She flapped a hand at him. “Then put some clothes on! And throw some in here for me, would you, please?”
“Sure. If I can find them.”
The door snicked shut, and a light clicked on.
“Reece, where are we anyway? And what time is it?”
“Looks like we’re in your room. I have to find my phone before I can tell you what time it is. And to do that, I have to find my pants.”
She peeked through the slats and covered her mouth to hold back a giggle as she spied on him hunting for clothes, buck-naked and seemingly not bothered by that fact. And oh, the way he moved. He reminded her of a giant, sleek cat as he prowled the room, his muscles hard, long, and lean.
The urge to giggle had everything to do with nerves and nothing to do with how he looked. No, nothing about his physique was giggle-worthy. If she could have crafted the perfect male specimen, he would have looked exactly like Reece. A sculpted torso that started at wide shoulders and tapered to a trim waist, like a V, above a perfectly square butt. Smooth, tan skin.
His back was to her, so she couldn’t assess the man package, but judging by the way it had felt against her in bed, he wasn’t lacking in that department either.
He came to a stop and glanced over his shoulder. “You’re staring.”
She swallowed a yelp.
A slow grin spread over his face—at least the side she could see in profile. “You know what they say. You see mine, I see yours.”
“That’s so childish!” she spluttered. “Besides, you’ve already seen it, and so have I.”
“We were five years old, Neve. I think things have changed since then.”
Details. “Are you talking about the time at the creek? When you dared me to get in the freezing-cold water?”
“Yep. You shed your clothes and streaked in, and I thought you were going to drown.”
“Just because I couldn’t breathe from the freezing-cold water didn’t mean I neededyouto jump in and rescue me.”
“Maybe not, but you were pretty blue when I hauled your butt out of there.” He had run in after her without regard to his own safety. Afterward, he’d had to strip so his clothes could dry. She might have fallen in love with him that very day.
She brushed at something tickling her shoulder and looked up. “They have robes in here. His and hers, judging by the sizes.”
“Good because I can’t find a single stitch. Throw one out, would you?”
Hoisting herself to her feet, she slid the smaller robe from its hanger and quickly pulled it on before handing him the other one through the closet door. As she passed it off to him, a dazzling prism of light caught her eye.
“Thanks.” Fabric rustled. “As much fun as it is talking to you through a closet door, I think it’d be much easier if you came out.”
“Are you decent?”
“Always.”
She opened the door and stepped out—and tried not to laugh, especially given the seriousness of their dilemma. The robe hit him at the knees, and the sleeves were halfway up his forearms.
“We need to figure this out,” they both said at the same time.
“Maybe there are some clues in here.” Reece loped toward their adjoining doors, which stood wide open, but before she could follow, he let out a strangled sort of noise from his bedroom.
“What is it?” She hurried through the doorway.
“Found our clothes.”
His bed looked as though a herd of elephants had tap-danced on it. Scattered around said bed were various bits of his and her wedding outfits. Her panties lay in a crumpled heap beside his boxers, and her matching strapless bra hung over a chair that sat cockeyed to the desk. On the nightstand stood two empty champagne bottles, along with a half-dozen martini glasses, also empty.
She gasped and tried not to hurl.
