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Scandal on the Sand (The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay #3) Page 27
Author: Roxanne St. Claire

“I have it on good authority that it’ll be raining in a few hours, so we should take advantage of the clear skies. What would you like to drink?”

“Surprise me.”

He stepped away and picked up a phone in the dining room, spoke softly, then came back outside, standing right behind her.

“I want to ask you a question, Liza.” His voice was low and close to her ear, giving her chills.

“Okay.”

He ran his hands up her bare arms. “Are you cold?”

“No. Is that the question?”

He laughed softly. “No.” With his hands on her shoulders, he slowly turned her from the stunning view to face him. Which was another stunning view. “Are you satisfied with what we found out today?”

She frowned. “Satisfied?”

“Do you believe that I’m not Dylan’s father?”

“Yes,” she said. “After thinking about it for the past two hours, I believe that Carrie must have had one hell of an imagination and maybe tried to make her boyfriend jealous or...I don’t know. Don’t you?”

“I want to put it behind us.”

Us. The word made her whole body feel light. “So I can work for you and this issue won’t always be there?” Because surely that’s what he meant.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And so when I kiss you tonight, you won’t be thinking about my past, especially with her.”

She didn’t know what made her dizzier—the fact that he was going to kiss her or the fact that he had no doubt he was going to kiss her. She lifted a brow. “Will you?”

“Kiss you or think about her?” He pulled her closer.  “I’ll answer one of those questions easily.” He kissed her on the mouth, a steady, strong, serious kiss that was somehow different from what they’d shared in the cab.

“Nate?” she whispered into his mouth.

“Hmm?”

“Is kissing you going to be part of this job you’re offering?”

“Actually, we have a strict kissing-is-allowed policy, so...” He kissed her on the nose, lightly. “Yes.”

Before she could answer, a steward tapped on the dining room door. “Hold that thought,” Nate said, stepping away. 

She leaned on the railing, facing the twilight sky and navy blue water, her lips still tingling from the contact. Her whole body, in fact, was humming pretty hard from her head down to her bare toes.

Nate came up behind her again, reaching around to offer a crystal martini glass with clear liquid. With the dimming light behind it, she could see every cut in the glass, which refracted the light like a diamond.

“Another house special?” she asked.

“Just a simple dry martini, but the glass is a family secret.”

She took the drink, a little surprised at how heavy the crystal was. “I thought Ivory Glass was the tempered stuff that went into skyscrapers.”

He gestured toward a wide leather sofa. “That’s true and certainly how my grandfather made the fortune. But we also have some very small and exclusive lines of glass and crystal that are really more for personal use and to give as gifts. There’s actual diamond dust blown into the glass.” He toasted her. “And you may keep yours.”

She laughed. “Thank you. It’s like I get to keep everything I touch on this yacht.” Except him. She couldn’t keep him. She had to remember that all this was a dreamy fantasy, and not reality. Not Liza Lemanski’s reality, anyway.

“Cheers.” He tapped her glass and sipped, holding her gaze over the rim.

“You seem much more relaxed than when we left town,” she observed without taking her own drink.

“I am. I talked to my grandfather.”

She inched back in surprise. “You did? You told him...about the tape?”

He nodded. “It’s how we roll in the family. No surprises, no matter how bad they might be.”

“What did he say?”

He blew out a slow breath. “Some choice words, but, you know...”

“No,” she admitted. “I don’t know.”

“He knows my history and believes in my future.”

She smiled, the words a lovely echo of what she’d told him earlier. “Yes. I like that. I do, too.”

He leaned closer and kissed her lightly. “You haven’t tasted the house special yet.”

She answered by intensifying the kiss. Parting her lips, she let their tongues touch, tasting lemon and dry vermouth and the sweetness of a man who’d finally come to terms with his demons.

“I just did,” she whispered into the kiss. “And he tastes great.”

Chapter Ten

All the parties, all the women, all the noise and chaos and music and wasted nights on this yacht, and Nate simply couldn’t remember one night he enjoyed more than his dinner date with Liza Lemanski.

Fresh off the best and most honest conversation he’d had in years—maybe ever—with his grandfather, Nate’s mood soared as they laughed, held hands, sipped martinis, and talked about everything and nothing until the twilight turned to complete darkness.

Eventually, they moved into the dining room for lobster and salad, chocolate mousse and dessert wine. With the rain still holding off, and the sea breeze warm and strong, they took a long walk around the deck. The stewards and staff did exactly what he paid them to do—disappeared when he wanted them to—adding to the sensation that they were utterly alone, which was all he wanted to be.

They reached the upper deck with not a soul in sight. He guided her to the oversized leather sun bed at the far end of the yacht.

“We must be getting close to Naples,” she said, eyeing the distant lights of the mainland on the port side. “If I see lights, we’ve passed the Everglades.”

“We are, but there’s no reason to dock tonight if you want to stay at sea.”

“I have a reason. His name is Dylan.” She gave him a light elbow. “Trust me, kids change everything.”

“I trust you.” He ushered her to the sun bed, moving a few tufted pillows to make room for both of them. “But we still have time for a dip in the pool or drink in the spa if you like.”

“Hmm.” She considered that as she settled next to him, letting him snuggle her under his arm. Her body fit perfectly against his, curvy and soft and feminine. He already itched to touch more skin, to feel her under him and on top of him. He satisfied himself with stroking her bare arm and watching her eyes shutter closed, telling him she wanted the same thing. “I’d have to borrow a bathing suit from your sister.”

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Roxanne St. Claire's Novels
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