Prognosis: Romance. Gina Wilkins

wrapped his fingers around her hand. The feel of wet skin to wet skin was as pleasurable as it was somewhat unsettling. “James Stillman. It’s nice to meet you, Shannon.”

      Shannon had been aware of the man watching her while she’d played with her nieces and nephews. Not in a creepy sort of way—and she had well-developed creep-dar. He looked like a man who was using a day off to do some rather heavy reading, judging from the size of the book he’d perused. Maybe just escaping from drudgery for a few hours. She liked to go off on her own sometimes to recharge her batteries and think in blessed solitude. She’d assumed he was doing something similar since he didn’t seem to be accompanied by anyone.

      Her older sister, Stacy, finally stopped hovering over Kyle to thank his rescuer. With typical exuberance, she threw her arms around James’s middle, saying, “Thank you so much for saving my son. You’re a true hero.”

      Shannon was rather amused by the “hero’s” dumbstruck expression. It was obvious he wasn’t accustomed to being embraced by tearful strangers. Somewhat awkwardly, he patted Stacy’s shoulder, then carefully disentangled himself.

      “Anyone would have done the same,” he assured her in a self-conscious mumble. “I just happened to notice the boy was in trouble.”

      Her green eyes shining, Stacy shook her red head stubbornly and gazed up at him with an unsteady smile. “You were amazing. The way you just dived in and swam out there to save him… You should be given a medal or something.”

      James’s cheeks were rather pink now. He glanced at Shannon as if begging for rescue, himself.

      Smiling, she took pity on him, stepping forward to nudge her sister gently back a few inches. “This grateful mother is my sister, Stacy Malone. The twins are her oldest daughters, Briley and Baylee. You’ve met her son Kyle, of course, and the little one is Sammy.”

      Stacy reached out to clutch James’s arm again. “I wish my husband, J.P., was here to thank you, too. He’s working today, so he couldn’t join us, but I know he’d want to express his gratitude for what you did for our family.”

      James cleared his throat. “Um—”

      Pushing his emotional sister aside, Stu stepped up to take her place, extending his right hand to James. “Stu Gambill—Stacy and Shannon’s older brother. It’s nice to meet you, James.”

      Looking relieved by Stu’s matter-of-fact tone, James shook his hand. “The pleasure is mine.”

      His rather old-fashioned phrasing matched the image Shannon was getting of him. She took pride in forming very accurate first impressions; it was almost a gift, as she’d bragged on more than one occasion. Maybe two or three years older than her own twenty-five years, he seemed very proper and scholarly, despite the muscles nicely defined by his wet T-shirt and swim trunks. Not shy, exactly, but reserved.

      His hair was black, his eyes the color of rich, dark chocolate. His features were classically handsome—too masculine to be called “pretty,” but definitely appealing. Not quite her type—even if he was extremely attractive—but he seemed nice, nonetheless.

      Did he look just a little familiar? If so, she couldn’t remember why.

      Stu motioned to the woman at his side. “This is my wife, Karen. Our kids—Ginny, Jack and Caitlin. We’re what you might call a prolific family,” he added with a chuckle, waving toward the noisy cluster of siblings and cousins.

      “Speak for yourself,” Shannon murmured, drawing a glance from James.

      “Can we go back in the water now?” Ginny asked, clutching her purple beach ball and edging toward the shoreline. Her cousin’s misadventure was already consigned to a dramatic memory.

      Kyle’s teeth had stopped chattering and Shannon was relieved to see his color was almost back to normal. The freckles across his cheeks no longer stood out as dramatically as they had when he’d been pulled from the water, pale and panic-stricken. She wouldn’t forget that look for a while, she thought with a hard swallow.

      “I want to swim, too,” Kyle insisted, squirming out of the towel his mother had wrapped so tightly around him he could hardly move. Shannon suspected he wanted to prove to everyone that his near-drowning hadn’t made him afraid to go back in the water. Kyle’s innate recklessness was the bane of his harried mother’s existence.

      “No more swimming right now,” Stu proclaimed. “It’s almost time to eat,” he added, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the chorus of protests. “I bet Grandpa and Uncle Lou have already got the coals heating back at the picnic area.”

      “And don’t forget we’re having homemade ice cream for dessert,” Karen reminded them.

      That was enough to divert the kids’ attention from water sports. They snatched up towels, toys and shoes in preparation to return to the picnic area.

      “Are you by yourself today?” Shannon asked James.

      He nodded. “Rare day off. It seemed like a good time to swim and read.”

      Exactly as she’d surmised, she thought smugly. “My family’s having a cookout. We always have enough food for at least a dozen extra people. We would love to have you join us for burgers and ice cream.”

      He looked startled again by the impulsive invitation, but Stacy jumped on the suggestion immediately. “Oh, yes, please do, James. Our parents would love to meet you.”

      “Oh, but I—”

      “Our family’s a little crazy, but a fun bunch,” Stu chimed in. “If you don’t mind sharing burgers with a few bees and a gang of rug rats, you’d be welcome.”

      “No bees,” eight-year-old Ginny announced confidently. “Grandpa brought Cinderella candles.”

      “Citronella,” Karen corrected her daughter with a smothered smile.

      “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” James said.

      Studying his face, Shannon thought he looked tempted by the invitation, even though he seemed to feel obliged to demur. That was all the impetus she needed to smile up at him and urge, “It wouldn’t be an intrusion at all. Our family loves making new friends. And after what you’ve done for us, we consider you a friend already.”

      He pushed a hand through his wet, black hair, his dark eyes steady on her face. “Then I would be pleased to accept. On one condition. You have to stop thanking me. I was happy to be of assistance, but any of you would have done the same thing if you’d seen a boy in trouble.”

      She laughed. “Well, you’ll probably have to endure my parents’ expressions of gratitude when they hear the story, but after that I promise we’ll drop the hero treatment, if you like.”

      “I’d like,” he agreed with a faint smile.

      She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

      His eyes glinting with amusement, he shook her hand again. Once again, she was aware of an odd tingling when they made skin-to-skin contact. She’d thought that was only an anomaly the first time. No surprise, really, she assured herself. After all, the guy was good-looking. And his long-lashed eyes were striking enough to make a healthy young woman’s heart flutter a little.

      She was a healthy young woman.

      His fingers tightened for only a moment around hers—as if she weren’t the only one aware of a spark between them—but then he released her and stepped back, his expression politely neutral again. “I’ll get my things.”

      The others went ahead toward the picnic area, the three adults shepherding the seven children up the asphalt road, a task Shannon silently compared to herding cats. Slipping her feet into her sandals, she drew a loose, thin, white cover-up over her bikini. The sleeveless, thigh-length garment clung a bit to her damp suit, but it was cool, comfortable and modest enough to satisfy her mother and aunt.

      She