Booked for Summer

Chapter 1

Chapter One

J ade’s toes, currently slotted into a pair of sparkly flip-flops, curled with excitement as the train pulled into the station. Okay, maybe a teeny bit of her still wished she was heading to a tropical island because, duh, what sane, sun-worshipping, book-obsessed person wouldn’t want to spend three months in a place where they could read steamy romances on perfect white sandy beaches? This Nantucket place though, the one she’d never heard of a few months ago… well it certainly wasn’t Twickenham. In the guidebook she’d devoured on the plane to Boston, she’d seen pictures of sandy beaches, though they did look a bit windswept. Also, marinas with long wooden pontoons, lighthouses and deep blue waters dotted with white sailing boats. Nantucket had a small-town vibe, so the book said, but with a heavy dose of glamour, taste and style.

She’d had a little snigger to herself when she’d read that. In her twenty-five years on the planet, she’d managed Devon, Margate and a week in Spain. A culturally sophisticated island in the Atlantic off Cape Cod was not a place she’d ever expected to find herself. Especially one that she’d read wasn’t the playground of millionaires, but of billionaires .

God knows what they’d make of her.

The Cape Flyer – even the name of the train she’d taken from Boston to Hyannis sounded posh– finally drew into the station. Butterflies flapped in her belly as she stuffed her Kindle into her bag. She didn’t even mind that she’d left the devilishly handsome billionaire in a state of tortured agony as he watched the woman he’d fallen for walk away from him. Daft sod hadn’t told her how he felt. Thankfully, there were still another few chapters left for him to come to his senses, but for now, Jade was more focused on her own story. Her own new chapter.

The train came to a halt and she leapt out of her seat, clean forgetting the half-eaten bag of gummy bears on her lap, which cartwheeled into the air, landing on the lap of the woman across the aisle who let out a disdainful sigh.

‘You seem in a rush to get off,’ her fellow passenger remarked as she brushed the poor buggers onto the floor. ‘Where are you headed?’

Jade’s happy buzz was too great to be dimmed by the condescending look. ‘Nantucket.’

The woman’s eyes flicked from Jade’s flip-flops up to her white shorts and then further, to the pink T-shirt straining over her boobs, before landing on her face and giving her a tight-lipped smile. ‘It’s not a usual holiday destination for someone… like you.’

She let the insult roll off her. It didn’t mean it didn’t niggle, didn’t rub at old scars. ‘Oh, I’m not on holiday. I’m going to manage a bookstore over the summer. Little Bay Book Shack. Isn’t that the cutest name? I originally applied to run one in the Maldives, but this sounds way cooler, don’t you think?’

The woman frowned, studying Jade. ‘You don’t look like a bookstore manager.’

‘Oh, I’m not one, not yet.’ Jade pushed a smile on her face. ‘I’m a publishing assistant.’ It was the title she’d told her parents when she’d got the job, hoping they’d be impressed, at least more impressed than they had been with her waitressing job. Sadly, while she loved the idea of working with books, so far all publishing assistant had turned out to be was a posh name for the office dogsbody.

Brushing off the depressing thought– she was here to make new, positive memories– Jade reached up to grab her backpack from the overhead rack. Damn, it was wedged, and God knows what on because five-foot-two flip-flop wearers had no hope of seeing up there. Taking hold of the strap, she gave it a determined tug. ‘Buggeration.’ The backpack flew out of her hand and fell onto the floor. She bent to pick it up, giving the keyring she’d secured on the zip an absent-minded stroke.

‘Stop staring, Roger,’ the woman hissed to the man next to her. ‘It’s not like you’ve never seen breasts before.’

You’d be taken more seriously if you wore less revealing clothes.

Jade shook off the memory of her sister’s words. She liked looking sexy. It made her feel confident, even when inside she was bricking it. Like now, because even though she’d not stepped foot on it yet, she knew Nantucket was a million miles away from what she was used to.

And way too sophisticated for a girl in shorts, flip-flops and a Kindle packed with steamy billionaire romances.

‘I suspect he’s staring at my good-luck charm,’ Jade supplied, waving the keyring and letting Roger off the hook. ‘I bought it years ago because I kept being told I was a bookworm, so I figured a bookworm should have a worm. But then someone told me that what I thought was a cute fury worm was actually a caterpillar. Worms and caterpillars are pretty similar, though, don’t you think?’

She didn’t get an answer, just an excruciatingly polite smile. Still, at least her boobs were no longer under discussion.

Stepping into the aisle she shuffled along to the end of the carriage. When she spotted her neon pink suitcase she went to reach for it but a male arm got there first.

‘Don’t want a lovely little thing like you straining yourself, honey. I’ll carry it off for you.’

Jade turned to find Roger giving her a broad wink. Over the top of his bald head, the woman he’d been sitting with was staring daggers at them.

‘Tell me, Roger, the woman you’re travelling with, is she your wife?’

He gave her a puzzled frown. ‘Yes.’

‘And you’ve been married for how long?’

‘Thirty years.’ He shrugged, his shirt pulling over his paunch. ‘Give or take.’

‘So why are you helping me, someone you don’t know and will never meet again, over the person you share your life with?’

His face reddened and he opened his mouth, then closed it again, much like a trout.

‘Bye Roger, and Roger’s wife,’ she added, peering round him.

Ignoring their nonplussed looks, she gave them both a little wave before lugging her case off the train.

Shame he’d been fixated on her boobs, because the thing was frigging heavy, but women had to stick together. Even sour-faced ones.

Once out of the station, she opened Google Maps on her phone and set off to the harbour, dragging her case behind her along the red brick path until she reached the wharf. And, wow, it was a pretty harbour: fishing boats jostling alongside sailing boats. Inhaling a lungful of fresh sea air, she set down her case and reread the email containing instructions for her pick-up.

Ignore the ferry sign, head instead for the Haven Resort water-taxi pontoon.

Apparently The Little Bay Book Shack was next door to a five-star resort, and she was hitching a ride on their boat.

Trundling her case behind her, she made her way along the waterfront, stopping at the wooden pontoons to look for a sign. She paused at a gleaming white motor yacht and gave a silent high-five when she read the name written in elegant font across the side. Holy cow. Now that’s what she called a boat transfer. It looked like it should have been moored at Monaco, waiting for an elegant film star in a floaty silk dress and uber chic shades, or a guy in a cream linen suit and Ray-Ban’s.

Not a travel-worn office minion in flip-flops.

But you’re not a minion now, not for the next three months . With a grin, she picked up her case and hopped on board. Jade Taylor, formerly of Twickenham, was heading to work on a frigging thirty-metre yacht.

‘Hello?’ She tapped on the smoked glass door.

It slid open, and as she craned her neck to look up at the man on the other side, her jaw almost fell to the floor. That guy in the linen suit and Ray-Bans? He was right there . The suit was pale blue not cream, and the shades were slipped into the top pocket of the jacket, but the whole image screamed hot, sexy film star. Jet-black hair, square jaw, steel-grey eyes, cheekbones that would make a model sigh. There was an edge to his looks– dark stubble, a scar that bisected his right eyebrow– that stopped him from looking too pretty, too perfect.

And left him looking instead like the hottest man she’d ever come across.

‘Er, hi, I’m Jade.’ Cool eyes stared back at her. Feeling self-conscious, she rubbed her sweaty palms on the shorts she’d slopped clam chowder soup down during yesterday’s mad dash tour of Boston. ‘Are you waiting for the transfer, too?’

His eyebrows scrunched together. ‘Sorry?’

‘The transfer to Haven Resort. Oh, wait, are you the driver?’ He didn’t look like a typical taxi driver, but this was a water taxi.

A humming, awkward silence met her question, interrupted only by the gentle lap of water.

‘You’re waiting for a transfer to Haven Resort?’ he said finally.

Her belly fluttered. He even had a film star voice, all deep and gravelly with an American drawl. Still, he wasn’t exactly friendly. ‘That’s why I’m on the boat. And I presume you’re on it because you drive it.’

One of his dark brows arched upwards. ‘I own it.’

‘Oh.’ She knew a lot of taxi drivers owned their own cars, but this was another league. ‘But you drive it as well?’

He slid his hands into his pockets. ‘I sail her, yes.’

Sail, not drive, got it. Though the lack of an actual sail surely made him wrong, not her. She glanced around at the jetty. ‘Are we waiting for anyone else?’

His gaze swept her up and down. ‘You’re expecting me to take you to the Haven Resort?’

Was there an emphasis on you , or had she imagined it? She straightened her back. ‘That is where I’m heading, yes.’ Fumbling around in her bag, she pulled out her phone. ‘My instructions say to head to the Haven Resort dock and catch the waiting water taxi.’

‘The Haven dock is the next one over.’

She frowned. ‘But it says Haven on the side of this boat.’

He sighed and rested his hand against the door frame. It tightened the white shirt across his chest, giving her a tantalising glimpse of tanned skin and dark chest hair. ‘ Ocean Haven . It’s the name of my boat.’

‘Oh.’ Shit. Embarrassed now, she started to giggle, which was a habit she really wished she could break. ‘That’s a bit of a coincidence.’ Those eyes levelled with hers. Stormy grey, mysterious looking, they provided no clue as to what he was thinking. ‘So, I guess I’ll just hop off your boat and…’ She motioned towards a less impressive-looking boat moored up on the next pontoon. ‘Skedaddle onto that one.’

His gaze stayed on hers for another few humming beats before finally following the direction of her hand. ‘He appears to be waiting for you.’

And now she saw a weathered-looking man dressed in a white shirt and black shorts, standing at the front, looking over at them. ‘So he does.’

She gave her new driver/sailor/taxi a wave and went to pick up her case, but Mr Film Star let out a muffled curse and took it from her, stepping easily off the boat and onto the wooden pontoon. Then he turned and held out his hand to her. As she settled her hand into his, her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth. Warm, calloused, strong, his touch sent sparks racing across her skin and when his gaze collided with hers, something hot and achy pulsed between them. Was he… was he attracted to her? Did he feel this, too? But in a flash his hand was gone, and with it the moment.

Pulse still racing, she watched him stride ahead of her to the next jetty and hand her case over to the guy on the boat.

‘Um, thank you for carrying my case,’ she said when she finally caught up. He nodded, his gaze coming to rest on her rucksack, and the keyring. ‘Do you think he looks like a caterpillar, or a worm?’

He stared at her blankly. ‘Does it matter?’

‘It does to him.’ The man’s eyes flew open, and she liked that she’d caught him off balance. Evened her up a bit.

‘Worms are brown, he… it is green.’ He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe he was having the conversation. ‘Enjoy your stay, Jade.’

Her stomach swooped at the sound of her name in that deep drawl. A second later he was gone, those long legs striding back towards his boat.

‘Welcome, Miss.’ Her new driver– she was sticking to that. They used a wheel, didn’t they?– gave her a wide smile. ‘You’re going to Haven Resort, yes?’

‘Um, well, not exactly.’ Seeing as he seemed friendly, she added in a whisper, ‘I’m actually going to work in the bookstore next door.’

‘Ah, you’re Flo’s girl.’ He gave her a conspiratorial wink. ‘Don’t tell anyone but we have an arrangement. I let her shop use the resort water taxi, and she sorts the wife out with books whenever she wants one. So maybe we’ll see more of each other. I’m George, the wife is Emma.’

She held out her hand to shake his. ‘Pleased to meet you, George. And I look forward to talking books with your Emma.’

He chuckled. ‘Careful, don’t go being too friendly or she’ll never leave your shop. So, have you been to Nantucket before?’

‘Nope, it’s my first time.’

‘Ah, well it’s an odd mix of quaint and sophisticated but there’s something for everyone. And the scenery is spectacular.’

Involuntarily, her gaze tracked the tall, lean, dark-haired figure as he climbed back onto his motor yacht. ‘I can imagine.’

* * *

Liam resisted the impulse to stop and… what? Stare? Walk back to continue a conversation about worms, for Christ’s sake. But God, the desire to turn around, to have those enormous blue eyes rest on him a little bit longer… it was almost overwhelming. He was used to female attention– amazing what a bit of money could do– but he wasn’t used to enjoying it. Craving more of it.

And he knew where she was heading. The same place he was.

The smart side of his brain told him he didn’t need the distraction, and there was no way the blonde Brit with the curvy figure crammed into a bubble-gum-pink top and tiny shorts, would be anything but a distraction.

The side of his brain connected to his dick told him a distraction was exactly what he needed while he tried to juggle expanding the Haven Resort empire, managing the Nantucket resort (thanks to the resignation of his resort manager) and finally completing the purchase of the neighbouring wharf from a highly eccentric seventy-year-old he’d been trying to pin down for over a year. And who’d just wriggled out of yet another meeting.

If you’d not been so rude, that curvy blonde bombshell of a distraction could be with you now, in your boat. Looking up at you from under her lids with those big eyes .

He shook away the image and cast off the mooring lines. Sliding open the doors on the main deck, he walked forward through the salon to the bridge. Unable to help himself, he turned to watch the Haven transfer set off. A blonde figure, dressed in bright pink, sat on the aft deck, face turned towards him. No, face turned towards his boat. She couldn’t possibly see him through the tinted glass.

Enough. He yanked his phone out of his pocket and dialled Jeremy, guest-services manager at Nantucket and, whether he wanted it or not, now his right-hand man. ‘I’m on my way.’

‘Sorry, who is this?’

Liam scowled down at the phone. ‘You know damn well who.’

‘Well, okay, I might know because I might have you saved in my contact list under Big Bad Boss Man, but a few pleasantries wouldn’t go amiss.’

God, the man was frustrating. If he wasn’t such an organised pain in the ass adored by customers and staff alike, and if he hadn’t made himself indispensable since the resort had opened, and Liam wasn’t already one key member of staff down, he might suggest Jeremy find another resort owner to piss off. ‘I’m warning you I’m on my way, rather than turning up unannounced, how much pleasanter do you want me to be?’

Jeremy let out a pained-sounding sigh. ‘I suppose in your world that was a kindness. Okay boss, see you soon. We’ll get the red carpet out for you.’

Liam ended the call, well aware the man was being sarcastic. Neither Jeremy nor Leroy, the restaurant manager and Jeremy’s fiancé, tried to kiss his butt, which Liam had a grudging respect for. But he was the boss, something he’d worked fucking hard to achieve, and he figured he was owed some respect.

Speaking of respect, or lack of it, he punched in the number for Flo.

‘Ah, Mr Haven, I thought you might call.’

He forced a calm into his voice that he wasn’t feeling. ‘You didn’t bring me the signed contract.’

‘I know, but I checked my horoscope and today wasn’t a good one for signing deals.’

Give him strength. ‘Tomorrow, then?’

A pause, then a tinkle of laughter. ‘You’re an Aries, aren’t you? Blunt, assertive, can be seen as aggressive. Often quick-tempered and impatient.’

‘It’s not my birth date that’s making me impatient.’ He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘This is the fourth time you’ve said you’ll sign and haven’t. Do you want to sell or not?’

Flo owned the wharf next to the land he’d bought five years ago and had turned into a thriving resort. He wanted the wharf for many reasons, not least because it was where the water taxi and his own yacht were docked.

‘I don’t want to sell.’ She paused, then let out a gentle sigh. ‘But I’m not getting any younger, and my children need the proceeds.’

‘Well, next time you cancel, the offer gets reduced.’ He paused, decided to drive the point home. ‘You know it’s not worth what I’m paying to anyone else.’

She humphed. ‘I’ve got old and lazy. With the right person in charge, the shop and the wharf could be a viable asset.’

‘You’re using prime real-estate land to sell books.’

‘To sell beautiful books that guests in your swanky resort happily part with their money to enjoy. I hope you’ll remember that when you take it over.’

‘When it’s mine, I’ll do what I want with it.’ He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say he’d be bulldozing Little Bay Book Shack (it was every bit as kitschy as it sounded). ‘But as I’ve already told you, I’ll honour any commitments you’ve made.’

‘I suppose that’s the most I can hope for.’ Her voice sounded resigned, and he was glad. Whimsical bookstores had no place in the hard reality that was life.

‘I’m here for a few days.’ He decided not to tell her he was stuck for a while until he hired a new manager. ‘I expect to receive a signed contract from you.’

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he gave the bow a kick with the thruster to pull away from the berth. Then he headed in the direction of Nantucket, and the Haven Resort– one of three under his name, though this was the flagship resort. The first, the largest, and the one that had given him the most satisfaction.

He’d been fourteen when he’d vowed to turn Haven into a name that was respected, not sniggered at or dismissed. With his recent acquisition of the waterfront next to the Nantucket resort, and the wharf nearly in his grasp, he was well on the way to keeping that promise.

On that positive note, he pushed the throttle in, relishing the shift in power, the list of the boat as it cut through the waves. This was why he travelled by sea, not air. Nothing beat the feeling of freedom that sailing solo could give him.

Maybe tonight he’d look out for the blonde. It was unusual to see a young woman travelling here alone. Most of the guests were couples or families, who came to get away from city life and relax in the beauty of the island. Whatever it was that drew her, was her business. But if he locked eyes with her again, and if hers held the same spark of arousal they had when he’d taken her hand, he might forget his no-guest rule and see if she was willing to mix that business with pleasure.