She beamed at him and patted her little round stomach. “I got a baby.”

He dropped the paper and looked frantically around for her father, but Kevin was showing a skinny kid with a bad haircut how to get more mileage from the Frisbee.

“Hey, Pip.”

He whipped around to the sound of a familiar female voice and saw the cavalry walking toward him in the form of his sexy little matchmaker, delectably dressed in a modestly cut white bikini. A rainbow-colored plastic heart gathered the material between her breasts into pleats, and a second heart, this one larger and printed directly on the fabric, nested next to her hip. He couldn’t see a hard edge or sharp angle anywhere. She was all pliant curves and soft contours: narrow shoulders, nipped waist, round hips, and thighs that she, being a woman, undoubtedly thought were too fat, but he, being a man, judged extremely nuzzle-able.

“Belle!” Pippi squealed.

He swallowed. “I’ve never been happier to see a person in my life.”

“Why’s that?” Annabelle stopped next to his chair but refused to look directly at him. She hadn’t forgotten about last night, which was fine with him. He didn’t want her to forget, proving her point that he was a snake, but not an unredeemable one. As much as he’d enjoyed himself—and he’d definitely enjoyed himself—there’d be no repeat performance. He was bad, but not that bad.

“Guess what?” Pippi went through the stomach-rubbing routine again. “I got a baby in my tummy.”

Annabelle looked interested. “No kidding? What’s its name?”

“Daddy.”

Heath winced. “That’s why.”

Annabelle laughed. Pippi sprawled in the sand and picked at a dab of blue polish on her big toe. “Pwinz don’t have his phone.”

Annabelle sat in the sand next to her, looking puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

Pippi patted Heath’s calf with a sandy hand. “Pwinz. He don’t have his phone.”

Annabelle gazed up at him. “I understand about the phone part, but what’s that other thing she’s saying?”

Heath gritted his teeth. “Prince. That’s me.”

Annabelle grinned and hugged the little troublemaker, who launched into a monologue about how Daphne the Bunny used to come into her bedroom and play but wouldn’t come anymore because Pippi was too big. As Annabelle tilted her head to listen, her hair brushed his thigh, and he nearly jumped out of his chair.

Pippi finally ran off to join her father and demand he go in the water with her. He was agreeable, although they had a small dispute about the boots, which he eventually won.

“I love that kid.” Annabelle’s expression held a trace of longing. “She’s got a lot of spirit.”

“Which is bound to get her into trouble when she’s incarcerated.”

“Will you stop it?”

Her hair brushed his thigh again. He could only handle so much stimulation, and he shot up. “I’m going swimming. Want to join me?”

She sent a longing glance toward the lake. “I think I’ll stay here.”

“Come on, girly-girl.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Unless you’re afraid to get your hair wet?”