"Because we're not putting on a show."
A show, huh?Recalling what I'd said tohimonly a few minutes ago, I couldn't help but giggle. "Hey! You're using my own words against me."
"Damn straight."
He was right, of course. For all I knew, Franny was already peeking in through the glass. At the mere thought, I smiled in the darkness. "I might have a flashlight on the work bench."
"That's alright," he said. "I'm halfway done."
No freaking way."You can't be."
"Why not?"
"Because it's been like two seconds."
He laughed. "So who's the liarnow?"
Laughing, I blindly reached out, hoping to find him in the void. When I didn't, I took a single, tentative step forward.
From somewhere unseen, he said, "Don't move."
I froze. "Wait…how'd you know I was moving?"
"I could hear you. But stay put, alright?"
I heard dragging, some clattering, and maybe another clunk or two as I waited breathlessly in the dark. Finally, I heard a loud zip – not from clothing, but from a zippered tent flap, unless my memories of camping were deceiving me.
After more rustling in the darkness, he announced, "Done!"
He sounded so proud, I almost snickered. "Wait…where did you even put it?"
"Right in the middle," he said. "Cleared a spot between the shelving racks. It fits fine."
I laughed. "Seriously? That fast?"
"That fast," he repeated, sounding sinfully cocky.
And me?I was sinfully impressed.Carefully, I shuffled forward, one hand outstretched like a cartoon character in the dark. Soon, I bumped into something soft and nylon-y. "Oh my God. You really did it."
"Told ya." He gave a low chuckle. "I even unrolled the sleeping bag."
I felt giddy with promise. "You're insane."
"Nah, I'm just motivated."
He was closer now. I could hear it in his voice and sense it in the air. When his fingers brushed mine, I gave a happy little shiver. "Funny, I'm feeling motivated, too."
His tone grew teasing. "Then get in before I change my mind and bend you over the work bench."
The image that filled my brain was so delightfully obscene that I considered abandoning the tent entirely. Breathlessly, I said, "Maybe you should."
"Or maybe," he said, giving my hand a gentle tug, "you should get your ass in that tent before I toss you in myself."
I laughed. "You wouldn't dare."
"Not on tile," he admitted. "But give me a beach, and all bets are off."
Sex on the beach – now that was a nice thought, too. But forget thinking. Still laughing under my breath, I quickly ducked into the tent and flopped onto the sleeping bag that he'd spread out like a rugged, comfy nest.
