She glanced at Jill, who blew her a kiss. Everyone but her seemed happy with the situation.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. Rick-the-Dick had been a journalist, and they hadn’t liked him. Not one bit. Well, they knew bupkis about their dinner guest, so for all they knew, he could be just as bad.
When she glanced over at Tanner, she noticed he was fighting a smile. Oh yeah, he knew exactly what was going on. Amused, was he? Well, haha.
After eating their way through sautéed chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus with nacho cheese sauce—so Jill—Meredith rose to help her sister make coffee and serve dessert.
Tanner put a hand on Jill’s shoulder. “I’m sure you make better coffee than I do, but please, let me do something. Meredith, would you mind showing me around your mother’s kitchen?”
She rose since it would look impolite to decline. When the kitchen door swung shut behind her and Tanner, Meredith turned and put her hands on her hips. “You’re awfully helpful.”
He shrugged—all tall, muscular man. “It’s the least I could do.” He filled the coffee pot with water. “Plus, I wanted to be alone with you for a minute, so it seemed like a good plan. Where’s the coffee?”
Meredith pulled the container out of the cherry cupboard. “Why?” she asked, but she already knew. Her heart beat in strong smacks against her ribcage.
He didn’t measure the coffee. “You’re a smart girl, so I’m sure you can figure it out. I’ll tell you anyway, though…I was intrigued by the woman I met at the pool.”
She crossed her arms over her bustier, appalled she was so turned on by something as pedestrian as a man making coffee. “How did you know it was me when we met in the family room? I’ve been swimming for most of my life, and even I have trouble recognizing people when they have their clothes on.”
His lips twitched. “Interesting way of putting it.” He hit the on button.
The sound of percolating water punctuated the silence. When he walked toward her, she stepped back and hit the counter. His smile spread as he moved closer. Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum filled her head again. Her gaze slid to his full lips. He had a small scar near his mouth, but it only made him manlier. Her body tightened as she inhaled the scent of his musky cologne mixed with the smell of coffee.
“You have a mole under your right shoulder blade, and that shirt makes it easy to see it.” His hushed tone raised the hairs on her arms. “You also have another mole I found incredibly sexy, but I couldn’t see it in the family room…” His gaze slid down her body. “Since you have pants on.”
Oh. My.
“Of course, the next time we race, I plan to look for it again.”
When he met her eyes, she licked her dry lips.
Jump him, Divorcée Woman drawled. You know you want to.
Oh, shut up. “So we’re racing again?” She sounded like a breathy harlot.
He leaned closer and ran his hand down her arm, setting off nuclear nerve endings. “Be a shame not to when we match each other so well stroke for stroke.”
Her thigh muscles spasmed. “Are you always this forward?”
“We’re only talking about swimming, Meredith,” he said, his dress shoes nudging her black ballet flats.
She cocked her head, fighting the urge to flick her hair over her shoulder. “Oh yeah?”
His mouth tipped up. “Well, yes, and your mole. So what’s your favorite stroke?”
Her heart thundered so fast in her chest it felt like someone had pressed the pedal to the metal. Were they really flirting over swimming strokes?
Who cares? Divorcée Woman interjected. It’s hot.
“Freestyle,” she responded in that same raspy voice, a la Marilyn Monroe.
Tanner hummed. It reverberated through her body.
“Long, even strokes characterized by power and endurance.”
She flushed with heat.
He gazed at her mouth as he continued. “I like to warm up with freestyle, but finishing with the butterfly is the only way to go. It’s all about build-up. Once you’re limber, you need to take your stroke to the next level. Surging and thrusting out of the water with power and coordination, your lungs burning as you race to the finish line.”
Was she going to faint? She felt light-headed.
Faint into him, you idiot! Divorcée Woman yelled in her head.
“Perhaps we can compare notes the next time we swim.”
Meredith dropped her gaze from his face and studied the strong arms filling out his gray dress shirt. She remembered what those muscles looked like dripping wet. Whimpering would be totally inappropriate, but she wanted to. God, the man was as intoxicating as Valrhona bittersweet chocolate.