PAR FOR CINDERELLA

by MCCARTY, PETIE

  “Neal?”

  “The marina service repairman. Good guy and he can use the money.”

  Ian laughed. “Should I break something else on the yacht, so he can fix it?”

  “No, but have Joe pack my phone charger and a week’s worth of my clothes in a duffel since I’ll be staying here awhile. Just casual stuff: tee shirts and shorts and my sneakers. My shaving kit too.”

  “Anything else for yer masquerade, Cinderella?” Ian asked dryly.

  Aidan clenched his jaw. “Not funny. You just stay out of sight and off the deck. I mean it, Ian. Stay down below somewhere.”

  “Oh, aye! I’ll stay below somewhere.” Ian clicked off.

  The amusement in Ian’s voice as the big Scot agreed to his demand had Aidan’s antennae quivering.

  Casey was engrossed in watching a large fishing charter prepare to load happy clients for a daylong fishing excursion. Crewman bustled about stocking drinks and food, adding buckets of bait to a live well, and cutting up squid and shrimp for extra bait.

  Aidan swiftly punched in the number for Rhett’s cell. “I need a favor,” he said hastily when Rhett answered.

  “You know most folks indulge in a greeting before they start begging.”

  “I don’t have time. I only have a minute.”

  All business now, Rhett asked, “What do you need?”

  “I’m in Cypress Key scoping things out for our project, and I met a guy who needs help.”

  “You always find a guy who needs help.”

  “Just listen, will you? His name’s Neal Riley, and he runs the marina service here.”

  “Sounds like a good guy to know.”

  “Right. He needs a loan, and the bank turned him down. Something funny is going on between the mayor and the bank in this town, and I don’t think Neal is the only victim.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Rhett said. “Maybe I should stop in and visit.”

  “No!” Aidan barked. Too loud since Casey looked back to stare.

  Aidan turned his back to her. “Not yet. I’ll tell you when. I might need you later.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “I’m here for a few weeks.” He grimaced. “Sort of undercover.”

  Rhett groaned. “Just like Garrett.”

  “Stop that! I’m Aidan Cross here. They just don’t know who I am around here. For now, it’s Cross with an e.”

  “Oh for the—”

  “It’s the only way I’ll figure out what’s going on around here.”

  “Fine. And the favor?”

  “I need you to wire twenty-five thousand dollars to Neal Riley as a low-interest loan. Say, one-and-a-half percent. I told Neal you owed me a favor, and since I didn’t need the loan for myself, he could have it. I told him you would be in touch.” Aidan gave him Riley’s number.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Rhett assured him.

  “I’ll have Cross Enterprises wire you the money as soon as possible.”

  “I was really worried about that.”

  Aidan smiled at the sarcasm. Rhett would have made any loan Aidan requested without question.

  “You stay out of trouble, Aidan.”

  “I plan to.” He clicked off, strode down the dock toward Casey, and stowed the bag of ice they’d bought at the mini-mart in the cooler she pointed out on the tour boat.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Sure. Fine,” he said and cast off the runabout’s mooring, then climbed aboard after her. “The boss was just wondering when I would be out with the part. He’s anxious to leave, and he’ll be too busy to chat with you when we get there.”

  “Are you going to tell him you’re staying behind for a while?”

  Was she worried he would back out of his deal?

  “I figured you would pay Uncle Frank back as soon as you got to a bank, or just ask your boss for a loan to cover your bail,” she was saying.

  “I could,” he admitted. “I’m not destitute. But I owe your Uncle Frank and you for not letting me spend even one night in that lousy jail.”

  That was the honest-to-Pete truth. Ian had no way to get ashore last night and bail him out since Aidan had the runabout, and his attorneys couldn’t have reached Cypress Key to get him released until the next morning. Without his own wallet and identification, no bank would help Aidan.

  Casey looked pleased by his admission and settled back in her seat.

  She had been correct at breakfast when she declared the Gulf would be calm. The seas had complied, and he pushed the throttle down hard. The runabout planed out and rocketed across the water’s surface.

  “Why such a hurry?” Casey called out as the yacht came into view on the horizon.

  “I have to get you back for your tour,” he hollered over the whine of the powerful twin two-hundred-fifty-horsepower outboard engines.

  “We’ve got time.”

  He caught the curious glint in her eyes and guessed she was dying for a tour of the yacht.

  Nip that in the bud right now, Cross. That way lies disaster in the image of one nosey Scot.

  “My boss is in a hurry to leave,” he yelled back without slowing. “No time for anything except for me to climb aboard and hand off the ignition controller box.”

  He hated putting that look of disappointment on her face, but it couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t risk leaving Ian alone with her. He would spill the beans for sure. After Garrett’s undercover stunt in Biloxi and the problems it caused, Ian was totally against Aidan doing the same thing.

  The yacht loomed close, and he angled the runabout alongside. Joe waited alone on deck.

  No Ian.

  “That’s our captain, Joe Crawford,” Aidan told a wide-eyed Casey and pointed to the man on deck.

  He caught her gaping as she looked over the boat, and when he motioned her to close her mouth, she scowled at him.

  “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

  Suddenly, what Casey thought of his pride and joy—the boat he had purchased in foreclosure and renovated from the hull up—seemed very important to him. He wanted her to be impressed. That thought floored him as he eased back on the throttle. He’d never wanted to impress his dates. They were already impressed . . . and after his money.

  But, this beauty thought he was poor.

  This Cypress Key girl was different from the rest.

  He grinned over at her and hoped his smile didn’t look as wolfish as he suddenly felt.

  He wanted this beautiful green-eyed girl. More than he had wanted a woman in . . . well, never.

  “Yes, she is,” Casey said primly.

  “You just sit tight. I’ll only be a minute.” Aidan ignored her frown and maneuvered the craft toward the stern, then signaled Joe to lower the hydraulic stairs to the deck. As the bow of the runabout idled even with the stairs, a head peered around the stern from the fishing platform.

  “So ye finally made it back with my boat part, did ye?” the booming voice of a way-too-pleased Highlander sounded from the platform. He spotted Casey and grinned. “And ye’ve brought company.”

  Casey grinned back at him.

  Oh crap.

  ~ ~ ~

  Aidan frowned at the man in the stern and scrambled out of the boat like his shorts had caught fire. Once on deck, he sprinted toward the stairs to the platform at the stern, all but ignoring the captain who watched Casey as though waiting for her to board the boat too. Or rather, the ship. No one could call this monstrosity a boat. The assortment of satellite dishes, arrays, and radar antennae gave it the authoritative look of a naval ship. The vessel was beautiful, sleek, enormous, and patiently floated in anticipation of a boat part to make her run again.

  Boat part!

/>   The ignition controller box lay abandoned on the dash of the runabout right where Aidan had left it in his hurry to board the yacht.

  Casey smiled. So much for his “stay put” order. The whole reason for their trip lay within arm’s reach. Surely, Aidan would be happy she delivered the sought-after control system. She grabbed the box and scrambled up the stairs.

  The captain waiting on deck smiled. “Welcome aboard the Par for the Course, ma’am.”

  She returned the captain’s smile and held out her empty hand, which he gently shook. “I’m Casey Stuart.”

  “Captain Joe Crawford.”

  She held up the box. “Here’s your repaired ignition controller system. Aidan forgot it when he hurried aboard.”

  “Wonderful.” He reverently took the part from her as though it was a medieval relic.

  “So the ship is named Par for the Course?”

  “An appropriate name since Ai—” Crawford stopped and blinked. “Um, since a golf course is the owner’s favorite place to be.”

  “Mine too,” Casey said.

  Shouting erupted from the fishing platform, though the words were unintelligible. Someone was in big trouble, and it could only be Aidan. He’d said several times that his boss had been in a hurry to leave, and she had held Aidan up this morning making him wait for her.

  Or had Aidan asked to stay behind and that made his boss angry? Surely, the boss wouldn’t yell in front of Casey. She hustled down the middle deck toward the back stairs.

  “Wait, Miss Stuart,” Captain Crawford pleaded.

  “It’s okay,” she called over her shoulder. “I just want to tell Aidan I brought the part.” Maybe that would appease his boss.

  At the back rail, she leaned over and saw Aidan almost nose to nose with a really tall—at least two inches taller than Aidan—and very big man with hair the color of burnished copper. His hair was even longer than Aidan’s. Both men were shouting at the same time, each obviously trying to out-argue the other.

  Before the altercation could progress further, Casey waved and called out, “Aidan! Up here! I brought the part. You left it on the boat. The captain has it now.”

  Both heads swiveled upwards toward the second- level deck. Both men gawked at her. In the span of a heartbeat, Aidan scowled and the big man grinned. Maybe he wasn’t even Aidan’s boss. He didn’t dress like a yacht owner in his Bayou Princess Casino tee shirt and cargo shorts, riding low on narrow hips. Not that she knew what yacht owners dressed like, but she had always imagined them in a navy-blue nautical blazer, white pants, and a captain’s cap. Silly image, no doubt. But maybe Aidan just argued with another crewman and wasn’t in trouble at all.

  She grinned back at the big man, and Aidan’s scowl went to a glower. In the next heartbeat, he hustled up the stairs to the deck, the big man right on his heels.

  “I thought I told you to stay put,” Aidan groused when he reached her side.

  “If I’d stayed put, the ignition controller system would have stayed put, too, since you left it on the dashboard of the runabout.”

  “I would’ve come back for it,” he argued.

  Her hands went to her hips. “But now the captain has it, and your boss can leave.”

  “And it’s thankful he is that ye brought it aboard, lass,” the big man claimed in a thick Scottish accent.

  The musical accent made her smile. “My pleasure.”

  Aidan whipped around to square off with the big man again. “I thought you were going to—”

  “—introduce myself? Of course, I will.” He bowed over Casey’s hand, and his lips brushed her knuckles. She thought she heard a growl, but surely that couldn’t have been Aidan.

  “I am Ian MacVicar.” He grinned at a still-scowling Aidan. “Owner of this lovely vessel. And ye are?”

  “Casey Stuart. Pleased to meet you.”

  “As ye said, Miss Stuart, the pleasure is all mine.”

  She shot a sideways glance at Aidan. “Call me Casey.”

  “Casey it is, as long as ye call me Ian.”

  “All right, Ian.”

  Aidan glared pointedly at MacVicar’s hand until he released hers.

  “It’s a great pleasure to have ye aboard, lass.”

  “Thank you. You’re Scottish.”

  “Aye.”

  “I really like your ship’s name,” Casey said, more for something to say since Aidan had gone tall, dark, and sulky. “You must play a lot of golf.”

  Ian glanced over at a still-scowling Aidan. “I do, every chance I get.”

  “My family has a great course on the mainland. Maybe you’d like to play a round of golf.” Maybe she could grease the yacht skids for Aidan after he’d argued with his boss.

  “Why I’d like to—”

  “But he can’t,” Aidan finished and gave his boss a pointed glare. “He has to leave.”

  Small wonder Aidan and his boss were at each other’s throats if that’s the way Aidan talked to him. He’d be lucky not to get fired. Or maybe he did.

  “Maybe another time then. We’d love to offer you a complimentary round of golf,” she told MacVicar, and under her breath, hissed at Aidan, “Stop being so nasty before you get fired.”

  Aidan swung his glare to her.

  She ignored him and turned back to MacVicar who was saying, “Ye are verra kind. I’ll surely take ye up on yer offer sometime soon.”

  “Great.”

  Aidan caught her elbow. “Now we can—”

  “—take that tour of the ship I promised to give yer guest,” MacVicar finished.

  Aidan gaped in shock at his employer, and the Scot’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief. Casey had no idea what was going on with these two, but no way would she pass on a chance at her first-ever yacht tour.

  “Awesome,” she said. “I would love that.”

  “No!” Aidan barked. “No tour.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Casey glared at him.

  “I’ll be begging it as well,” Ian said, fighting a grin.

  “You have a concussion, remember?” Aidan reminded Casey. “You’re supposed to be sitting, not walking around.”

  Ian gaped at her. “Ye said ye saved her life, Aidan. Ye dinna say anything about a concussion.”

  Casey couldn’t help but smile at how his brogue thickened with his concern. “I’m fine. My headache’s gone. A little walking around won’t hurt me if we go slow.”

  Aidan glared at her.

  MacVicar held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  She felt Aidan’s grip tighten on her elbow, but he relented when she gave a firm tug. She tucked her hand in the crook of Ian’s elbow.

  This time she definitely heard a low growl, and the rumble definitely came from Aidan.

  Chapter 7

  MacVicar covered Casey’s hand with his and locked her in place at his side. Like she would bolt, Casey thought.

  “This ship is enormous. How many crew members are there?” she asked.

  “Counting Aidan and me, there is six. Soon to be five since I’m allowing Aidan to remain here for a while, against my better judgment.”

  Aidan rolled his eyes at his boss. If the man kept up this attitude when he worked for Casey, there would be trouble. She intended to set him straight the first chance she got.

  Either Ian didn’t seem to mind his crewman’s belligerence, or he was too polite to let it show. “Seems Aidan has a debt to pay.”

  “Indeed he does,” she agreed, and shot Aidan a pointed and altogether smug look. “He’ll be working for me for the next month.”

  The sooner Aidan realized she was in charge, the better. She would have her yacht tour first, and then they could leave.

  MacVicar barked out a laugh. “I’m sorry I’ll
miss that.”

  “I work for Frank,” Aidan argued.

  “And I run the tour boat,” she countered, “and write work schedules for the golf course.”

  Aidan’s boss now wore the smug expression. “Maybe this will be a grand idea.” He held the door to the living room open for Casey. “Shall we?”

  She was dying to see the opulence of the yacht and stifled a gasp when they stepped into the living room on the second deck. Four decks in all, claimed MacVicar, with the bridge and a work-out/lounging area—partially enclosed and complete with a hot tub—making up the top deck.

  Two enormous sofas faced off in a lushly carpeted living room that included a six-foot wet bar and wall-mounted flat screen TV opposite an outer wall of windows that let in wonderful light. Every wall and exposed deck was created with the same polished teak. A gorgeous cherrywood table that seated eight held center stage in the dining room, surrounded on two sides with built-in glass-doored teak shelves. Two large guest staterooms, decorated in autumn harvest colors, completed the second deck, and each had a bathroom far larger than Casey’s at home with granite tile and countertops.

  She had to work to keep from sighing over the splendor.

  “Let’s go see the third deck.” Aidan’s boss motioned them toward the stairwell.

  “We’ve seen enough,” Aidan interrupted. “We don’t have time for the whole ship.”

  Casey glared at him. “Yes, we do.”

  Grinning, MacVicar led them up the polished teak stairs and passageway to the third deck. Casey ran her hands along the glossy walls of the stairwell.

  She slowed and murmured to Aidan, “Must have taken an entire teak forest in Thailand to create the walls of this ship.”

  MacVicar laughed. “Not a forest, but a number of trees I’d imagine, aye?”

  Casey ducked her head, embarrassed at having been heard.

  “Bulkheads,” Aidan grumbled argumentatively. “The walls are called bulkheads.”

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and hurried after Ian.

  Entry to the third deck stopped her short. An enormous game room opened up before them. A billiards table, a poker table, and a wet bar larger than the one on the deck below all flanked three oversized recliners situated before the biggest flat-screen TV she had ever seen in anyone’s home.