Page 208 of Summer Heat
He tugged her over onto his naked chest. “We’re not switching to that cutesy bullshit husband-wife nickname stuff, are we?”
She laughed. “Maybe. It’s fun at least one time, right?”
“Maybe more than once.” He tilted his head. “You’ll always be Sweet Girl, anyway.”
Nicola planted her lips on his. “Always from back in the day.”
“Speaking of which.” Cash shot up. “Up and at ’em.”
“Coffee first.”
He snagged her hand. “C’mon.” With a flick of his free hand, he threw his hat onto his head. “Go put your bathing suit on. We have our own pool.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. Come on!”
They hadn’t had breakfast, but with the man standing in front of her like that, wearing board shorts and his cowboy hat. There was no refusing him. “Give me a sec.”
As fast as she could, Nicola changed and reappeared, only to find him hold a bottle. “Wine?”
He winked. “It’s a pool party.”
“Sure. Why not? Honeymoons are the best.” Nicola stepped closer to him, and he beamed. Whatever he’d planned was bound to be epic. “What are you up to?”
“You know, Sweet Girl. That bikini doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”
She blinked and looked down at herself. It was true, but he’d ever complained before. A bit of déjà vu tingled at the back of her mind. “You don’t like it?”
“Damn.” He wrapped his arm around her neck, locking her in for a kiss. “I’m going to love giving this back to you.”
Giggling, she tilted her head. “What—whoa!”
Cash hauled her up and over his shoulder, wine bottle in one hand, her securely fashioned in the other.
“Cash! What are you doing?”
His powerful body toured them through the beachfront house that she hadn’t seen and out onto the porch. In the backyard was a perfect, private pool.
In one giant step, the insane man that she married leapt in. “Ringing any bells?”
It was Hawaii, but the water was still cold. Clinging and climbing all over him, she laughed. “No. What are you talking about?”
“This is just too good.” He dropped down, drenching them both.
“Cash! It’s cold.”
“You have to kiss me, Sweet Girl, or drink wine. Those are your two choices.”
“I’m freezing.”
“You don’t want to kiss me?” he asked, eyes dancing.
Déjà vu hit again. Hard. Flashbacks from college, of them in the pool the first time they kissed, with the wine bottle and her teeny-tiny bikini, surfaced with a flood of emotion. “Really?”
His eyebrows went up, questioning if she was clued in. “You don’t want to kiss me, Nic?” he asked again.
Yup, she was totally clued in. “But that was my line.”
