My Special Angel (9 page)

His warm palm cupped her cheek, and his smile grew. “I guess I should be thankful that she wasn’t from Paris or London.” His hungry gaze fastened on her mouth.

A faint blush warmed her face, and her bottom lip trembled. “It would have been cheaper if she had been.” They were heading back onto dangerous ground, one she was bound and determined to avoid. She pulled away from the tempting heat of his body and glanced at the breathtaking beauty surrounding them. Owen had been right. They hadn’t seen any signs of the occupants of the other two cars. “Where is this waterfall that you promised me?” She remembered crossing a crude, makeshift bridge made from a couple of logs, but no waterfall.

“We’ll go that way back to the car if you’re up to it.” He glanced down at the creamy smoothness of her shapely legs. Legs that were better suited for being wrapped around his hips than to be hiking through the woods.

“What do you mean, ‘if I’m up to it’?”

“We have to hike up the side of that mountain.” He nodded his head eastward.

She looked offended that he should even doubt that she could make it. “That, my dear friend, is a hill, not a mountain.”

“It’s part of the Smoky Mountains, so it’s a mountain.”

She give an unladylike snort and reached for her sneakers. They weren’t the most practical shoes for trekking through the woods, but when she’d gone to Owen’s house this morning, having a picnic had been the last thing on her mind. “If you have ever seen the Alps, that”—she jerked her head in the direction of the mountain—“wouldn’t even classify as a hill.”

An hour later Nadia had revised her thinking. Either this indeed was a mountain, or she was terribly out of shape. The back of her calves protested every step upward, and a fine sheen of perspiration made her clothes cling to her skin. But she would bite off her own tongue before asking how much farther.

Owen glanced behind him and shook his head with admiration. Either Nadia was the most stubborn woman he had ever met or beneath that delicate package of femininity beat the heart of a mountain goat. He had climbed this trail dozens of rimes, and each time he promised himself it would get easier. It never did. “It’s not much farther.”

She brushed a damp curl away from her forehead and forced herself to stop panting. If she stopped now, every muscle in her body would freeze, and she would never make it to the blasted waterfall. She forced herself to smile pleasantly.

Owen shifted the picnic basket to his other hand and continued to pick his way over fallen trees, around brush, and over the occasional exposed root. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so chauvinistic and allowed Nadia to carry the quilt instead of folding it up and jamming it into the basket. She seemed to be holding up better than he was. He paused and listened for a moment. “I hear it.”

“Hear what?” The only sound she heard was the rapid pounding of her heart, the agonizing screams of her muscles, and the occasional chirping of a bird.

“The waterfall.” He grabbed her hand and hurried toward the sound. “Don’t you hear it?”

Nadia was positive that she wouldn’t have heard Niagara Falls even if she were standing under it. “I don’t hear ...” She followed Owen and ducked under a low-hanging branch. “Wait! I hear it.” The crisp, clean sound of splashing water renewed her energy. They had made it! She gave a breathless laugh and quickened her pace.

Owen responded to Nadia’s revitalized energy and pushed his way through a dense clump of mountain laurel. He stopped as soon as they cleared the bushes, and grinned at the sight in front of them. Hidden Valley Falls was as awe-inspiring as when he last saw it. Tons of water crashed down the fifty-foot drop into the shimmering pool below. Massive trees and shrubs clung to the rocks, and boulders on either side of the falls glittered with the spray of the thundering cascade. One end of the pool was foamy and turbulent under the pounding of the waterfall, but the rest was smooth as silk, cool, and inviting. Many were the times, after hiking all the way up here, that he had stripped down to his skivvies and dived straight into its inviting waters.

“How deep is it?”

He turned and looked at Nadia. She was standing on the bank of the pool, staring into it. He gauged the level of the water. “Around three to four feet at the edge, and it goes to about twelve feet in the middle.”

“Rocks?”

“A couple stick out from under the falls, but the rest of the pool is clear.” He moved up and stood beside her. He had never brought a woman up here before, but he’d expected her to gush about the beauty of the falls and the faint rainbow shimmering in the mist, not ask about rocks. He told her, “The bottom is made up of smooth rocks and stones, and there might be a couple of fish swimming in there.” He frowned as Nadia dug through the pockets of her shorts and handed him a pack of gum.

“Could you hold that for a moment, please?”

Owen glanced at the green pack of gum resting in the palm of his hand. “Why?” He looked back at Nadia just as she dived off the bank and into the pool. He glanced back down at the pack of gum and noticed Nadia’s sneakers sitting forlornly on the bank. He hadn’t even noticed when she had kicked them off.

He glanced back at the pool and frowned. Where was she? She should have surfaced by now. Lord, he didn’t even know if she could swim. He stared at the surface of the pool and dropped the picnic basket and her gum. Just because she could execute a perfect dive into the water didn’t mean she knew how to swim. What if a boulder had made its way to the bottom of the pool since the last time he had swum there? She could have whacked her head and been in the process of drowning, right this minute.

He was in the process of yanking off his sneakers when her head broke the water on the other side of the pool. Her grin flashed with all the brilliance of a diamond. “You forgot to tell me how cold it is,” she yelled over the thundering of the falls.

“Serves you right.” He dropped his sneakers next to hers. “You shouldn’t have dived in like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it might not have been safe.”

She laughed and brushed her wet hair away from her face. “You’re the one who told me there weren’t any rocks.” She pushed away from the rocky bottom and floated on her back “I’m sorry, Owen, I just couldn’t wait. It’s been years since I swam with nature.” She lightly kicked her feet and raised her face toward the sun. “Maybe I could widen a section of the stream that goes through the ranch and make a swimming hole out of it.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to buy a pool?” He stared at her top, which was clinging to her breasts, and swallowed hard. She was fully clothed and was still the most exotic sight he had ever seen. His gaze slid down until it encountered cute pink toes sticking above the shimmering water.

“Why would I want to swim in a bunch of chemicals? The chlorine dries out my skin and makes my eyes burn.”

“You prefer swimming with fish?” He’d always had a feeling Nadia was different from any other woman he’d dated; now he knew it.

“Any day.” She flipped over and dived back under the water. She surfaced a minute later holding a tiny pebble in her hand. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and studied the stone. It was deep green with threads of black weaving their way through it. She swam over to Owen and handed him the pebble. “Could you please put this with my gum.”

“Souvenir?”

“Nope.” She pulled her top away from her chest, only to have it suck right back to it when she released the material. “One of my cousins has a rock collection.” She frowned at sweat clinging to his hair. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“You might be able to swim in those shorts and top, but I’m afraid these jeans weren’t made for swimming.”

Nadia shrugged her shoulders and swam back to the middle of the pond. “Take them off.” He had to be as hot as she was after climbing up the side of the mountain. It seemed highly unfair that she could cool off while for the sake of her modesty he had to bake in his own sweat. Who was she to stand in the way of Owen swimming? She could handle him splashing around in his underwear, providing there was at least thirty feet of chilly water between them and she kept her mind on other things, such as glaciers.

Owen choked on his next breath. Was she serious? “You wouldn’t mind me swimming around buck naked?” Maybe he misjudged her definition of friendship.

Nadia stopped swimming and treaded water for a moment. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly ran her gaze down his body. She would bet the deed to the ranch he had underwear on under those jeans. No self-respecting southern gentleman would be caught dead without them. She smiled nonchalantly. “I’m sure you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” Owen raised an eyebrow at that comment, and her smile widened. “I happen to have four brothers.”

His lips twitched with amusement. “So you wouldn’t mind?” He never swam here buck naked before, but there was a first time for everything. He glanced at the deep pool and wondered what else might be swimming in there besides Nadia. If the family jewels were going on display, he wanted to know how much danger they were going to be in. He didn’t need some ravenous snapper turtle taking a bite out of the future generation of Prescotts.

“Not in the least.” She took another stroke, stopped, and glanced back up at Owen. “The fish might not be so generous.” She smiled wickedly. “You’d be surprised what they nibble on when they’re hungry.”

Owen’s fingers froze on the snap of his jeans. She must have been reading his mind. “Are there witches in Russia?” A rueful grin teased his mouth.

“Witches?” Nadia floated for a moment and chuckled softly. “If you believe their folk tales, then yes, there are many witches in Russia.”

He pulled his shirt up over his head and dropped it to the ground next to his sneakers. “I believe they became one short on the day you came to America.”

Nadia held his gaze until curiosity got the better of her, and she lowered it to his chest. His shoulders went on forever, soft, downy curls arched across his chest, inviting a lover’s touch, and his stomach looked rock-hard. Worn denim jeans were slung low on his hips, enticing her gaze to follow the contrast between deep-blue material and the bronze smoothness of his skin. Her gaze jerked upward when his deft fingers unsnapped the waistband. “In Europe it isn’t a compliment to call someone a witch.” She remembered some local villagers taunting her and her sisters with hateful, nasty names during their youth. “Witch” was always one of the names they hurled, along with “thief” and “beggar.” If it was a good day, stones and sticks weren’t thrown after the insults.

“In America it all depends on how you mean it.” He stepped out of his jeans and pulled off his socks.

“How do you mean it?” Her gaze was fastened onto his face. She didn’t look to see if he had indeed left on his underwear.

“You read my mind just a minute ago.” He neatly folded his socks and placed them on top of his jeans.

“Many people have accused my aunt Sasha of mind reading, but she swears she sees what people show with their eyes and the way their bodies talk.” She glanced down at Owen’s body, wondering what it would say to her. Navy-blue-and-white-striped boxer shorts said he had indeed respected her modesty. “No one has ever accused me of mind reading before.”

“Maybe you can’t read my mind. Maybe we both just think on the same wavelength.” With a graceful dive he entered the pond with barely a splash. He surfaced two feet in front of her and shook his head, sending a shower of droplets spraying in all directions. “But you are still a witch.”

“Why?” She didn’t like that word. It was a hateful word that provoked too many memories.

He tenderly reached out and traced a drop of moisture slowing rolling down her cheek “I think you’ve cast a spell over me.” His finger stroked the fullness of her lower lip. “A bewitching”—he moved closer and his leg gently bumped against hers—“enchanting”—his breath feathered across her trembling mouth—“charming spell.” His words ended with a sweet kiss.

Nadia melted under his tender assault and forgot to keep treading water. They both went under with their lips sealed and came up sputtering and gasping for breath a full minute later. Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she kicked away from Owen and splashed him with a spray of water. “You’re dangerous!” They both could have drowned.

Owen grinned back and wiped the water from his face. “You’re delicious.”

“I thought I was a witch?”

“You’re a delicious witch.” He allowed the distance between them to grow. Thousands of gallons of chilly creek water were rapidly flowing into a hot spring. This wasn’t the time or the place to prove to Nadia how great they could be together. She had come along under the terms of friendship, and what he wanted to do was not in that category. Not only were they in a public place, where anyone could happen along at any time, but it was physically impossible to make love to a woman while swimming in a twelve- foot-deep pond. Not that he wasn’t willing to try. It ranked higher on his list of ways to meet your Maker than hanging, but it still wasn’t his number-one choice.

He glanced over at Nadia. “Last one to reach that boulder”—he pointed to a huge rock embedded in the bank of the other side of the pool—“has to carry the picnic basket back to the car.”

Nadia looked over her shoulder at the boulder and then back at Owen. “Ready, set, go!” She flipped over and started to swim in one fluid motion. She had a three-stroke lead before the startled Owen even began his hopeless attempt to catch up.

* * *

Nadia glanced through the windshield as Owen’s car slowly made its way up her rutted drive. On the way to Hidden Valley they had dropped off her car so that she wouldn’t have to backtrack from Owen’s. She distinctly remembered parking it by the house; now it was parked by the barn, and someone had turned on her porch light. She hoped it was her father or one of her uncles who had borrowed the car. Her brothers tended to collect tickets the way little Damek collected his rocks. She had spent the entire day, and a good portion of the evening, with Owen. There was no telling what kind of trouble her family had gotten into.

On the way home from Hidden Valley she had refused to go inside a restaurant wearing clothes that looked as if she’d slept in them. Her shorts and top were dry, pretty much on the clean side, but the wrinkles were terminal. Owen had gotten his way and bought her dinner when he found a roadside diner with secluded picnic tables; fat, juicy hamburgers; and the crispest fries she had ever tasted. For two hours they wolfed down their meal, fought off killer mosquitoes, and laughed. She had a wonderful time trading childhood stories with Owen. Not only was he the sole child of the town’s most influential and wealthy family, but he had a curious mind and had gotten into more scrapes than all her brothers combined. It seemed that money, prestige, and power only gave Owen an added edge on his adventurous nature.