“No one’s even looking at us. Nudity isn’t a novelty on this beach,” I say. “But even if they do look, I don’t care. No more hiding. I’m with you now, and I want everyone to see.”

A wide smile stretches across Callum’s face.

I toss my bikini top onto his rumpled shorts, then hook my thumbs through the waist of my bottoms, but then stop. “But I do have one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You agree to cook with me at Travaasa Hana.”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely. I got that opportunity because of you. And I want to share it with you.”

He grins, his hands falling to his hips. I can’t help but run my gaze along the most flawlessly cut Adonis belt I’ve ever seen.

“Ah, so this is a pity request,” he teases.

I grab the meaty part of his forearm. “Hardly. You forget I’ve cooked with you. I know how amazing you are in the kitchen. I loved working with you for that one service we had together. I don’t want it to be our last.”

He beams and says he accepts.

My hand falls from his body to the string of my bikini bottom. I tug it loose, and the fabric on one side falls away. “Besides, now that we’re not working close to each other anymore, I want every opportunity to see you. Cooking together at Travaasa meets that requirement.”

Callum takes the other string in his hand and pulls, freeing my lower half of all fabric. “So what will we whip up, Chef Nikki? Some British-Filipino fusion dish that will blow everyone away?”

“Maybe.” Sliding my arms around his neck, I wag my eyebrows at him.

We stand completely naked, but I’ve never felt warmer. It’s the heat of Callum’s body, the reassurance of his words, the look in his eyes.

With his hands cupping my face, he leans in for another kiss. It’s softer this time, but still teasing, still tantalizing, still full of feeling.

“What do you have in mind?” he says, his whisper skimming across my lips.

“Hmm. Let’s see. We could do a mash-up of blood sausage and dinuguan, this really yummy dish made with pork blood.”

Callum hugs me tight against him. “Sounds interesting.”

“Or we could have a fry fest. Throw in a few lumpia or turon with a basket of fish-and-chips. Voilà. Fusion food like you’ve never tasted before.”

Chuckling, he takes me by the hand and leads me to the water. He twists his head at me. “I don’t care what we cook. I’ll do anything as long as it’s with you.”

“Really? Even let me name all of Lemon’s kittens ridiculously cute names?”

He mock frowns. “How ridiculously cute?”

“Like, so cute it hurts. I want to name the gray one Lulu, the white one Chowder, and the gray-and-white one Sushi.”