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“We’ll take the three blues, then.”
Heath stepped up and he and Grey discussed something, first between themselves and then with the vendor. Heath pulled out his wallet and spared her a glance, grinning like a boy. “Grey gives you the world; I give you three dresses.”
“In different shades of blue,” she teased.
“Exactly,” he agreed.
“Thank you.” She surged up on her toes, intending to kiss th
ose strong, mobile lips she’d been aching to taste, but he swiftly angled his head to the side so her mouth hit his whiskered cheek. She frowned and dropped flat on her feet, realizing she could benefit from curbing her enthusiasm now and then. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you might not . . . want that.”
The glimmer in his eyes was disconcertingly intense, his face unsmiling as he gazed at her mouth in a way that made her nervous enough to lick her lips. He swiped a big palm across her forehead and smoothed the creases with his thumb. “That’s all right.”
The thing with Grey was that the man could go without talking for hours. And Heath appreciated peace and quiet as much as the next man, or maybe more, which was why they’d both sat in silence under the shade of a thatched-roof terrace while Toni mingled with the partygoers. She had an avid conversation going on with the married couple, and when Heath caught himself straining to overhear her laughter, he squirmed in his beach chair and let his mind run away with other thoughts. How-to-get-Toni-out-of-his-head-after-Cabo thoughts.
Grey was engrossed in jotting down numbers and executing brisk sketches over a tower of napkins he’d procured, when Heath said, “I’m thinking of getting a dog.”
Yeah. A dog. A puppy.Who’d lick his hand.Who’d be all grateful and excited when Heath fed him. A good little mutt. He was fully convinced he’d need one to get his mind off a particular kitten.
Grey flipped the napkin over to continue, and it seemed to take him a moment to realize Heath had been speaking to him. He glanced up, his eyes lost, as though his thoughts were drawn inward. “What for?”
“Company.”
Look at her. Toni, ankle-deep in the pool, wearing that silly mariachi hat Grey had just bought her, her hands holding her skirt high to keep it dry. Her legs were slim and toned, and with this glance alone Heath had them memorized. Damn. She didn’t have to be so cute. And look at him, sitting here with her blue dresses folded on his lap so they wouldn’t get wet, guarding her feminine things. He must look ridiculous.
After perusing him in silence, Grey went back to sketching. “You’d need to get a small sissy dog, one you can travel with easily.”
“I don’t want a sissy dog; I want a big dog.” Heath mentally listed all the breeds he knew existed, which weren’t all that many.“I was thinking more of a Saint Bernard or . . . something.”
Grey canted his head as if listening like one, grinning in amusement. “Why a Saint Bernard?”
“I don’t know. They’re big and they don’t seem too playful. A playful pup would just piss me off.”
“Cleaning up after him would irritate the hell out of me.”
Heath considered it might piss him off, too, but damn, he needed a mutt. She’d wanted to set him up on a date, damn her. Paddling her behind for that would be ecstasy.
Keeping a vigilant eye on her, he watched her curvy calves emerge from the pool, and he followed them up slim hips, a small waist, breasts made especially—especially—for Heath’s hands. He went higher, up a slender, elegant throat, smiling lips....
Shit, she was watching them.Waving them forward and mouthing something indiscernible.
Grey’s head jerked up instantly, as though he had some Toni alert system, his attention immediately homing in on her. His eyes went all shades of gold possible, then settled to a heated glow.
He folded the napkins and jammed them into his shorts. “A Saint Bernard isn’t you. People look like their dogs.Try a black one. A Rottweiler. I’ll give you two months, tops.”
“I can take care of a damned dog.”
Pulling his shades out from his shirt collar, Grey slipped them over his eyes and rose. “Get a fish, Heath.”
“I want to kiss her.” The brusque words checked Grey’s stride. His shoulders stiffened, and Heath added meaningfully, “On the mouth.”
Grey shook his head, not turning.
“Why not?”
He spun around. “Because the thought makes me green. Satisfied?”
“Not even nausea could turn you green.” Pushing to his feet, Heath slapped his back in a companionable, come-on-I’m-you’re friend gesture. “One kiss.”
