dakota in tow, since for some reason he felt compelled to grab her around the waist. They surfaced together, tangled in each other ’s arms and legs.

Trace rubbed his face. “You could have simply said ‘Kiss my ass,’ ” he said, and she giggled. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me you didn’t mean to do that,” he commented dryly.

“No, I didn’t,” she answered. “Truly,” she whispered, and looked at him for a long moment. “But you know what?”

“What?” he asked, and could not take his eyes off of her mouth.

“I do mean to do this,” she told him, and then pulled his head down for a kiss.

Trace was taken by surprise, but then again, her taking him by surprise was becoming a habit. He couldn’t, however, even begin to turn away from the feel of her soft, warm lips pressed against his mouth. She was shy at first, but then groaned and opened her mouth in sweet invitation. Trace dug deep for willpower, but when the tip of her tongue touched his, any last shred of resistance melted.

Trace grabbed the ladder with one hand and slipped his other arm around her waist. He pulled his mouth from hers just long enough to whisper hotly in her ear, “Wrap your legs around me.” When she complied, he cupped one hand around her ass and then crushed his mouth to hers while kissing her with a passion he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The water lapped sensuously against them, cool and silky against warm skin. Trace moved his mouth from her lips to her neck and started a hot trail downward to her cleavage. He licked the warm, soft skin and dearly wanted to untie the knot around her neck, but was afraid that someone would see them, and so he pulled back and rested his forehead on hers while trying to regain his composure. “Dakota, I’m going to tug the rowboat back to shore and then you can go on my rounds with me, if you want to. I’ll show you some coves and secluded places where you can go for real peace and quiet.”

She nodded and gave him a shy smile. “That sounds lovely.”

“Good,” he said, all the while wondering why he was inviting her along with him when he had vowed to keep his distance. “You’ll find towels down in the cabin,” he offered.

Dakota looked at him in surprise. “Cabin?”

Trace nodded. “It’s small, just a weekender, but serviceable. There’s a head, if you need it too.”

“Nice,” she said, and made her way up the ladder, this time without mishap.

“Toss me a rope,” Trace requested when she was inside the cockpit.

“Here you go,” she said, and disappeared from view.

Trace swam over and secured the rowboat to his Sea Ray, climbed up the ladder and folded it back into place. A moment later, Dakota, wrapped in a towel, emerged from the cabin.

“It’s nice down there. Bigger than I thought,” she said. “Having a bathroom is sweet.”

“You mean a head.”

“Right. There’s even a kitchen.”

“Galley,” he corrected her with a grin. “Get with the program, Princess.”

“Whatever you say, Captain,” she said, and gave him a sharp salute.

“Now, that’s more like it,” Trace responded, and almost grinned again. “You may own the marina, but I’m the boss of this boat.”

Dakota laughed. “Agreed,” she said, and sat down in the passenger ’s seat across from Trace. She snuggled in the soft beach towel while they made their way back to the dock. Although the distance was fairly short, it was slow going with the rowboat in tow, but Dakota didn’t mind. She entertained herself pretending to enjoy the passing scenery when she was really observing Trace from behind her sunglasses. His long hair blew in the wind, and in his blue board shorts and mirrored Oakleys, he appeared young and carefree—and he should be, she thought with a touch of sadness.

He stood up in front of the driver ’s seat and carefully drove at the required idle speed past boat slips and over to the side of the dock near the kitchen. Gil, who was lapping up water from a big bowl, barked in greeting as he ran over to meet them. A moment later, Sierra came out the back door with her hands on her hips.

“Gil, what the hell you barkin’ about?” she shouted, but then waved in their direction. “What are y’all doin’?” she asked, and walked over to Trace’s boat. She looked at the rowboat that Trace was tying up and then at Dakota, who remained wrapped in the beach towel. “Don’t tell me you fell in the lake.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you,” Dakota replied, but felt heat creep into her cheeks.

Sierra turned her attention to Trace. “Will you tell me what happened?” she asked in her usual no-nonsense tone, but Dakota noticed, with some satisfaction, that Sierra looked cute in her shorts and tank top. While her hair was in her customary ponytail, she had styled it artfully sloppily, and she also wore some subtle pink lip gloss and mascara. “Well?” She raised her arms in the air and looked at him expectantly. “This is gonna be good. I can tell.”

While absently petting Gil, Trace said, “She leaned over and fell in.”

“What? That’s it?”

Dakota stood up and came to the side of the boat. “Now, wait a minute. A bird pooped on me, for heaven’s sake! While I was leaning over cleaning it off, Grady went flying by in his fishing boat and
then
I fell in,” she clarified, and gave Trace a look warning to not tell the flip-flop story. “Do not laugh,” she warned Sierra. “Or I’ll kick your butt.”