Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“The captain has agreed to give us a tour of the boat,” Troy said.
Captain Sprague gave a gruff laugh. “Please, sir, she’s a yacht, not a boat.”
Troy slapped a hand to his forehead. “My mistake. I wouldn’t demean the Splendid by calling her a boat.”
They toured the entire yacht, including the bridge, where Troy was fascinated by all the screens, gauges, and levers, asking questions as if he were truly interested. The captain seemed delighted to share details.
Michaela had seen pictures, but there’d been no chance to run up to Sausalito to see the boat—yacht. And those pictures didn’t do it justice. The Splendid was the epitome of luxury, with a full galley, four magnificently appointed cabins, a lounge, living room, and dining room. The sundeck up top featured a small pool and a cascading waterfall down into a larger pool below, which had a Jacuzzi tub attached.
Captain Sprague ended the tour in the luxurious lounge with every libation imaginable on the glass shelves behind the bar. Smiling, he poured her and Troy glasses of chardonnay, abstaining himself.
Cakebread chardonnay. It was her absolute favorite, though she didn’t indulge often on the expensive wine. “Thank you, Captain. This is delicious and an unexpected surprise.”
He glanced at Troy. “You’ll have to thank Mr. Harrington. He brought it.”
The comment floored her. Troy couldn’t possibly know how much she loved this wine. And yet there was something in his gaze that said he had her figured out. Why did that send a delicious shiver down her spine?
The captain’s gray eyes gleamed. “Tell me, Miss Killian, what do you think of the Splendid?”
The question made her wonder if he thought Troy was her lover and that he would buy the yacht only if she approved. She had to disabuse the captain of that notion quickly and flourished a hand at Troy. “We should address that question to my client.”
The captain didn’t show a flicker of discomfort. “Mr. Harrington? Do you approve?”
Troy’s smile was lady-killer charming—or maybe, in this case, captain-killer. “It’s an impressive vessel. And you keep it shipshape.”
The captain bowed slightly. “We’re all proud of her.”
Then he led them to a cozy seating area in the stern. From there, she could hear the waterfall splashing into the lower pool.
“And now,” Captain Sprague said, “please enjoy your wine and a little repast while we cruise around the bay.”
He turned on his heel with military precision before Michaela could even thank him.
“Tell me what you really think of the boat.” Troy, a hand on her elbow, ushered her to the banquette.
“It’s a yacht, remember,” Michaela couldn’t resist saying.
He waggled a finger at her. “I might call it a yacht in front of Captain Sprague, but I’m a landlubber who thinks of it as a boat.”
She couldn’t help smiling. The man was adorably arrogant. Michaela slid into the seat, but while Troy could have taken his place across from her, he squeezed in right beside her, forcing her to swivel around the banquette unless she wanted him almost in her lap.
Yes, arrogant, completely and adorably.
She set her wineglass on the beautifully lacquered tabletop with its intricate design of flowers and leaves. “It’s gorgeous. Every whim is catered to, every luxury provided.” There’d even been salon shampoos and conditioners in each cabin’s bathroom. Weren’t those called the head? But head didn’t do justice to the luxury of each of those well-appointed bathrooms.
Troy studied her a moment. “Honest opinion. Is it worth the price?”
She’d worked with the seller of the yacht previously, but Michaela always did her due diligence. She’d pored over comps and called a few contacts before she’d even agreed to look for a buyer for the Splendid. She wanted to get the most for the seller, but she didn’t want to gouge the buyer either. “It’s a very good price.” Then she added, “We could still do a little bargaining.”
After a sip of the Cakebread, he set the wineglass down and slowly twirled it on the tabletop. “A divorce?”
She blushed, not expecting the question. “I can’t comment on another client.”
But Troy said confidently, “Divorce sale.” Then he gasped. “Don’t tell me you matched them.”
“God forbid.” It was almost an affront. “This client did not use my services in that way. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”
She probably shouldn’t have said that, but she couldn’t let Troy think that one of her matches had ended in divorce. To date, she’d never had a matched couple get divorced. It was a point of pride for her.
Then she changed the subject. “Thank you for the Cakebread wine. Did you know it was one of my favorites?”
He gave her a cocky half-smile. “A lucky guess.”
She had a feeling this man never guessed, lucky or not.
Before they could continue the conversation, a steward approached their cozy table.
She realized now that the yacht was moving, but she hadn’t heard the engines or felt a ripple as the yacht got under way. She’d been concentrating too much on Troy.