The Ruthless Gentleman

by Louise Bay

  She drew the edge of her thumbnail across the desk, dividing the space between us and I imagined her delicate wrists circled by my hands and pushed up over her head as I kissed her. “But that’s not it. If his company’s that successful, he probably could have sold a long time ago and never worked again, right?”

  “Absolutely. He’s crazy to have waited until now.”

  She nodded as if what I was saying completely made sense. “So that’s it then. He’s deliberately placing obstacles in the way of the sale. So he doesn’t have to let go.”

  I sat forward, almost crossing the invisible line she’d created, and she lifted herself off the desk and stepped back. Was she concerned I was going to touch her? I could read women pretty well, and I was more than sure this attraction I was feeling was mutual.

  “No one gets that successful without being driven by the performance of the business. Of course it’s about the money for him.”

  “Is it all about the money for you?”

  I took a breath. I wasn’t about to confess to Avery that it was important for me to be successful and for people to see me as such. I wasn’t about to tell her how I wanted my father to feel some sense of satisfaction from me building up a business more successful than Cannon. “I’m not sure I’m the right comparison. Most people in my business are driven by pounds and pence.” I wasn’t convinced by Avery’s theory. Greed was the guiding force in the City.

  “I’m not saying that he will give his company away for free. But that money represents something for him. I bet you a hundred dollars that this is personal when you get down to it.”

  “A hundred dollars, huh?” I grinned at her. I liked the way she stood behind what she was saying and didn’t back down.

  I sat back in my chair. I’d heard rumors of several abandoned attempts at a sale over the years. Was it less about the cash and more about Harold not wanting to see his legacy belong to someone else?

  “Yes, a hundred dollars. How would you feel if you’d built something up for fifty years and a perfect stranger was going to take it over? The people he works with are probably like family to him and then he’s got to decide what to do with all the time he normally devotes to his work.”

  “It’s possible. But I’m not sure it helps. If he doesn’t want to let go, he doesn’t want to let go.”

  “Really? So you just give up? I can’t imagine you made the kinda money you need to make to rent a yacht like this for eight weeks by just surrendering.”

  I laughed. “You pretend you’re all sweetness and what-can-I-get-for-you but in fact, you’re actually kinda pushy. A fighter.”

  She shrugged, trying to hold back a smile. “I have both sides to me. Most people don’t get to see beyond the sweet.”

  For a long second we held each other’s eye, on the edge of acknowledging that she’d confessed I knew her better than most. I liked that I did. I liked her and both her sides.

  She looked away first and backed toward the door. I stood and shoved my hands in my pockets.

  “I think you might be on to something. I need to figure out how to get this guy comfortable with selling to me, and it’s not going to be about what’s in the legal documents.”

  “Sounds like your brain rearranged. I hate to say I told you so but . . .” Her voice was higher, less conversational than before. Sweet Avery was back. “I should get back to it. Can I get you anything else?”

  I shook my head, smiling at her, keeping my gaze fixed on her as she slipped out of the office. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was the only woman I’d been physically close to in weeks, but my cock was twitching, and I’d been seconds away from reaching for her. Sweet, funny, sexy and smart—Avery Walker had it all. And as much as I might not want to fuck her quickly, bent over my desk. I definitely wanted something more from her.

  Twelve

  Avery

  “I owe you, Avery Walker,” Hayden said, turning from where he was leaning against the balustrade facing the sea. He grinned as the sliding doors of the main salon closed behind me.

  “You do?” I set down his coffee on the side table near his usual lounger. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant but his British accent, softened a little by the sun and that wide grin, felt overfamiliar.

  “You were right. He was getting jittery about letting go,” he said, striding toward me.

  As he leaned to pick up his coffee, I caught his scent—a combination of ocean breeze and forest floor, clean and masculine.

  “That’s so great,” I said, moving away from him, trying to keep my distance, trying not to notice how his face had bronzed in the sun and his hair was smattered with licks of gold. “It was just a suggestion.”

  “It was a good one. Really good,” he said, looking me straight in the eye. My heart began to pound. Was he making a pass at me? No, this man was all business. He was clearly just grateful for me talking to him. Yes, that was definitely it.

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  He blinked, his long eyelashes sweeping up his face. “I left him a voicemail talking about his people and suggesting he continue to have a role on an employee committee. He called me back. He’d wanted to know that the business was more than a balance sheet for me.”

  “I’m glad. People are my business. It’s my job to spot what could make them unhappy and head it off before it happens,” I replied, trying to stay matter-of-fact.

  “I see that. I can’t imagine anyone being unhappy with you around.” He narrowed his eyes and my heart began to flutter against my ribs.

  I didn’t know how to respond. I’d never known a guest so focused on business on a yacht. But this lighter, and definitely flirtatious, side of Hayden that snuck out here and there had me in a spin. And I knew I shouldn’t encourage it, but I enjoyed this side of him and wanted to see it more.

  A beat of silence passed between us and I went to walk away before he spoke. “I bet you’ve seen a lot. People with money can be . . . colorful.” It was as if he were trying to prolong our interaction, just to talk about nothing in particular.

  “It’s amazing what money can buy,” I replied, also wanting the conversation to continue. Most of the time I just saw people’s behavior as indulgent but every now and then I found the excess too much.

  “Drugs?” he asked.

  I flipped my tray under my arm. “No way. That’s a pretty hard line. I mean, I know it happens on boats used by the owners, but not on charters. There’s too much to lose for the captains, though the alcohol tends to more than make up for it.”

  “I bet. I’ve never really been much of a drinker.”

  Of course I knew that about him already. “Too much of a control freak?” I asked, then inwardly cringed.

  He smirked. “You noticed?” He sipped his coffee as if we were two colleagues or friends having a chat. “I think I’ve always been too ambitious, too focused. Even at university I was scouring the financial pages at 5am when everyone else was passed out with a hangover.”

  I understood that. I’d been working long hours away from home when all my friends from high school had been drowning in Jell-O shots. “Yeah. I never did the college experience thing either.”

  “It seems we have that in common—we both take our work a little too seriously,” he said.

  Pleasure bloomed in my chest at him acknowledging my job. I did work hard, and I might not make millions but that didn’t mean I wasn’t committed and focused. “Yeah. The hours are long and it’s nonstop all day.”

  “We both probably should have a little more fun.” His eyebrows pulsed up suggestively, so different from the intense, focused, private man I saw most of the time. Was he intimating that we have fun together or just generally? If any other guy had said that I would know they were coming on to me, but Hayden was . . . different. Interesting. Confusing.

  “We have plenty of tequila on board,” I said. “And then there’s always the inflatable banana.”

  Hayden let out a roaring laugh and leaned back on the r
ailings. “You were right about me when you said I wasn’t the banana boat kind of guy. Like you say yourself, you read people well.”

  “Sometimes.” Not with you, I thought. I should have excused myself. I should have made an excuse about towels or something, but I wanted him to tell me more, give me more. “You must have some vices even if inflatable bananas aren’t among them.”

  “Don’t we all?” He paused, holding my gaze, his tongue darting out to catch the dot of foam that collected at the edge of his mouth. “Women, for one.”

  I nodded slowly. Of course he was a womanizer. I wasn’t even into guys like him and I was completely attracted. My stomach swooped and my breathing echoed off the deck, mixing with the hard syllables of what he’d just said. Did he mean to be provocative? It was as if he’d hypnotized me with his stare—I couldn’t look away.

  He smirked and took another sip of coffee. “But work has always been my drug of choice.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder what drove him to work so hard. It couldn’t just be about the money even though he might say different. It must go beyond that. “I can tell.”

  “What about you?” he asked. “You can’t be quite as perfect as you seem to be.”

  “I seem perfect?” I scrunched up my nose. Was that how he saw me? Did that mean cold and officious? “I’m anything but. It’s my job to ensure whatever I’m thinking on the inside doesn’t reflect on the outside.”

  He trailed his thumb over the scruff of his beard. Today was the first time I’d not seen him clean-shaven. It suited him. “I thought I had the best poker face in town, but you put me to shame.”

  “I’m well practiced. Some of the things we’re asked for . . .” I exhaled, glancing into the interior. I should have left, gone back to the galley. “It would blow your mind.”

  He raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to elaborate.

  “You get the usual stuff—caviar flown in from Russia, unusual wines, that kind of thing. And then people who want certain types of bedding or special doggy menus. I once got a request for white kittens for a six-year-old. We had to go and buy cats for this kid.” I shook my head. “That kept her entertained for twenty minutes and then we had to rush around finding homes for them all. And then last season the whole crew had to call some guests ‘Your Majesty’ and curtsey whenever we addressed them.”

  “Wow.” A smile flirted at the corners of his lips and the sun seemed to shine just a bit brighter for a few seconds.

  “And last year I had a guest ask that wait staff serve their final dinner in a thong.”

  Hayden frowned. “Topless?”

  I laughed. It had been such a ludicrous request. “Yeah. A black lace thong and nothing else.”

  “Wow. I didn’t realize that was an option. I should have taken more notice of that form you had me fill out.”

  I glared at him and then laughed.

  “Did you do it?”

  I held his gaze but shook my head. “No, but you can never say no, right? I had the deck crew guys turn into waitresses for the night. They took their shirts off and wore a thong over their boxers. The guests had a sense of humor about it, at least.”

  “Can’t say no?” he asked. “Because the client is always right.”

  “Of course.” I curved my mouth into my usual, at-your-service smile. It felt as though he was digging for something. I just wasn’t sure what. “I just try to focus on the job. Isn’t that what you do?”

  “Put the work first? Absolutely.” He held my gaze. Seconds ticked by, and I felt as if I were being pulled toward him, the barrier between guest and crew dissolving in the heat.

  “I should go.” I couldn’t handle the weight or intensity of his stare. It was almost as if he were willing my deepest, darkest secrets to the surface.

  “I enjoyed talking with you, Avery.”

  The way he said my name, the pronunciation, was so different, as if he strung out the syllables to make the sound last. It was so unnerving that my skin scattered with goose bumps. “I enjoyed talking with you too.”

  “I mean it,” he said, scanning my face before he brought his hand up and swept his thumb over my chin, just below my mouth. My legs weakened under his heat and I blinked slowly, desperate for time to slow down so I could take in every sensation. “About you being perfect.” He withdrew his hand and took another sip of coffee as if touching me like that was no big deal. Maybe it wasn’t. To him. This wasn’t a friendly grasp of my shoulder or a squeeze of my arm that I could dismiss as him being tactile—this was intimate and flirtatious, and I needed to leave before he saw how much I wanted it to happen again.

  Thirteen

  Avery

  Despite it being days since Hayden had touched me, the heat of his fingers still echoed against my skin every now and then. Particularly when I was alone and trying not to think of him. This early in the morning, the entire boat was silent and, attempting not to make a sound, I made my way up the spiral staircase and out through the main salon to the deck. The outside lights were on but dimmed and the sea was particularly still this morning—a sheet of black silk beneath us. A ribbon of fiery orange trailed across the horizon as the sun threatened to burst into the sky. It was beautiful. I leaned against the railing, breathing in the fresh air that would become almost stifling by mid-afternoon.

  In moments like these, yachting was worth it. But they were fleeting.

  The sliding doors behind me whizzed as they opened, and I stood straight and twirled around as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t have been.

  “Good morning,” I said as Hayden appeared, his hair rumpled and gray half-moons settled under his eyes. I was more pleased to see him than I should have been. I spread my arms, presenting the horizon, which was threatening to burst into flames. “The sunrise is putting on a show.”

  Hayden glanced from the sky to me. I was probably grinning a little too widely and looked like a maniac, but I couldn’t help it. It was so beautiful.

  The corner of his mouth twitched.

  Was he laughing at me? “These moments have to be enjoyed, that’s all.”

  He strode toward me, reached out and squeezed my upper arm. “You’re absolutely right.”

  His touch momentarily paralyzed me before I found my voice. I needed some space, some distance. “Can I get you a juice while you enjoy the view?” I asked, stepping sideways toward the door.

  He turned away from the sky to look at me and frowned. “Stay. This is a moment to be enjoyed, to share.”

  I knew I shouldn’t stay. “I have a lot to do. I need to—I should really . . .”

  “Stay.” He said it so simply, so finally, there was no arguing with him. I stepped up next to where he leaned against the rail, watching as the orange edged into pink and bled into the black.

  “Sunrises aren’t something that should be witnessed alone,” he said after several minutes had passed.

  We stood facing forward and he turned his head to me. I glanced at him, as the beginnings of the day caught the sharp edge of his jaw.

  My body relaxed and I leaned forward next to him, our elbows just an inch apart.

  “Thank you—this was just what I needed.” Did he mean he needed the sunrise or me staying to watch it with him? He unclasped his hands and shifted closer, our elbows touching as he trailed his knuckles over my hand as if to reinforce his gratitude. I glanced down to where our skin touched, then back up to find his eyes fixed on mine.

  Though it was just his hand against mine, the gesture belied the nature of our relationship: guest and stewardess. We weren’t lovers or friends. Maybe it was the ocean air or the magnificent sky, but the more time I spent in this man’s orbit, the more I thought maybe I wanted to be friends with him, know him a little better, understand his changes in mood and temperament, know what drove him.

  “I’m glad,” I whispered, our arms still close enough I could feel the heat of him. If he was happy that meant I was doing my job. Although the way my heart swelled, and my
cheeks heated, it felt less like a job and more like a calling. Or fate. Something bigger than I’d known before.

  Yachts and boats on the water and the shapes of buildings and trees along the shore began to come into focus and everything filled with color as the sun crept out from behind the horizon. The whole coast seemed to yawn and stretch as it slowly came to life.

  A flock of geese flew overhead, breaking the comfortable silence, and we tipped our heads back, trying to drink in every sight and sound.

  “I’m normally at the gym by now,” he said as he settled his gaze back on the skyline. “I’m not sure I notice whether the sun has risen or not when I’m in London.”

  “I know what you mean. Sometimes it’s easy to miss the beauty in the everyday.”

  Hayden’s gaze dropped to my mouth and back up. “That’s my biggest fault. I don’t make enough of each moment.”

  I felt the same. I was so focused on the job, on the tip, on taking care of my family, being in this beautiful place barely registered. It was almost as if I hadn’t let myself enjoy it. As if I were punishing myself. “I can’t remember the last time I watched the sunrise.”

  Hayden shifted so he was facing me, still leaning on one elbow against the aluminum balustrade. “But surely that’s why you’re here? To take advantage of the setting?”

  I shrugged, self-conscious under the full force of his attention. “The job can be a lot. Sometimes on my days off, I just sleep.”

  “I assumed that people who worked on these yachts did it because they loved the traveling.”

  “Some do.” I knew some people took the job to feed their wanderlust, but for me it had only ever been about the money.

  “But not you. Do you get a lot of time to explore?” he asked as if he were trying to nail down my motivations, as if he were trying to get to know me.

  “We get a day or so between charters.” I tried to concentrate on the view but all I was conscious of was Hayden Wolf and how close he was and how my skin set alight every time he touched me.