But Oliver hadn’t been fazed by the limitless luxury. He’d always been very comfortable around the guests, charming them because he happened to be charming by nature, but also because he was one of them. The fact that he owned this yacht was astonishing. Sure, she’d known he’d been a rich kid, but his boat alone most likely cost at least ten million dollars, an amount of money she couldn’t even imagine having over the course of her lifetime, and yet was merely disposable income to him.
Molly sighed and snuggled farther into the bed, not ready to start the day yet as memories of her and Oliver reemerged. Mostly good ones. But when she’d told him about her job and he’d simply hugged her congratulations, she’d taken it as a sign that things with him weren’t meant to be, that maybe his reputation as a player had been true all along and she’d been another victim of a transient yacht-season romance. Regardless of what it had been, Molly had loved him fiercely, but she was nothing if not pragmatic so she’d taken the job and, ultimately, been the one to end the relationship. And what she’d known on some level back then, that she’d never truly fit into his world, was glaringly obvious to her now. She was a guest on this boat but it wasn’t hers, and this month might be a fantasy version of reality, but sooner or later she would, in fact, return to her actual reality.
But until then she was going to enjoy every bit of the fantasy, because today they were setting sail and she was leaving her old life behind for a while.
Rising from the bed, she hopped into a shower that had been set to heat the water to exactly one hundred degrees before heading to the engine room. She’d given it a thorough examination yesterday and she and Oliver had started the engine without actually going anywhere just so she could get a sense of things before they headed out this morning.
Compared to the space satellites and aircraft she usually worked on, a motor yacht was somewhat less complicated, but she was responsible for essentially every moving part on the boat, from the kitchen stove to the complex fuel engine, and if the latter stopped working in the middle of the ocean they were screwed. So she didn’t intend to sleep on the job even if this trip was mostly a vacation.
Satisfied that the engine room was in working order, she headed up to the kitchen to get some breakfast. She found Oliver already at the stove making eggs, the homey scent of toasted bread greeting her.
“You’re cooking?” she asked, looking over his shoulder at the large skillet of fluffy scrambled eggs.
“I’d use that word loosely,” he said wryly.
This morning he was wearing a pair of white linen shorts and a turquoise polo shirt, a pair of reflective silver aviators tucked into the V of his collar. Golden-haired forearms held the wooden handle of a rubber spatula as he gently ran it through a pan of eggs. The flicker of desire at watching his muscles flex and the clean, expensive scent of him wasn’t surprising, but a little unwelcome. Sleeping with an ex on the heels of a breakup was a very terrible idea.
“Better than me. I would have definitely burned those eggs by now. I go for hard-boiled—less chance of screwing it up.”
Oliver shook his head at the depths of her cooking ineptitude. “You wanna grab the toast? I cut up some avocado, too.”
“Ooh,” Molly said happily. “You know, I could really get used to starting my day this way. You might want to rethink it or you’ll be tied to the oven.”
He flashed her one of those charming smiles, clear green eyes and straight white teeth with a little bit of humor, that should be trademarked as his. “I’ll cook you breakfast anytime, Molly. You just say the word.”
Molly shook her head at the implication but couldn’t totally beat back the smile forming. Taking a few steps back from him, she opened the fridge. “Can I cut some fruit?”
“Already done,” he told her, nodding to a bowl beside him on the stainless steel counter. Molly whistled, impressed, as she grabbed a couple pieces of cantaloupe from the bowl. Perking up, she caught his eyes. “Did you put something on this fruit?”
“Just some lemon juice and sugar.”
“It’s so good,” she mumbled inelegantly around the food in her mouth, digging in again for a piece of watermelon and then another. “You’re a freaking genius, Oliver.”
He raised a gold eyebrow at her. “What are you even eating in your normal life that fruit salad is this much of a big deal to you?”
Molly shrugged. “Mostly nutrition bars and a banana or something for breakfast. You know me, I keep it simple.”
Oliver shook his head. “You’re barely living, Molly.”
Laughing, Molly gave him a gentle knock on the shoulder, surprised by the lack of give. “Hey, I live plenty.”
He looked skeptical. “Thank God I invited you on the boat or you’d never know how good a fruit salad is.”
“Oh, give me a break,” she laughed. “Besides, I’m sure it’s one of the many things you’ll introduce me to on this boat.” She’d been speaking to the luxury of the boat, but immediately regretted the words because his eyes darkened before he looked away. Yeah, there was already some sexual tension there, and the memories of what they’d done on a boat very similar to this one in the past weren’t buried far enough in her subconscious right now for her peace of mind. She knew what he was like in bed, inventive and intense, which coupled with this amazing breakfast made him pretty difficult to resist. “You know what I mean, being a guest above deck with all the glamorous people.”
Oliver met her eyes, his still a little heated but the
