Shorts come off next. Beck’s still got his boxer briefs on, but they don’t hide much, especially since I already have the dimensions of that particular part of his anatomy memorized.

“Yup.” He shoots me a dangerous grin as he wades into the water; a raunchy, suggestive expression that makes my own body feel like it could benefit from an ice bath, a dunking in water even colder than the pristine pool bestrewed before me.

I was really hoping I would be accustomed to his appearance by now, but Beck looks like a glistening, tan sculpture of the David come to life, and that’s difficult to let fade to white noise.

Heart? Keep beating, please.

I pull cotton that too many washes have softened over my head, leaving behind nothing but matching lace. I may have had some hope for activities aside from hiking on this trip. The chilly water laps higher and higher as I wade in, washing away the perspiration that gathered on the surface of my skin as we navigated uneven terrain.

“Shit,” I mutter, submerging up to my collarbones in an attempt to numb myself to the cold. Beck has already dived beneath the surface, and new droplets of water appear in his darkened hair with each step forward, glinting in the sunshine. Just as I’m about to lose contact with the sandy bottom, I draw even with him.

We stare at each other as cold water saturates the ends of my blonde strands. I feel the hair swirl about me.

“You act like you know everything about me,” Beck says, his low voice cutting through the quiet lapping of water against the shore.

“Not everything,” I correct. “Just the parts extensively reported on by the media.”

Beck rolls his eyes. “So, tell me something about you.”

He says the words simply. Nonchalantly. “Why?” I ask, stuck between suspicion and confusion.

Beck lets his fingertips trail along the surface of the water, leaving symmetrical ripples behind. “Because all I know about you is that you’re American, you’re decent on the pitch, and you’ve broken a lot of hearts.”

I splash him. “I’m more than decent, and I’ve never broken anyone’s heart.” He raises both eyebrows. “Maybe I’ve bruised a couple of egos,” I acquiesce. Beck laughs at that, a husky, warm sound that brightens the surrounding air. “And you’re hardly one to talk.”

He doesn’t deny it. “I was young and horny. What did you expect me to say? ‘No, I wouldn’t like a blow job’ or ‘let’s hang out here rather than go off for a quick fuck’?”

I snort. “Was? And I don’t care what you said. Just pointing out a fact.”

There’s a pause. Then, “Well?”