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“At the Cavendish resort,” she added.

I stared at her.

“Javier said he could get us into the rooftop VIP pool area easily, even get us a cabana. Those reservations are booked out by like six months to a year. Did you know he and Stephan own a bar inside the casino there?”

“I did,” I said evenly. What she was asking for was ridiculous. We shouldn’t be seen in public together, period, let alone with her in a swimsuit of any kind. And I certainly hadn’t picked her bikinis out thinking anyone would see her in them but me.

“Isn’t it twenty-one and over?” I asked pointedly. Finding a flaw in the plan was easier than point blank telling her no. I hated refusing her anything. It went against the grain, in fact I found it deeply unpleasant to do so.

“The casino is,” she said cheerfully, and I knew a but was coming, “and the bar, but not most of the pool areas. We could even have some privacy, with the cabana and all.”

“You know we can’t be seen together,” I told her gently. “Nothing’s changed. We can’t go on a date.”

“It doesn’t have to be a date. It could be perfectly innocent. On the slim chance we see anyone we know, we’ll just say it’s a coincidence, that we both just happen to be at the same pool. We bumped into each other and started talking. Something like that. It’s not like we’ll be having sex in public. No one can prove anything just by us being in the same place at the same time.”

It was a terrible idea. And completely unreasonable for her to suggest it.

But she was so earnest about it, so hopeful and happy, and I was so sated, feeling benevolent from the night before, and I found myself considering it.

“No touching,” I told her.

“No touching,” she agreed, grinning like I’d just made her day.

“No hand holding. We can’t so much as even touch pinkies. In fact, you have to stay at least one foot away from me at all times.”

“Yes, Mr. North.”

I glared. “And none of that.”

I changed into swim trunks and a lightweight T-shirt and packed a change of clothes.

I walked into Nova’s room without knocking. She was tying herself into one of the bikinis I’d picked out for her, and I gave her a hand. I even behaved myself, mostly.

I picked out a change of clothes for her myself, adding it to the bag with mine. I didn’t trust her to pick out an outfit. Even as I had the thought I knew it was pointless and ridiculous. It wasn’t the clothes she wore that were driving me crazy. It was what was inside of them.

It was who was inside of them.

We left for the strip not long after that.

Nova was in a white bikini that set off her dusky golden skin. She was within reach in the passenger seat, and it was driving me nuts.

She was wearing the most pointless matching cover-up; it was just a sheer skirt that left nothing to the imagination.

It was possibly the worst one she could have picked, the tiniest one, and this was the first time I’d seen her wear it. I had a pool, but we’d been too busy to go swimming.

I kept stealing glances at her. I couldn’t help it.

I was so wrapped up in the sight of her that it took me a minute to realize she’d asked me a question. A troubling one.

“Are you really a fuckboy?”

There was no judgment in her voice, but there was something worse, a weak sort of vulnerability that made me feel helpless.

I sighed, hand going to the back of her head to rub it affectionately. “You heard that, huh? My friends were just messing around. Please don’t take anything they said last night too seriously.”

It wasn’t exactly an answer, but she processed it quietly, and I hoped that was the end of it.

It wasn’t, of course.