She’d assumed correctly.
Fuck. Sometimes, it felt like all the tools that had worked with him in the past with women—even his aloofness—weren’t assets with Harper, but liabilities. He reached up and tucked an escaped tendril of hair behind her ear, then brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. She was so soft. So beautiful. Something seemed to well up in him. God, he must be exhausted.
“Just swim with me,” he murmured, dipping his head and kissing her nose. “I know you like to swim.”
“How do you know that?” she asked, a hint of wariness crossing her features.
“You said you like the water when we were out on the yacht. You just seem like a swimmer,” he said, deflecting his error. “Come on, I dare you.”
She laughed and shook her head, finally shrugging in acquiescence. Relief swept through him. “What the hell? I don’t get a chance to take a dip in a place like this often.” She waved at the pool and terrace and the view of the Pacific Ocean.
“Okay,” he said, stepping away from her. He reached down to untie his shoes. “Whoever hits the water first wins the prize.”
She looked startled, and he thought he knew why. She’d expected a seduction, despite what he’d said. He’d told her he’d always undress her for sex. “What kind of a prize?” she asked.
He stood, shrugged, and kicked off his shoes. “The pride of being the fastest stripper, I guess.”
Her eyes caught fire. Victory flashed through him. He knew that look all too well.
“I’ll win,” she told him steadfastly, whipping off her shirt and immediately attacking the buttons on her shorts. “I’ve got less on.”
He laughed full out and turned away, jerking his jacket off. Even before he could start on his shirt, he heard a whoop and a loud splash in the water.
“Too slow, sucka.”
He turned, his expression rigid, his belt buckle clutched in his hand. She treaded water in the center of the pool, grinning from ear to ear.
God bless it, girl.
The voice rang out of his past, crystal clear. It was Jake Tharp’s overwhelmed voice. Maybe it was his.
He dropped his shirt to a lounge chair a few seconds later, a feeling of inevitability hitting him.
No. It was both of them—Jake and Jacob—combined. Only Harper could have brought Jake to life again in him.
Only Harper could have made it feel achingly bittersweet.
Twenty Years Ago
She surfaced a second after he did in the river, gasping and sucking air into her lungs. She stared at him blankly for a second while she treaded water, as if the fall had rattled her brain and she didn’t recognize who he was.
“Harper?” Jake asked worriedly. “You okay?”
Her sudden radiant smile floored him.
“Can we do it again?” she asked.
“What?”
“That was so cool!”
He scoffed doubtfully, swimming closer to her. “Did you hurt your head?” he asked, examining the bruise and abrasion on her forehead that Emmitt had given her. Maybe the cliff jump had made it worse?
“No.” She looked offended. “What, a city girl can’t get off on an adrenaline rush?”
“Maybe a city girl,” he mumbled. Their treading legs brushed together, sending tingling pleasure through him. “Don’t know about you, though. You said you hated heights. Now you want to do it again? Are you crazy?”
She laughed and stared up the stark face of the cliff.