Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,41
withdrawn then, in some way, because he tightened his hold slightly, then slid his hand to tip her chin up.
“You are a first-class negotiator,” he said, the look in his eyes a little stunned but a lot tender. His gentleness caught her off guard.
“Did I win?” she asked, needing flippant humor to stop him from seeing she was experiencing the same emotions.
“There was no contest, you huckster…” He let his words trail off, but held her gaze, his own intensifying in ways that were even more dangerous to her equilibrium.
“Sucker,” she said softly. “Now you hold up your end of the bargain.”
He gathered her closer, chuckling. “What is this bargain I was too jacked up to even know I was making with a naked and tantalizing devil?”
“It’s in the details, mister, and I had the upper…hand.”
His bark of laughter made her smile.
He pulled back the curtain and grabbed towels.
Lifting her with ease, she was encased in soft warm terry before she could finish her surprised squeak.
“What details are you holding me to?”
“Oh,” she said, nonchalantly, “cooking.”
He sent the towel over his head but stopped moving when she named the terms of his blind arrangement. Pulling the towel away from his face, he stared at her with a glimmer of retribution in his eyes.
“Well, if that is the case, my laundry needs folding. Think you can handle that, you little imp?” he asked, slapping her on her damp butt. Then, he wrapped his towel around his waist and left the bathroom.
“Ooh, this isn’t over,” she called with mock anger. She wrapped the towel around her wet and dripping hair and slipped out of the bathroom, the sound of pots, pans and utensils coming from the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled.
She stopped in front of the dryer and opened it. Pulling out the first thing inside, she paused. His UDT shorts, short for Underwater Demolition Team dive shorts, which hadn’t changed from the first time they were issued exclusively to frogmen during WWII, or so Mad Max had informed her. They had to be the most indecent military issued uniform ever made and why door kickers wore them was a surprise to her. They were literally male hot pants, in her opinion.
She’d been subjected to some spectacular backsides in them during their pool work, and it was lucky the guys were often immersed in cold water.
With an impish grin forming on her face, she grabbed a black lace bra and a gorgeous gauzy camisole in an enticing nude shade called blush with embroidered black thread in a crisscross pattern on the edge of the bodice and arm holes. Then she slipped on the shorts. They were obviously made for men with narrow hips and her butt filled them out. She had to roll down the waistband because it was too large for her waist, and the roll of fabric sat on her hips in a swath of tan.
She giggled when she got to her bedroom and grabbed her phone, pulling up YouTube. Payback was a bitch, even a mock and silly payback.
With the song “Short Shorts” playing loudly, she pranced into the living room. Hemingway’s head jerked up, his hips encased in his sexy towel. It took him a moment, but he recognized the shorts as the song played out, and she talked over the repetitive lyrics.
“In my professional opinion, a five and a half to six-inch inseam is the Goldilocks sweet spot.” She leaned forward, the bouncy beat to the song filling the room. “But, no-o-o, Navy SEALs have to live dangerously, with a skimpy is my junk showing inseam.”
He didn’t take his eyes off her, but they started to gleam. “You’re mocking an iconic piece of frogman gear, lady. I believe that is a capital offense.”
She adopted a Betty Boop posture and covered her mouth, her eyes innocently wide. “Is it the plank for me, Captain Bly? But I’m afraid of splinters.”
He rested his forearms on the counter and dropped his head, his smile flashing out of sight. “With that kind of sass, do you think you deserve pancakes?”
“Blackmail?” She danced around and shook her butt at him. “I’ll take chocolate chips in mine.”
His mouth twitched, but his face remained expressionless. “We frown on people pretending to be SEALs.”
“But they’re so cute, especially when they balance that ball on their noses.” She gave him a wry grin.
The muscles in his jaw clenched to keep from laughing. He was trying to be so tough, but a warmth gathered in the pit of