Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
M ichaela parked at the marina in Sausalito. Troy had offered to pick her up, but she didn’t want this to seem like a date. Besides, sitting cocooned in his car with his scent surrounding her—especially after Friday night—might make her a little bonkers. And she had to be sharp around him.
She was both excited and wary. Since the moment she’d agreed to a cruise with him two days ago, her stomach had been filled with butterflies. Or maybe, where Troy Harrington was concerned, they were tadpoles ready to turn into jumping frogs.
She saw his sleek luxury vehicle in the lot. But where was he?
She found the slip number she’d been looking for and headed down the dock.
Naturally, Troy was already charming the captain and his first mate.
A wicker basket dangled from the mate’s hand, and as Michaela approached, she heard him say, “I’ll take care of it for you, sir.”
Take care of what? What was Troy up to?
She thanked her lucky stars there were steps to get aboard and not a ladder she’d have to climb in her tailored suit.
Both the captain and Troy headed straight to her, but Troy got there first, taking her hand as he helped her onto the deck. And not letting go when he should have.
She had to shake the man off. Surreptitiously, of course. She didn’t want the captain to see.
“Michaela, this is Captain Sprague.”
Tall and elegant in his crisp white captain’s uniform, the man was in his mid-fifties, his hair an attractive silver gray.
“It’s so good to meet you, Captain,” she said, shaking his hand.
“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.
The steward, a young man dressed as impeccably in white as the captain, began setting out a feast. They started with a charcuterie plate, including Swiss cheese, mortadella, Black Forest ham, and a basket of baguette slices.
The steward added a pasta salad with artichokes, olives, tomatoes, feta, and mango, along with a bowl of beet hummus surrounded by sesame crackers.
Her mouth was already watering. “Shall I bring dessert now, sir?” the young steward asked. “Or after you’ve finished with this course?”
Troy gave him an appreciative smile. “Thank you. Let’s wait for dessert.”
Then the young man filled two tumblers, the water infused with grapefruit, pomegranate, and mint. “If you need anything else, press the button at the edge of the table.” He pointed to a button by Troy’s right hand.
Once he’d left, and before Michaela could say a thing, Troy asked her, “Does the crew come with the boat?”
“I’m sure you can negotiate with the captain.”
He winked. “The service is excellent.”
She took in the spread before her as the boat—yacht—sailed past Tiburon.
The sea breeze was crisp and the sun warm on her shoulders.
And Troy was too close for comfort. “This is too much. Tell me how you knew all my favorite things.” Every single delicacy was something she loved. “I never took you for a stalker.”
She tasted the pasta salad and almost groaned in delight.
He didn’t give away a thing. “That’s for me to know and you to guess.”
The beet hummus was to die for. She’d tried making beet hummus on her own, but she’d failed miserably. Even her mother, an excellent cook, wasn’t able to get it quite right. But they’d found a store-bought one that was delicious. She’d recognize the flavor anywhere.
“Tell me right now, or I’ll throw you overboard.”
In answer, he drawled, “I won a gold medal in diving. I think I’ll be all right.”
She couldn’t help her smile or the frisson of pleasure along her spine.
He’d cheated, but he liked that Michaela wouldn’t take no for an answer. And maybe she deserved the truth. “I asked Susan to call your mother. And Flo revealed everything.”
“I’m going to kill my mom,” she growled. But that didn’t stop her from enjoying mortadella and Swiss cheese on a slice of baguette.
Maybe he should have added the Brie and pepper jelly as well.
And though he knew she wanted to get mad, she was downright groaning over the curated meal.
He lifted his wineglass. “The Cakebread chardonnay is delicious. An excellent choice.”
Her chin tilted up slightly, almost defiantly. “I have expensive tastes.”
Without her having to say a word, he guessed that though her tastes might be expensive, she rarely gave in to them. That’s why pulling together all her favorites had been so special. Her mother had even suggested buying the beet hummus at a little deli around the corner from Michaela’s office.
“Since we’re trying out the yacht —” He stretched out the word. “—to see if I like it, let’s just enjoy this meal.” Then he added with a smile, “And not be mad at your mom.”