Summer's Temptation (7 page)

It’s mid-afternoon, and the sun’s still high in the sky. Most of the boys bring up the rear as we stroll on the dock. They talk animatedly about grabs, spins, and inverts, all of which mean nothing to me. I’m pretty sure my one attempt at wakeboarding left me with a slight concussion. My head still hurts, and I swear I can feel my brain swelling. I’m about to hop into Josh’s boat, but a hand snakes around my waist and spins me in the opposite direction. My mouth opens, ready to tell off Josh for manhandling me, when Caribbean-blue eyes meet mine.
Tyler.

“Ever ride a jet ski before?” he asks.

Even though I’m giving him bonus points since his gaze hasn’t lowered from mine, I narrow my eyes. “You’re seriously using the same line on me that you used on Miranda?”

He chuckles, but there’s an impish edge to the sound. “It worked once today. Want to make it two for two?”

I’m about to tell him to get more creative if he wants to give me a ride, but the words die when we get jostled. Since we’re standing at the best place to board the boat, Josh’s football buddies plow past us. Tyler and I are only inches apart. He presses his fingers into my hips and pulls me closer, protecting me from elbows and shoulders with his broad frame.

Josh is the last in line to board, and he steps up to us, taking my arm. “Come on, Cassie. You haven’t seen my Big Wurm yet.”

My eyes snap to his. “Your what?”

He tugs at my arm. “It’s an invert.”

Tyler steps into me; my breasts crush against his chest. “Last chance.”

He looks sexier than any man has a right to. I stare at him, knowing this could be dangerous because I’m wondering the same thing as Liz.
How good is he?

I gently push Josh’s arm away. “I’m going to pass on seeing your big worm for right now.”

Josh winks. “Maybe later.” He jumps on the boat and unties the rope.

I listen to the purr of Josh’s boat engine and wonder if I’ve made the right choice, but I follow behind Tyler to the jet ski anyway.

“Be careful,” Liz yells when their boat glides by. She blows a kiss as if we’re in on a secret.

I stare at Tyler, who’s straddling the jet ski, and decide that maybe she and I are in on a secret. Damn he’s beautiful, and damn I wouldn’t mind him in my bed, especially if my heart isn’t involved. For a split second, I let myself wonder if he’d be game.

“Scared?” Tyler asks, his voice a low rumble over the lapping waves.

My gaze sweeps over the thick muscles in his arms and the filigree-cross tattoo on his forearm. I draw in a deep breath. “Terrified.”

Water stings my legs, and I squeal as Tyler skids the jet ski, doing a complete one-eighty. We’ve been riding around the lake for the last thirty minutes, and my voice is hoarse from screaming and laughing. I’ve never been on a jet ski before, and now I’m not sure I ever want off. My arms encircle his waist, just under his life-vest, and my forehead rests against the bare skin at the nape of his neck. I think I’m going to be sick from his donut maneuver, but it’s a fun kind of sick, the type I get on the upside-down rollercoaster at Six Flags.

Tyler slows and places his hand on my leg. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I croak.

He chuckles. “You don’t sound fine.”

I peer up, and he looks over his shoulder. I can see that his blue eyes have a thin amber circle around the pupil, and a dark blue a few shades deeper than the Caribbean color seen from afar rims his iris. His warm eyes coupled with his strong profile make delicate wings flutter in my stomach. “Maybe we should go slow for a minute.”

He nods and starts off again, staying close to the shore. I rest my cheek on his back and watch the trees go by as my stomach settles.

We pass a familiar camping ground, one I’ve visited many times over the last two years. It’s the same as a thousand other campgrounds strewn across America. Lots of shade trees. Concrete slabs to park cars or motor homes. Park benches. Outdoor grills. But for me, this one’s different.

In my memory, I’m exiting a car with Liz and three other Kappa Betas. It’s fall tradition to take the pledges to the lake and tell stories, bonding over s’mores and a campfire. The pledges beat us here by ten or fifteen minutes, and I hurry to the trunk of the car to gather coat hangers for the marshmallows. The other girls gather the food while Liz heads off to light the fire.

I hear Liz yell, “Oh my God!”

The throaty bass of male laughter follows, and high-pitched female giggling comes soon after. Tonight is strictly girl time, no guys allowed, so I can’t figure out why I’m hearing men’s voices. Liz screams a few choice words, and several girls giggle again. I think I even hear crying.

With hangers in my arms, I slam the trunk shut. The sun has almost set, and only a few dusty-orange rays sneak over the horizon. I make my way through the campsite and toward the lake. Five of our pledges are in panties and bras, giggling and shivering. Next to them, laughing hysterically, stand Tyler, Josh, and a guy I don’t recognize. The girls are drenched, hair slicked down their backs. The boys are wet too, wearing only boxers. I can make out the curved ridge of their junk beneath their wet underwear. While Josh and no-name are probably concerned with shrinkage, Tyler has no reason to be.

I feel my cheeks redden as I avert my gaze to a safer place, like the wet girls standing next to them. Only they’re no less exposed, with several wearing white panty-bra sets that have turned transparent from the water. I sigh and turn toward the sniffling. Three pledges huddle near a giant cottonwood, arms wrapped around each other, crying. At least they have clothes on.

“This is unacceptable!” Liz yells.

“Lighten up,” Tyler says, smirking. Water drips down the flat planes of his stomach. “We were just having fun.”

Liz knows she’ll never get anywhere with the boys, who still roll with laughter, so she turns her anger on the pledges. “Why would you do this?”

“Polar bear plunge,” one of them says, her teeth chattering. “They told us they’d been sent by y’all.”

“Yeah,” another pledge says. She wraps her arms around her shivering body. “To see if we’re worthy of pledging.”

“And you believed them?” Liz growls.

“Well, no,” another pledge says. “But it sounded fun, and you weren’t here—”

“We’re ten minutes late!” Liz screams. Even in the waning light, she’s flushed redder than an overripe cherry. “You girls should know better than this!”

The sobbing from the three huddled girls gets worse, and I head over to investigate. As I approach, one of them runs crying into my arms.

“They’re being so unchristian-like!” she cries.

I hold her and stroke her hair as if I’m petting a cat. “Shhh, it’s okay. They were just playing a stupid prank.”

“Not the boys,” she sniffles. “Our sisters!”

I try hard not to roll my eyes, and I’m grateful it’s dark so no one can see my failure. If I remember correctly, these girls are from small towns where the biggest event of the year is probably the church Christmas dance. They have a lot to learn about the wickedness of college life. She cries harder. I want to tell her she’s being overdramatic, but she’s eighteen and only been out of her parents’ house for a few months. Between the stresses of classes, pledging, and being away from home for the first time, emotions run high.

I pat the girl’s back. “We don’t haze, sweetie. Remember that the next time a couple of idiots tell you otherwise.” I continue to stroke her hair while Liz tirades against Tyler, Josh, and their friend.

When the yelling dies down, Tyler walks past me, slipping a T-shirt over his head. He looks straight at the pledge in my arms. “You girls need to learn to have fun.”

I glare at him as the girl sobs louder. What a prick. One of these days, I’m going to make him pay for upsetting my girls.

The memory flitters away, and I’m left with the empty feeling that he never did suffer any consequences. A tickle of righteous anger rises in me, but I push it down. That was almost a year ago, and getting angry now is just stupid. Still, I can’t help wondering if Tyler recalls that night or if it’s lost in a long string of debauchery.

We’re not traveling very fast, but the roar of the jet ski motor is still loud, so I lean in close to ask if he remembers the semi-naked pledge incident. Tyler’s so tall, my mouth doesn’t clear his shoulder, and I lift up to get closer. My lips accidentally brush his earlobe. He stiffens beneath my arms and a shudder travels down his spine, ending where my thighs press against his back. I’m about to speak, but he turns his head, catching me off guard when his lips come within inches of mine. I jerk back, afraid a rogue wave will knock us into a kiss.

He smirks. “Did you need something?”

I’m annoyed by the amused look in his eyes. “Sorry. I just wanted to ask you a question.”

He cuts the engine, and we drift, the only sounds the lapping waves and seagulls crying. “I’m listening.”

Since we’re not moving anymore, I let my hands fall from his waist and inch back so our bodies aren’t touching. I lick my wind-chapped lips. “Why’d you think it was a good idea to talk our pledges out of their clothes?”

“What are you talking about?”

Leave it to Tyler to forget humiliating a bunch of girls. I tilt my head toward the campground where the incident took place.

His face goes slack as if he’s momentarily guilt stricken. “Jesus. You
would
bring
that
up.”

I’m pleased he remembers and even more pleased by his shamed expression, but I shrug and play it off. “I’m just curious.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I was bored. I thought it’d be fun to see if Josh would do a polar bear plunge.” He snorts. “He’s such a puss. I was sure he’d never go through with it, but he said yes. We drove around the lake looking for a good spot and ran into your girls. I decided we might as well have an audience when Josh made an ass of himself, but then the girls seemed interested. Y’all weren’t there yet, so we came up with a lame-ass story about Liz sending us.”

I cluck at him but stop when I realize I sound like a mother hen. “If those girls had told their parents what happened, you could have gotten our sorority prosecuted for hazing.”

“It was stupid, I admit that, but lighten up. We were just having fun.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

But it was a big deal to those crying girls. “Sometimes your fun is hurtful, Tyler.”

“At least I didn’t tell them to take off their underwear. They probably would have.”
“And they would have regretted it later.” I can’t even count how many times I’ve read about a girl who did something stupid to impress a boy, like flash her boobs, only to find pictures of herself all over the internet the next day. Yes, a girl has to take responsibility for her own actions, but certain boys in this world bring out the worst in us girls, and Tyler is one of them.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t force them to strip and jump in the water.”

“They stripped to get your attention.” I fist my hands, trying to channel my anger away from him. I hate that he’s able to elicit that response in them and doesn’t even take responsibility for it. It’s like a game to him, and the girls are
always
the losers. Suddenly, I want him to pay for his depravity. I swing my arm up and slap the back of his head. Hard.

“Ow!” He twists around to look me in the eye. “What the hell, Cassie?”

“I have no problem with a polar bear plunge! But you could’ve found girls your own age to con out of their clothes! Not
my
girls! Not on
s’mores
night!”

The man has the nerve to laugh. Not just a small chuckle, but a full-blown belly guffaw that shakes his shoulders. “Those girls enjoyed it.”

The anger churning in my stomach turns into a seething mass hell-bent on making him suffer. I wrap my arms around his waist and, using all of my weight, heave him off kilter. The jet ski rocks, and I let go, hoping it’s enough to throw him into the water. He lurches to the side while grasping for the handlebars.

The moment he realizes he’s going in, his eyes close. His expression changes from shock to resignation, and the water swallows him with a loud splash.

Chapter 7

B
ubbles roll to the surface, marking where Tyler went under. A dark head appears beneath the murky water and emerges with a growl. All I can think of is getting out of there before he retaliates. As angry as he sounds, his revenge isn’t going to be pleasant. I’ll take off long enough for his anger to simmer down and come back to pick him up. Scooting toward the helm of the jet ski, I realize what an imbecile I am. I have no idea how to turn this thing on, and he’s coming toward me with the speed of an Olympic swimmer.

He dives under the water, pops out, and wraps his hand around my ankle. “You’re not going anywhere.” He holds up the key attached to his life vest, and I let out a load groan.

You’re an idiot, Cassie.

I kick at him to free my foot, but his grip’s firmly locked, and the determination on his face tells me I’m going to lose this battle. He pulls me toward him, his anger replaced with that damn wicked smile he wields like a weapon. I buck and twist and kick some more, but fighting is useless. He’s twice my size, and even though I’m firmly clutching the handlebars, he drags me down. The watercraft tips. I’m afraid it’s going to roll on us, so I give up and let go with a squeal. I land in the water, directly on his chest. The lake’s shockingly cold, and I shiver as I bob up and down in my life vest, Tyler’s arms wrapped around me.

“You’re such a jerk,” I say half-heartedly, the fight gone out of me.

He pulls me as close as he can with our vests in the way. His lips brush my ear. “I’m sorry. We wouldn’t have done it if we thought it’d get your sorority in trouble.”

“Yes, you would have.”

He hesitates for a moment, then says, “Probably, but at least I admit it was a stupid idea.”

“I know, but that’s not enough.” I want to tell him that girls will do anything to impress him. They want his approval because he’s a steroid shot to their self-esteem, but steroids aren’t healthy, and they only last for as long as you take them. Tyler is a one-shot dose. I twist out of his arms to see his face. “It
was
a stupid idea, and you don’t take responsibility for your part in it.”

His eyes grow cool and distant. “I take responsibility for everything I do, but that’s not enough to stop me from doing it.”

“In other words, it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission.”

“Something like that,” he says flatly.

I roll my eyes and swim for the jet ski. He trails after me, but his arms are much longer than mine, so we grab the jet ski at the same time.

He smiles at me contritely. “So am I forgiven?”

“No.”

“That’s very unchristian-like of you.”

My mouth falls open, and I swallow muddy water. Gross. I spit out as much as I can while wondering if he remembered the crying pledge saying that or if it’s a coincidence. “Is your memory
that
good?”

“You have no idea.” Most people would be happy to remember small details. If Tyler’s expression is any indicator, it annoys the hell out of him. Though we’re still in the water, he peels off his life vest and slings it onto the seat of the jet ski. “Go limp and close your eyes.”

“You’re trying to change the subject.”

“Then why don’t you be polite and let me? Close your eyes.”

There’s no way I’m closing my eyes around Tyler Mason. Naughty things happen to girls who do. “I don’t think so.” I plant my palms on the footrest of the jet ski and push up. After clearing the footboard, I lug myself onboard.

Tyler grabs my hips and tugs me back in the water. “Stubborn woman. Can’t you let someone else take control for a few minutes?” He settles in close, pressing his cheek against mine. “Besides, you owe me for putting up with your mood swings. You know there’s medicine for that, right?”

I raise my hand as though I’m going to slap the top of his head. He grabs my wrist and presses my palm to his free cheek. By this point, I’d do anything to get out of our awkwardly intimate pose.

“Take your life vest off,” he whispers.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

I sigh deeply to make sure he knows the depths of my annoyance, then I do as he asks. I float on my back, letting my legs pop to the surface, and hold onto my life vest by one strap. He takes my life jacket and throws it next to his. I feel Tyler swim behind me, then his forearm wraps gently around my neck, the way a rescuer who’s swimming an unconscious victim to shore would.

“Relax,” he whispers.

With his lips next to my ear, I’m not sure how he expects me to do that, but I try. I listen to his heavy breathing as he treads water. It’s surprisingly soothing, but it does nothing to slow my racing heart. As I stare at the blue sky punctuated by wispy clouds, I wonder what he has in store next.

After a moment of silent floating, Tyler says, “You’re cheating.”

“I am?” I tilt my head back to look at him, but with his arm around my neck, my mobility is limited. I can only make out dark hair, wet against his forehead.

“You’re supposed to close your eyes.”

“Bossy much?”

He chuckles. “You like it.”

“Whatever.” I close my eyes.

To keep from focusing on Tyler’s arm holding me, I concentrate on the water lapping at my skin as he swims. The chilly lake’s growing bearable. It’s only the beginning of June, and soon, as the nights warm, the lake will turn as tepid as bathwater. I like the temperature best now. Refreshing. I take even breaths, wondering why he’s playing the part of a rescue swimmer, but I go along with him and don’t open my eyes. After a minute, his movements become stronger, and I suspect his feet are touching the muddy bottom. My suspicion’s confirmed when he releases me.

I open my eyes in time to see his chest rise out of the water. Two arms slide beneath me, one under the backs of my knees and the other beneath my armpits. Instinctively I clutch at his neck, and I’m officially in a cradle position, as if he’s carrying me across the threshold to our marriage bed. The thought makes heat rush up my neck to my cheeks. I pray he doesn’t notice.

“What are you doing?” I peer behind us at the jet ski bobbing in the gentle waves.

“Visiting Lakeview campground,” he says, his voice breathy from carrying me.

I turn my gaze toward shore. A line of trees canopy park benches and fire pits. “Visiting the scene of the crime?”

“It wasn’t a crime.”

“Hazing is a crime.”

“Drop it, cupcake.”

“Fine.” I sigh, wanting him to put me down. “I can walk.”

His gaze flickers to my chest and back up to my eyes. “I know, but I like the view.”

I peer down to see my bikini top has ridden down and even more cleavage than usual pushes free. I don’t try to fix it because I’ll just make it worse. Plus, Tyler is turning out to be a rare guy capable of looking in my eyes even when I wear a swimsuit. We make it to the rocky shore, and he releases my knees and lets my legs lower. He keeps his arm wrapped around my back until my feet safely touch the ground.

“What about the jet ski?” I ask.

“The wind’s blowing toward shore. When it gets close enough, I’ll beach it.”

We find a sandy spot near shore and lie down. He settles on his back, hands behind his head, to stare at the sky. He’s breathing heavily from the swim and carrying me. I roll onto my side, propped up on one arm, and watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He has a perfect physique with ridges of muscles on his stomach and round, hard pecs with dark nipples that pucker from the wind sweeping across them. His wet, dark hair is slicked back, but one lock hangs just past his eyebrow. I want to push the strand away so I can have an unobstructed view of his eyes, but he does it for me just before he turns his devastating gaze on me.

I suck in a sharp breath, feeling foolish for staring at him so long. But he’s beautiful, and like a stained-glass window, I want to study him to see how he transforms in the changing light. He turns on his side too, mirroring my pose, and rakes his gaze over me again, not stopping in any one place. He’s almost methodical in the way his eyes rest on my legs, the curve of my waist, the hollow beneath my throat, as though he’s absorbing the details accurately enough to reproduce them. I have the distinct feeling I’m posing for a painting. The way he explores my body with his meticulous eyes creates a heady kind of rush.

When his gaze meets mine, he quirks a smile and asks a question I never anticipated crossing his roguish lips. “What’s your plan for the future, Cassie?”

I eye him warily. Only my parents and teachers prod for that kind of information. “That’s a strange question coming from you.”

“You think so?”

I nod while scooping sand and letting it fall through my fingers. “Aren’t you the type who only looks ahead to the next party?”

He laughs softly. “Good point, but we’re not talking about me.”

“Immediate future? Or like five-years-from-now future?”

“Five years.”

I brush my hands together to wipe away the sand. “I want to go to New York or D.C. and work as an actuary.” I can’t believe I told him that. The only other person I’ve divulged my dream to is Liz, but for some reason, I want Tyler to know. “Maybe a lobbyist?” I add, even though I know that’ll never happen. Lobbyists usually have political science degrees and connections that’d put Mr. Networking Wyatt to shame.

He drags a finger through the sand. “Are you asking my permission?”

“No. It just seems like a pipe dream.”

“I could see you as a lobbyist.”

At first I think he’s kidding, but his expression is completely serious. “Really? Why’s that?” Most people see me as a compromiser, not a bulldozer.

“There was only one reason I felt like a dick for getting the pledges down to their panties. Not Liz’s ranting or the crying girls. That loathing look in your eyes was what did me in.”

“Don’t you mean disappointed look?”

He shakes his head. “It was like you expected the worst from me and what I’d done didn’t even surprise you. You made me feel like a complete asshole, cupcake. Just use that look, and you’ll have everyone in D.C. doing your bidding.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Everybody likes you too.”

I shrug. “I have friends, but that’s not the same as
everybody
liking me.”

His gaze trails over my body, and his eyes heat as though he’s seeing a woman and not a specimen for a painting. “Girls are jealous of competition, but Miranda kept prattling on about how sweet you are.” He tilts his head toward the lake. “None of the girls have given you the bitch-eye today.”

I know exactly what expression he’s talking about. I’ve seen girls give Liz the stink eye when she steals attention from hot boys at a party, but I’m surprised he knows the look. Most guys are oblivious to the cattiness going on behind their backs. I guess being an artist makes him more observant.

“Of course they didn’t give me the bitch-eye,” I say. “I’m not a threat.”

He barks a laugh, his chest shaking. “You’re the worst kind of threat.”

I blink hard, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. “I am?”

He nods. “Smart, hot, and innocent. Guys fall for that every time.”

I should be flattered he thinks I’m smart and hot, but the
innocent
part stands out the most. I bristle, my back straightening and my hands clenching. With anyone else, I’d be happy to be seen as demure and untried, but with Tyler, it makes me feel like a boring stick-in-the-mud. “I’m not innocent.”

“Sure, you’re not...”

We must have vastly different ideas of what constitutes an innocent woman because I would never put myself in that category. An innocent women sits in the front church pew every Sunday and waits until her wedding night to give it up.

“Define innocent,” I challenge.

“Have you ever had sex somewhere other than the bedroom?”

I scoff. “Of course I have.” The shower. Wyatt’s pool at his parents’ house. My high-school boyfriend and I even did it in the car a few times.

One side of his mouth tugs up in a roguish smile. “Really? Anywhere with a chance of getting caught?”

“No way.”

He chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m not an exhibitionist.” Though I’m starting to think he is.

“All right. Have you ever had a one-night stand?”

“Of course not!” The words fly from my mouth, and I cringe. Maybe I am a stick-in-the-mud. I feel my lower lip sticking out in a pout, and I suck it back in. “Just because I haven’t had a one-night stand doesn’t mean I’m innocent. It just means I’m virtuous.”

“Whatever. Get back to me when you’ve had one, and we can revisit your virtuously innocent status.”

As cocky as Tyler is, I expected him to offer up a night of hot sex, but he just stares at me as though he’s sure I’ll remain a
one-night stand virgin
for the rest of my life. I’m pissed off that he’s so smug in his opinion of me.

“I doubt Miranda’s had a one-night stand,” I grumble. “You wouldn’t call her innocent.”

He smirks and sits up on his knees. Using cupped hands, he pushes sand into a wide mound. “Miranda’s a little freak, and even if she hasn’t had a one-night stand…” He watches me and adds, “She will after tonight.”

I can’t help the tingle of jealousy harassing my nerves. I know why I’m not on the roster for the night. Boys like Tyler go for easy pickings. Putting out effort is beneath them, and since he thinks I’m innocent, he knows I’m not an easy target. That’s good for me, but bad for poor Miranda.

“You’re the biggest jerk on the planet,” I say.

He eyes me while making the hill of sand higher, scooping up handfuls and patting them around the base. “Am I?”

Of course he’s not. The title of Biggest Jerk on the Planet is reserved for my ex.

“Girls know what they’re getting with me. You can’t say the same about the guys you date.”

Wyatt’s name hangs unspoken in the air. I’m tired of my ex always looming over me, and I’m tired of this conversation. It’s too personal.

I sit up on my knees and scoop sand into my hands, then dump it on top of his sand hill. I assume he’s making a castle even though we don’t have a bucket. “My turn to ask a question.”

He cuts the sides of the mound into vertical walls, forming a perfect circle. “Hit me.”

After dusting off my hands, I lean into him. With a fingertip, I trace the black filigree cross on his bicep and underline the date beneath. Gooseflesh erupts where my finger touches his skin.

“Who’s the cross for?” I’ve been desperately curious about the tattoo since I saw it yesterday.

He stops working on the castle, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “My mom.”