The shower consisted of planks nailed together to form a raised floor and a timber frame that supported two forty-four gallon drums of water, which were old fuel drums—the slight whiff of aviation fuel, still intact and a makeshift shower head…Five star luxury this was not.Summer gingerly picked her way towards the shower; not a very exciting prospect considering there was no hot water, but decided she’d get it over and done with sooner rather than later. Rounding the corner of the house, she froze.Tate stood with his back toward her in all his naked glory, lathered in foamy soapsuds. A stream of delicious froth trickled from his shoulder, down a wide, tanned back and over the tight firmness of two perfectly rounded butt cheeks. The white of the soap contrasted starkly with the darkness of the hair on his legs as the soap continued its journey down the back of his muscular thighs and calves to pool on the sand beneath two large feet.This was not good. This was not professional. Damn it—she’d always envisioned herself as capable and intelligent…hard to believe now with her mouth hanging open, practically drooling at this picture of male perfection before her.He hadn’t seen her.
