“It’s like a bikini.” She puts her hands on her hips now. “And don’t change the subject.”

“Let me see.” I don’t know if I’m asking or telling her, and she glares at me. “Show me.”

She looks at me, and I wonder what’s going through her mind. I expect her to tell me to fuck off, but she doesn’t. She unties the jacket and stands there in a light pink totally see-through bra, her nipples pebbled, and an equally transparent thong.

“Happy now?” she says and ties it back again.

“Come on, let’s get some dry clothes on you and let me feed you before I take you home,” I say, holding out my hand. I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly scared she is going to bail on me.

Chapter Thirteen

Vivienne

“Come on, let’s get some dry clothes on you and let me feed you before I take you home.” He holds out his hand to me, his voice soft. I was so angry coming here. I had a plan to return the fish and leave and never see him again. I spent the day sleeping, and when I got up, I had a package waiting for me. I went ballistic when I saw the fish.

“I’m fine like this,” I tell him. “I came to return that.” I point at the fishbowl. That really is pretty with the different colors.

“I was going to make myself something to eat,” he says and comes closer to me. “Let me feed you, and then I can take you home.”

“Fine,” I say, although everything in me is saying to run. “What are you having?”

“My dinner should be here soon, but I can make you pasta with my mother’s homemade sauce,” he says to me, turning and walking to the kitchen.

“You know how to cook?” I ask while I slip off my Louboutins and then untie my jacket. Slipping it off my shoulders, I toss it on the floor next to my shoes. “Who taught you how to cook?” I hear a pot bang and walk into the room. “What can I do to help?”

He looks up at me, and my heart speeds up a touch. How can I still want sex? It’s been a two-day almost marathon. “You can help by putting something on,” he says, opening the fridge and grabbing something. He’s dressed casual today, and the sight of his ass makes me want to go over and bite it. “Then come back, and I’ll have a glass of wine waiting for you.”

“Does me naked make you uncomfortable?” I ask him, my stomach suddenly getting weird.

“No, it’s making my cock uncomfortable trying to burst out of my pants, and I’m trying to cook you dinner,” he says and then opens a cabinet, taking the oil out.