This Heart of Mine (Chicago Stars #5)(66)

Was it accidental that his thigh brushed her hip? He gazed down into the water again, and she was possessed with a sudden crazy wish for all the murkiness to clear away. She heard something husky and seductive in his voice.

"So what you're telling me is that you're bare-ass naked under the water."

"You know exactly what I'm telling you."

"Now, this makes for an interesting dilemma."

"There's no dilemma."

He stroked the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and his smile was as soft as smoke. "We're up against the essence of true capitalism right here, right now, you and me, God bless America for the great country it is."

"What are you—"

"Pure capitalism. I have a commodity that you want—"

"My leg is starting to cramp again."

"The question is"—he lingered over his words, his eyes grazing her breasts—"what are you going to give me for that commodity?"

"I've been giving you my services as a cook," she said quickly.

"I don't know. Those sandals yesterday were pretty expensive. I think I've already paid for at least three days of cooking."

He was making her insides purr, and she didn't like it. "I won't be around for another day if you don't take that stupid shirt off your stupid overdeveloped chest right this second!"

"I never met such an ungrateful woman in my life." He started to pull it off, stalled to rub his arm, tugged on it again, inched it over his chest, flexed his gorgeous muscles…

"That's twenty yards for delay of game!"

"It's a five-yard penalty," he pointed out from under the T-shirt.

"Not today!"

He finally got it off, and she snatched it from him before he took it into his head to play keep-away, a game she was fairly certain an NFL quarterback could win against a bunny-book author.

"Bare-ass naked…" His smile grew broader.

She ignored him and struggled to put on the shirt, but handling all that wet cotton in bust-deep frigid water wasn't exactly easy. Naturally, he didn't help.

"Maybe it would work better if you climbed out of the water before you did that."

His humor was too infantile to merit a response. She finally got the T-shirt on inside out, but a huge air pocket left it billowing around her. She pushed it down and marched toward the shore, which was mercifully empty of guests.

Kevin stayed where he was and watched Molly emerge from the water. The view from behind was making it hard for him to take a good solid breath. It didn't seem to have occurred to her that white Tshirts pretty much turned to tissue paper when they got wet. First that trim little waist emerged, then curvy hips, then her legs, as sturdy and pretty as any he'd ever seen.

He swallowed hard at the sight of that sweet little bottom. The glaze of white T-shirt made it look as if it had been sponged with wet sugar.

He licked his lips. It was a good thing the water was cold enough for an iceberg, because the sight of her striding toward the beach had set him on fire. That small round bottom… the dark, seductive crevice. And he hadn't even caught the view from the front.

A circumstance he was about to change.

Molly heard Kevin splashing behind her. Then he was next to her, taking giant steps in the water. He pulled ahead, back muscles rippling as he pumped his arms. He hit the beach and turned around to face her.

Exactly what did he think was so interesting?

She began to feel nervous. One of his hands moved. He tugged absentmindedly on the front of his wet, low-riding jeans. "Maybe it's not so hard to believe your mother was a showgirl after all."

She glanced down at herself and yelped. Then she grabbed the T-shirt fabric, pulled it away from her body, and turned to rush back to the cottage.

"Uh… Molly? The view's pretty interesting from the back, too. And we've got company coming."

Sure enough, the Pearsons were approaching in the distance. They were barely visible behind beach chairs, tote bags, and a cooler.

Molly wasn't going to rely on Kevin's cooperation to get back to the cottage, so she headed toward the woods, holding the T-shirt away from her body in the front and back, while she stretched it to make it longer.

"If anybody throws you a fish," he called after her, "it's because you're waddling like a penguin."

"If anybody asks you to bray, it's because you're acting like an—"

"Save your sweet talk for later, Daphne. The garbage guys just drove up with the new Dumpster."

"Shut the lid after you climb in." She picked up her waddle and somehow managed to reach the cottage without further mishap. Once inside, she pressed her hands to her hot cheeks and laughed.

But Kevin wasn't laughing. As he stood on the Common gazing in the direction of the cottage, he knew he couldn't keep going on like this. It was ironic. He was a married man, but he wasn't taking advantage of the principal advantage marriage offered.

The question was, what did he intend to do about it?





Chapter 15


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Daphne sprayed her favorite perfume, Eau de Strawberry Shortcake, in a big squirty puff around her head. Then she fluffed her ears, straightened her whiskers, and put on her brand-new tiara.