“You look like a lizard,” I tell him. “Soaking up the rays.” “And you look like a siren,” he responds, not opening his eyes. “Sing for me as well and I’ll be lost here forever.” I grin. Shoot a glance to where my discarded bikini top rests on the lounge chair. “I’m not sure I want you to drown yet. I’m not done with you.” “Thank God,” he says, “because I’m sure as hell not done with you.”
