One Summer At The Lake: Maid for Montero / Still the One / Hot-Shot Doc Comes to Town. Susan Carlisle
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to remember the sequence of events as much for her own benefit as for his. ‘We’d been to the craft fair in the park. When we started back it was late and I thought they were with me. I was running—they were going to clamp the car…’ Wrong tense, she realised, they probably already had clamped the car. But having faced what she had thought was a real disaster, car clamping faded into insignificance.
She pushed the wet strands of hair from her eyes and pressed the heels of both hands to her temples before slowly turning her head to stare at him.
‘What the hell made you go out on the water? Are you suicidal?’
‘The twins—’
‘And what would have happened to the twins if you had drowned?’ Her horrified little gasp felt like a knife sliding between his ribs, but Isandro didn’t allow his expression to soften as Zoe went several shades whiter. The only colour in her face was her dramatic sapphire eyes and the blue discoloration around her lips.
‘I was not going to drown,’ she protested through chattering teeth.
Faced with this refusal to acknowledge, let alone show any remorse for, the total bloody selfishness of her reckless actions, Isandro was tempted to throw her back in the water.
‘My mistake,’ he gritted through clenched teeth. ‘I can see now that you had the situation totally under control.’
Unable to tear her eyes off the nerve that was throbbing in his lean cheek, she shook her head. ‘No, really, I’m a strong swimmer…obviously I’m grateful but…’
‘But really you didn’t need my help at all.’ He gave a shrug and, cutting the engine, steered the gliding boat expertly between the moored vessels.
Before Zoe could respond he leapt out of the boat, landing lithely on the wooden pier where he proceeded to tie off the boat.
‘I really am grateful, Isandro. It was really lucky you had a boat.’
‘I don’t have a boat.’ A faint smile flickered across his face. ‘Not here anyway.’
‘But this?’ The boat wobbled as she got to her feet. With a grimace Zoe sat down again abruptly. Her knees were still shaking and she had no desire to repeat her earlier immersion.
Considering the question, Isandro thought of Georgie’s defence and smiled to himself. ‘I borrowed it.’
‘You stole it!’ she cried, but then, not wanting to come across as ungrateful again, she added, ‘But I suppose it was an emergency.’
‘What made you think they were heading for the river?’
‘Georgie wanted to go out in a canoe and I said no. We really didn’t have time…’
‘You do not have to justify your decisions to me, Zoe.’
‘Georgie is…’
‘Determined?’
Zoe acknowledged the dry suggestion with a shrug. ‘She didn’t fight it, which isn’t like her. Saying no is like a red rag to her. I should have known.’ After a fractional pause that was not lost on Isandro, she accepted the hand he held out to her and rose unsteadily to her feet. The boat swayed again and she lurched, making an awkward leap as he tugged.
As she landed clumsily on the boarded walkway Zoe heard a splash. Letting go of Isandro’s hand, she twisted around and saw the jacket that had been draped over her shoulders floating on the water.
‘Oh, God!’ On an adrenaline high still, she moved quickly without thinking and almost reached it.
An arm like a steel band around her waist hauled her back from the edge.
‘What the hell are you doing, woman? Do you have some sort of death wish? I have to tell you once is my limit when it comes to fishing suicidal maniacs out of the drink.’
Zoe didn’t struggle against the arms banding her. She leaned back into his big, solid, hard body, allowing herself the luxury of feeling safe. She wasn’t going to drown and the twins were all right.
She was still shaking with the chill of the ice in her veins but in the shelter of his arms she was protected from the wind. The feeling of security was an illusion but as illusions went this one felt good.
‘Your lovely jacket.’
Isandro rested his chin on the top of her head, closed his eyes and shook his head…Jacket!
‘I have others.’ The woman was in need of professional help. He shifted his stance to ease the pressure on his groin and thought, Dios, she is not the only one!
HER LIPS TWITCHED faintly. ‘The man who has everything.’
‘You read the article.’
Two weeks earlier a Sunday paper had decided to dedicate half their glossy supplement to him. The Man with the Midas Touch was to his mind shockingly unoriginal and a perfect example of the dumbing-down of the press…ten pages that said nothing new.
He had everything? He supposed he did. But to Isandro his wealth represented not luxury or self-indulgence but the freedom to live his life just as he wanted. Did that make him selfish? Did it make him happy…? Was anyone happy?
He shook his head. Dios, this was not the time for a philosophical debate. This was definitely a time for action, decisive action, and the priority was warming up Zoe before she became hypothermic.
It did not take him long to weigh the options. Decision-making was, as the article author had suggested, Isandro’s area of expertise.
‘Chloe gave me her copy,’ she admitted between chattering teeth. ‘The entire village bought the paper. They were sold out. You’re a local hero…for real now…’
‘Even if you didn’t need my help.’
Her lips twisted into a grimace. ‘I really am grateful…Stop! You can’t—!’
Isandro took no notice of her protests as he began to stride up the path from the river.
‘I can walk! Put me down…please put me down.’
He flashed her a look. ‘You won’t jump back in the river?’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘Seriously, though, you’re chilled through. You need to dry off and warm up.’
‘I need to see the twins.’
‘You think that’s a good idea, looking this way? You’ll scare the life out of them,’ he predicted. ‘Which in Georgie’s case might not be such a bad thing. But seeing you like that is likely to give Harry nightmares for a month.’ He arched a brow. ‘What, no “you know nothing about children, so butt out”?’
Zoe shook her head, biting her lower lip to stop it quivering. He had summed up the twins pretty accurately.
‘You’re right. It’s me who knows nothing about bringing up children,’ she wailed.
A hissing sound of exasperation left his lips as he hefted her a little higher with apparent ease. On another occasion when she wasn’t busy contemplating her failure at parenting, Zoe might have been impressed. She was not exactly petite. ‘I find it infinitely preferable when you are defensive and rude. This self-flagellation is boring.’
Finding herself unexpectedly placed on her feet, Zoe waited a moment for her head to stop spinning before she raised her swimming eyes to him, her quivering lips tightening. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry I bored you.’
He smiled. ‘Better,’ he approved. ‘Now, come on. What you need is a hot bath, a brandy—or maybe not brandy, you might kiss the concierge—and