She waded in cautiously. She was hot from the summer sun and humidity, but as usual, Lake Michigan was frigid at first contact.
Liam turned a few feet away from the craggy breakwater and headed back toward shore. It was clear he came from a family of swimmers. He sliced through the water with an even, powerful stroke, making it look as easy as a hot knife carving through butter. In reality, Natalie knew from experience that swimming in the choppy water took a special skill, one she’d never fully mastered.
He surfaced a few feet away from her and knelt in the water.
“Still cold for August, huh?”
Natalie nodded, keeping Liam in the periphery of her vision as she stared at the gray water. If she stared too intently into the brilliant sunshine, her weak eyelid would involuntarily close. She didn’t want Liam to notice that.
“You’re such a good swimmer,” she murmured.
“Thanks.”
He stood abruptly, causing the water to splash loudly around him. He stepped closer to her, casting Natalie in his tall shadow. She exhaled in relief and glanced up at him. She realized he’d blocked the sun on purpose—to protect her. For a second or two, she waited for the dread and embarrassment to come, the feelings that usually resulted after being exposed.
They never did.
His gaze was so uncommonly soft; his blue eyes were so warm. She recalled what he’d said this afternoon in front of the Captain and Crew about her scar: It’s one of the many things that make you unique…and yes, beautiful.
She returned his smile.
“I remember watching you swim at the beach when I was a girl,” she said.
“Yeah?” he asked gruffly. He stepped closer and removed a strand of loose hair from her cheek with cool, damp fingertips.
She nodded as he tried to tuck the errant strand behind her ear. Her face was less than a foot away from his chest. His nipples were a dark copper color. They were erect from the cold water.
“I remember one summer you wore a pair of trunks that were the same color as the ones you’re wearing right now—turquoise blue,” she said in a rush. She felt his hand still in her hair. She kept her gaze fixed on his wet, muscular chest.
She was finally granted the ability to inhale when he resumed smoothing her hair. He stepped back, although he was careful to keep her cast in his shadow.
“I wish I could remember you,” he said.
“No you don’t. I mean…I’m glad you don’t,” she said with a laugh. “My mother usually wanted my hair short during the summers, because it was easier. It grows so fast, and it took her so long to brush out the snarls after a day at the beach. She just didn’t have the time. She worked too hard. When I was ten or eleven, I looked like an adolescent boy—skinny arms and legs. It was one of the reasons I liked the beach—at least in my bikini, people knew I was a girl.”
He chuckled. “I’ll bet you were adorable. I can’t picture you with short hair, though.” His eyes flickered down over her shoulders and chest. “I definitely can’t imagine you being mistaken for a boy.”
Her cheeks heated from a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.
“Were you shy? As a little girl?” Liam asked, his voice a low rumble.
“Yes,” she said quietly as she watched her hands dance in the rippling water. “My mother used to say I was coming out of my shell, though. I’d become really involved in ballet classes and started doing recitals. Performing took me out of myself a little bit.”
“You’d been at a ballet recital on the night of the accident.”
She glanced up sharply. She’d been surprised by his statement, but Liam looked even more stunned at his own words.
“Sorry,” he muttered. He glanced toward the beach, a strange expression on his face. “I have no idea where that came from. It just hit me all of a sudden. I must have read it in a newspaper, or heard it on the news back when I was a kid. When you mentioned the recitals, it just sort of sprung up out of nowhere from my memory.”
Her surprise at his abrupt statement about the crash vanished in the face of his obvious discomfort.
“There’s no need to apologize,” she said, her voice even. “It probably was in the papers. My mother and I had been at a recital over in South Haven. We were driving home that night.”
“You and your mother were close, weren’t you?” he asked after a moment.
“Yes. Very close.”
His gaze remained fixed on the beach. She saw his muscular throat convulse and she stepped toward him.