She was unbelievable. “Geez, Becky. I know you like to kid around, but—”
“I’m not joking.”
He tilted his head, staring at her. “Remember the first time I met you?” he asked. “You pretended you didn’t understand one syllable of English. For days, you had me believing you had just stepped off the plane from Paris.”
She put her hand on her hip. “I’m sorry, but that wasn’t me.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Really? Are you married? Is that why you’re putting on this act?”
“I don’t have a husband,” she insisted. “And I’m not pretending. You’re mistaking me for somebody else.”
“Who?” he demanded. “Your twin sister?”
Her eyes lit up. “That’s right!” she quickly said. “You’re thinking I’m Pam, my identical twin sister. She lives in New York and—”
“Becky, come off it,” Jarrid cut in. “I know you’re adopted and don’t have a twin sister named Pam. I also remember you told me that you were searching for your birth mother and wanted to change your last name to your birth name. So why are treating me like I’m a stranger? I saw you staring at me when you were doing aerobics a little while ago.”
Her cheeks turned apple red. “I—I thought I knew you, but I don’t.”
Jarrid felt a sudden sadness rush through him. “Sure, Becky, I understand. A goodbye is a goodbye, isn’t it?” He glanced up at the wall clock. “I’m late for my swim workout.”
He forced himself to dive into the pool. She didn’t want to be with him, and that was it. Unable to deal with his disappointment, he forcefully swam across the water, trying to wipe out the denial in her eyes.
Confused and unsure of what had just happened, Becky rushed into the locker room. She fumbled with her combination lock, slipped off her leotard and hurried into the open shower. Her friend Sherry, who was also a hairstylist at the Nouveau Hair Salon in Beverly Hills, had finished working out on the weight machines and was drying off from her shower.
As Becky turned on the cool water, her naked body still sizzled from Jarrid Browning’s survival touch. She noticed that her bare nipples were protruding with arousal. Embarrassed, she quickly turned so Sherry wouldn’t notice.
“Becky, are you all right?” Sherry asked with concern.
“I—I’m fine, thanks, Sherry.” She admired Sherry and looked up to her. Sherry was in her late thirties, very happily married and had two kids who were in high school.
“Becky, I noticed you were in very sturdy hands at the pool,” Sherry commented.
Becky nervously rubbed faster as she shampooed her hair. “Jarrid Browning definitely knows his life-saving techniques.” She didn’t dare tell Sherry how sexually excited she felt with his hands so close to her breasts and his mouth covering hers.
“You can’t fool me, Becky,” Sherry said with a knowing twinkle in her eyes. “I saw the steam rising between you and him. Maybe he’ll ask you out.”
Becky bit her bottom lip. “I don’t think so.”
Deep down, she knew the stark truth about herself. She wasn’t sexy enough for any man to want to be with forever. Her ex-boyfriend, Darryl, had made that crystal clear to her.
“I bet he asks for your phone number,” Sherry said, grabbing her soap, shampoo and towel to leave. “I saw the way he looked at you. When my husband looked at me when we first met, I knew I was going to marry him. Now I’ve had seventeen wonderful years with him to prove I was right.” Then she hurried to her locker.
Becky turned off the shower water. She knew Sherry was bull’s-eye about her attraction to Jarrid. From the moment she saw him, she knew she could instantly fall in love with him.
Yet, she knew that a raw, masculine guy like Jarrid could never be interested in a woman like her. Besides, she wasn’t even the Becky he thought she was!
In the parking lot outside the gym, Jarrid anxiously leaned against his silver van, still holding his gym bag. His insides were churning like the pool water had during his workout.
He knew he needed to get to work at the small home entertainment store he owned in Santa Monica, but instead, he glanced through the windowed pool area at the closed women’s locker-room door, waiting for Becky. She was still inside taking a shower, probably washing away any memory she ever had of him.
Jarrid kicked his work boot into a pothole, thinking about Becky—his old sweetheart—the girl he had wanted to marry.
He painfully remembered his last heart-wrenching night with her. It was the evening of Becky’s high school senior prom. Becky had looked like a princess in her turquoise gown. She was a bold, vivacious eighteen-year-old, while he was a naive, crazy-in-love, twenty-one-year-old audio and video technician.
Her prom night also marked their two-year anniversary of going steady. He had excitedly hidden a purple velvet box containing a round miniature-diamond engagement ring in his black tuxedo jacket. He couldn’t wait to surprise her.
In the back seat of the chauffeured, black limousine Jarrid had rented for the night, he got up the nerve to hand her the velvet box. He anxiously waited for the yes that would light up his life.
As Becky stared at the sparkling ring, her bottom lip had trembled. When she closed the box without putting the diamond on her finger, Jarrid had known her answer.
In a rush of words, Becky had told him that she was eager to start college and begin a baking-fresh new life. She yearned to be free to adventure with new souls.
Jarrid didn’t recall slipping the velvet box back into his tuxedo pocket, or even her prom. He knew why she’d turned him down.
He blamed himself. He was the one who’d pushed her into going steady. He was the one who’d wanted to see her every single weekend. He’d fooled himself into believing that she was in love with him as much as he was with her.
That night was the last time he saw Becky. Until seven years later—carrying her out of the gym pool in Los Angeles.
Jarrid’s heart suddenly quickened when the women’s locker room door opened. He held his breath as he waited for Becky to appear. Instead, a woman carrying a red gym bag hurried out.
What’re you doing to yourself, Browning? he mentally scolded. You got over Becky a long time ago.
And he did. When his heart had eventually healed, he told himself that he could live without a woman’s love. And whenever he had felt lonely, he reminded himself of how hurt he’d gotten when he let love rule his life.
He had moved to Los Angeles and taken a job as an electronics technician for a chain store. He had worked hard and finally saved enough money to start his own small home entertainment store selling carousel CD players, surround sound speakers, four-channel power amplifiers, laser disc players and digital satellite dishes.
However, Jarrid had bigger dreams. He wanted to custom design and install home theater systems and corporate video and audio systems. Then he could someday open a much larger home entertainment store showcasing his designs and hire more employees. To do that, he first needed to attract customers who could afford to contract him to design custom systems. And so far, he hadn’t even come close to his goal.
Yet, no matter how hard Jarrid worked at expanding his business, he still secretly yearned to find the woman of his heart. And now Becky had reappeared.
Just moments ago, when he tore down Becky’s high-top leotard neckline to help her breath, his eyes caught the swell of her breasts above her exercise bra. He felt the impulse to cup her firm mounds in his hands.
And