"I came here because you said your house was cool," Mary complained as she stripped off her tank top and fell back onto the bed.

"Cooler than your broken air conditioner will ever get your house. Fans save energy." Marshall forced his eyes back up to her face.

"Normally I'd say come and get it," she told him, closing her eyes, "but it's just too damn hot for the monkey games you call sex."

He shrugged and sat beside her, drawing a finger slowly along her collarbone. "Not even if it involves pie?"

Mary snorted. "Way, way too hot for pie. Try again with ice cubes or something."

"Ice cream pie?"

She cracked one eye open. "Please tell that's an actual thing you have."

He grinned. "Pie makes everything better. Even sex."