Free Rebel Waltz by Kay Hooper Page A

of her swimsuits. She normally wore a relatively modest one-piece when she swam in the mornings, but this time chose a daring bikini she never wore unless she was sure to be alone; it was her “tanning suit,” purchased simply because it was the briefest thing she had been able to find.
    She pulled a white terry beach caftan from her closet and drew it on, picked up a thick towelfrom her bathroom, then padded barefoot downstairs and through the silent house.
    The day had been hot and still; the night was warm and a bit muggy. It was typical midsummer weather for the South, and the weather prediction promised another such day and night for their party. Banner automatically followed the garden path out to the pool. She stopped at the side of the cabana to flip the switch activating the underwater pool lights, then opened the gate and stepped inside the two-acre “privacy fence” that surrounded the pool.
    It wasn't until she'd crossed several yards of sparkling tile that she realized she hadn't been the only one in the house with this idea.
    “Hi,” Rory called softly from the middle of the pool.
    The underwater lights bathed the entire area in a hazy blue light, and between that and the full moon, she could see him clearly. He had spoken while floating lazily on his back, but now swam toward the side closest to her with the easy, powerful strokes she knew so well fromtheir morning swims. Banner dropped her towel on a table and slid her hands into the deep pockets of her caftan, suddenly very conscious of the lateness of the hour and of the fact that they were more alone than they'd ever been. Even though they had shared the pool early every morning this past week, she had always been aware of the sounds of gardeners working to ready the area all around the pool for their party.
    She didn't cross the remaining couple of feet of tile, but remained where she was. “Hi. I—I didn't think anyone else was still up.”
    “I've been out here every night about this time,” he said calmly, resting his elbows and forearms on the tile as he gazed up at her.
    “Every night? I didn't realize you liked swimming that much.”
    “What I don't like is staring at a dark ceiling. Come on in. The water's great.”
    Banner forced herself to ignore the implications of his first comment; he probably just meant he was a confirmed insomniac, that was all. Atany rate, she was suddenly too busy remembering her scanty swimsuit to think about much else. She considered making some excuse to avoid entering the water, but knew that whatever she said, he'd think she was avoiding him.
    If only he wouldn't keep watching her. Once in the water, her suit wouldn't look quite so brief, but standing here in full view of God and everybody—
    “What's wrong?” Then, in a suddenly altered voice, he added, “I can leave if you'd rather swim alone.”
    “No. No, of course not.” Banner walked to the edge of the pool at right angles to him, where wide steps led down into the shallow end. Trying to move as quickly as possible without looking as if she were hurrying, she pulled the long caftan up over her head, tossed it aside, and stepped down into the water.
    She didn't look toward Rory, still at the side and utterly motionless, but instead struck out for the far end, swimming the length of the pool in her easy, graceful crawl. She swam back untilher feet touched bottom in the shallow end, standing upright, so that the surface of the water came just to her breasts.
    “You're right,” she said breathlessly to the man who still hadn't moved. “The water is great.”
    “So's that suit.”
    Banner knew that it was hardly possible, anatomically speaking, for a heart to turn over; she wondered vaguely what actually happened to that organ to produce such a peculiar feeling. And she stood very still, because there had been something in his voice, an oddly taut, leashed quality, that warned her this moment was a dangerous one.
    “Another thing that would have