‘Whoa—back up. Dog-walking?’
Her laugh, the first genuine one she’d given, zipped through him. Musical and light, it was a sound he wanted to hear again. Often.
‘It’s fun, challenging or downright exhausting, depending on the size or number of pooches. And always available in any city, any country.’
‘Ever lose any?’ The more he learned, the more fascinated he became.
‘NO. I HAD one Labrador who didn’t want to go back to his owner, but I didn’t blame him. The woman’s perfume was so overpowering it clogged my throat.’
She blushed and bent her head. So delightfully embarrassed he wanted to jump off and comfort her.
‘Hey, yours just didn’t suit you. On another woman it’d be different.’
‘Someone more flamboyant? More “out there”? It was a Christmas gift from a temporary boss, probably recycled. The box had been opened.’
‘Now you have the perfect fragrance for you—delicate, reminding me of sunshine and flowers. Ethereal...’ He chuckled. ‘Maybe not the last one. Though sometimes you do drift off into another world.’
Alina was grateful for the distinct ping announcing the end of her programme. She stepped off as the machine slowed down. Moved over to the weights.
For the next thirty minutes they rarely spoke, each concentrating on their own exercises. She’d have been completely relaxed if she’d been able to block out the male effortlessly lifting weights alongside her, built well enough to play A-league football.
He smiled whenever their eyes met in the huge wall mirror, disconcerting her. His T-shirt moulded to his sculpted chest and muscular upper arms. Her breath hitched every time his biceps firmed as he curled or lifted weights. She felt hot, sweaty, much more than she ever had while exercising before.
Deciding she’d done enough, she walked over to the pool. Discarding her tracksuit, she used the ladder, shivering as she descended into the cool water. Made a mental note to ask him to up the temperature. Taking a deep breath, she ducked under, sinking to the bottom, then shooting up. She grabbed the rail, shaking her head, refilling her lungs... Found herself staring at a pair of slender feet attached to tanned legs with a light covering of black hair.
She tilted her head for a slow scan past firm calves to the muscular thighs that had steered her round the dance floor last night...and a pair of black swimming trunks that left no doubt as to his manhood.
Her mouth dried; her pulse raced. Her body heat overrode the chill from the surrounding water. She didn’t dare meet his eyes, chose the coward’s path and swung into a freestyle stroke away from him. Quickened her pace at the sound of a splash behind her.
Ethan overtook her, touched and turned at the end. He was still below the surface as they passed again. She recovered her composure, slowed to her normal leisurely pace. This wasn’t a contest.
Six laps were enough for her.
She sat on the top of the ladder, wrapped in a towel, her feet dangling. She ought to leave. Shower and dress. Think about dinner—no, too early for that. She stayed. Not sure why, except that it was mesmerising, watching Ethan churn through the water, hardly making a ripple. The way he went through life: single-minded, controlled.
He swam like a machine—clean, even strokes, powering along the pool, flipping like a seal at the end. She timed his push-offs. Always constant. So precise. So coordinated.
She frowned. He’d dipped in front of her on his last turn, hadn’t resurfaced. Suddenly he burst upward from the water, making her jump. His chest skimmed her legs as he rose, catching hold of the rail for stability.
‘Waiting for me?’ He grinned, spraying her with tiny drops as he shook his head.
‘Hey!’
He levered himself higher so they were on eye level. ‘It’s only water. Anything special you’d like to do tomorrow? We’ll have all day.’
‘Oh. No work or commitments?’
‘None. I’m all yours. Stay home, and relax. Go for a drive. Walk on the beach. Your choice.’
How was she supposed to make an instant decision with him so close that there was a hint of his cologne in the chlorine-scented air? With his glistening muscled torso inches from her twitching fingers? With his appealing blue eyes offering her something she refused to name?
‘A ferry ride.’ Out of the blue. From somewhere in her past.
His eyebrows almost met his dripping hairline. ‘You want to go on a ferry?’
She nodded. ‘The Manly Ferry across the heads. I used to love it during the winter in rough weather.’
His smile shot into a scowl. ‘No way are you going out in a storm.’ Grated out. Possessive.
She laughed, recognising the over-protective tone. ‘They don’t cross in really rough weather. I don’t get seasick. And it’s spring.’
He relented, didn’t look convinced. ‘We’ll decide at Circular Quay.’
He twisted, hoisted himself out onto the pool side and picked up the towel he’d left nearby. Alina stood, heading for the door as he patted excess water from his body. He caught her arm and took her towel from her.
‘Stand still.’
He moved behind her, began to dry her hair, firmly yet gently. It was soporific, soothing. She arched her neck in pleasure, sighed when he dropped the towel and began to massage her neck and shoulders. Trembled when his hot breath teased the pulse under her ear.
‘Your muscles are taut as a drum. A proper massage might help.’
From him? Considering he was the main reason for their tension, she doubted it, but his offer was tempting.
‘There’s a beauty parlour in the next block. Make an appointment.’
Why had it suddenly become less appealing?
* * *
After Alina had retired for the night Ethan turned off the television and dimmed the lights. Then, sipping brandy, his feet up on the coffee table, he tried to make sense of the mayhem his normally ordered life had become.
He was committed to becoming a short-term husband and a lifelong father. He was becoming attached to a woman whose heart and love belonged to a dead guy. Her response to him was merely physical. His carefully planned future was now a day-by-day unknown.
* * *
Ethan suggested they put light coats, plus anything else she wanted to take, into her backpack—which he’d carry. He deliberately lingered over breakfast, determined to use their outing to ease any tension between them, make this a day for light conversation with no conflict.
It was mid-morning as they strolled towards Circular Quay. After guiding her across the first road he linked their fingers, claiming it would prevent them from being separated by the crowds already building up. She didn’t argue, seemed content to let him be protective. He was rapidly becoming more comfortable with the feeling.
Had to curb it when, while drinking water and watching the boats, she declared she’d love to do the Harbour Bridge climb.
Alina hadn’t forgotten the sheer joy of crossing the heads to Manly on a windy day in choppy seas. She’d purposely blocked it from her mind. Now she realised how much she’d missed the city she’d lived in for so many years.
Today it was fairly mild, until they reached the gap leading to the ocean. She felt alive, leaning on the rail, facing into the breeze, letting it prickle her skin and tease her hair. Nautical toots and engine noise, calls from yachts as they sailed past, all combined