caught trespassing. I've been thrown out of better places than this." Jonas smiled faintly and came away from the pillar with a lithe movement. He strolled to the edge of the pool and crouched down near Verity. Then he popped the top off a can of beer and held it out to her.
Automatically, Verity reached up to accept the beer. He was just being friendly, she thought. Perhaps he was a little lonesome. She eyed him warily and then thought about how hard Jonas had worked this weekend.
"I'm sure Rick and Laura wouldn't mind if you used one of the pools," Verity said with studied politeness. "And I guess it really doesn't matter that this is the women's section. At this time of night, resort guests aren't allowed down here. But Rick and Laura have always allowed me to use the place after hours."
Jonas glanced around at the half-dozen pools in the tiled room. "I'll use your pool," he announced. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. Then he rose and tugged off his low boots. His hands dropped to the buttons of his jeans.
Verity took a much larger swallow of the beer than she had intended. She choked as she looked up at the expanse of hair-covered male chest above her. It was obvious that Jonas was every bit as hard and lean and smoothly muscled as she had guessed.
"Uh, didn't you bring a pair of swimming trunks?" she asked weakly.
"No." He was already stepping out of the jeans, revealing a snug-fitting pair of white briefs.
For an instant Verity was half-mesmerized by the full, heavy male shape outlined by the white cotton briefs. Then she jerked her eyes back to her can of beer. She told herself the briefs covered as much as a pair of swimming trunks would. Then she reminded herself that she was twenty-eight years old; too old to be startled by the sight of a man in his shorts.
"The water's very warm," she cautioned thickly.
"Yeah." He put one muscled leg into the bubbling pool. "Feels good." He settled down close beside her on the underwater bench. "Damn good." He leaned back and rested his arms along the tiled edge of the pool.
One sinewy forearm stretched out behind Verity's head. She was vividly conscious of its proximity. She
was very conscious of the rest of Jonas's body, too. She considered sidling away from him and decided that that would look silly. The man was tired after a busy night, just as she was. He only wanted some relaxation. She could hardly blame him.
"How long have you been running the restaurant?" Jonas asked conversationally.
Verity gave him a sidelong glance and realized his eyes were closed. She relaxed. "A couple of years. I worked in several restaurants including the one here at the spa before I got the money and the nerve to open my own."
"Where else did you work besides Sequence Springs?" "Oh, here and there," she answered carelessly. "Here and there?" Jonas opened one eye. "Such as?"
"Well, there was Claude's place on Martinique. I learned a lot of French techniques there. Then there was a little cafe in Spain where I picked up a few pointers on vegetables. I spent a few months studying Mexican cooking at a restaurant in Mazatlan. I learned about wine while working for a woman who owned a little hole-in-the-wall place just outside of Rio de Janeiro and I learned to wash dishes all by myself." Verity smiled. "I told you, you aren't the only one who's had a well-rounded education. I just don't have
any formal degrees to go along with mine."
"What did your father do? Drag you around the world behind him?"
"Ever since my mother died when I was eight," Verity confirmed. "Sequence Springs is the first real home I've ever had. When I settled here three years ago I decided it would take an act of God or an economic disaster to uproot me. What about you, Jonas? Think you'll ever settle down?"
"I don't think about it much," he said, his voice becoming surprisingly rough without any warning. His eyes opened and he looked directly at her. "I take it
Automatically, Verity reached up to accept the beer. He was just being friendly, she thought. Perhaps he was a little lonesome. She eyed him warily and then thought about how hard Jonas had worked this weekend.
"I'm sure Rick and Laura wouldn't mind if you used one of the pools," Verity said with studied politeness. "And I guess it really doesn't matter that this is the women's section. At this time of night, resort guests aren't allowed down here. But Rick and Laura have always allowed me to use the place after hours."
Jonas glanced around at the half-dozen pools in the tiled room. "I'll use your pool," he announced. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. Then he rose and tugged off his low boots. His hands dropped to the buttons of his jeans.
Verity took a much larger swallow of the beer than she had intended. She choked as she looked up at the expanse of hair-covered male chest above her. It was obvious that Jonas was every bit as hard and lean and smoothly muscled as she had guessed.
"Uh, didn't you bring a pair of swimming trunks?" she asked weakly.
"No." He was already stepping out of the jeans, revealing a snug-fitting pair of white briefs.
For an instant Verity was half-mesmerized by the full, heavy male shape outlined by the white cotton briefs. Then she jerked her eyes back to her can of beer. She told herself the briefs covered as much as a pair of swimming trunks would. Then she reminded herself that she was twenty-eight years old; too old to be startled by the sight of a man in his shorts.
"The water's very warm," she cautioned thickly.
"Yeah." He put one muscled leg into the bubbling pool. "Feels good." He settled down close beside her on the underwater bench. "Damn good." He leaned back and rested his arms along the tiled edge of the pool.
One sinewy forearm stretched out behind Verity's head. She was vividly conscious of its proximity. She
was very conscious of the rest of Jonas's body, too. She considered sidling away from him and decided that that would look silly. The man was tired after a busy night, just as she was. He only wanted some relaxation. She could hardly blame him.
"How long have you been running the restaurant?" Jonas asked conversationally.
Verity gave him a sidelong glance and realized his eyes were closed. She relaxed. "A couple of years. I worked in several restaurants including the one here at the spa before I got the money and the nerve to open my own."
"Where else did you work besides Sequence Springs?" "Oh, here and there," she answered carelessly. "Here and there?" Jonas opened one eye. "Such as?"
"Well, there was Claude's place on Martinique. I learned a lot of French techniques there. Then there was a little cafe in Spain where I picked up a few pointers on vegetables. I spent a few months studying Mexican cooking at a restaurant in Mazatlan. I learned about wine while working for a woman who owned a little hole-in-the-wall place just outside of Rio de Janeiro and I learned to wash dishes all by myself." Verity smiled. "I told you, you aren't the only one who's had a well-rounded education. I just don't have
any formal degrees to go along with mine."
"What did your father do? Drag you around the world behind him?"
"Ever since my mother died when I was eight," Verity confirmed. "Sequence Springs is the first real home I've ever had. When I settled here three years ago I decided it would take an act of God or an economic disaster to uproot me. What about you, Jonas? Think you'll ever settle down?"
"I don't think about it much," he said, his voice becoming surprisingly rough without any warning. His eyes opened and he looked directly at her. "I take it
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