“Very impressive.” She feigned applause. “I could never do that. Grace, now, is a champion rock skipper.”
He looked skeptical. “You can’t skip a rock?”
“Nope,” she replied cheerfully. “I’ve tried since I was seven, and I’ve never managed more than a sorry bounce or two before my rock sank straight to the bottom. My dad was convinced I just wasn’t trying, but I really did try—until I finally gave up in sheer frustration.”
“Everyone can skip a rock.”
“I can’t,” she said with a shrug. “Just never figured out the trajectories or whatever.”
“Everyone can skip a rock,” he repeated, looking down at the ground.
“Not everyone.”
He bent to pluck several stones from the ground, then rattled them in his palm as he straightened. “Here. Give it a try.”
“I’m telling you, Donovan, it’s a lost cause. I cannot skip rocks.”
“Of course you can.” He placed a flat stone in her hand. “Now, just skim it over the water’s surface.”
“Easier said than done,” she muttered, then obligingly tossed the rock at the water. As she’d expected, it sank with a splash.
“No, you threw it into the water, not across it.” Donovan handed her another stone. “Think of the water as a solid surface and let the rock hit it at a glancing angle.”
“Oh, sure. No problem.” She sighed and threw the second rock, watching in resignation when it immediately disappeared beneath the surface. “Okay. Have I convinced you yet?”
“You’re not trying.”
“If only you knew how many times I’ve heard that—in exactly that same tone.”
He gave her another stone. “Try again. And remember, your object is to skip the rock, not sink it.”
That rock made a half-hearted attempt to bounce before it was devoured by a hungry ripple. Chloe turned with a disgusted shake of her head. “I told you. I can’t—”
He folded her fingers around another rock. “Try again.”
She frowned a little. She didn’t quite like the grimly determined look on Donovan’s face. He had decided, for some reason, to teach her how to skip a rock—and he didn’t seem inclined to give up until she had learned to do so. Because she had a sudden mental picture of herself standing there throwing rocks until sundown, she shook her head. “I’d really rather not. I just can’t—”
Her words stumbled to a halt when he moved behind her and covered her hand with his own.
“Like this,” he said, pulling her arm back and tilting her hand to a position that satisfied him. “Bring your arm forward and release the rock exactly at that angle.”
She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “You’re not going to give up until I learn this, are you?”
His low voice rumbled unnervingly close to her ear. “It’s just a matter of convincing you that you want it.”
“It’s, um, not that important a skill to learn.”
Without releasing her, he shrugged. “I don’t like hearing anyone say, ‘I can’t.’”
There had to be some significance to that statement, she mused, trying to distract herself from how closely he stood to her. Something in his past or his psyche made him doggedly stick to a task until it was completed to his satisfaction.
The distraction technique wasn’t helping much. She was entirely too aware of the warmth that seemed to radiate from him, and the strength of the hand that held hers. She was definitely spending too much time alone with this man.
She tossed the rock quickly, hoping it would skip so he would move away. It sort of bounced once before sinking.
Sighing, she turned her head to look at him, intending to tell him to forget it. To mark this project off as a lost cause. She couldn’t skip rocks, didn’t even want to skip rocks, and she saw no reason to waste any more time trying. She was simply going to politely, but firmly, tell him….
Her gaze locked with his cool green eyes…and whatever she had intended to say fled from her mind. His arm was still partially around her, and he stood so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. A quiver of reaction rippled somewhere deep inside her.