Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
O n Saturday, Troy’s yacht, signed, sealed, and delivered, lay moored beside the dock in the deepwater harbor of Walter Braedon’s Big Sur resort. As she beheld the sleek, massive beast with every luxury, Michaela could think only about that first glorious kiss with Troy in the stern of the yacht.
He’d once again sent a limo for them, and Michaela and Flo had arrived for Lyssa and Cal’s beach-party wedding only ten minutes ago, wearing the beautiful swimwear Michaela had helped her mother create.
Flo wore a one-piece suit with a cover-up cinched beneath her breasts and falling in beautiful folds to just above her ankles, the neckline, long sleeves, and hem bordered in lace.
The two of them had chosen a bikini for Michaela, with a matching sarong wrapped around her hips, leaving her midriff and shoulders bare.
When she’d objected, her mother had scoffed, “It’s a beach party.
If I could flaunt this body—” She ran her hands down her caftan. “—I’d do it in a New York minute.”
Michaela had always wondered how long or short a New York minute actually was.
But she gave in to her mother’s insistence.
She did love the material they’d chosen, colorful fish on a blue background.
So now she had fish swimming over her breasts, as well as fish swimming across her derriere, though they were covered up by the sarong.
They gazed down at the sparkling waters of the Pacific Ocean.
There wasn’t another cove like this along the stretch of Highway 1 heading south.
Mostly, the coast was craggy cliffs leading down to a narrow strip of beach, if there was a beach at all.
But Walter Braedon had managed to find the perfect spot for his resort.
Michaela wondered if this beach was man-made, with even the slope down to the water having been wrestled into submission by Walter’s engineers.
She suspected even the deepwater cove had help.
But whether it was man-made or not, this place felt like heaven on earth. The perfect scene for a Maverick wedding.
The sloping gardens of the Regent Resort were resplendent with blooming azaleas, rhododendrons, camellias, and hydrangeas, and the guests wore beachwear as bright as the flowering bushes.
The cove was perfect for sailboats, yachts, and sightseeing boats, which could moor along the dock, while the other side of the cove provided the perfect beach for sunbathers, swimmers, and body surfers.
Buffet tables had been set up on a flat, grassy area where the food would later be served.
These were accompanied by several dining tables, including a long, elaborately decorated head table for the wedding party.
A large deck covered with parquet flooring—presumably for dancing later on—fronted the dock.
From the grass and across the deck, a red carpet led to the boarding steps of Troy’s yacht.
Chairs had been set out on the parqueted deck, providing a perfect view of the yacht’s bow, where Lyssa Spencer and Cal Danniger would say their vows.
How Troy had arranged for the use of his yacht—since he’d just signed the papers on Monday—Michaela could only marvel at.
But then, he was a billionaire, and all it took was money.
She crushed the reminder of all the reasons she couldn’t be with him. Her mother had made her promise to try to fit in and enjoy herself.
Beside her, Flo said in an awed whisper, “This is mind-boggling.” She scanned the scene filled with café tables and drinks carts. Waitstaff moved through the milling crowd, handing out champagne and canapés.
Michaela had a feeling her mother wasn’t gazing at the scenery, but searching for Walter.
As if the thought of Troy had conjured him, he leaped off the last step of the yacht and beelined for them. Dressed in orange board shorts and a Hawaiian-style shirt covered in bird of paradise flowers, he outshone her in color.
He hugged her mother first, then stood back, holding out her arms, surveying her beautiful cover-up. “Do not tell me you made this magnificent outfit, Flo.”
Michaela’s mother blushed, saying almost coquettishly, “We had to have something new and fabulous for such a lovely wedding.”
Then, finally, Troy took Michaela’s hand, still holding her mother’s as well. “You’re both stunning.” Which was the effect they’d been going for.
His gaze roamed Michaela’s curves, and instead of seeming pervy, the way his eyes alighted on her made her feel like a goddess. A little voice inside whispered, Do not throw yourself at him .
Not dropping their hands, Troy backed up. “I’d love to show you the yacht, Flo. Michaela has already seen it, having brokered the deal for me. But it has everything I wanted. You have to see it.”
Michaela was dimly aware this could be a trick to get her on board.
But her mother would be there for protection.
The yacht’s railings had been decorated with garlands of silver and gold wedding bells, along with vases of sweetly scented flowers that led to the bow, where the arbor stood for the wedding ceremony.
Then she saw it along the forward hull. The yacht’s new name. It was no longer Splendid .
Gasping, she put her hand to her mouth. “You’re kidding. You didn’t.”
Flo asked, “What?”
Michaela pointed, and her mother read aloud, “ Matchmaker .” Then she clapped her hands. “I love it.”
Michaela turned on Troy, who was smiling that enticingly wicked smile of his. “How did you do this so fast?” There was paperwork, documentation, red tape.
He shrugged, the answer obvious. Because he was a billionaire who had probably paid an extraordinary amount of money to expedite everything.
“But why?”
His gaze traced her features like a caress. “Because the billionaire matchmaker found me the perfect boat.”
“It’s a yacht,” she whispered. But he hadn’t called it the Perfect Match . He’d named it the Matchmaker . After her .
“Without you, I wouldn’t have this beautiful yacht ,” he said. “I wanted to give you credit.”
She wanted to throw her arms around him. If her mother hadn’t been there, she might have.
Then he added, “I know you always make your match.”
Oh, there was meaning there, all right. But for some reason, it didn’t scare her as much as it usually did. She’d been doing a lot of thinking these past few days.
Her mother waved a hand. “Well, I’m dying to see the Matchmaker . Lead on.”
Flo was again moved to awe over the luxury of the dining area, the living room, the bar lounge. And the magnificent cabins below with their own deluxe appointments. She marveled over the sundeck, the pool, the hot tub, and the deck in the stern where Troy had fed Michaela all her favorite foods.
And where he’d kissed her for the first time.
If this were a romance movie, it would have been a swoon-worthy moment, with all the accompanying sexy, sensuous looks flashing between them.
Michaela didn’t dare look at him.
To hide her inner turmoil, she asked, “Where’s Lyssa? I thought she’d be getting ready down here.”
Troy pointed in the direction of the hotel. “She’s in the bridal suite, along with all her bridesmaids. The entire wedding party is staying there.” Then he winked. “That’s what the red carpet is for, to create the illusion of an aisle.”
Flo clasped her hands to her chest. “That is so perfect.”
Then Michaela saw it and couldn’t help herself. “Oh my God, you installed a diving board.”
Troy beamed as though she’d given him high praise and pointed to a control panel. “It can be raised and lowered to different heights.” His gaze raking her, he added, “Since you’re wearing a bathing suit, I hope you’ll dive with me.”
She wagged a finger in his face. “Oh no. I’m not going in that ocean.”
Flo added, “Michaela doesn’t like creepy ocean things.”
Troy grinned. “She’s told me. But I’m going to work on her.”
He already had worked on her right here on this deck, kissing her until she couldn’t breathe.
Troy didn’t comment on her flushed cheeks, thankfully glancing at his watch instead. “Speaking of Lyssa, I should get you two ladies seated. The wedding will be starting soon.”
As they headed back to the steps, her mother asked, “Where’s Walter? I haven’t seen him yet.”
“Oh, he’s here, believe me,” Troy said. “He wants to make sure everything is flawless for the day. I’m sure you’ll see him later.”
Helping the ladies down the steps, he once again took both their arms, leading them back down the red carpet to the chairs, which were now almost full of guests. He guided them to two empty seats a few rows back, but instead of leaving, Troy plunked down in the chair next to Michaela.
Aghast, she said, “Don’t you have to do something on board for the wedding?”
“It’s all taken care of.” Then he leaned close, his breath warm and sweet against her ear. “Don’t worry, I won’t try to ravage you in front of everyone.”
Her heart tried to hammer its way out of her chest.
Just when she thought she might melt into him, Walter appeared at the end of their row, dressed in golf slacks and the required Hawaiian shirt, his with a flamingo print. He stuck out his hand, and Troy shook it. “Thanks for saving me a seat,” he said.
Michaela realized there was an empty chair beside her mother.
Walter gave Michaela a joyful smile. “I’m so glad you could come.
” A moment later, his gaze fell on her mother, and suddenly it was as though no one else in the world existed.
Sidling along in front of them, he lowered himself into the seat next to Flo and took her hand in his, lavishing her skin with a very sweet kiss.
Her mother’s smile was like a flower opening in the sun. Michaela’s heart seemed to stop, and her mind could register only one thing. Her mother was in love with Walter Braedon. And even more, he was in love with her.
There wasn’t another moment to think as, incredibly, Fernsby escorted Susan Spencer down the aisle. “That’s Lyssa and Cal’s little boy Owen in her arms,” Troy murmured.