Bedroom Diplomacy. Michelle Celmer

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СКАЧАТЬ in the bloody hell did you do that?” he said, treading water.

      “I’m so sorry,” she said.

      He grabbed the edge of the pool and hoisted himself up. But the fact that she wasn’t about to be murdered left her so weak with relief that when she tried to pull herself up onto the deck, her arms crumpled and she slid back into the water instead.

      “Allow me,” he said, reaching down to help her. When she hesitated, he said in an exasperated voice, “Just take my hand, for God’s sake.”

      It was either accept his help or swim to the steps at the opposite end, and she honestly wasn’t sure she had the strength.

      She grabbed his outstretched hand and with hardly any effort at all he hauled her out of the water. He was strong, which had her questioning how she’d managed to get him into the water in the first place. Maybe the adrenaline had given her superhuman strength. Now she felt weak and trembly and cold.

      Colin grabbed her towel from the chair where she’d left it, but instead of using it on himself, he wrapped it around her shoulders. Her modest one-piece could hardly be considered revealing, yet she couldn’t help feeling exposed.

      His soggy slacks and sweater were a pretty good indication that he hadn’t been out there to swim. Unless he’d been planning to skinny-dip.

      She wouldn’t have minded seeing that.

      He pulled an expensive-looking cell phone from the pocket of his soggy slacks. She cringed as he gave it a shake, jabbed the home button a few times and got nothing.

      If he told her father about this, she was dead meat.

      “I am so sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was out here. I usually have the pool all to myself.”

      “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, ringing water from the sleeves of his sweater. “I was sitting by the pool and I must have dozed off. I woke up when you dove in.”

      “Your phone—can it be salvaged?”

      “I doubt it,” he said, and shoved it back into his pocket.

      His sweater wasn’t looking too promising, either. Her father was going to have a field day with this one. “I am so sorry, Colin. First your pants, now this.”

      He gave up on the sweater, which had gone all saggy and misshapen, and said, “Could you spare me a towel?”

      “Of course!” Where were her manners? It was the least she could do, since, in the process of trying not to get herself murdered, she had murdered his phone instead and, from the looks of it, his sweater… and were those leather shoes?

      “They’re in the pool house.”

      He followed her, his soles squeaking against the ceramic tile. She prayed he wasn’t wearing an expensive and non-waterproof wristwatch.

      The door was locked, and she didn’t have her keys, so she dug behind the loose strip of siding beside the door frame and pulled out the spare. Once inside, she switched on the lights, blinking against the sudden brightness.

      While it was technically a pool house, it was the size, and had all the amenities, of a studio apartment.

      Colin kicked off his shoes and followed her inside. She stepped into the bathroom, which had its own door leading to the pool area, and grabbed a beach towel from the shelf. She walked back out just as Colin was peeling the wet sweater over his head, uncovering a chest and midriff that were a testament to years of dedication to fitness, and an abdomen hard with rippling muscles. Slim hips and lean, strong arms gave proportion to what, under the clingy fabric of his slacks, were clearly long and muscular legs. Then he turned to toss the ruined garment out the door, and she sucked in a quiet breath.

      Patchy, pink burn scars that were fully healed, yet somehow still looked painfully fresh, started just below his shoulders and ran down the entire width of his back, disappearing beneath the waist of his pants.

      She wiped the surprise from her face as he turned back around. Aside from the scars, his body couldn’t have been more perfect.

      He held out his hand and said, “Towel?”

      She handed it to him. “I’m sorry.”

      “You’re forgiven,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Now would you please stop apologizing.”

      “Sorr—”

      He shot her a look.

      She shrugged. “Habit.”

      Watching him dry his magnificently toned pecs and thick arms, she felt a shimmery za-zing of awareness, in places that hadn’t za-zinged in a long time. Which was the absolute last thing she should be thinking about right now.

      He seemed like a pretty reasonable guy. She went out on a limb and asked, “Is there any way that we could maybe not tell my father about this?”

      He flashed her one of those adorable grins. “It’ll be our little secret.”

      The idea of having a secret with him, big or little, made her heart skip. Here she was, twenty-six and reacting like a schoolgirl with a crush.

      “The senator, he demands perfection?” Colin asked.

      That was something of an understatement. “He does have very high standards.”

      “For what it’s worth, I was impressed. With the day care, I mean.”

      “Thanks.” And for some stupid reason, she heard herself saying, “It was my idea.”

      Rather than a brush-off, or a sure it was look, he appeared genuinely interested. “Was it?”

      She should quit while she was ahead, but she couldn’t seem to make her mouth stop moving. “My father has always run on an all-American family-man platform.” Ironic, considering what a negligent father he actually was. Work always came first. “Among other things one of his causes has been affordable day care for working families. His own staff was no exception. So opening a day care for them seemed like a logical solution. It would be good for his career, and for the people who work for him. And it has been.”

      “So it’s as much your project as his?”

      Uh oh. She shook her head, laughed nervously. “No, no, not at all, it’s definitely his project. Although I did have fun helping with the plans, then watching it all come together. I toured day-care centers all over the city and scoured the internet for ideas.”

      Looking puzzled, he said, “So how then is it not your project?”

      She really needed to stop talking. “It’s not my name on the checks.”

      “Writing the checks is the easy part,” he said, as though he knew that from experience. “It sounds as if you did the hard part. All the real work.”

      If it got back to the senator that she was taking credit for the day care, he would come unhinged.

      “My СКАЧАТЬ