She's All That: Club 3, Book 3 by Cathryn Cade

Author:Cathryn Cade
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2014-04-29T04:00:00+00:00

He did, sort of. If one could count the fact that the swimsuit he’d bought her was a shiny black one-piece with high-cut legs, and instead of a halter, the bodice was a complicated mix of fabric and chains. Sara struggled into it, snapped the halter at the back of her neck, gasped and then glared at her reflection in the mirror. He’d bought her a swimsuit with a collar.

“Trace Bowen!” she yelled through the bathroom doorway. “This thing makes me look like bondage Barbie!”

He instantly appeared in the doorway, wearing a pair of gray-and-white swim trunks that hung from his narrow hips, revealing the sexy cuts above his hipbones, and his bellybutton. Which she wanted to jab with a sharp object.

He waggled his brows, a slow grin appearing as he looked her over from head to toe. “Hmm, I’d say more like Nadia Naughty, super spy.”

She curled her lip at him. “So funny. I am not wearing this thing in front of your family.” Half her ass was hanging out, although at least it was no longer pink.

“That’s too bad, Red,” he said regretfully. “’Cause it’s either that or naked.”

Then he swooped, grabbed her around the hips and hauled her over his shoulder. Sara let out a shriek and beat her fists on his back. “You put me down. Trace!”

He didn’t listen, although she scolded him all the way along the hallway and out through a side door and across the lawns. She also pinched him in the ribs and kneed him hard on the pec. All of which he bore with stoic patience, until they reached the pool. Sara had one glimpse of the expanse of turquoise and a few people sitting around the edge, and then she was flying through the air, still over Trace’s shoulder.

She landed feetfirst, which was the only reason she didn’t murder him. Instead, she surfaced, tipped her head back to sweep her wet hair from her eyes and glared. Then she pasted a hurt look on her face and sniffled.

“Trace,” scolded his mother from the edge of the pool. “What on earth? You’ve hurt the poor girl. Come here, sweet thing, and I’ll get you a towel.”

“Thank you,” Sara said.

She swam over to Frances, who wore a white linen cover-up, a huge picture hat and sunglasses with mules on her feet. She beckoned to Sara and clucked to her as Sara climbed the steps from the water.

“Oh my,” she said when Sara stood before her. “What an interesting bathing suit. Have a towel.”

Sara took the towel, stuck her tongue out at Trace, who was watching from the water, and followed his mother to a chaise lounge. He gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she was up to, and swam away.

Frances and her two cronies were drinking mimosas—strong ones. Sara drank half of hers and then said bravely that she guessed she would swim a little, if Trace would be nice to her.

Frances immediately yoo-hooed him over to the side of the pool and lectured him lovingly on being gentler with his lovely date.

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