In Your Dreams (Blue Heron #4)(46)

The bride put down her bullhorn. “About time,” she said, scanning Emmaline up and down.

To her credit, Em ignored her and dived neatly into the deep end of the pool, then surfaced, looking as if she wanted to be banged silly.

Okay, Jack, enough of that. The poor kid is going through a tough time. Also, that may be transference on your part.

He dived in, too, the cool water sliding over his head. No problems. Good. He was a navy man, after all. He couldn’t be afraid of the water. And he wasn’t. Here was proof.

He swam over to Emmaline. “Mount up, Pooh Bear,” he said.

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

He seemed to be looking at her br**sts again. Being in the water only made them look more...buoyant. “You’re rocking this suit,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re gorgeous yourself. And where does a winemaker get washboard abs, by the way?”

Nice of her to notice. “I’m a Greek god, remember?”

“I resent the fact that you remember that.” But she smiled a little nonetheless.

There was a splash from the deep end. “Oh, gosh golly!” Colleen called. “We lost. Con, let’s get something to eat. What do you say? I’m starving.”

Jack turned to Emmaline and smiled. “Upsy-daisy, Pooh.”

* * *

EMMALINE WAS NOT HAPPY.

The miracle bathing suit was constricting her stomach to the point of Scarlett O’Hara’s corset, and she was having difficulty breathing.

The Ta-Ta Ta-Dahs were in place, and while she was sure she never wanted to meet the weird, breast-obsessed, Mommy-didn’t-nurse-me person who’d come up with them, she had to give him credit. The girls looked quite ambitious.

Jack kept looking, which might’ve been gratifying, were it not for (a) the look was fake, and (b) the two cold fake raw chicken cutlets felt just as disgusting as one might think.

And now she had to climb on Jack’s shoulders. Hopefully, he wouldn’t cry out in agony and crumple.

However, those shoulders looked pretty sturdy to her. In fact, all of him looked...so... He was... What was the question again?

Because even in this crowd, where wedding guests seemed to have been chosen from the modeling lineup for Abercrombie & Fitch, Jack stood out. Not only was he ridiculously handsome, he was working-man delicious. He wasn’t ripped and chiseled (or waxed, thank heavens)...but he was, well, hell, kind of perfect.

While Kevin and the other guys looked like what they were—gym addicts—Jack just looked strong. He had broad shoulders that would soon be put to the test under her weight. A flat stomach that rippled with muscle. Arms that got their definition from lifting barrels (or whatever his job required him to lift, but picturing him hefting wooden barrels was quite satisfying). There was a happy trail from his navel to the waistband of his trunks, and—

“Emily and Jack! Can you please get going here!”

“Ready?” Jack said, and before she knew it, he ducked underwater and—oh, boy—between her legs. Then he stood up and she was teetering on his shoulders, and how did her stomach look? Was the miracle suit all it promised to be?

She grabbed on to his forehead so she wouldn’t fall.

“You good up there?” he asked.

“Yep! Very good,” she chirped. So, so good. Lawdy, the Bitter Betrayeds were going to hear about this! Maybe she’d even get a tattoo on each thigh—Jack Holland’s head was here.

There was a DJ set up by the smoothie bar, and the theme song to Jaws started playing.

“We’re in it to win it!” Naomi bellowed, clambering on top of Kevin’s shoulders. Two other couples were also in this gladiator match, and both women were quite gorgeous, too, except not quite as beautiful as Naomi. Both wore string bikinis, as did the bride.

Sigh. No, no! None of that! You will not feel like an ugly duckling, she told herself firmly. You have a 93 percent accuracy rate for head shots with your Smith & Wesson. You can pick up all three Cabrera triplets at once. You rock.

“Let’s take a dive like Colleen and Connor did,” she suggested to Jack, somewhat concerned about squashing his vertebrae. “We can go get donuts instead.”

“No way,” he said. “We’re in it to win it, too.”

The rules were simple—knock the other couples down. They were in a part of the pool where the water was about chest deep, and each couple had their own quadrant to defend. Hopefully, no one would fall and hit their heads, because if any blood got in the water, Em was pretty sure Naomi would go into a feeding frenzy. Even now, she was flashing a sharklike grin. The music didn’t help.

Em suspected she was about to have her leg bitten off.

“Do we have a strategy here?” Em asked. Jack’s wet hair tickled her thighs.

He looked up, the motion of his head making her squeak with lust. His beautiful blue eyes crinkled with a smile. “Hold on,” he said.

“On your mark!” Naomi bellowed. “Get set! Go!”

There was a sloshing noise as all the couples charged the center. The DJ turned up the music. Duh-duh...duh-duh...duh-duh-duh-duh.

Jack reached couple number one, a redheaded woman on top of a very beautiful man. “Hi,” Em said.

“Hi.”

“Um...” Emmaline reached out with one hand and gave the woman a gentle push.