Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Was that a smile tipping the corners of Fernsby’s mouth? “I believe you should say that you will give the dear boy a chance to prove himself.”
Something about Fernsby brought the truth out of her. “I’m not sure. We haven’t known each other very long.”
Removing his hand from her waist as he whirled her around, Fernsby put his palm to his heart. “Sometimes it can take a mere two weeks to fall in love.” For a moment, his gaze seemed to turn inward, as though he spoke of another time, another place, another woman.
An image of Mathilda Sullivan leaped into her mind. The hug she’d given Fernsby. His near-worshipful gaze on her.
Before she could ask, Fernsby said, “Nothing may ever feel this right for you again. Don’t let fear make you walk away from a chance to love.”
It would be so automatic to deny it, to say, I’m not. But she’d kept Troy at arm’s length for weeks now. Even after he’d made love to her, she’d practically thrown him out the next morning.
Fernsby didn’t allow her to speak, allowed her only to think, as he spun her straight into Troy’s arms as if they’d practiced the move over and over. And suddenly Fernsby was dancing away with Gabby.
She was in Troy’s arms again. Just as Fernsby said, nothing had ever felt so right. Fernsby and her mother were her wise sages. Ignoring their advice could be the biggest mistake of her life.
She had to give whatever this was between her and Troy a chance.
Almost breathlessly, Michaela said, “Can we find somewhere private to talk?”
Troy’s heart stopped. If there hadn’t been enough blood already racing through his veins from all the dancing, he might have fallen to the floor at her feet.
But he wouldn’t waste this moment. Taking her hand in his, he led her off the dance floor and along the dock. As he helped her climb Matchmaker’s steps, he said, “I know the perfect spot.”
Not wanting to be interrupted by anyone coming aboard for a little respite from the party, Troy took her to his cabin.
He locked the door, then stopped, his eyes on Michaela. “I don’t have any nefarious plans for you in here. I just don’t want anyone disturbing us.”
What he wanted from this beautiful woman was far from nefarious. But he couldn’t have her thinking he’d brought her down here to try to seduce her.
She gave him a small smile. “I’m glad you locked it,” she said, huffing out a sigh, “because it’s hard enough to say what I want to without someone barging in.”
He had no idea whether she’d send him to heaven or hell. But she was being honest with him, even showing her nerves.
She sat primly on the edge of the bed, and it was all he could do not to put his lips to the sun-kissed skin of her shoulder or her bare cleavage above the bikini top. But he respected her desire to talk and sat on the bed beside her, close enough to feel her body heat, though not close enough to touch. He sensed she needed space.
She clasped her hands in her lap. Though she wasn’t exactly wringing them, he thought her nerves might have brought her close to it.
After a deep breath, she said, “You know my rule about not dating billionaires. And I told you I’ve dated a lot of frogs.” She glanced up at him from beneath her lush eyelashes. “None of them were billionaires. I’ve always said I wanted to date someone who was more like me, because my mother and I were very poor when I was young.”
Troy knew that. “I admire how far you’ve come. Look at all the billionaires you’ve matched with their perfect someone, or their perfect property, or their perfect piece of art.” He paused for a moment. “Or their perfect yacht.”
She dipped her head, staring at her hands. And he realized she was trying not to be overwhelmed or distracted by his praise.
Finally, she met his gaze again. “You were right, you know. And so was my mother.”
He sensed the crux of her dilemma coming. In a tense situation, he would normally crack a joke, but he didn’t want to derail her.
“You said I didn’t think I was good enough to date a billionaire. That I couldn’t fit into his lifestyle. That I couldn’t hold his interest.” She looked at her hands again, and he had to touch her. He couldn’t stop himself. He wouldn’t stop himself, and he laid his hand over hers. But, still, he said nothing, allowing her to get it all out.
“I never thought of my aversion to billionaires quite that way.” She shrugged. “I always told myself it was because I didn’t want to fit into that kind of lifestyle.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Mom and I are homebodies, bingeing romantic movies on the weekends. We don’t eat out much because she’s such a good cook. We don’t travel much because I’m so busy. I’ve always told myself I don’t need or want anything more.” She closed her eyes, and the tiniest teardrop pearled on her lashes. He squeezed her hand.