Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [30]
Liam championed Jago’s request. “Come on, Sis, it’s glassed-in and heated. You use it. Netta uses it. I use it.”
“You would aid and abet your enemy? He’s here trying to buy your horse farm,” Asha pointed out. “Besides, neither Netta nor you will sue me.”
Jago reached across the counter for a pen and paper, quickly scribbled something and pushed it toward her.
“What’s this?” Asha blinked at him.
He arched an eyebrow and exchanged longsuffering glances of male understanding with Liam.
Grumbling “T.M.,” she picked up the paper and read it aloud. “‘I shan’t sue Asha Montgomerie if I drown in her swimming pool.’ Cute.”
Netta took off her apron and wriggled her shoulders clearly to ease the stiffness. “It makes me feel positively ancient to go home on a Friday night and curl up with a hot water bottle. We should kick up our heels and live a little. Of course, around here that’s hard to accomplish. The drive-in is the only action for miles.”
“A drive-in in the rain sounds like a good idea,” Liam teased with a wicked smile.
Asha suddenly envisioned the hushed interior of a car, Jago in the driver’s seat, the windshield wipers slapping while the movie played unnoticed. The intoxicating scent of his citrus and bergamot cologne would mix with the heat of pure Jago Fitzgerald, wrap around her and drive her mad with wanting.
Maybe she’d be better off going to bed and reading a good funny romance or a sinister vampire tale. Dawn Thompson’s The Ravening waited on the nightstand. If she were near Jago and those dark green eyes for too long, she might do something foolish. Maybe do it twice. Three times.
“We could call it an early night—” Asha started, only everyone practically screamed at her.
“No!”
They couldn’t have timed it more perfectly had they rehearsed it. Asha smirked, seeing their faces, all innocent grins.
Though Netta had flashed a dazzling smile, pleading was in her blue eyes. “We could . . . go for a swim,” she suggested hopefully, “and save the drive-in for tomorrow night.”
Liam nodded. “A swim sounds good. The drive-in can hold.”
Asha almost licked her finger and drew an imaginary hash mark in the air. Score one for the sassy blonde. Not only had she maneuvered Liam into a swim, she’d lassoed and was ready to brand him for Saturday.
Asha studied his countenance. Clearly, Liam wanted her to play the vanilla filling between the Oreo cookies of Netta and himself. Asha also was beginning to suspect he wasn’t above tossing little sister under Jago’s nose, hoping to influence the man over the purchase of the horse farm.
Another time she’d have been ticked at her brother seeking to use her in such an underhanded fashion. Since it involved Jago Fitzgerald, it didn’t have quite the sting.
Yeah, baby, use me!
Asha watched Jago cut through the water with the grace of a Selkie. He turned under the surface, pushed off the wall and shot a third of the way down the pool before his next stroke. His legs were long, strong, his sculpted arms sliced forward rhythmically, showing he was an expert swimmer who could keep up that tempo endlessly. Pure poetry in motion. The man had the most beautiful shoulders she’d ever seen. A fool, she could stand here all night and watch, with hardly a thought in her head—except those of wanting.
Netta came up and hung an arm over Asha’s shoulder. “Hmm, see something you crave, girlfriend?” she asked, grinning.
Both women cringed as Liam suddenly did a cannonball off the diving board, the splash from the pool spraying them. He surfaced, kicked off the wall and paced Jago, mirroring the man stroke-for-stroke.
“My brother will bust a gut before he admits he can’t keep up.” Asha sniggered.
Netta cocked a questioning eyebrow. “What makes you think he can’t? I’d say they’re rather evenly matched.”
“Jago says he swims nearly every day. While Liam