Looking Inside

She dropped her hand from the enraptured dog and straightened. His head and shoulders rose above the background of the Sierra Nevada mountains and the setting sun. His dark shadow was cast in a reddish-gold corona. She held up her hand to shield her eyes and squinted. He came into focus. Her hand fell heedlessly to her side.

He was wearing a pair of dark blue swim trunks and nothing else. He’d just come out of the water. The way the trunks molded his body shredded her thoughts. Water gleamed on a lean, powerful torso, gilding him even more than the sun and his bronzed tan already did. His short wet hair was slicked back from a narrow, handsome face. Like her, he squinted as he examined her, even though he was turned away from the sun.

“It was a little intimidating, to be honest,” she managed, gathering herself. He was gorgeous, sure, but she was still a little irritated that he let his gigantic dog roam free. Not everyone thought it was fun to be run down by a hundred-and-fifty-pound animal. People around here really needed to watch over their dogs better. “He was coming at me like a locomotive,” she added.

“This is a private beach. It belongs to a friend of mine.”

Harper blinked at the sudden coolness. It wasn’t just his clipped tone, either. His narrow-eyed gaze was somehow . . . cutting as it moved over her face. It was like being scanned by a laser beam. The thought struck her that whoever this guy was, he regularly left people feeling tongue-tied and about six inches tall.

“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly, standing tall to diminish the shrinking effect of his stare. “I was told by my Realtor that a Tahoe Shores resident could walk or run along the entire lakeshore within the town’s city limits.” She started to walk away from him.

“You misunderstood me.”

“What?” She halted, looking over her shoulder.

Something crossed over his features, there and then gone. Was it frustration?

“You’re right, technically speaking. The beach directly next to the lake is the town’s property, even if we are on my friend’s property at the moment,” he said dryly, nodding at the distance between where they stood and the lake forty or so feet away.

“I’ll get closer to the water, then.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t calling you out for crossing my friend’s beach. He’d be fine with it. You’re welcome anytime.”

“Oh.” She gave a small shrug of bewilderment. She glanced unea

sily at the lovely, sprawling, ultramodern mansion to the left of her, the one that must belong to his friend.

“I was just giving you fair warning. You might have another run in with Charger, or some other dog. Here, Charger.” He calmly held out a large, outspread hand and the dog bounded over to him. She spun fully to face him, unable to hide her smile at the vision of the rambunctious dog hopping up to reach his master’s touch.

“I guess you knew him pretty well when you named him,” she said.

“Yeah. I imagine he even charged out of the womb.”

Charger frisked around a pair of long, strong-looking legs. He was a tall one. Six foot three or four? Her gaze stuck on his crotch.

The wet trunks were revealing. Very. Heat flared in her cheeks.

“He interrupted your pace,” he said.

She jerked her gaze guiltily up to his face. He waved at her jogging attire.

“Oh. It’s okay. I never go that fast, anyway. And I’d just gotten started,” she assured, her breathlessness at odds with her reply. “What breed is he?” Harper asked, nodding at the dog, hoping to distract him from her face. With her coloring, her blushes were annoyingly obvious.

“A Lab-pointer mix. I think, anyway. He didn’t come with any papers. I got him from the local shelter.”

“The Tahoe Shores Animal Shelter is close to the offices of my new job. It’s huge. I heard it was the largest in Nevada.” Maybe that’s why everyone is so dog-crazy around here.

“You work at the Sierra Tahoe Gazette?” he asked. He noticed her surprised glance. He gave a small shrug. Harper experienced a stirring deep inside her, and realized it came from that small, sexy . . . yet somehow shy smile. But that couldn’t be right. How could a man as cold and imperious as he’d seemed just seconds ago come off as shy?

“This is a small town. The Gazette’s office is the only building close to the shelter . . . besides the North Shore Fire Department.” His gaze dropped over her slowly, and that flickering of her body swelled to a steady, pleasurable flame. “Although you are in good shape. Are you a firefighter?”

She laughed. No, he definitely wasn’t shy. “You were right the first time.” She stuck out her hand. “Harper McFadden. I started last week as the news editor at the Gazette.”

He stepped closer. His hand felt damp and warm. It enfolded hers completely. She tried to make out the color of his narrowed eyes and saw shards of green, brown, and amber. Her heart gave a little jump.

Agate eyes.

“You left your job at the San Francisco Chronicle as a reporter.”