The boys were playing with a man, their father perhaps, or an uncle. His clothes suggested that he worked in the city. He’d removed his jacket and tie, however, as well as his socks and shoes, and he’d rolled up the bottom of his trousers. Sally could see his discarded clothing, left rather nonchalantly on the ground beneath a shady tree, next to the boys’ school bags.
The three males were having such fun, lunging spectacularly to take difficult catches, laughing and yelling instructions and showing off madly. They reminded Sally of her brothers playing in the garden with her dad, except…
Except…
Oh, good grief. The man was Logan Black.
She hadn’t recognised him immediately because he looked so different without his jacket and tie and with that deliriously carefree grin on his face. He looked wonderful now, moving swiftly across the grass with the same spare, easy athleticism of an Outback horseman.
And then Logan Black saw Sally.
One of the boys had just sent him a high arching kick and he was running backwards, eyes up, on the ball, when his gaze flashed towards her. He seemed to freeze as his gaze met hers. His eyes widened as he recognised her. But then his attention quickly snapped back to the ball.
The small distraction, however, had cost him precious seconds and now he had to tear backwards, arms stretched back behind his head, to catch the football.
Reaching back…reaching…
Sally recognised the danger at the same moment as the boys cried, ‘Uncle! Look out!’
‘Watch the water!’
Their warnings were too late.
Just as Logan’s fingers gripped the ball, he overbalanced, toppling backwards into the pond.
Sally didn’t hesitate. She raced forward, her mind throwing up scary memories of her brothers’ close calls in the creek at Tarra-Binya. Logan Black could hit his head on a submerged rock. He might become entangled in weed. Worst of all, he might not be able to swim.
By the time she reached the edge of the pond, however, Logan was already struggling to his feet. The water was only knee-deep and he hadn’t dropped the football. Despite his dripping state, he held it triumphantly aloft, as if catching it were the most important thing in the world and ruining expensive Italian trousers counted for nothing.
Men!
Sally wanted to feel anger, was dismayed by the mad thumping of her heart, so different from the reaction of the boys, who rushed up beside her and immediately doubled over with helpless laughter. She had to admit it was an amazing sight—her boss standing knee-deep in water and drenched from head to toe.
But soon she was painfully aware of Logan’s wet business shirt, rendered transparent by the water and now plastered against his skin. He might have been naked! She could see every detail of his tanned chest and the impressive bulk of his shoulders. She couldn’t drag her eyes from the sight of his deeply sculpted muscles, the pleasing taper to his narrow hips.
Embarrassing heat flooded her.
‘Hey, Uncle Logan, great save,’ called one of the giggling boys.
Logan grinned back at them good-naturedly, threw the ball to the taller boy, then switched his gaze swiftly to Sally. He didn’t speak as he stepped out of the pond, water streaming from his clothing.
Sally felt compelled to say something. ‘I’m so glad you’re all right, Mr Black. For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to dive in and rescue you.’
He grunted something incomprehensible and then his gaze travelled very deliberately downwards from Sally’s hair to her shoes, which were dangling from her hand, and then to her bare feet. A corner of his mouth tilted, just a little, and his eyes seemed to blaze with black flames. Sally felt dizzy, as if she’d done too many cartwheels.
But then the unsettling light in his eyes suddenly died and his mouth flattened. Clearly he was extremely embarrassed to be caught dripping-wet and as good as naked in a public place. And in front of an employee.
Sally, equally embarrassed, dropped her gaze to her feet, which seemed to have become the focus of his attention. Thank heavens she’d given herself a pedicure at the weekend and painted her toenails a frosted berry colour.
He looked displeased, however, and she nervously fumbled with her shoes and struggled to slip them on. It was silly to be so self-conscious. Her bare feet weren’t nearly as revealing as Logan’s transparent shirt. Then again, she was still recovering from a nightmare incident, was still edgy with men.
To make matters worse, the schoolboys were watching her with marked curiosity.
‘These are my nephews,’ Logan explained, speaking with cold dignity befitting The Boss in An Awkward Situation. He didn’t offer the boys’ names.
Sally tried to sound cool. ‘Hi guys.’ To her dismay she sounded far too breathless.