Page 46 of Hot & Heavy

Yep, it's that. He felt about ten feet tall.

Then reality began to creep in to testosterone city. "We can't do anything about it anyway. I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon."

"Leaving? For where?"

"Home."

She tilted her head in question.

"Coronado. California."

"You are not leaving me here."

He had no chance to respond because, despite his glares and silently mouthed "Go away!" the guys and two women came over to sit with him and Yas… Maddie. The guys grinned at him. The women looked confused. He understood both the humor and the confusion.

Pretty Boy had plopped himself down next to Maddie. Geesh, I have trouble with that name. Cage sat on his left. The other guys sat on the facing bench with the two women.

"Why don't you introduce us, Mac?" Sly suggested, ignoring his glower and smiling at Maddie.

"You already met Maddie back at the cave," he grumbled.

"That wasn't Maddie," Cage said. "That was Phyllis Diller on crack." He winked at Maddie.

Ian elbowed Cage for his remark and the wink. Cage elbowed him back.

Reluctantly, Ian introduced them all, ending with Pretty Boy.

Maddie frowned. "Why do they call you Pretty Boy?"

Everyone laughed except Pretty Boy, whose face had turned red. Pretty Boy had been given that nickname—all SEALs got nicknames—because his last name was Floyd, but also because he was exceptionally good-looking, or so women said… lots of women.

"Because I'm pretty?" Pretty Boy said. The overconfident ass. When Maddie still appeared confused, he added, "Don't you think I'm pretty?"

" Well, I suppose some might say so, but, of course, you are not near as handsome as the lackwit Scotsman."

At first, Ian didn't know that she referred to him… not till the guys laughed and teased him about his prettiness. Everyone in the world thought Pretty Boy was God's gift to women, including Pretty Boy. No one, no one, ever said Ian was handsome when Pretty Boy was in the room. Everyone at the table looked as astonished as he felt.

"I have a receding hairline," he said. Why don't I just shoot myself? I have the finesse of a twelve-year-old.

"You need to get out more," Sly said.

"I could give you lessons," Cage offered.

Maddie studied his hairline, than asked, "Do you have much hair on your chest?"

Ian's jaw dropped open.

"My father always said that a man's virility could be measured by the amount of hair on his chest. The less, the better. Now on the manparts, hair is an entirely different matter."

Several males looked down at their chests, then below.

"Maddie, you shouldn't say things like that."

"Why?"

"Women are supposed to be demure and—"

"Oh, bloody hell! Not that demure business. I am tired to my teeth of men requiring meekness in a woman. The men in my family were like that. And the sultans in the harems where I served were even worse. Do you know what those lackbrain houris did to please men? They plucked—"