Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,42

his stomach, spreading out everywhere like sunlight. “It’s all about balls, babe. So you going to hand them over?”

She gave him a rebellious lift of her chin, her brows rose. “Balls? A SEAL never gives up his…uh…balls.”

He lowered his head and his jaw clenched.

She held back her own mirth.

“As I pointed out, you’re not a SEAL.” He raised his eyes and looked at her, his face expressionless, the steadiness in his eyes making her think of a hunter’s eyes, the angles of his face accentuated in the dim light. He was so still. Too still. “You might want to remove that official Navy equipment before I have to remove it for you.”

“Oh, you can do that, tadpole?” She fanned herself, her voice deliberately breathless. “You’re not even surf torture wet behind the ears yet. I can take you without wrinkling my official Navy frogman accessory.”

He straightened and the anticipation of tussling with him made her set her hands on her almost bare hips.

His eyes were dancing even though they narrowed in mock outrage. “Accessory?” he growled.

She laughed, enjoying him, enjoying most everything about this man. More than she would have ever expected.

“It’s much too little to be more than an adornment. You know, like lipstick or a nice pair of earrings.”

He gave a derisive snort as he shot her a chastising look, then resisting a smile, he said, “Really, woman, do you want pancakes or are you going to duel with me over UDT short shorts?”

She stared at him, a slightly tenacious set to her chin, and he raised his eyebrows in a knowing see-what-I-mean expression. Realizing that he had her by the short…shorts, and the joke may be over, she couldn’t help saying, “Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to keep your junk contained while you wrestle sharks and defuse depth charges.”

He was almost on her before she could react. He was that fast. She squeaked and back peddled, but it was too late. He grabbed the waistband of the shorts and dragged her to him. She struggled, and in the ensuing battle, they lost their balance and fell to the carpet. By this time, she was breathless with laughter. When he tried to yank the shorts off, she wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her ankles.

“Dammit, woman.” He tried to loosen her legs, but after lifting, running, swimming, and cycling as her normal routine, her legs were as strong as hell. He bucked, but she held on like a limpet. He rolled to his back, and she had to untangle her legs, forcing her to bring out the big guns. She dug into his ribs, and he contorted with a breathless bark of laughter, grabbing for her hands. But she was relentless, and he was forced to roll her onto her back, where she promptly locked her legs around him again. “Shea….” he said, his tone had all the mock threat in it that only made her laugh harder. He stopped and looked down into her eyes. She could see him calculating.

Softly she said, “Daisy Duke called. She wants her shorts back.”

He tipped his head back and laughed, and Shea got hit hard with a sudden fizzling sensation that made her catch her breath. There was a lighthearted buoyancy that reached out and encompassed her as warmly as sunshine, and she sunk a little more into the deep end of Hemingway’s pool. The fizzle turned into an intoxicating rush. He brought out a part of her she thought was gone—the playful her that she believed had died along with her sister.

He shook his head and expelled the last of his laughter on a deep sigh, his eyes still dancing as he grinned at her. “How long were you holding onto that one?”

“The whole time. It was burning a hole in my mental pocket.” Sensing she had an advantage, she said, “Chocolate chips and hot coffee. It’s on the table.”

Hemingway studied her, his eyes narrowed in a gauging, speculative look. He said, a tone of warning in his voice, “Navy SEALs don’t negotiate.”

“Hardass.”

He was basically in the push-up lean rest, keeping his weight off her body, the swell of his biceps bulging, tan and enticing. Then her eyes flicked down his body. The towel was unlatched and hung loosely off his strong hips as he watched her through bright narrowed blue eyes. “You want your shorts back?” she asked, her voice sounding compressed. “I have Daisy on the other line.”

Shea experienced an odd flustered