Up To Me (Shore Secrets #1)

Chapter One

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 cape-less 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. Yup, 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… Hobart ,” 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.

“No problem.” Zane shuddered. “I won’t be going back in until I get a wetsuit, anyway.”

“The more I think about it, I’m surprised anyone on this lake would give you air tanks without a suit.”

A smile slowly tugged at his lips. Casey figured it was the same smile he’d rolled out when fast-talking his way out of a ticket. Or getting away with cheating at poker. “Well, it wasn’t what you’d call an official rental.”

“Then how’d you get the gear, anyway?”

“I’m very charming and persuasive.” Then he started rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand exactly as she’d imagined it five minutes earlier. That is, the motion was how she’d imagined it, but the sensation was even better. Such a simple touch. And one that popped out internal goose bumps on all her nerve endings with each slightly rough swish across her skin. “If I want something, I get it.”

That was a little smarmy for her taste. “Cocky,” she accused with a sneer.

“Focused,” he shot back. “Persistent. Determined.”

Smooth. Skillful. How many people could turn an insult into an asset in three words or less? Casey had to admit she bought it entirely. “Oh, you’re good.”

“That’s a whole different topic,” Zane said with a leer. But then he Groucho Marx-ed his eyebrows as punctuation, which deflated all the pompous my penis is a huge and worthy tool implication right out of it and made her laugh. “I fast- talked the stuff out from under a kid at my hotel.” He leaned closer, his breath stirring the loose hairs wisping at her jawbone. “Convinced him I could check it out like the croquet set and tennis rackets next to it in the equipment room.”

Uh oh. Casey knew of only one hotel in the area that was big enough to have an equipment room. And a croquet lawn. Because it was an actual freaking castle owned by her best friend. Whose hotel manager fiancé probably would be pissed at Zane’s escapade. She angled away to look at him. Too bad the darkness made it impossible to tell the shade of his eyes. “You’re staying at Mayhew Manor?”

“Yeah. The college hooked me up. I can’t wait to spend my first night sleeping in a castle. Did you know they’ve got a free-flowing tap of red wine by the guest rooms?”

“Oh, I know.” She bit her lip, thinking of how hard Ella and Gray were working to increase the hotel’s profit margin. “Do me a favor and don’t treat it like an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet. Wine costs a lot more than pancakes.”

“Like I said, I’m living a twenty-four/seven job interview for six weeks. I don’t plan on getting wasted anywhere . But how’s that a favor to you? Unless you moonlight as the hangover police, too?”

“My friends own and run the place. We’re a pretty tight-knit community. Everybody knows everyone else. And everything about them.”

“I like that. Sounds like a home. A town where I can connect.” Zane stilled his hand and squeezed. It was a hug that only covered her wrist to her fingers, but Casey felt it in her whole body. “I certainly like what I’ve seen so far.”

Casey was surprised the sizzle between them didn’t spark through the air like the lightning bugs circling over by the pier. This was the most interesting time she’d had with a man in…well, a while. That thought cracked open the door to a whole room of guilt. Hmmm. Why spoil a perfect night? So she quickly gave it a mental hip-check and scrambled for a response.

“You couldn’t have seen anything in the lake at night. What were you looking for, anyway? That couldn’t wait until, you know, daylight?”

“A submarine.” Zane said it in a near-whisper that managed to be both reverent and excited. Eyebrows lifted, eyes popped wide, his enthusiasm was palpable.

Casey gaped at him.

“The faculty member who drove me to the hotel today—tall, bushy red beard…no? I thought you knew everyone,” he teased. “Anyway, he told me this great legend about a World War II Nazi submarine submerged in Seneca Lake.”

She’d heard the story. It wasn’t so much a legend as an old wives’ tale. About as real as Atlantis or stiletto pumps that didn’t pinch your toes after a few hours. “You believed him?”

“I’m not sure. But I was sure I wanted to find out.”

Wow. Casey knew there were people who bought the tabloids that advertised alien babies and Bigfoot sightings. She’d just never met one before. Certainly hadn’t expected a college professor to be so ridiculously gullible. Readjusting the blanket around his shoulders, she said, “No need to freeze yourself again. I’ll make it easy for you—it’s not there.”

“How do you know?”

She stifled a snort. Where to begin? Casey didn’t need to remember all of her tenth grade world history dates and places to know that German U-boats had made it to the U.S. coast. Even sank some ships. But none of them ever left the Atlantic to traverse inland into the heart of New York. Casey was well versed on her state’s waterways. The Nazis would’ve had to secretly take the Hudson River to the Erie Canal to the Cayuga-Seneca Canal to wind up in Seneca Lake. Somebody would’ve noticed. But it felt weird to lecture a college professor, so she simply stated, “The United States Navy says so.”

“And you believe them?” His tone indicated she’d made as big a mistake as still thinking there were nine planets. On the other hand, Casey thought the same thing of him.

“Of course I do. This story has made the rounds enough times that they did a study. The sonar test station based twenty miles up the road used their own submarines, that trained here, to verify that there’s nothing down there except for one old barge.” She pointed at the hulls of the decommissioned submarines docked just a few yards off shore.

“So they say…” Zane let his words hang in the air for a moment. “Ever read The Purloined Letter ?”

Quite a jump from submarines to classic literature. “By Edgar Allan Poe? Ages ago, I think, in school. Why?”

“In it, he hid the letter everyone was looking for in plain sight. What if they did that with the German sub? Hid it in an old Navy dumping ground where it wouldn’t be noticed? That’s why I came out tonight, when nobody was around. Just to take a quick peek for markings below the water line.”

“Because you’d recognize a Nazi sub even if it didn’t have a big old swastika on the side? Are you a professor of history, too?”

“Only a fan. World War II stuff is an obsession with my dad. We don’t, ah, connect any other way. So I dig around, try to share interesting tidbits with him. If I found this sub, he’d go nuts.”

That was sweet. And made him come off as much more impulsive and caring than brainless. “What if you don’t?”

“Just telling him I started to look for it will give us something to talk about for once.” Then he sucked in a big gulp of the soft evening air. Dazzled her with another giddy grin. “Either way, even if you take Dad out of the equation, now it’s on my radar, so I need to know.”

His fixation mystified her. “Why?”

“I like to learn things. Curiosity’s an asset in my profession, and I’ve got it in spades. With the story rooted in my head, I need to dig in and find the answer.”

“Even though it might be a huge waste of time?”

Now his mouth dropped open. “Knowledge is never a waste of time,” he intoned.

Zane’s solemn passion was all kinds of adorable. “Can I say I told you so when you’re done banging your head against the wall on this?”

Wrapping his hands around the ends of her braid, Zane tugged her close again. “I’d rather talk about how you’d reward me if I turn out to be right.”

Just that fast, the sparks of attraction flared twice as hot. “I don’t know. A college professor must be right a lot of the time. Hardly seems worth rewarding.”

“Good point. We’ll turn the tables. How about I go over how I’d reward you if it turns out there’s no submarine?”

“Won’t saying what it is now spoil the surprise?”

“I don’t plan on saying much.” Zane closed the gap between them with his lips.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. They’d been flirting. Attraction hung in the air like a dewy dawn cobweb—barely visible but impossible not to notice. She’d hoped for a romantic kiss by the lakeshore, with the trilling winter wrens and chirping crickets as background music.

Yet still, the first touch of his lips jolted Casey. Maybe it was because they were surprisingly warm. Or because he didn’t just plant one on her with all the finesse of a dipping bird, the way she’d experienced with other men. No, Zane’s kiss was a question. A soft, slow brush from one side back to the other. And then it ended. She caught her breath. Waited. And opened eyes she hadn’t noticed had closed to discover him looking at her, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes,” she breathed in answer to the unspoken question.

Zane pulled her the rest of the way into his lap. The dampness of his trunks immediately seeped through her shorts. Casey didn’t care. Because he was really and truly kissing her this time. Full throttle. His mouth slanted across hers with surety. His lips molded hers as though they’d done it a hundred times already. One of his hands cradled her head with gentle tenderness. The other anchored at her waist, firmly caging her against his belly.

Being kissed by Zane wasn’t just a nice way to pass a summer night. His mouth claiming hers wasn’t just fun. It was freaking fantastic. It was a three-scoop sundae with hot fudge and butterscotch on top fantastic. Her pulse galloped. Casey blindly groped a hand out to steady herself because the world was spinning. Or her head was spinning. When her hand landed on his biceps—and couldn’t begin to wrap even halfway around it—the spinning stopped. It instantly grounded her. If by grounded you meant a bolt of awareness and need zapping straight in at her chest and down and out through her feet.

When his tongue curled around the side of hers it put a corresponding curl in her toes. She gasped when it swept inside. Rats. Casey had better moves than that, than to just get swept up and not be an equal partner. She should rally. Give as good as she got. Except she’d never gotten as good as Zane Buchanan before. Never wanted to strip off her clothes and his two minutes into a mere kiss before. So she moved her hand up to his shoulder and clutched the other tight in his hair.

That was like setting a booster rocket off beneath Zane. Widening his legs, he let her slide into the cradle of them and bent her back over one thigh. Then kept going. Rolled them so that he was half lying across her, and she was half on his leg, and half in the grass. Casey twisted to slide her calf around his. Clawed her hand down his back in one long groove. And they both devoured each other.

Something cold and slimy touched her arm. Casey twitched. Then it climbed on. Casey broke off from the kiss and turned her head to see a frog about to burrow into her sleeve. She barely managed to dial back her scream to a squeal. With a violent flail to get the repulsive thing off, she bucked Zane backward. His head thudded against the tree trunk. Zane moaned, and not in the good way.

“Oh, no.” Casey scrambled to her knees. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He winced as he probed the back of his head, but waved off her attempt to help him. Zane pushed himself up and cupped his other hand on her cheek. “Never mind about me. Are you okay? What just happened?”

God, the embarrassment. What kind of a ranger was scared of a little tiny animal? One that she saw, as it hopped away, was no bigger than her thumb. Casey couldn’t feel any girlier if she’d magically changed into toe shoes and a tutu. “It’s stupid. A frog tried to get up close and personal with me.”

“Thought that was my job.”

“And you did it well.” Casey paused. Then the truth gushed out. “Really, really well.”

A pair of headlights turned into the parking lot just as he moved his hand to the back of her neck and started to pull her closer. They shone like follow-spots right on Casey and Zane. Two more cars followed behind them. Some music with the bass pumped up blared through the open windows.

“We’ve got company.”

“This park’s a big hangout for teenagers. This is probably just the first wave.”

“I guess that’s our cue to leave.” Zane stood halfway. Bent over, he banded an arm around her back and hauled her up in one quick move that shocked her with its apparent ease. Yes, she’d felt his muscles, but being on the receiving end of him using them was even more impressive. Then his arm stayed put, keeping her flush to his body. Even though they were still smack dab in the middle of the glare of headlights.

This was awkward. Their stolen romantic moment was clearly over, but Casey didn’t know what to do next. “We should go.”

“You’re right. Who needs an audience?”

She chuckled softly, then patted the dusting of dark hair in the center of his chest. “You’re not moving.”

“I’m not ready to let you go,” he said in a low growl.

He really was good with words. Casey’s knees wobbled a little. Then the slam of a series of car doors focused her on the need to skedaddle. “You should get into some dry clothes. Go home and drink something hot to finish thawing out.”

“You already finished that job for me.”

It was true. His skin was back to a normal temperature. And judging from the hot, hard length pressed against her hipbone, his core temp was way past normal. “Zane, your scuba equipment and wet trunks sort of give away that you broke the swimming rules. I can’t be seen cavorting with a criminal.”

That made him laugh. As he eased away he said, “You won’t let me offer you up for commendation, and you won’t let me drag you into trouble either. You’re an enigma, Casey.”

The overly curious professor had no idea just how right he was.