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When Casey Hobbes got an eyeful of the half-naked man emerging from Seneca Lake, she pulled onto the shoulder without even signaling. She could justify the move because he was technically breaking the no swimming after sunset posted rule, even though she was off-duty. Much of her job as a New York State park ranger comprised of reminding people that rules were for their safety. But deep down? Casey wasn't even kidding herself. It was that impossibly broad chest and shock of dark brown hair mussed over the top of the scuba mask that drew her like a moth to a bug zapper.
Moving fast now, he emerged the rest of the way from the water. It was black, the same color as the night sky above. So although he wasn't pale, his legs starkly contrasted his surroundings, making him easy to spot in the moonlight. His long, strong legs. Well muscled. Casey liked the looks of a man who worked out. She couldn't stand the over-pumped gym rats who resembled nothing more than anatomically correct balloon people. No, this guy was just hot. Yummy hot. S'mores melting over a campfire hot.
Or maybe not so hot. 'Cause he'd wrapped his arms around himself without even removing the scuba tanks strapped onto his back. Even from across the road she could tell he was shivering. See? It didn't pay to break the rules. What kind of idiot didn't wear a wetsuit, even in June, to dive in the Finger Lakes? Casey swung her Jeep into the parking lot of the lakefront park and grabbed for the emergency space blanket she kept tucked behind the passenger seat.
Sticking her head out the window, she asked, "Sir, do you need help?"
He shook his head. But his teeth were chattering so hard he couldn't actually answer. Geez. Why were the hot ones always so dumb? With a sigh, she hopped out. Hurried over, unsnapped the belt at his waist where the flashlight hung and slipped the straps of his gear down his bare arms with no resistance from him. Probably because his arms were absolutely ice cold. Now they hung limp at his sides.
So she wrapped the blanket around him tight herself. Its foil crinkling scared a flock of geese straight up into the starry sky. Casey rolled her eyes up toward the Big Dipper in exasperation. Great. What was she supposed to do with a six-foot-tall mansicle frozen in place at the edge of the lake? Knowing body heat was the quickest way to deal with hypothermia, she wrapped her arms around him, too. Tried not to notice that it brought her flush against ridged abs. Or how well her head tucked into the hollow of his collarbone.
This was strictly basic first aid. If he were a woman, or a sixty-year-old guy with a pot belly and a bad comb-over, Casey would still be responding the same way. His core temp had to be raised ASAP. But still, it didn't suck that he was a wall of sheer, solid muscle against her torso. She tucked her thighs and calves along the outside of his, almost hissing at the cold searing every exposed inch between her uniform khaki shorts and the tops of her boots.
"Thanks."
Surprised his teeth had stopped chattering already, she jerked her head up. But Casey couldn't see anything behind his fogged-over mask. Only a well-formed pair of lips beneath it. Generous. Curved up just the tiniest bit. Lips that made her want to throw caution to the wind and start nibbling.
"How do you feel?"
"Cold. Prickly, like I'm getting acupuncture from a hundred doctors all at once."
Whew. No ambulance needed, then. Just her blanket and time. "That sensation will pass. It's good news, actually, that you aren't numb at all."
"Nope. Definitely not numb."
Was that a twitch of…seriously…when most of his body still felt like an unthawed surprise from the freezer? Casey released her embrace a split second after he began to push away.
"God, I'm sorry. Really." He stumbled back a few steps, and his mouth hung open. "That was an involuntary reaction. I mean, you're beautiful, so it wasn't entirely involuntary. But it was a purely physical reaction to stimulus. To all of you pressing up against all of me. I swear I'm not trying to accost you."
Huh. His rapid backpedaling rang true. The stranger appeared to be a genuinely good guy. She'd cut him some slack. Besides, he was still shivering. Whatever little heat she'd imparted to him had all pooled in that overachieving organ tenting the front of his trunks.
"I'm not worried. I can't imagine anyone committing to hypothermia on the off-chance that a woman might drive by, decide to try to rescue them, and then stick around to get kissed."
"Kissed? Who said anything about a kiss? Not that I wouldn't be on board with the idea." His voice turned smug, even as he tugged the blanket tighter against another round of shivers.
Damn it. Casey certainly hadn't meant to mention a kiss. She blamed the slip on working overtime three days straight. The height of tourist season here in the Finger Lakes, and yet she'd stupidly offered to cover so one of her rangers could attend a wedding over the weekend. Exhaustion was her only excuse. It had nothing to do with how she could see the leading edge of brown hair across his chest over the crisscrossed top of the blanket.
"Sit down. Pull your knees up to your chest." Casey led him to the base of a hemlock tree. Put two fingers to his neck. A strong pulse, but slower than normal. She'd better hang with him for a few minutes to be sure it picked back up. Keep him talking to be sure his words didn't slur or slow down any more. "I don't think you need a hospital, but I can take you there if you'd like."
He shook his head, which sent his air hose and mouthpiece flapping. "No way. I'm a man. I can tough this out. But your lake really ought to come with a warning sign."
Tourists. Always happy to toss blame on someone if they were in any way put out. Casey generally loved the visitors who flocked to the Finger Lakes May through October. She loved watching them be struck by the natural beauty of the area, the charm of the quaint downtown. But in her occasional role as an enforcer of rules, they tended to drive her nuts. This one was no exception. Although he was much, much better looking than the usual complainer. That made it a little easier to be patient with him.
"It does. It says no swimming after sunset." She pointed to the wooden sign clearly visible, less than ten feet away. "That's why I came over here in the first place."
"Why?" His lips quirked into another smile. "Are you the swimming police? A capeless and more stringent version of Aquaman?"
Funny. And anyone who could tease a grin out of her while this tired was a miracle worker. Or at least someone worth getting her flirt on with. "No. I'm a ranger with the New York State Park Service. Saving people from their own, nature-induced stupidity is all in a day's work." Casey sank to the grass beside him. Ran her fingers in a slow arc across the soft blades to help resist the urge to rub his arms. Or really, rub anything else within reach.
"I'm not stupid. What I am is fully certified to scuba dive. I've gone night-diving dozens of times all around the world. In open oceans. Under conditions far more treacherous than a placid lake." The smugness was gone, replaced by a generous helping of pissyness. As if her words, and strict adherence to the rules, had threatened his very manliness.
"But you've never done it in this lake, I'll bet. Seneca Lake is special. More than six hundred feet deep. So even though the top ten feet or so warm up in the summer, everything deeper than that stays right around forty degrees."
He shook his head, as if still confused. "It's the middle of June."
"Which is why the top layer is warm," she said patiently. It was a phenomenon she explained dozens of times every summer.
"You're right. I let my enthusiasm get the better of me. I should've asked around and gotten informed before jumping into a new environment. No clue it was so deep. Usually I'm much more painstaking with my research." More crinkles of the foil as he shrugged. "I screwed up."
Impressive. She couldn't wait to tell her friends about him. Not that they'd believe her. "Wow. A man who admits he's wrong? I thought those were a myth."
"I'll go you one better. Not only can I admit I'm wrong. I'm going to apologize, too." With the back of his hand, he shoved the goggles to the top of his head. "I'm sorry my stupidity disrupted your evening."
Flutter. Double flutter. Yep, that was her heart sputtering at the combination of the reveal of his handsome face paired with an apology. Wide-set eyes under straight brows gave him a disarmingly rugged look. Now that she could see his whole face, Casey was hooked. The only problem being that darkness kept her from telling the exact color of the eyes staring into hers so earnestly.
"That's okay. I didn't have any plans." Casey regretted the words before her mouth stopped moving. Way to sound both desperate and boring at the same time. On top of her lecture about the lake rules, she must be coming off about as attractive as a crotchety spinster of a frontier schoolmarm.
He reached out to tug at the end of one of her long, blond braids. "A beautiful woman like you? That's hard to believe."
"That's a line," she countered. "And not a particularly good or inventive one."
"My brain's still thawing out. Give me five minutes and I promise I'll do better. Much better."
"I'll give you ten. But you'd better not disappoint me."
"How about we start with something simple? When I write a letter to the New York Park Service commending your swift work to prevent me from hypothermia, who do I name?"
Anything in excess made waves, made her get noticed. Even praise. And getting noticed was something Casey avoided more scrupulously than even poison ivy. Seeing as how she'd been hiding from the national media since the age of twelve, when her stepmom rescued her from an infamous cult. So out of long habit, Casey demurred. "You don't have to do that."
His thumb stroked back and forth over the stub of her braid sticking out from the elastic. Casey couldn't feel it, of course, but she imagined she could. Imagined what it might feel like if he repeated that motion on the inside of her wrist. Or across the back of her hand. Watching the hypnotic motion also meant she could avoid looking at him.
"Is it that horrible I want to thank you?" he asked in a slow, low voice.
"What I did wasn't special. See that campground across the road? There was just as big a chance that someone would've noticed you on their way to the bathroom and come to your rescue. Or another person in town driving by. We take good care of our tourists. And lots of people know basic first aid."
"That's a whole lot of obfuscation and backpedaling when all I want is your name."
Oops. Now she'd attracted more of his attention by the very act of trying to avoid attracting any attention. Most of the time Casey was pretty darn happy with her life here in the Finger Lakes. She had a great job. Wonderful friends. But every once in a while, like right now, a situation popped up that filled her with unhappiness.
No, that wasn't quite right. A mix of sadness and anger, all directed at the father who'd tangled her up in a whacked-out cult. A cult that famously imploded one day after she'd gotten out. One that still had people beating the bushes to talk with "survivors" and get the inside scoop.
The media had put a price on her head. Like a felon. When all she wanted, more than anything, was to live a normal life. To be able to let a handsome man send a letter of praise up the ladder to her big boss without any worries that it might make the paper and suddenly bring a barrage of cameras and media to her peaceful town, all aiming their bright lights at her. Casey wasn't sure she'd ever fully forgive her dad for putting her in this position. Or that she'd forgive herself for still, after all this time, wanting to protect him.
It had gone on for seventeen years. Casey was so, so tired of hiding. Tired of always being on her guard. It was a beautiful summer night. A warm breeze stirred the leaves overhead. The throaty burble of a frog rumbled from the shoreline. A nearby honeysuckle scented the air. And a hot man was all but in her lap, asking her name. What could the harm be in one memorable summer night of fun and flirtation?
"I'll tell you if you promise not to nominate me for Ranger of the Year." She waited until he nodded, and then stuck out her hand. "Casey Hobbes."
Deep grooves that told of a man who smiled easily and often bracketed his mouth. "Professor Zane Buchanan."
"Professor Buchanan? I guess that explains the fancy, ten-dollar words like obfuscation"
"Sorry. I've spent a good chunk of my life behind ivy-covered walls. I forget sometimes that it makes me come off like a pretentious ass."
"Not an ass," she assured him with wide-eyed innocence. "Just pretentious."
He barked out a laugh and let go of her braid. Huddled his arm back beneath the blanket. "Fair enough. And you don't have to call me professor. Unless you've signed up for my class and want to start the inevitable ass-kissing-for-an-A early. Zane's good enough."
Zane. A solid, strong and sexy name. It fit him. "You're teaching a class at Hobart?"
"Just Hobart? Is that what the locals in the know call it?"
"Well, Hobart and William Smith Colleges is too big a mouthful most of the time." Big mouthful. Had she really just said that to him? Slutty-flirty was totally not her style. Casey wanted to lean forward far enough to bang her head into the tree trunk. "Did you start this summer term?"
"Not exactly. I teach there, but I don't work there.
Yet."
Casey might not have a string of letters after her name, but she did have one degree. In forest resources management. From the College of Environmental Science and Forestry at SUNY. Not the hallowed halls of the Ivy League, but she'd worked hard. Written a slew of papers. Researched and memorized and analyzed. So how come she couldn't understand what on earth he was saying? It put her back up just a little. Was he being cryptic on purpose?
"What—you give away your knowledge for free as a public service?" Yeah, she sounded snarky. But she really hated being made to feel less than somebody. Less smart, less fun, less interesting. Casey liked to be on equal footing.
All he did was chuckle, like he hadn't even noticed her snark. "You could call it a six-week-long job interview. Hobart and William" he corrected himself, "is giving me the opportunity to teach a single, sample seminar. Meanwhile, I'm here interviewing to become full-time faculty in the fall. This gives me the chance to see if I want to stick. Gives them the chance to be sure they want me."
Her emotional barometer swung from snark to swoon. Zane sounded like he was trying to be modest. The way Casey interpreted it was that they were wooing him. Trying desperately to get him to fall in love with Seneca Lake. Because no way would the college trust him with any of their students if they weren't already sure. That made him easygoing. Self-effacing. The more he thawed out, the more he talked, and she liked hearing it.
"With only one class, you've still got lots of lazy summer time. So do us both a favor and lay off the nighttime diving, okay?" She skimmed a hand down his arm. Before she got to his wrist he'd jack-rabbited his other arm out from the blanket to hold her hand. It felt heavy and nice. Finally warm, too.
