In The Enemy's Embrace. Mindy Neff
you would. That’s why I called early. Where were y’all, anyway?”
“Khalahari had some trouble this morning and we were out in the stable with Alex and Hannah.”
“Is she all right?” Jessica knew the highly valuable Arabian mare wasn’t due to foal yet. But Khalahari had a history of tough pregnancies and foaling early. Khalid’s birth was a prime example. If it hadn’t been for Hannah Clark-Coleman, they’d have lost both Khalahari and Khalid. But Hannah, the young veterinarian her cousins had teased as a kid, came through for them all and saved the day. She’d also tempted the sheikh, and now she and Alex were married and the proud parents of four-month-old twin boys.
“Khalahari’s fine,” Randy said. “It was a false alarm. But you know how Alex is over that mare.”
“Mmm.”
“I’m glad you’re staying with Nick, sweetheart,” Vi said. “He’ll do right by you.”
Jessica wound the phone cord around her finger and refrained from commenting. Her parents had an entirely different perspective of Nick Grayson from hers.
“It shouldn’t be for very long. Once I get a car rented—or lease a new one—I’ll get out and look for a new place.”
“Oh, honey. Don’t rush it. Promise me,” Vi said. “Stay for a couple of weeks. Your father and I, at least, need that much time to recover our nerves.”
Jessica was sure they didn’t realize what they were asking of her. Her own nerves might not survive a two-week stay under Nick Grayson’s roof. Besides butting heads at nearly every turn, the uncontrollable adrenaline rush of desire she experienced at a mere look or touch was wearing her out.
“Okay, I won’t rush off.”
“I’m sure you have a hundred things to do, so we won’t keep you with any more of our worries. You call if you need us, you hear?” Randy said.
“I’ll call, Daddy. And let the rest of the family know that everything here’s fine. I love you guys.”
She disconnected the call, then dialed the guest house at the Desert Rose, where Abbie and Mac had moved into after they’d married. Might as well take care of all the calls at once.
Twenty minutes later, she still sat on the edge of the bed, her nerves humming from retelling the horror of the fire. She’d played it down of course, but her own vivid memories wouldn’t be quieted.
Action was what she needed, she decided, and she got up to put away her new wardrobe. She ought to exercise her independence and go to a hotel. But she’d promised her parents she’d stay with Nick. It made them feel better. Her father was proud of her, truly wanted her to follow in his footsteps, but sometimes he hurt her feelings by insisting she rely on Nick.
Still, she hadn’t slept well last night—or rather the hours left of the early morning—because she’d kept seeing smoke and flames and terror every time she’d closed her eyes, hearing the scream of alarms and the wail of sirens.
This house had fire sprinklers hidden in the high ceilings, plenty of windows and doors to get out of in a hurry if the need arose.
And as much as she hated to admit it, she felt better knowing someone else was in the house. Even if he did frustrate the very devil out of her at times.
About to stuff her new black bikini in the drawer, she changed her mind, pulled the tags off and slipped the two pieces on under her sundress. Struggling a bit with the top, she managed to get it in place.
Water had always been a stress reliever for her. Be it the bathtub, shower, a swimming pool or a lake, it revived her.
Carrying her sandals in her hand, she skipped down the richly carpeted staircase and went out the back glass doors. She bypassed the resortlike swimming pool and made her way down the grassy slope of lawn toward the lake.
Clouds gathered in the sky overhead, the humidity hovering at a sticky eighty percent. The unique, familiar smell of the lake surrounded her, wrapping her in a blanket of comfort much the way the smell of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies evoked warm memories of family gatherings in the kitchen at home on the ranch.
Honestly. She wasn’t homesick after only a couple of months. She was just feeling…displaced. That was all.
The boards of the dock that extended out over the water were smooth beneath her feet. Someone had recently slapped a coat of resin over the wood, ensuring bare feet would remain splinter-free.
She glanced longingly at the expensive powerboat, the sun glancing off its white hull. The duel outboards would really make this baby scoot. Jessica loved to go fast—cars, horses, boats. It was so exhilarating, that feeling of being on the edge of danger, free.
Sitting down, she dangled her feet in the cool water, then pulled her sundress over her head, laid it aside and slipped into the water feetfirst.
She gasped as water closed around her. Warmed by the sun, the first foot or so was deceptive. After that, it was icy cold. Her body adjusted after a couple of minutes and she began to swim, reveling in the way the lake caressed her skin, holding her as she rolled over and floated on her back.
She might have dozed for a minute, but something brushed her leg beneath the water and startled her. Heart jumping, she glanced around, realized it was just a reed tangled around her ankle.
About the time she relaxed again, she looked up and saw Nick coming toward her on the dock.
Carrying a towel.
For some reason, that annoyed her. Oh, sure, she’d forgotten to bring something to dry off with, but the fact that Nick was the one to provide it touched a nerve. Besides, what was wrong with letting a body air-dry in the warm sunshine?
He still wore his suit pants and dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing tanned, muscular forearms. Didn’t the guy believe in getting comfortable?
“The swimming pool too civilized for you?” he asked.
She treaded water, looking up at him. The sun was behind his head, making it difficult to see his expression. She imagined he had a fine view of her, though.
“Lake water’s much nicer to my skin. Besides, it’s what I’m used to. I swim in the lake at the Desert Rose, so this feels like home.”
He crouched down, shifting out of the direct sunlight so she didn’t have to squint. Or wonder what expression he wore.
The traditional scowl. Figured.
It bothered her even more that those rigid scowls turned her on. Sheesh.
She reached up for the edge of the dock, afraid she’d drown herself with the way this man affected her limbs and her breathing.
“Want a hand?” he asked.
“I’m good, thanks.” She saw his gaze dip to her cleavage. Heck, even if she ducked her shoulders under the water, he’d still be able to see through the clear lake water. She’d churned up the water just enough to have it lapping softly against the dock, each buoyant ripple gently lifting her breasts.
And he still looked.
Honestly. Talk about ruining all the benefits of the stress-relief swim. “On second thought, maybe I will—”
Before she could finish her sentence or advise him to step back so he wouldn’t get wet, he hooked his hands beneath her arms and lifted her out of the water as though she weighed little more than a leather saddle.
She grabbed for his arms, then flattened her palms on his chest to steady herself on her feet, leaving wet handprints on his upper arms and front of his shirt.
“Criminy. Warn a person, why don’t you.” She reached for the towel, dabbed at the water on herself, then dabbed at his shirt.
He stepped back. “I’ll dry.”
“Well, it serves you