The sailboat he lived on was forty-six feet long, all sleek polished wood and white trim. Below deck, they stood dripping in the galley that had wood floors, shiny wood cabinets, a wood booth for dining, and a stainless steel sink and refrigerator. The counter was clean except for two cameras he’d left out, which made Summer smile.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, and tossed her a towel. “I’ll be right back.” He moved through a small archway into the captain’s quarters, slid the door shut behind him, and stripped out of his soaked work clothes.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Summer said.

Butt ass naked, he whipped around, but the door was still shut. The walls were just incredibly thin, and he had to laugh at himself. “Impressed at what?” he asked, rifling through his drawers for something clean to wear.

“You actually have healthy food in here. Salad makings, yogurt, fruit and veggies—”

“Why are you going through my kitchen?”

“Because you said to make myself at home. Ah.” He heard his cupboards opening. “You do have a vice. Frosted Flakes.”

He pulled on the first pair of sweats he came across and began the hunt for clean socks. “A guy’s gotta have something good for breakfast.”

He heard her opening and shutting some more cupboards and shook his head. Nosey wench. He’d have sworn he heard the clink of a spoon against a bowl, but that was ridiculous. She’d never stoop to eating Frosted Flakes. It wasn’t green and didn’t have the required amount of good nutrients per ounce. Locating two socks that he wasn’t quite sure were an exact match, he turned around, looking for a shirt. Snatching one off the foot of his bed, he cocked his head at an odd crunching noise.

Holding the shirt in his hand, he slid open the door between his bedroom and the galley, then gawked at her sitting at his table with a huge bowl of Frosted Flakes, shoveling them into her mouth. She’d stripped out of her sundress, leaving her in the coral tank top and black biker shorts that hugged her hips, leaving her belly bare. The ring there flashed. Her tank was wet from her hair, and her nipples were hard.

“These are amazing,” she said around a mouthful, dribbling a little milk out of the corner of her mouth, lapping it up with a quick dart of her tongue.

“Slow down, sailor, we aren’t going to be able to run if you eat that entire bowl.” He felt his body quiver when her tongue darted out again, at the other corner of her mouth this time.

Her hair was still dripping down her shoulders. If she’d had any makeup on, it was all gone now. Her expressive jade eyes never left his. “We aren’t going to run, Joe.”

“We’re not?”