Free Best Man's Conquest by Michelle Celmer Page A

was interfering with your work?”
    He shrugged. “The truth is, I didn’t make a conscious effort to stop. I guess I just outgrew it.” He leaned slightly forward to hand her a bottle. “Here you go.”
    â€œThank you.” She cast him a bright smile. This was going to feel so good.
    She reached up to grab it, but instead she wrapped her hand around his wrist and yanked as hard as she could. He teetered for a second, trying to catch his balance, then he laughed and cursed and let himself fall.
    He landed with a noisy, messy kersploosh, bottles and all, splashing her from head to toe with pool water.
    â€œYes!” She jumped to her feet, cherishing her victory. May be now he would stop messing with her; he would see she meant business. And even if he didn’t, it had been a lot of fun.
    She gazed down into the water. Any second now, he would rise to the top and see her smug smile, the satisfaction in her eyes. May be the kiss idea had been a disaster, but this would be her moment of triumph.
    Yep, any second now.
    She squinted to make out his shadowy form against the dark tile lining the bottom of the pool. He was still way down there. May be he was looking for the water bottles. So someone didn’t accidentally step on one and cut their foot. Only thing was, he didn’t appear to be moving.
    A pocket of air rose and bubbled to the surface but still no Dillon.
    What if he’d hurt himself?
    No, that was silly. She had seen him go in. He hadn’t hit his head or twisted anything. At least, she didn’t think so. He was fine. He was just trying to get her to jump in after him.
    Well, she wasn’t falling for it.
    But how long could someone hold their breath? It had already been a while, hadn’t it? Close to a minute even. At least it seemed that way.
    As every second ticked past, her confidence began to fizzle.
    What if there was something really wrong? What if he wasn’t breathing? What if he’d been telling the truth and he really didn’t know how to swim?
    He’d told her he never learned how and she’d pushed him in regardless, meaning she would be responsible if he was hurt.
    If he died .
    Her heart dropped hard and fast, leaving a sick, empty hole in her chest as a dozen gruesome images flashed through her brain at the speed of light. Dillon being dragged from the pool, his tanned skin gray and waxy, his lips a deathly shade of blue.
    Dillon’s funeral. Having to face his family and admit it had been her fault.
    She thought of all the things she could have said to him, should have said, and had never gotten the chance.
    Her stomach churned with the possibilities, and her head swam with disbelief. She didn’t like Dillon, but she didn’t want him dead, either.
    And what if no one believed it was an accident? She could see the headlines now. Bestselling author murders ex-husband after publicly berating him in her tell-all book.
    Dillon had floated closer to the surface, but he still wasn’t moving, and she was running out of time. There was no way he could hold his breath for that long.
    Oh, hell.
    She kicked off her sandals and dove in, the cool water swallowing her up like a hungry beast, numbing her senses. All she could feel was the dull throb of panic squeezing her chest, hear the beat of her own pulse in her ears, louder and louder as she descended. She opened her eyes, blinking against the burn of chlorine. Her gaze darted back and forth as she searched, desperate to spot his floating form. She would have to hoist him from the pool and do mouth-to-mouth, get his airway cleared. She’d been certified in first aid and CPR for years, but she’d never actually had to use it. She only hoped she remembered how.
    But she would have to find him first. He was gone, as if he had vanished into thin air, or been sucked into an alternate universe.
    She hit the bottom at the ten-foot mark and flipped over, her long skirt tangling