Slowly, holding my gaze, he slipped out of his dress shoes. Well, my eyes traveled down the length of him and I realized they weren't dress shoes at all, but black sneakers. Of course, he would wear black sneakers with a suit. He even had on a thin black tie. He pushed them carefully to the side of the step he was standing on and then using one hand to hold his gun still leveled at me, with the other he pointed to another super soaker he'd obviously laid in my planter.

I closed the lap top, moving like a stealthy secret agent. How could I not? This was obviously the challenge. I had to retaliate.

I crept slowly, holding his eyes-- off the patio lounge. He backed off my steps onto the sand. His gun still leveled at me, he let go with a long lazy squirt and I dove for the second gun as he took off running toward his own place.

My gun was conveniently full, and I aimed it at him with a squeal and fired, a long stream plastered his retreating back through his suit jacket, and the back of his neck-- I was not a novice water gun fighter. I leaped the planter, and landed in the sand close to where he was heading, I ducked behind his stucco wall, and peeked over drawing fire, and plastering him again. I heard his grunts and heavy breathing.

Beside me on the wall was a spigot. I had the advantage. He'd have to reload inside.... I was not scared to hit him in that very vulnerable place. I ducked... crept around the wall to the edge of his patio and then stood as he'd retreated nearer to his window. I started firing--- non-stop--walking forward dramatically, dodging his occasional squirts- taking it in the face, but not backing down.

I ran out of water, leaped the low wall, and began to fill from the spigot. And that was when he got me. He had actually lured me to this exact spot, and I'd been unable to see the huge gallon bucket of water he'd stashed nearby so when I went to refill he could dump it on me. I gasped as the deluge washed over me.

I couldn't even scream, the water was so cold on my sun-warmed body. Exhilarated rage poured through my veins, and I jumped up, squirting for all I was worth. His laughing was priceless. He was slapping his thighs, doubling over. Then he took off running and I followed, watching for more buckets. There was one, and I made it to it at the same time as he did, throwing my hips into it, I shoved him away, got it faster and battled him for possession of it just in time to slosh it all over our feet and finally managed to get him all down his front.

I dropped the bucket and ran out onto the shore, twirling with my arms up, screaming victory. Rafe pushed back his glasses and then ran at me, feinting left and then right, and then walking steadily forward squirting continuously right in my face. I ran out farther, and he dropped his empty gun, ripped off the jacket and the white button down shirt and tie--- and corralled me toward the waves.

Screaming and laughing hysterically, I plummeted over the bank and onto the wet sand, nowhere to go but into the ocean. I ran down the shore, dodging him, racing--- still plastering him, as close to the eyes as possible.

He got close enough, made that crazy leap and tackled me backward. I squirmed as much as I could against that iron-thewed chest, his freaking strong arms encircled me-- he lifted me clear off the ground and I kicked for all I was worth, screaming and laughing.

I had brothers. I knew where they were vulnerable. I put my squirt gun down the front of his pants and pulled the trigger. Sure of release, I wasn't disappointed as he literally dropped me, yelling my name, as I took off running.

"No, you didn't!" He was yelling. I didn't turn to look back. I ran. "No, you did not!"

The wind whipped my shrill squeals back toward him, and I twirled so I could see him once not that far behind, but with a huge dark stain down his right pant leg-- very revealing-- haha!

He was simply faster. I dashed into the surf and dove under before he could tackle me again. I was a good swimmer and a good body surfer. I swam straight out and then jumped a cresting wave, felt sea weed beneath which I pretty much hate, and swam again. I came up and he was close by-- dang it!

I splashed him. He shook his shoulders, crested another wave, one I was able to dive through, and came up to see him bearing down on me. I was laughing too hard to catch my breath and held out my palms in a gesture of surrender-- knowing I would never surrender.

Rafe leaped, grabbed me, dunked me, and pinned me to his chest again. I couldn't squirm free this time. He wouldn't underestimate me again. His eyes bore into mine, and I sputtered as a smaller crest lapped us. A larger wave was building further out, I felt it tugging at us, and standing was no longer an option. He had to let me go.

I made for the shore, laughing, screaming, grabbing my depleted gun left onshore. I raced for the spigot and didn't make it, as he tackled me from behind and knocked me flying. Eating a face full of sand I screamed, this time partially in pain, and felt the burn of sand rash on my knees and chin. Rafe rolled to catch the last of the impact but didn't let me go. I was covered head to toe in sand.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" He panted, letting me go as he flopped back in the sand.

"Really? Where do you think?" I laughed.

He contemplated that one, and then unbuttoned his ruined pants and yanked them down, revealing tight briefs.... Black tight briefs. I averted my gaze carefully. His underwear was wet also. Which made me look down at my own revealing state of dress. The choice of soft white undershirt had been great for cleaning earlier. Not so great now.

"We seem to always be getting naked in each other's company, girlfriend." He laughed, staring pointedly at my plastered chest. I stared back at his and finally when he just sat there, my curiosity got the best of me.

"Off the subject---"

"Yeah, the water gun subject?"

"Yeah--" I pointed to his tattoos.

He flexed his arms. Covered completely covered in ink. Flowers, a dragon, a sculpted squirrelly, I didn't know what to call them. There was an eagle on his chest below his sternum and above his six pack. I reached out and moved him. He twisted so I could see his back. A name, Lacey-- covered in beautiful lace. Intricate, expensive artwork. There was a mermaid, a skull, very fantasy-- very cool. It took longer than a few moments to stare at it all. I was fascinated.

I'd never even been that close to that many tattoos. Oh, I'd delivered women who sported the occasional Chinese writing, a flower, a lizard on her ankle. But nothing like this.

"Why?" I blurted, still fingering the lines slowly, studying---

"Why what?" He feigned misunderstanding. He knew very well what I was asking.

"Are you addicted to it?"

"Spoken like a true medical professional." He blew out his breath. "Are you against tattoos?"

"Against them?" I was taken aback. I didn't care what anybody else did with their bodies. My study of them was cursory at best and opinions formed were long in the past.

"I get a lot of negative press."

"I would imagine a lot of positive press as well." I turned him so I could see his back once again. They were contained, the most contained I'd ever seen. He wasn't tattooed anywhere that a shirt and tie wouldn't cover. He'd made sure that if he wanted to present a different image, he could. And honestly, they were also tasteful. Nothing vulgar or perverted. Sexy-- very sexy... but no boobs, or anything suggestive.

He stared out to sea as if deciding whether or not to tell me something, and then got up on his knees. I was right. He had made up his mind. He faced me, I had to look up to see his eyes.

He raised his left arm, a dragon wound around and around, covering most of his arm and shoulder. It was a peaceful dragon, the unblinking eye like a jewel, aware but not hostile. "This, is my brother."

I nodded, trying not to blink in surprise. "You don't understand, do you?" He took a deep breath. "Some people get ink to feel the pain and yeah, they get addicted to it. That's not me."

I nodded again, breathless. His chest was lightly furred over the pectorals. No tats there. He was very firm, quite hard, and built, although his physique wasn't that of a large man or even a body builder. He had no tattoos on his neck or face. Below the six-pack he sported clearly, some more light furring directed my gaze downward. His black tighties were the short kind-- one of my brothers wore them too. I dragged my gaze back up to his eyes.

"Now that we got that over." He said slowly, aware that I had been perusing his body unashamedly. I cringed inwardly. "Some people get tattoos to commemorate an event in their life. I got this one, my first, when I was eighteen. My brother, two years older than me committed suicide. He crashed his motorcycle off a cliff."

My heart clenched in pain for him. "I'm so sorry." I felt awful for asking if he was addicted. My hand rose of its own accord to gently touch the dragon. He moved so that I could see the whole thing clearly. Obviously, other tattoos had been added near it to accentuate its beauty. It was beautiful.

"I keep him with me."

"It's very beautiful."

He nodded and looked down. "The others commemorate other losses."

I gasped. Seriously? He must be like my mom, people around him died.

He smiled tenderly. "Not that kind of loss, Aubrey, although thanks for your compassion. These are girlfriend losses mainly-- and gains. Got them to remember."

The vines crawling up his right arm were exquisite, the flowers so well done they practically looked real. I turned him with one finger looking deeply at each flower. A parrot and a pirate ship nestled inside a vine as well. There seemed to be that fantasy theme going.

"You can touch them. It doesn't bother me."

I laid my palm flat against his damp skin and felt his warmth. Unaccountably, I closed my eyes. For a brief moment, I thought about the pictures.... those fantasy pictures--- artsy---

I ran my palm over his shoulder, recalling the mermaid on his back, the ship, the tropical clouds, his skin shivered under my touch. My other hand rose to touch and he turned so I could feel his back. I ran my palms from his neck to his waist, feeling the warmth of art worked skin, and underneath the completely pliant and living muscle and tissue.

And suddenly without conscious effort, I laid my cheek on his back over a particularly lovely scrolled flower arrangement. I felt Rafe stiffen, but I couldn't move. It was like crawling inside his psyche. He was frozen in confusion as I listened to his even breathing, his heart beat.

I am familiar with bodies. Not inked bodies, but all kinds of other bodies, and his wasn't the first I'd listened to. I had listened to all of my siblings, it had been comforting all my growing up years. I'd listened to my parents, and my nieces and nephews, and even some close friends. I'd listened to Kell's. He actually had a few tattoos.

Listening to bodies had brought me to the medical field. They inspired me.

Rafe offered. I couldn't resist.

I stayed like that, leaning forward over my crossed legs, as Rafe Stryker knelt in front of me, waiting for me to get my fill of listening.

I finally let him go, and he turned to look into my eyes.

"That was intimate. What did you do?" He voiced, very low and slow, not wanting to break the union.

"I listened."

He blinked long and leisurely, digesting my strange quirk. Then he must have accepted it for he turned and sat cross-legged next to me. I started to brush sand off my body.

"You're an interesting girl, Aubrey. How old are you?"

I shrugged. "Twenty-nine. How old are you?"

"Thirty-seven."

"Eight years difference." 

"Is that a lot?"

"For what?"

"For you to be my girlfriend?"

"Age shouldn't matter. But I'm not your girlfriend and don't plan to be. You look like you've had a lot of girlfriends." Judging from the myriad tattoos.

He smiled. He looked much younger than thirty-seven years old. I would not have guessed thirty-seven. He pushed back his sunglasses. "What are you looking for in a guy, Aubrey?"

I pursed my lips and stared out at the beautiful sunset. What was I looking for? I don't know. I wasn't really looking. Maybe that had been my problem all along. I needed to look. 

When I didn't immediately answer he patted my arm. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me. That would be too easy anyway. Let's get dinner. Want to?"

I had to think about it. Saturday's I usually did go out somewhere. Single adult activities at church, sometimes dancing. I had friends. But I had no plans tonight. I gave him a quick smile, and nodded.

"Hot Dog!" He slapped his leg and crowed. I had to laugh. He leaned against me and rubbed his shoulder to mine. "This is going to be awesome, sister."

I puckered my eyebrows. "How do you want me to dress?"

"Sexy hot." He answered easily. "Do you have something sexy hot?"

I quirked a brow at him as if to say of course, although I was searching my brain and my mental wardrobe. "Dinner and something else? A dress or pants?"

He thought for a minute, considering. His eyes narrowed and then he flipped his glasses back to cover them. "Whatever you are comfortable in."

I smiled as confidently as I could and then my insides crumpled. I didn't date non-church members. Ever. I never had. Where would he take me? A club? I didn't go clubbing. A bar? I wouldn't set foot in a bar. I shook my head slowly.

"What?" He caught that small head shake. "Reconsidering? Should we talk about it first? Dating?"

I drew in my breath sharply. "Om, yeah, we should be on the same page first. We are neighbors, going out as friends, barely met acquaintances. We need ground rules."

He nodded. "I own a club down town. It's got a gourmet restaurant attached. Or we can eat in the bar, play some pool, go dancing. Or, get take out and come back here and watch a movie and make love like dolphins."

He nudged me again, leaning into me companionably. "I can barbecue."

I hung my head. This was not a good idea. He had one thing on his mind and given his reputation and status no reason not to expect it. But I wasn't that type of girl.

"I won't eat in a bar, but I like appetizers and food they might serve in a bar, just not the alcohol." I took a deep breath as he turned startled eyes on me. "I play a mean game of pool-- not in a bar-- and I love to dance. Take out and movie sounds awesome, but I will not make love with you like a dolphin or any other marine animal. At all."

"Practicing then." He announced forthrightly with a nod and a sigh.

"What?" I was baffled by that statement.

"You're active and a practicing Mormon. I saw your picture with the Salt Lake Temple on your shelf. Your whole life is an open book from those shelves. I bet you don't even date non-members, and when I say date and think of a bar and pool, you're thinking of potential marriage and future children."

I pulled away from him, completely taken aback. His eyes never left mine. His speech was confusing, but he was obviously acquainted with other Mormons and their idiosyncrasies.

"So, let me set your mind at ease." He said succinctly. "My music videos to the contrary, I spent the first sixteen years of my life as a member of the church, my best friend is a member and his wife is pushing to get them both reactivated. I've been in the process of changing my life in the last couple of years---" He held up his hand as my mouth dropped open, obviously thinking of those music videos he was referring to. "However----." He smiled gamely, as I snapped my mouth shut. "I am not ready for that date to Temple grounds, or the visitor's center. I'm not thinking about kids. I have as much on my plate probably as you do, in my own way, of course...."

"But you're saying that if I have a rule not to date non-members-- I can date you because technically you're a member?"

He started laughing, again, that really comical, dimple infested happy laugh. He bumped my shoulder again too. "And technically--- technically--- you've already shredded your standards, Aubrey..." He said my name the way he had yesterday, as if adding the Bree just for good measure. "I've already slept with you."

My mouth snapped open and shut like a fish. He put up his fist for a fist bump obviously chalking one up to his quick wit. I gave him a halfhearted fist bump and then pushed against his shoulder the way he had mine.

"Technically-- we are going to forget that ever happened, and technically-- if we get dinner it will be because we are both hungry."

He cocked his head to one side. "Not a date?"

I swallowed convulsively. "Nope, not technically. I can pay for myself."

"Pay for yourself?" He repeated lamely, his eyes focused directly on mine. "Let's get money straight then, right off the bat, okay?"

I pulled back, startled and then grinned. "Okay-ay."

He drew in his breath sharply. "You're probably an incredible doctor and I bet you make a good amount of money. And just so you know, in my line of work, and with my incredible luck and accomplishments, which I will be happy to tell you about someday, I have made and will continue to make more money than you can even think of. So if and when we decide to date-- and not just get dinner together-- I will pay. Always. I was raised to be a gentleman, and contrary to popular and justified belief, I know how to be one."

I didn't know what else to say. I nodded, closing my flapping jaw, and letting my eyes sparkle into his. He drew in his breath sharply again, holding it for a moment before blowing it out.

"Just so we got that one straight."

I agreed with another nod and then got up, extending my hand to pull him up as well. We locked thumbs. He stood, putting himself very close, too close, if the truth were told.

"And one more thing for the record, Aubrey Mann, we did sleep together. Not something we have to tell the Bishop about, but between you and me, okay." He wasn't planning to forget about it, as I'd suggested.

I bit my lip. He saw I was not buying into his interpretation of our night together, and before walking back to the house, he caught me by the back of my head-- it didn't hurt at all, but was way familiar.

He looked into my eyes. "I appreciate your terms." He said low, and seriously. His fingers splayed up into my bedraggled and half drying ponytail. He was looking down, I had to look up, and the heat from both of our bodies infused the air between us with a sparkle of electricity.

"I respect your terms." he said in a voice devoid of teasing or sarcasm, or any form of judgment. "To the best of my ability." Then he grinned.

His fingers were warm, firm against my skull, holding me there, way too confidently intimate. He could have kissed me and there was nothing I would do to stop him.

"What if I pick the venue tonight?" I breathed, catching as much of my own air as I could.

He cocked his head to one side with real interest. Finally, his brows rose and he nodded. "Fine."

I nodded as he loosened his fingers from my hair, both of us let out our held breath.

"What should I wear?" He asked quickly, his eyes light with anticipation.

"Jeans, comfortable. Casual." I raised my hand for another fist bump for no reason and he obliged easily with a funny little smile, wondering what I was up to. "I will pick you up in a half an hour."

He blinked in disbelief. "You will..."

"Pick you up, yes."

He shook his head with a very quirky grin. "Okay. This better be good, Miss Aubrey."

"Oh, it'll be good." I responded with a flick of my wrist and then I loped back to my own patio and ran up the steps and inside without looking back. I made it into the air-conditioned interior and closed the sliding glass doors behind me, leaning back against them in abject disbelief.

Too much. This whole time had been too much! Nothing had been normal since this very time yesterday when this strange guy had come moseying into my garage unannounced and taken over my senses and my life.

That water fight. That had been such a relief! Such fun! Such incredible memories of so many water fights I'd had in the past all rolled up into the one thought that always came up for me when our family had those kinds of fights. And they did! All the time! I was no stranger to water fights. But each and every time after the water fights I would stand alone and watch the couples, laughing together, hugging, leaning on each other, just being together.

And as much as I wanted to be included-- I was alone.

Until today.

****