Addy cursed herself inwardly.

Why had she shared her troubles with Remington? He was just so easy to talk to.

And now her blabbing mouth had gotten the big lug half-drowned.

She should have realized that he would try to help. His heart was bigger than his sense of self-preservation.

She’d been sure he was bluffing, but when he didn’t come up for air, she got worried and went in after him. She got to him as fast as she could but he’d been under for way too long and he was unresponsive when she dragged him out.

She leaned in close to his nose and mouth to listen for breathing.

He surprised her by moving slightly.

And surprised her even more by kissing her ear.

His lips were cool but his breath was warm and tickly.

“Remington?”

She turned her face to his without thinking.

Her lips brushed his and she nearly swooned.

He tangled his hands in her wet hair and kissed her like he was going to war.

She gasped and his tongue invaded her mouth.

He tasted like summertime - a pleasant mix of chlorine on the outside and toothpaste on the inside that made Addy think of a brisk June morning.

She could feel his big body responding to hers, muscles moving like waves as he adjusted to hold her closer, heat throbbing against her through their wet clothes.

We’ve got to stop meeting like this, her inner flirt said.

Addy, what are you doing? Her inner critic was not amused.

She pulled away slightly, though it almost pained her to do so.

“Addy,” Remington whispered. His eyes were glazed with lust, his expression one of wonder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, rolling off him quickly. “I thought you were drowning.”

He didn’t respond.

She turned back to see him lying there, apparently stunned, glistening droplets of water running down that hard muscular body.

He ran a hand through his hair and his six-pack stretched even tighter.

Sweet god, he was so freaking hot.

He moved to sit up and Addy turned away again, she couldn’t let him catch her drooling.

“I was not drowning,” he said calmly.

The truth of that sentence hit her for the first time since his kiss had knocked her out of her senses.

He hadn’t been drowning.

But he had been under more than a minute and he’d shown no sign of fear, or even of wanting to get another breath.

“Have you done any kind of breathing training?” She had to ask. Maybe it was part of the space journey he’d taken to get here.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Why?”

“Most people can’t hold their breath for long without discomfort,” she explained.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Humans need oxygen.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s true. Anyway, it seems like you went a long time without a breath, especially for someone who isn’t a swimmer.”

“I did?” He gazed at her thoughtfully.

“Were you uncomfortable? Did you want a breath?”

“I was happy in the cool water,” he said. “I did not feel the urge to come out. Especially after you joined me.”

“Do you think you could do it again?” she asked, ignoring his flirtation. She knew she should send him on his way, but she couldn’t resist, her professional curiosity got the better of her.

“Sure,” he said with a smile, heading for the pool.

“Wait,” she said quickly. “You’re headed for the deep end of the pool - you won’t be able to get out on your own over there.”

“Oh,” he said, looking surprised.

“You’ll want to get in on the other side, use the stairs,” she explained. “When you get in, just sit on the bottom so your head is underwater. I won’t get you out this time, just stand up when you feel like you need a breath.”

“So I should get in on that side,” he repeated. “And I should come up when I feel like I need a breath.”

“Exactly,” she said.

He headed over and stepped into the waist-deep water, then looked up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun with a big hand.

She waved to him and he smiled back.

He sat down, submerging himself in the water.

She checked the time on her swimmer’s watch.

When a full minute had passed, she expected he would stand up again.

The surface of the pool remained placid.

When a minute and a half had passed, she paced over to the shallow end.

Remington sat calmly on the bottom of the pool, legs folded into what she’d always called a criss-cross applesauce position. He glanced up at her approach.

Two minutes and Addy began to feel afraid.

Two and a half minutes.

Three minutes.

Four.

When the time approached five minutes Addy bit her lip and then stepped into the water herself to fetch him. She could see that he wasn’t drowning, but something about this was unnatural. Even trained professionals could rarely hold their breath for five minutes or more. And most of them used meditation techniques and a prone posture to achieve it.

She swam up to him slowly so as not to frighten him if he were meditating. But as soon as she reached him he smiled at her and reached his hands out.

She pulled him up again.

“What’s wrong, Addy?”

He wasn’t even panting.

“I-I was worried about you,” she told him.

“Why?” His brow furrowed. “I did not feel that I needed a breath. Was I wrong?”

“No,” she said. “I can see now that you’re fine. It’s just… unusual.”

“Is that bad?” The big man looked worried.

“No,” she said immediately. “God, no. It’s wonderful. You’ve got a special ability, that’s all. Do you know how long you could go without taking a breath?”

“I do not know,” he shook his head. “I never thought about it.”

“The average person can’t survive for more than three minutes without breathing,” she said. “There are people who train and can go longer, but not much longer. How do you do it?”

“I go under the water, and I wait,” Remington said. “You know.”

“I don’t know.” Addy shook her head. “I can’t stay under the water anywhere near as long as you.”

“You can’t?” He looked stunned.

“No,” she told him. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

She took his hands.

“On three,” she said. “One, two, three. Go.”

They sank to the bottom of the pool, facing each other, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce.

He smiled at her, looking as delighted to be at this underwater “tea party” as any of her young swim students when she was teaching them to get comfortable under surface.

She released a bit of breath and a trail of bubbles sailed to the surface.

Remington had not exhaled yet at all.

He gazed at her, his blond hair floating around those razor sharp cheekbones.

It made her think of the Greek mythology book she’d loved as a child and the picture of Poseidon, proud and powerful, extending his hand from inside the waves, as if to lure in the child reading the book.

She wondered vaguely if that vivid illustration had influenced her interest in swimming.

Pressure was building in her lungs so she let out more air. The bubbles rushed to the surface and she found herself wanting to follow them.

A bit longer, Addy, she told herself.

Across from her, Remington was still smiling as he watched the trail of her bubbles disappear.

He did not exhale.

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen, or the feel of his warm hands, but Addy found herself trying to relax and stretch what was left of her breath by remembering the taste of his kiss, the feel of that muscular body under hers.

He squeezed her hands lightly, as if in response.

She released what was left of her air and imagined what it would be like to relax at the bottom of the pool as calmly Remington did.

He smiled at her.

Her heart beat like a drum.

But her lungs were burning now that they were empty.

She slipped her hands from his and rose to the surface, sucking in a big breath.

“Addy, are you alright?” Remington had surfaced with her, although it was clear he hadn’t needed to.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s as long as I can stay under without coming up for a breath.”

He nodded slowly, keeping his mouth shut, no doubt, to avoid offending her.

“Look,” she said. “I probably can teach you to swim pretty quickly since you’re in no danger of drowning.”

He smiled as if she had just told him he’d won the lottery.

“But,” she added, “you can’t show off like that when people are around.

“I did not mean to show off, Addy,” he said immediately.

“Oh, geez, that’s not how I meant it,” she replied. “Just don’t stay under the water longer than I did just then, ok?”

“Yes,” he said contentedly. “I will not stay under longer than one minute and thirty-seven seconds.”

“How did you…?” Addy began. “You know what, never mind. I’ve got private lessons starting in a couple of minutes. But if you want to come see me after work, I’ll give you a swim lesson.”

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

Damn it.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” he agreed.

There was a fraction of a second where she wondered if he might try to kiss her, and what she might do if that happened.

But then he turned, picked up his t-shirt, and headed back toward the men’s staff cabin, no doubt to change into that sharp-looking suit that he wore to wait tables.

She allowed herself to watch the symphony of his muscles rippling as he pulled the shirt back over his head.

But she drew the line at watching him walk the rest of the way up the hill.

Instead, she grabbed the swim lesson book and started scrawling all over it, trying to figure out how she could take on the extra classes and private sessions until she got some help.

She most certainly would not count the hours until she saw him again.

That would be ridiculous.

She glanced at her watch.