SAVANNAH

When my eyes adjusted, I saw there were recessed floodlights both underwater and in the rock crevices. The illuminations made the water shimmer with an otherworldly blue hue.

Stunned, I swiveled my head cautiously.

"We're the only ones in here," I whispered, not wanting to shatter the silence.

"My family knows the people who run the tour groups into these grottos. I called ahead and they cleared the afternoon for us. Got everything ready."

The water was so still, the silence so peaceful, to the point where tears pricked my eyelids. I wanted to twist and throw my arms around Dante, but knew if I did, the boat would tip.

"Oh my God, Dante."

"Do you like it?"

He was rowing again, slowly and toward a low, flat rock ledge.

"Like it? No, I love it. It's the most crazy beautiful place I've ever seen. It's magical."

***

DANTE

She couldn't see my wide grin as I eased the boat parallel to the flat rock, expertly tying the kayak to an iron clamp bolted into the stone. With precise balance—thank God for my yoga training as part of my fitness routine—I stood up in the kayak and stepped gracefully onto the rock.

Holding my hand out, I hoisted her out of the boat. She looked around and spoke in a hushed tone.

"Seriously. It's so beautiful that I think I could cry."

I wrapped an arm around her and kissed her temple. My heartbeat, normally a slow resting rate because I was such a conditioned athlete, was erratic and fast. I realized I'd actually been nervous about showing her the grotto, anxious to find out if she loved it as much as I did.

I'd had a feeling she would enjoy this, and I wanted to punch the air as if I'd won a race when I realized I was right. This was hallowed ground, as far as I was concerned, and I didn't share it with anyone.

"I used to come here with Gabriella. My sister. We'd swim as kids and later, visit the week before the Monza race. But after she died, I've come every year, alone. This is the first year I've brought anyone."

Savannah leaned her head on my shoulder and hugged me. "Why didn't you bring any girlfriends here?"

I sighed and caressed her back. "What can I say? I don't know. I didn't think any of them would appreciate it. Savannah, I'm ashamed to admit this, but most of the women I've been with are more interested in the bling of diamonds and the lights of nightclubs."

"Well, whatever happens between us, I'll always have this memory of this incredible place. This is like a fairy tale come to life."

"Maybe this won't be the last time we come here together," I murmured.

And the fact I said that out loud was shocking. I heaved in a breath, wondering what was happening to me.

We spent the rest of the day eating and talking. And while it did occur to me to try to make love to her in this secluded spot, I was enjoying our conversation too much. Which was a first for me; usually I wanted women around for one thing.

"Why did you give up pageants?" I asked, feeding her a grape. "You're gorgeous. You could have been a model."

She sighed and swirled a foot in the grotto's blue water.

"You want to know why?"

I nodded.

"I was hospitalized for complications from bulimia. I had to stop competing. My eating disorder had gotten that bad. My electrolytes were out of balance from bingeing and purging and I had a seizure."

I froze, and suddenly it seemed icy cold in the cave. Savannah? Gorgeous, levelheaded Savannah? I was familiar with eating disorders—there'd been rumors that at least one racer on the circuit had them—and certainly I'd known many dangerously thin women who never ate. But Savannah seemed so normal.

"I'm sorry," I said, quietly.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I don't like to tell people about that part of my life. But you talked about your sister, and I felt like we've shared a lot. I feel like we're friends."

I pulled her close. "We are friends. Which is why it hurts me that you wanted to hurt yourself. It also scares me that you were so sick. Are you okay now?"

Her head bobbed up and down slowly. "I got treatment when I was fourteen. The disorder actually led me to motorsports."

"How's that?"

She huffed a little laugh. "My dad wanted to keep an eye on me. So he made me go to NASCAR races with him. He had just sponsored his first team. We'd go to tracks together and I became interested in the sport."

"You haven't had any bingeing episodes since?"

"I relapsed when I was fifteen, but being out of the pageant circuit got me out of that competitive mindset. I didn't want to be a certain size or be beautiful for anyone but myself."

She shuddered in a breath and I prayed she wouldn't cry.

"My eating disorder is why I was still a virgin."

I swallowed. Oh no. "How so?"

"I hated my body as a teenager. And I didn't think any guy wanted to see it. It was mixed up, since I did everything I could to look gorgeous in pageants. Then in recovery, I started wearing baggy clothes and dressing like a tomboy as I got into motorsports. I didn't give off a sexual vibe, I guess, and no one was interested in me. I didn't want to be seen as a sexy woman."

"I find that difficult to believe, because you're incredibly sexy. Sensual."

She shrugged, and the shimmer of the water sparked along her legs. "I didn't feel comfortable with being feminine. And as I got older, I figured that things would fall into place when I felt good about my body."

"And? Did they fall into place?"

She nodded. "Yeah. They did. Even though it's been strange with the team, and our fake relationship, I feel good about myself. I'm happy with my body and my direction in life. I'm able to eat and not feel disgusted with myself. It's been a long process, and I'm still working hard on being healthy, every day."

I didn't say anything, just listened and held her hand as she talked about her recovery and her goals. For a moment, panic seized my chest, in a way similar to when Gabriella was taken off life support in the burn unit. There wasn't anything I could have done for my sister, but a primal need to keep Savannah safe came over me, and I held her fingers tighter.

***

SAVANNAH

I swirled my feet in the blue water, wondering why it felt so soft on my skin. "Want to know the other reason why I quit pageants?"

Dante nodded. He was such a good listener today, and I wasn't sure why. He asked me lots of questions about my life and I answered, openly. Which was rare for me; I was normally so aloof with everyone but my dad. But Dante's curiosity made me want to open up in ways I hadn't to anyone, other than my therapist back home.

"I got disgusted with it all. I felt used."

"Used how?" He peeled a banana and broke it in half and handed it to me. I munched thoughtfully.

"The pageant organizers didn't care about us as people. They knew that many of us had eating disorders. And sometimes they'd joke about it. I realized that all of us girls were trying so hard to fit into a stereotype, an idea. It was unhealthy. We were being used to perpetuate that stereotype of femininity. I hated being used, it was the worst feeling in the world."

He scowled and tilted his head.

"Do you understand?"

"I guess I do. I never thought about it that way. I thought most girls, uh, women, liked to look feminine and look pretty all the time. That they'd all want to be in a beauty pageant."

I blew out a breath. Men could be so obtuse sometimes. "It's not that we don't want to look pretty. Some of us, most of us, want to do it on our own terms. We don't want society to tell us that we need to look a certain way. Pageants perpetuate that attitude, that all women should have big hair and big boobs and tiny hips. That we should all strive for the same look."

"But you don't look that way."

I arched an eyebrow.

"I mean, you're gorgeous but you're unique."

"I'm unique because I choose to be."

"I even think you're sexy in coveralls." He laughed.

"Quite a difference from your other lovers, no?"

He dipped his legs in the water.

"I guess. I confess that I haven't ever had a long-term relationship. I've been devoted to the sport, so women are more, uh, for sating physical needs."

"You've never been in love?"

He rubbed a hand over his head and looked sheepish. "I don't...I guess..."

I giggled. "No need to continue, I already know the answer is no."

"I'm not ruling out a relationship in the future, though."

"No?"

"It might be nice to find someone who I could travel with after I retire, someone I could have fun with and share things with. I haven't met the right woman yet, I guess. I think it's going to be pretty lonely once I retire. My dad's itching to get out of the family business, so I'll have that pressure, too. Having a girlfriend, or a wife, could be good for me." He shrugged. "Or maybe not. I don't know."

I didn't know what to say, because an errant thought crossed my mind. What if I could be that person in his life?

Dante stood. "One last swim before we head back?"

I rose and grinned. "How about I race you to the other side? To that rock ledge over there." I pointed.

"What do I get if I win?"

I leaned over and whispered in his ear, describing a certain position we'd been in early that morning. "You know, the one where I was on top of you, but turned around, instead of facing you?"

He cleared his throat. "Sounds like a reasonable bet."

We dove into the blue water simultaneously and I powered forward, knowing there was no loser in this competition.

____