The lake was also where I exercised. I could never get into things like running or fitness classes. But in the water, it felt like I was weightless, like I could do anything. So, I’d developed my own little water aerobics regimen. Exercises included things like jumping up and down into squats under the water or dancing like a maniac while waving my arms around. There was no rhyme or reason. I just did what I wanted. Anything to get my endorphins going.

This evening I was off, so I was in the lake. I had my headphones on, rocking out to old-school hip-hop while bouncing around doing my thing, when I noticed something charging toward me. Before I knew it, his hands were on my shoulders.

My heart raced.

It took me a few seconds to realize it was Noah.CHAPTER TWO* * *HEATHER“What are you doing?” I shouted, my heart beating out of my chest.

He let go of me abruptly. His breaths were heavy as he said, “You’re not drowning…”

I took out my earbuds. “No! Why would you think that?”

“You were flailing your arms around like a lunatic. From my damn porch, I thought you needed help.”

My pulse was racing. “I wasn’t drowning. I was dancing.”

He gritted his teeth. “Dancing…”

“Yes.”

“For fuck’s sake…” he muttered.

He then turned around and trudged back through the water, headed to land.

I stood in shock, gazing at his large frame as he slogged away. I’d encountered this guy twice and managed to piss him off within seconds each time.

Then it dawned on me: he’d thought I was drowning and ran in to save me. He’d jumped in with his clothes on. Oh my God. I hadn’t been in any real danger, but I still needed to thank him.

“Wait up!” I yelled.

Noah didn’t stop for one second as he continued toward the boathouse.

He’s really mad.

Things were bad between us before this. I’ve really done it now. How was I supposed to know this was going to happen? I’d been doing my water aerobics for months, and no one had ever come around thinking I needed help. In fact, no one had ever come around at all.

When I finally caught up to Noah, he was sitting on the boathouse’s wooden porch. I stopped just short of the front steps.

Brooding and pissed, he’d leaned his back against the house. His broad shoulders rose and fell. His black T-shirt was plastered against his chest. His jeans were also wet, and his feet were bare. He was painfully hot—more so than any guy who’d come around these parts in a very long time. Likely ever. He might have been a little old for me, but that didn’t stop my entire body from buzzing as I took him in. His age—his maturity—was a major turn-on. My reaction to this man was both exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

He acted as if I wasn’t standing there. I watched as he turned around and reached through the open window to grab something inside the house—a cigar. He rolled it between his fingers before lighting up. I’d never liked cigar smoke, but there was something sexy about the way he held it in his hands. Speaking of his hands, they were big and veiny, powerful—hands that could harm just as easily as they could protect.

He wrapped his lips around the cigar, and the tip glowed as he inhaled.

I continued staring at his hands. Calloused and rough, they had seen their share of work. I sighed. Noah Cavallari was a man in every sense of the word.

He continued to ignore me, and for some reason that made me even more determined to talk to him—probably opposite of the effect he’d intended to have.

Nice try but “no cigar,” Noah.

I cleared my throat. “I’m really sorry about that misunderstanding.”

He took a long puff of the stogie and blew the smoke out. He then whipped his head in my direction so fast it startled me. “Who dances by herself in a lake?”

“It was water aerobics,” I said.

He closed his eyes, then surprised me with a long, hearty laugh; it vibrated throughout my body.

Well, at least he has a sense of humor in there somewhere.

“What were you listening to when I interrupted your little routine?”

“I don’t know,” I lied.

“I think you do.”

“Alright, I do. But I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why not? I’m curious as to what kind of music makes someone flail around like that. Can I listen?”

This day probably couldn’t get any worse. Figuring I owed it to him, I handed him my headphones, bracing for his reaction.

He bent his head back and started to laugh even harder than before.

I’d been listening to “Jump” by Kris Kross.

I snatched the headphones off of his ears. “Happy now?”

“I needed that. Thank you. I haven’t heard that song since I was like…seven. Certainly well before your time.” He chuckled.