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her
walk-in closet—motivational pieces, courtesy of Barry. She might as well
sell them on eBay.
    Dressed, Mia stepped before her full-length mirror for final
adjustments, but her hands stilled and her mouth dropped open when she caught
sight of herself.
    "Holy Mother of God, Allison! I can't go out in public
like this!"
    Horrified, Mia tugged on the scraps of fabric barely
containing her full breasts. She looked like a Playboy Bunny, her curves
busting out all over the place. The bottoms weren't much better. The front
scrap gripped way too low across her hips—thank God she'd recently dealt
with her bikini line—and the back exposed fully half of each globe of her
buttocks.
    Allison came to stand beside her, head cocked to one side as
she surveyed Mia in the mirror. With one hand, she reached out to adjust the
left cup, then tightened the strings tied in bows on the tops of Mia's tensed
shoulders.
    "It's perfect," she declared, "what's your
problem? This color is great on you."
    "The color isn't the issue!" Mia said hotly, which
was a good thing, since a matching shade of fuchsia was steadily waving up her
body from her pink-painted toes to the top of her head. "It's at least two
sizes too small."
    "It's sexy," Allison maintained, "and you
could use a little sexy."
    "What's that supposed to mean?"
    "It means I'm sick of seeing you so buttoned up lately.
Barry's had you covered like a nun. Let loose."
    Had she forgotten how to wear sexy clothes? Forgotten what
it felt like? Reconsidering, Mia stared at herself in the mirror. In actuality,
her body looked pretty freaking fantastic, if she did say so herself. Her
muscles were toned and sleek, her breasts high, her waist small. And she'd
worked hard to make it so. But still. No one could feel sexy in a suit meant
for a baby sister. Or an insanely skinny best friend.
    "I don't—"
    The bedroom door swung open and Mia broke off with a shriek,
diving to the floor behind the bed as Derrick strode in, his blue
Hawaiian-print swim trunks slung low on his hips and a t-shirt tossed casually
over one bare shoulder.
    "Ready, ladies?"
    "Yes," Allison said.
    "No!" Mia hollered at the same time, peeking over
the side of the bed. "Derrick, throw me your shirt."
    Allison rolled her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake."
    Waving a hand in disgust, Allison grabbed her beach bag and
sashayed out of the room, her perfect little body encased in the striped suit
like an offering to the sun gods. Mia barely resisted growling at her back.
    Derrick raised a brow at her, and Mia set her mouth in a
mulish line. She held out her hand. "Shirt. Please."
    Rolling his eyes in perfect imitation of Allison, he tossed
the t-shirt to her.
    God, it smelled like him. She stopped herself from burying
her face in the fabric for a deeper whiff just in time and whipped it over her
head. Deliberately blocking the vision of all the tanned, naked male skin on
the other side of her bed from her mind, she stood to meet Derrick's amused
gaze with a glare.
    "After you, mademoiselle," he said with a gallant
sweep of his arm.
    Nose in the air, Mia stalked past him, not even giving him
the benefit of an indignant screech when he reached around and swatted her on
the ass as she walked out the door.
     

 
     
     
    CHAPTER TWO
     
    Derrick chuckled to himself as he followed Mia and Allison
out of the house and across the sun-warmed sand. If she thought that t-shirt
was fooling anyone, she had another think coming. It hung on her, true enough,
past mid-thigh, but the light breeze blew it against her curves and highlighted
the deep indentation of her waist. And once it got wet. . .
    Licking his lips, he hoisted the beach umbrella Allison had
thrust into his hands as they walked out the door and tried to get himself
under control. It wouldn't be cool to stroll along with a titanic woody tenting
the front of his trunks.
    One of Mia's neighbors, an elderly woman in a gigantic straw
hat, caught his attention with a wave of her hand.
    "Hello,