Chills dusted my skin, and he had to see the ridges on my forearms right along the scattering of freckles there.

His gaze wasn’t on my forearms, though. It was pointed at my very innocent top. As a shiver set in, it dawned on me he wasn’t reading the words on my shirt but rather zeroed in on the fact I was braless. “I forgot,” I whispered, my cheeks going flush from embarrassment as I whipped my arms up to cover my breasts.

He rasped, “You may not care if I have a shirt on, but I’ll for damn sure find it distracting if you’re not wearing a bra.” He looked away from me and up at the ceiling as if I were naked and he was trying to respect me. “Please.”

“Of course.” I nodded even though he wasn’t looking at me, then hurried around him, probably beet red as I went to my room.

I shut the door and set my back to it, trying to catch my breath. Our kitchen exchange had sent my pulse flying, and I was fairly certain the electricity between us may have been even more kinetic than it’d been in Aruba.

How was I supposed to behave around him when I could barely breathe in his presence?

I took a few minutes to pull myself together, to de-fever (was that a word?) my skin. Finally, I snapped on a padded bra, brushed my fingers through my messy hair, and went out to face the only man in my whole life who’d ever made me feel like this.

He’d made the wise choice to put on a shirt in my absence. A gray tee to match the nearly all-gray living room.

“Hi.” I let the small word dangle between us, and the moment he turned around, I realized whatever tension had been between us before I’d left was still very much there. “Why don’t we take this chance to talk while he’s asleep?”

He quietly studied me, his gaze falling to my top as if needing to confirm I’d behaved.

“Seems to me that Colin knows more about you than I do,” I pointed out, my voice soft.

His brows drew together as he said in a low voice, “You could always google me like he did.” He tore a hand through his hair and gruffly added, “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

I let his apology settle between us before raising what felt like the obvious. “Don’t enjoy talking about yourself?”

“I’d prefer a colonoscopy while awake.” He closed one eye, his hand dropping to his side. “Great image, I know,” he grunted. “I’m batting a thousand this morning with what I say to you.”

“Oh, surely there were a few home runs in there somewhere,” I couldn’t help but tease, enjoying living in our banter bubble.