Free Diving In by Gretchen Galway Page B

Floating like a pale mermaid in a bikini, her long hair splayed out on the surface around her face, lit up from all sides by the pool lighting and tiki torches, she was quite a sight.
    He couldn’t resist a moment to savor the view. Sundresses were nice, but bikinis were a gift from the divine. He called out again, louder this time, “Nicki?”
    With a start, her butt hit the bottom of the pool. Rolling to her side, she pushed herself up with her arms and sat up, showing just how shallow the water was. It barely reached her navel. “What’s the matter?”
    “Are you all right?”
    “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
    He hesitated. “It’s getting late.”
    “Late for what?”
    Now he felt stupid. “Never mind,” he said, turning. “Sorry. See you around.”
    He heard splashing and looked back to see her striding out of the pool to a pile of towels. After a moment she wrapped herself up in her robe and came over to him, her shoes, towel, and tote bag crushed together in a mess in her arms. “I guess I lost track of time,” she said. “Swimming is so relaxing, don’t you think?”
    “You didn’t look relaxed.”
    “Sure I did.”
    “Not really. You looked kind of angry. I thought one of those guys might’ve been bugging you.”
    “What guys?”
    “The drunk jerks ogling you from the bar.”
    Her eyes went wide. She glanced back. “There was ogling?”
    He shook his head and tried not to laugh. He didn’t understand her at all, which he liked. “There’s a pizza upstairs if you’re hungry. No pressure.”
    “Pizza?”
    “Hungry?”
    “A little.” She sighed. “Very, actually. What time is it?”
    “After eight. I was getting worried.”
    She frowned, rubbing her hair with a towel. “About what?”
    “Nothing. How about that pizza?” He took a step toward the condo tower.
    “You were worried about me ?”
    “What can I say, I’m a worrier,” he replied. “But you seem to be okay.”
    “I’m fantastic.” She followed him into the building and then jogged past the elevator to open the door to the stairwell.
    He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, you’re one of those.”
    “One of what?”
    “Fitness type. You really think one elevator ride is going to ruin you?”
    She rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.” She hiked up the stairs, leaving little puddles in her wake.  
    He admired her flexing thighs below the hem of the towel, following a few steps behind, and said nothing.
    “Actually,” she said in a funny voice when they reached the third floor, “I’m afraid of elevators. That’s why I take the stairs.”
    “No kidding?”
    “I had a panic attack in the rental car, too.”
    “There was an elevator in the rental car?” he asked. “I need to shop around more.”
    “Ha-ha. No, I’m afraid of driving.”
    “Sensible of you. Leading cause of accidental death. Anything else?”
    She gave him a challenging look and turned to face him completely. “Lots,” she said. “It took me an hour to stop hyperventilating in the baby pool.”
    An unusually wise instinct prevented him from laughing. Her words were funny, but her eyes were serious. “You were doing great. Good for you.”
    She shot him a wry smile. “You’ve probably never been scared in your life.”
    “I’m afraid of heights a little bit.”
    “Yeah?”
    “When I got to the top of Half Dome, I got this weird tingling feeling in my stomach.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “But you climbed up there yourself?”
    “I had friends with me.”
    “Were you carried up in a straightjacket? Because that’s what I’d need. And a few bottles of prescription medication.”
    “I think one of the guys was on something, but I don’t think he had a prescription for it.” He was relieved when she laughed.
    “Actually, drugs don’t help me,” she said. “I’ve tried.”
    “Maybe you’re not trying hard enough,” he said. At her worried face, he said, “Just kidding. I don’t use anything either.”
    “Well, I was talking