Hit & Run Bride (Hit & Run Bride Contemporary Romance Series) (7 page)

Van snagged the single, miniature candy bar at the bottom of the bag. “Okay, that’s fair. But you know you have to tell her.”

“I know, and I will. But not right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Her friend’s gaze slid to the gym bag under Becca’s desk. “Swimming today?”

Her stomach flip-flopped. She wasn’t sure which made her more nervous—getting in the water again or seeing Liam. “Yeah. My first private lesson.” Ten was a little late, but it would give her some time to work later and grab dinner. Bonus that she wouldn’t have the other people in class giving her the I-feel-sorry-for-you look as they triumphantly did their glides while she could barely blow bubbles.

“So just you and Mr. Swim Hottie in a pool all by your lonesomes.”

“Van, it’s not like that.” Becca wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.

Her friend’s eyes twinkled. “Of course not. You’re engaged to the perfect man...with your very pink ring.”

Becca couldn’t help a snort of laughter. “Stop. Come on. It’s not so bad.” She glanced down at her hand, willing herself to love it. Nope. She didn’t love it. “I’m going to talk to him about it.”

Van chewed her bottom lip. “Well, as hideous as that thing is, maybe you should iron out the wedding first. I still can’t believe he wouldn’t hear you out the other day.”

“He’s so adamant. He kept talking about training for the Ironman, and all I could think about was the fact that I can’t blow bubbles yet. Let alone swim two miles. Did you know that I’m expected to run a freakin’ marathon too? A marathon, Van! My limit for reasonable is three miles on the treadmill with
Real Housewives
on the TV. Anything beyond that is for the crazies.”

“What are you always telling me when it comes to projects? One step at a time. Have your conversation with Holden before you start worrying about the swim or the marathon. In the meantime, take your lessons with Hottie Liam. I mean, the Ironman is out of the question, but Liam might be able to get you swimming well enough to do some watersports so you can enjoy Hawaii. Focus on the thing in front of you first.”

That meant focus on tonight...with Liam. She could definitely do that.

* * *

Liam was at the Club before nine-thirty. Restless, he paced the side of the pool, shaking out his arms. One gentleman swam laps, lost in the rhythm of his effortless strokes, getting in his late-night swim before the pool officially closed at ten. The cleaning crew wouldn’t be in until ten-thirty, giving Liam and Becca a solid half hour for a private lesson.

He smiled when he thought back to their previous conversation. The smiley face. He’d never been one for cutesy shit, but with her, it worked.

He should get in the water. Get rid of his pent up adrenaline. He had to be calm and reassuring for Becca, not wired like he was now.

But his mom’s appointment hadn’t gone well. The cancer was being stubborn. Her doctor wanted to do radiation and another round of chemo. Anita Caldwell had stuck her proud chin in the air and said no. It was all Liam could do not to put his fist in the concrete wall. But he had to give his mother credit. She’d lived life her way, and she planned to die her way as well.

The lone swimmer in the pool jumped out and began drying off. He nodded at Liam. “Liam, good to see you.”

“How’s it going, Mr. Tate?”

The owner of the Mission Sporting Goods chain stores rubbed the towel over his bald head. “Business is good. My marketing group is working on a new advertising campaign. We could use a model with your build for the print ads.”

“I’m flattered, sir, but I sort of have my hands full at the moment.”

As if on cue, Becca burst through the doors, hair flying in every direction, her towel dragging on the floor, and her arms filled with a pair of flippers. “Am I late? Sorry, I found a parking spot this time, but I couldn’t get in the doors. They were locked, and…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze landed on Mr. Tate.

Tate winked at Liam. “I can see that.”

Tate left, and Liam helped Becca arrange her stuff on a bench. “Ready to get wet?”

Her eyes rose to his, and she nodded. “I think so. Can I wear these?” She held up the flippers.

“You won’t need them.”

“Are you sure? I read this blog about swimming, and they recommended flippers.”

“How about we try blowing bubbles first?”

“I did that last time.”

Nothing like a challenge. “You need a little more practice.”

“Okay, sure, fine. Bubbles. But, uhm, it’s sort of urgent that I actually learn to
swim
swim.”

“How about we do sixty seconds on bubbles, then we’ll move on.”

“Okay. A pattern, a schedule. I like patterns and schedules. What’s after bubbles? You know, so I can mentally prepare.”

“Gliding.” At this rate, he was never going to get her in the water. He pointed at the pool. “Ready?”

She followed him to the side. He jumped in and motioned for her to do the same. Like the previous lesson, she went to the steps and clung to the handrail as she carefully entered the water one step at a time.

She was fired up to swim, but still feared the water. How to help her overcome that? He held out a hand, and she death-gripped it. With no one else in the pool, the calming lapping of the water was the only sound.

“Do you give private lessons often?” she asked as her foot touched the bottom. Her gaze was locked on his. Fear was definitely reflected in her eyes.

“Only to a few people.”

“So I’m special?”

She was special all right. “Why are you so scared of the water, Becca?”

Her eyes shifted away from his. “I—I’m not scared. Just not used to the water yet, I guess.”

So that’s how she wanted to play it. He’d give it a rest. “The best way to get used to it is to jump in. How about those bubbles?”

They worked for longer than sixty seconds on bubbles, mostly because once she got started, she kept at it. She liked the accomplishment. “Awesome job. Now, let’s get you on your back.”

That sounded dirty. He glanced at her face and saw a sly grin lift one corner. “I meant to float. I think we, er,
you
, should try floating. Then we’ll progress to gliding.”

For most of his students, floating came easy. As easy as blowing bubbles.

“I’m going to help you lie back in the water.” He placed one hand between her shoulder blades and the other on her lower back. “Lie back. My hands will support you. Nice and easy…”

She did as instructed, her feet rising to the surface. Her eyes were wide, but she smiled. “I’m floating! I’m really doing it!”

And then her butt dropped like a weight.

She flailed her arms, hitting Liam in the face as she torqued her body and rolled right off his supporting hands. She face-planted into the water, splashing him and going under.

He hauled her up by the waist. She gasped and coughed and spit pool water everywhere.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He held her against him. “I’m right here.”

She hiccupped and coughed some more, then balled up her fists and smacked them into his chest. “Why does it have to be so hard?”

It
was
hard. Everything, in fact, was hard beneath the water at that moment. He forced his mind off what was happening below his waist. “That was my fault. I should have had a better grip on you.”

She raised her face, water dripping from her curls, and relaxed her fingers against his pecs. “I’m not an idiot. I panicked. That’s not your fault. It’s mine.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Again.”

He had to admire the fact she was taking responsibility. “Let’s say we both could have done better.”

Her fingers splayed across his skin, and he had to shift his lower half back a little to be sure she didn’t come into contact with his erection. Maybe if he got her talking, he could put her at ease again. “So what do you do for a living, Becca?”

“I’m a project analyst at Dive, the swim line for Elite Sports. I pretty much make sure all the initiatives get put into production. But I’m the internal face. I have an account manager that handles client interface and getting our designs into stores. It’s better that way.”

“Why?” He maneuvered her into a floating position again.

“I tend to be too honest with clients and don’t bullshit them like a salesperson has to.” She shrugged. “They like a little more handholding.” She giggled. “Make that
a lot
of handholding.”

He understood that concept. As she leaned back into his arms, he carefully avoided her butt and slid his right hand down to the back of her thigh. “We’re going to do this a little differently this time. I’m not trying to feel you up, but you need some buoyancy on your lower half.”

She giggled again. “It’s fine. I know what you’re doing.”

He looked down into her face and held her in the float position. “Elite Sports is a big company. How long have you been there?”

He kept her talking about her job, and before they both knew it, she was floating. She was talking about her friend, Vanessa, and some prank she had pulled on the Tribots—whoever they were—and Liam slowly let go.

She continued to float, all on her own, as she confessed to her secret addiction to chocolate and some reality TV series he’d never watched but overheard the Club women talking about. Then he raised his hands and showed them to her.

Understanding slowly dawned on her face. “I’m floating? All on my own?”

He nodded, and she froze. Down went her ass, and up went her arms, windmilling like before. This time, however, he was prepared. He swooped in with one arm and snagged her waist to keep her from sinking.

A repeat of their past chest-to-chest mamba occurred, only this time, she didn’t beat him with her fists. “I’m never going to swim, am I?”

He made sure she was steady on her feet, then headed for the edge of the pool. “Wait right there.”

He climbed out of the pool and grabbed a kickboard. On the way past the bench, he snagged her flippers. Back in the water, he lifted her up and sat her on the edge, then slipped the flippers on her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just hang with me.” After securing the flippers, he lifted her back into the water and demonstrated how to use the kickboard. He kicked back to her and handed her the board. “Your turn.”

Hesitantly, she fingered the board. “I don’t know about this.”

“I do.” He wrapped one hand around her arm and the other around her waist. “I’ve got you. Now do exactly what I did. Ready?”

She shook her head but held the board out in front of her. “Should I hum?”

“What?”

“Should I hum? You know, like when you taught me to blow bubbles.”

He laughed. “Whatever rocks your world, Becca.”

She smiled. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Never.” He positioned her in the water, kept her from sinking. “Now kick those legs, hard.”

With his help, she scooted across the pool from one side to the other. Her face morphed into that self-satisfied look she got every time she accomplished something. She lowered her feet and nearly jumped up and down in the water. “I did it. I kinda, sorta swam!”

“Yep.” He enjoyed seeing that look on her face, and the bobbing up and down in the water wasn’t terrible either. “You did.”

“Oh, my God, thank you!” She threw her arms around his neck, bringing those luscious, wet curves into full body contact. Her flippers nailed his ankles as she tried to stand on his feet.

And then, without warning, she brushed his cheek with a kiss. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.” She went to kiss him again, except he moved his face, and her lips,
thank you, Jesus,
landed on his.

They were wet and warm, and oh, so soft. When she didn’t pull away, he lingered there, tasting, and hoping she didn’t knee him in the balls.

Her body relaxed into his, her lips parting on a sigh. “I...uh…”

Pull back.
Huge breach of teacher-student relations. His hands were one thing, supporting her in the water, but there was no way he should have his lips anywhere on her body.

But he didn’t push her away. No sir, Alex would have been proud. Liam wrapped his arms around Becca and kissed her again.

She responded, pressing her breasts against his chest. And then, like a light switch, she jerked away, putting distance between them. “What am I doing?” she said, rubbing her fingers over her lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was completely unprofessional, and it will never happen again.”

Seemingly tongue-tied, she sputtered. Cleared her throat, and tried again. “It’s not you. It’s uhm...I, uh...I got excited, and sometimes I do really stupid things when I’m excited.”

Stupid things
. Kissing him being one of them. Okay, then. Their time was nearly up. “One more time across?”

Swimming got in a person’s blood. He’d seen it a hundred times with the kids—and adults—he’d trained. Even the smallest taste of that kind of freedom made people long for more.

“That would be awesome.” Becca grabbed the kickboard and avoided his eyes. “I’m psyched.”