Finn’s gaze swept over her like a blast of hot air and she clutched her garments closer to her wet chest.
“Here,” he said, grabbing his T-shirt up off the ground. “Wear this if you’d be more comfortable.”
“But I’ll make it wet,” she protested, even as she accepted it from him.
He shrugged. “It’ll dry, it’s only lake water.” He picked up his jeans and shook them out. “You want to turn your back a second?”
Color rushing to her cheeks, Tamsyn did just that and heard the wet plop of his briefs hitting the ground followed by the sound of him easing denim up long damp legs.
“It’s safe to look now,” he said, and she turned slowly.
Safe? He had to be kidding. With his hair all wet and spiky, his skin gleaming and his jeans slung low on his hips he was anything but safe.
“Um, perhaps you’d like to do the same for me?” she asked, her voice betrayingly husky.
“Sure. In fact, I’ll set up our meal by the old fireplace. Join me when you’re ready.”
He shoved his socks inside his shoes and, tying the laces into a knot together, he hooked them with a finger and began to head back toward the bike. She watched as he increased the distance between them. Something pulled deep in her belly, as if there was an invisible thread that lay between them. A thread that tightened a notch at a time as he took each step away.
She shook her head. This was ridiculous. She was still angry with him, he’d lied to her. But he’d also made sure she had a roof over her head and food in her belly. And, from what she’d overhead in his conversation with Lorenzo Fabrini earlier today, he was trying to get the older man to agree to her seeing Ellen.
The sun slipped behind a cloud and a breeze off the lake caressed her skin, reminding her that she was standing here chilled, almost naked. Tamsyn lifted Finn’s shirt up to her face, checked to ensure he still wasn’t looking and inhaled. His scent filled her, consumed her almost. Spice and wood and quintessential Finn. It made her whole body ache for him.
He’d reached the quad bike and was lifting a large box off the back. With his back still toward her, he headed toward the ruins of his old home. Secure in her privacy, Tamsyn quickly unsnapped her wet bra and pulled his T-shirt over her head before shimmying out of her wet panties. Instantly she felt warmth begin to seep through her, as if she’d been enveloped by the man himself. How did he do that? How did he make her feel so secure and yet so vulnerable at the same time? It wasn’t fair.
Her hair still dripped down her back and she twisted its length to one side, wringing out as much excess water as she could before lifting it and, in lieu of having a band to tie it with, twisting it in a damp knot at the top of her head. A small twig, about the length of a chopstick, shoved through the knot held it from slipping in wet coils down her back. Satisfied she was more comfortable, Tamsyn followed in Finn’s wake.
He’d spread a blanket on the grass and was taking out some pots of food as well as a pair of wineglasses.
“Better?” he asked as she drew closer.
“Thanks, yes.” She spread her bra and panties in the sun on the bricks of the old fireplace and sank to her knees on the blanket.
“You must be hungry. It’s ages since I brought you breakfast.”
“I am a bit,” she admitted, realizing now that she was ravenous.