Entangled (Serendipity Adventure Romance Book 2) by Anna Lowe Page A

waterfall pounded on her back and drove her under.
    She kicked and stroked, but the crushing force was too strong. The light dimmed as she was driven into darker, colder water. She kicked harder, trying to escape the pounding at the center of the falls, but got nowhere.
    Down? Up? She squinted, trying to orient herself. The water foamed and bubbled all around. Her kicks grew more frantic, less coordinated with her flailing arms.
    Tobin!
She wanted to scream.
    She was just starting to panic that maybe she couldn’t do it when the pull released her — reluctantly. Two hard kicks — the kicks of her life — and she popped up to the surface, gasping for air.
    She spent a long time blinking the water out of her eyes. The little boy was over on the edge of the pool, smiling and splashing without a care in the world. So he was all right. But what about Tobin?
    She scanned the pool. Oh God, where did Tobin go?
    Then he popped up — way up and out of the water, shooting up like he’d descended to lung-crushing depths — and heaved a couple of huge breaths. His eyes weren’t wild or worried, but calculating. Then he gulped some more air and dove out of sight again.
    She let out a long, wavering breath.
    It figured Tobin had it all under control. Just the way he mastered the steepest ski slopes, the biggest, craziest waves.
    He dove over and over, until he finally took a break and went to floating on his back, eyeing the waterfall. Not appreciating it or catching it for a mental album — caption:
Beautiful waterfall where Cara jumped my bones —
or marveling, but calculating. What he was thinking, she couldn’t tell. Only that he was a man possessed with a mission of some kind.
    Typical Tobin. Her dad called him lazy, but that wasn’t it. He was choosy, very choosy about what he put his passion behind. And right now, his passion seemed firmly fixed on exploring the depths of the pool beneath the waterfall, not on demanding that she explain whatever impulse it was that had her doing a lap dance on him behind the waterfall. As if she could explain, even to herself.
    She swam back to the edge of the pool, clambered out, and sat on a rock in the sun next to his backpack. Chilly from the water, she rummaged in the bag for the little hand towel she’d seen him pack. She pulled it out and blotted at the water on her face.
    Her foot knocked the backpack over, and her eyes caught on a book.
    Last she remembered, Tobin had been into submarine adventure novels. Had his tastes changed over the years?
    She pulled out the book and decided, nope. Not much. It was a worn paperback that looked like it’d been through a thousand hands. There was a square-rigged ship on the cover and a lot of exclamation points in the description. Judging by the glint of hero’s sword and the size of the heroine’s boobs, there was plenty of action between the covers
and
between the sheets.
    She couldn’t hold back a smile. Maybe Tobin would let her read it when he was through.
    Which, judging by the placement of his bookmark, wasn’t far off. She cracked the book open there, trying to guess what she’d find.
    Something like “
Arrr,” cried Captain Jack as he swung from the mizzen to the deck
. Or maybe,
Claudette brandished the cutlass and screamed as she leaped to his defense
. Or maybe—
    She stopped short. Not at the chapter opening, but on the bookmark — a photograph. A familiar one.
    She gulped and looked up, afraid Tobin might catch her snooping, but he was still swimming, diving, engineering something in his mind. Clueless that she’d just found the picture he still carried after all these years.
    The picture of the two of them on top of a white mountain in winter. Their cheeks were rosy, their grins a mile wide. They looked a little younger. A lot happier. And absolutely, unmistakably in love.
    She turned it over, already knowing what the message on the back said, because she’d read what he’d penned there that Valentine’s day long