Bring the Heat

by Margot Radcliffe

  Making avocado toast had never required so much of her concentration.

  But she was determined to stop thinking about Oliver and his enormous bed. She scooped the fresh veggies on top of the avocado Oliver had previously cut into thin and perfect slices with an inward sigh. It was as if the man wasn’t bad at anything.

  “Drinks!” Molly realized with a burst of inspiration. “I can make mimosas. Does that sound good?”

  Oliver smiled his wide smile with crinkles in the corners of his eyes. “It sounds perfect, Molly. But I don’t want you to think you have to do anything. This trip is for you.”

  She nodded, but she still wanted to pull her weight, especially if he was planning on cooking all their meals. Opening the walk-in fridge, she pulled out oranges and a bottle of sparkling wine. She’d seen the stews make these drinks countless times when she’d worked on yachts.

  “Oh,” Oliver said, seeing the pile of fruit in her arms, “you’re really going for it, then?”

  “Hell, yeah,” she shot back. “I’m not going to be the weakest link on this boat.”

  Oliver turned the heat down on the eggs and found the juicer in a cabinet for her. After juicing the oranges she had enough to make maybe too many beautifully bright mimosas, which she carried as they made their way up the stairs to the upper deck where a dining table was set up so they could eat outside in the sunshine.

  Molly shook her head when she saw the places had already been set. Oversize white chargers rested on pale blue mats and a squat glass of puffy blue hydrangeas sat in the middle of the long rectangular table, soft petals strewn delicately around it.

  “Chief stew did this,” Oliver explained, and Molly blew out a relieved breath. She was already so much in his debt.

  “It’s lovely,” she said. She’d grown up taking things apart so she could put them back together and mostly getting hella dirty while she was doing it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like flowers, too.

  Oliver shrugged, not caring one way or another about the table setting. Molly dug into her eggs and then stared at Oliver in surprise. “No, really,” she said, already digging her fork back into the fluffy yellow pile on her plate, “best eggs I’ve ever tasted.”

  Oliver snorted, but he was grinning. “I’m going to choose to believe you, but, Molly, I now feel personally responsible for your culinary education. What are you doing with your life? And why wasn’t that asshole ex cooking you breakfast ever? Have you not heard of brunch, for Christ’s sake?”

  Molly knew he was kidding, but the words hit an unexpected soft spot. No, Max had never cooked her breakfast and maybe they’d gone out to brunch in the beginning but hadn’t for years. “I guess not,” she told him, keeping it vague. Oliver didn’t need to know the details of her relationship, nor was she particularly keen on sharing them on the first morning of the trip.

  But Oliver, ever insightful, reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. It was a totally innocuous, friendly gesture, but Molly felt it in her toes along with genuine gratitude that he truly cared about her. Despite the years and the miles, Oliver was a good friend.

  “Hey,” he said, getting her attention so she met his eyes, his green ones brilliant jade in the morning sun. “I didn’t mean it like that. Brunch is stupid and overrated anyway.”

  Molly sent him a wan smile. “I know brunch is great, don’t deny it.”

  “Only when I make it,” Oliver allowed, a corner of his mouth quirking up.

  Giving his hand a squeeze of her own, Molly said, “I look forward to eating your brunch.”

  “Eggs for days,” he promised, the heat of his hand literally burning her skin, but he didn’t let go. “But you can talk about it, you know, Molly. I know you’re still processing everything, but I’m here for you. I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t want you to be able to share what happened.”

  Then he picked up their hands from the table and dropped a light kiss on the back of hers, and holy hell, her pulse rocketed through her body. He let go of her hand once his head lifted, but the damage was done—he’d wrecked her. Between the kind gesture itself and the feel of his soft lips on her skin, she struggled to keep her eyes open, wanting to close them so she could relive the moment in her mind. Damn, damn, damn it, one day in and she was already hopeless.

  “I appreciate that, Oliver. It means a lot,” she said, holding his gaze. “All of this means a great deal to me. I hope you know that.”

  Oliver picked up his fork again. “There’s no one I’d rather be on this boat with, so I’m the one who is thankful that you came.”

  The words fluttered in Molly’s chest; the man knew how to compliment even if it was an exaggeration.

  They fell into silence as they ate, Molly’s attention being drawn to all manner of things from the seagulls swooping into the water, the different varieties of people coming and going on the dock, to the rippling waves sparkling like diamonds under the sun. She could barely believe this was her home for the next month.

  “You know, two days ago it was snowing in Denver,” she informed, shaking her head. “And those poor jerks are still there.”

  Oliver laughed. “It hasn’t snowed in New York yet, but it’s damn cold for sure.”

  “Suckers.” Molly chuckled and Oliver followed.

  “Another toast then, to us, for being smart enough to leave it all behind.” Then he raised his mimosa and she clinked her glass against his, smiling as their eyes met once again.

  They continued eating, Molly quickly working her way through the delicious eggs and toast, finally arriving back at the fruit salad.

  “So we know why I’m on this trip,” Molly said, swallowing a sweet strawberry. “Why now for you, Ollie?”

  Oliver raised a brow at the shortened version of his name, which she knew he hated. “I knew if I didn’t do this now, I never would. I was up for the promotion in the firm and the next step after that would have been the job my dad holds now and I don’t want it. The chain ends with me.”

  “I see,” Molly said, nodding. “Your parents okay with that?”

  “No,” Oliver said, leaving it at that.

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “No.”

  Molly grinned at his willfully obtuse answers. “Not giving me much to work with here, Oliver. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m a grown man, Molly,” Oliver said after a moment of hesitation, as if revealing something real about himself was difficult. “I can handle my parents being angry with me. What I can’t handle is spending the rest of my life on someone else’s terms. So it stops now.”

  Molly was struck by the intensity of his voice. This time it was she who took his hand and gave it a squeeze, and she felt the same electricity she had before but something else as well. Maybe this time, unlike when they’d been younger, she might actually get to know Oliver for real. The thought sent a little bit of alarm through her because instinctively she knew that it might be dangerous. He was already breathtakingly handsome and lovely; she didn’t need him to be vulnerable as well or she was definitely going to be a goner.

  “I hear you,” she allowed, letting go of his hand and sitting back in the chair with her second mimosa. “So what’s the plan? This trip is an exploratory mission?”

  Oliver nodded. “Yes, I want to tour more boats when we go to port. I’ve already had meetings with the CEOs of the current US yacht companies and toured their facilities. I’ve offered to buy one of the companies that I know is struggling.”

  “Oh, so you won’t start from scratch?”

  Oliver shook his head. “I’ve run the numbers. It would be far more expensive and a time suck for me to start one up myself, purchase the equipment, find or build a brand-new facility, hire employees, et cetera. All that work has been done and I can just buy the whole thing, change the name, assess the personnel and go from th
ere.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a plan.”

  Molly said the words but she couldn’t even imagine having enough money to just, poof, buy a yacht manufacturing company like it was a bag of taffy.

  “Always,” he said, a corner of his mouth lifting in that ornery way he had when he decided to be silly. “It’ll be great and I’ll need your help every step of the way. The sale will go through any day now, and I’d love it if you’d consider heading up the design team. I want my company to stand out, to make eco-luxury yachts that people can be comfortable sailing.”

  Molly’s eyebrows rose, her chest going concave. “You want me to design yachts?”

  He shrugged. “You design rockets, don’t you?”

  “Not actually rockets, mostly satellites and reusable crew capsules, but—”

  He interrupted with, “Well, I’d think yachts would be easier.”

  “Well, maybe, but I’m not an expert on them. I can definitely make sure the engine on this boat is in tip-top shape, but to turn around and just design one that can compete with all the other designers out there who are formally trained is totally different.”

  Oliver shrugged as if this didn’t matter. “You’re a genius, Molly. I don’t know why you’re making it out like building a little fuel engine and designing an aerodynamic yacht body is some Herculean task. Maybe you haven’t done it for a while, but you’ve sent people to space for indeterminate periods of time.”

  “I’ve worked with a team of people who did that, Oliver,” she pointed out, because it was true. One person alone was not responsible for the lives of astronauts and building whatever kind of ship propelled them into the outer reaches of space.

  “Well, that’s what yacht manufacturing is, a team of people creating plans. You’d still be doing that, only you’d be making more money and be in charge.”

  She bristled at how easily he was suggesting she give up the life she’d created for herself. The life she loved. “I like the job I have.”

  Oliver switched gears, clearly reading her discomfort. “It’s just an idea, Molly—give it some thought. You have plenty of time before it would actually happen. Buying a company isn’t easy, sometimes negotiations go bad, you never know.”

  Molly nodded. “I appreciate your faith in me.”

  And as she drank her mimosa and watched his strong jaw chew a piece of honeydew melon, she thought about what it might be like to head up a team and design something different. Rockets and satellites didn’t exactly invite fancy or creativity; they were built for maximum safety and storage. But yachts... She might be able to have some fun with that.

  “No faith is involved,” Oliver told her. “You’re a dream employee. Reliable, brilliant and kind. The perfect type of person to head up my team.”

  Molly took a deep breath, falling under his spell once again. “I’ll think about it, Oliver,” she told him. “I promise.”

  “Good,” he said, a wide grin on his face as he popped a grape into his mouth. “And if there’s anything else I can do, like double your current salary, for instance, you let me know.”

  She just shook her head at him. “It would serve you right if I agreed to take the job and then designed all your ships to look like rockets.”

  Oliver’s shoulders bounced with laughter and then he was fully laughing, the sound rich and deep, sending shivers up her spine. “I can only imagine the kind of clientele that sort of vessel would attract.”

  Molly just shook her head at him, gulping back the rest of her alcohol because she was itching to touch him. The long corded muscles of his neck were straining as he got lost in another bout of chuckling and her eyes closed. She could make it through their time together; she had to.

  “We did have that charter of porn stars, if I’m not mistaken,” Molly finally said, sending him into more laughter.

  “Oh my God,” Oliver said, a final laugh before he met her eyes. “They were a nightmare, weren’t they?”

  Molly nodded and he continued. “But you can design whatever you want, Molly. The world would be yours. I don’t want to offer the same old thing. I want to change it up, make the yacht industry take notice, revive it. Make smaller, more affordable yachts, too, that are more energy-efficient and green. Luxury with a purpose, you know?”

  She loved the idea and that he’d already put some of those ideas into play on this boat, too. “I’ll definitely think about it, Oliver.”

  He nodded. “I hope so. And are you going to give me a number, too? So I at least have a chance to woo you?”

  Wooing her without cash was already basically happening, so she couldn’t imagine what a bump in her salary might do.

  So she shook her head. “There’s no way I’m telling you my salary.”

  “I don’t want you to,” he reminded. “I want the number that’s double it.”

  It was Molly’s turn to laugh at his nonsense. “Thanks for making breakfast. I would say that I’d do the honors tomorrow, but I think we both know that ends with an emergency call instead of a leisurely lounge on the deck.”

  “We do, indeed.”

  Oliver met her eyes again and there was heat there, carefully controlled, but she felt it anyway and recognized it because she felt the same.

  “Now,” he said, folding his pale blue cloth napkin up and setting it by his plate, “are you ready to give this baby a practice run?”

  “You know it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  OLIVER WASN’T A therapist or anything, but he knew Molly was hiding how sad she was. And while he didn’t want to pry about her breakup, he did want to know why she got that lost look on her face sometimes when they were talking. Mostly he wanted to be a good friend and help her, but if he ever got two minutes with her loser ex, it’d be the worst two minutes of that guy’s life. Oliver didn’t have many friends he trusted and the fact that someone had broken Molly’s heart infuriated him.

  They’d taken the boat up the coast from Miami to West Palm Beach and back again, staying close to shore in case something went wrong, but so far it’d been, literally, smooth sailing. But the trip had given Oliver time to think. Seeing how hard she was trying to hide her sadness, he was anxious to know if that relationship was tying her to Colorado more than her job. His new company needed her vision. This venture was the biggest risk of his life and he wanted someone by his side that he could trust completely. And he trusted Molly with basically his life. She was just that kind of person.

  Their first relationship had ended sooner than he’d wanted, but even if she hadn’t gotten her job in Colorado he would have had to end it sooner or later. Not because he would have wanted to, but because his parents would have ruined her life like they’d nearly ruined his. They were still trying to if he was honest; he’d just become better at fending them off. Something he’d continue to do if they ever came sniffing around Molly, which was a concern. He was keeping her isolated on his boat for now so his parents wouldn’t know what he was up to or how Molly fit into his new plans, because if they did they’d use her. Either pay her off to not help him, or threaten her own job, her family. He didn’t put it past his family to do whatever it took to make sure he returned to the firm and married the person they’d previously approved.

  His main goal had always been to protect Molly, to insulate her from his real life while being able to bask in the fantasy world they’d created together when they were younger. Those were still some of his favorite times and ever since he’d given her up, he’d been trying to get back to a place where they could have that again. Or at least some version of it.

  Which meant he needed to know just how scarred she was from her broken engagement because after two days with her, everything he’d loved about her was amplified. He was right back to wanting her, but struggling with giving her the time she needed to heal. It was just that the way she looked at him sometimes, like she wanted
to jump him, he knew he couldn’t hold out for very long. Not when he’d been missing her touch for years. Had cursed his parents for depriving him of the life full of laughter he could have been having with Molly all these years.

  He and the deck crew member anchored the boat in open water just off the port back in Miami, and he pushed his parents to the back of his mind, reminding himself that he was on the water and life was fantastic again. When his work was done, he found Molly in the sky lounge, faint smudges of black oil on her fingers, just like he remembered from their early yacht days. She was at the bow’s railing with a beer in her hand watching the sun set over Miami, the hazy pinks and yellows peeking out behind the tall buildings and waving palm trees.

  “I missed this,” she said when he approached.

  He nodded. “We’ll have countless nights watching the sunset now.”

  She smiled at him, the last rays of daylight painting her pale skin golden. “The sunset is lovely, but I mostly meant doing nothing. I’ve done more nothing in the past two days than in the past year. I didn’t realize just how hard I was working, I guess.”

  “Um,” Oliver said, picking up her hand to expose the grease and the blister she’d gotten fixing a rogue stove-top burner, “you’ve been working pretty damn hard on this boat.”

  “Not compared to real life, though.”

  This seemed like a good opportunity to gently ferret out what had happened with her breakup, but he had to play it just right so she didn’t clam up. Molly wasn’t exactly an “open up and share her feelings” sort of person. “You were working a lot?”

  She nodded. “We were up against a deadline for the government, so it happens. You get busy.”

  “I’ve been there for sure, except you actually like your job so it’s a little different.”