The Ruthless Gentleman(34)

“California.” For some reason it was hard to picture her anywhere but on this yacht. “And you’re invisible again at home?” Why did she need that night alone? Who did she belong to that she wasn’t vibrant and authentic when she was sleeping in her own bed?

“No,” she snapped, a little too quickly. “I didn’t mean that.” She reached out to take a pickle from one of the serving plates. I grinned—she was relaxing.

“I like being home. It’s less . . .” She peered at her lap and then shrugged.

“You live alone?”

She shook her head and my pulse began to throb in my neck.

“Nope, with my dad. And brother. I’m only there a couple of months of the year so it doesn’t make sense to have a place of my own.” The way her words tumbled out, she sounded well-rehearsed. I wasn’t sure if she’d said it out loud a lot or just in her own mind. “I like spending as much time as possible with them when I’m back. So it works.”

My pulse faded back into the distance in response to her answer. No husband and no mention of a boyfriend.

People observing from the shore wouldn’t see how much Avery and I had in common professionally. She worked hard, took pride in what she did and went above and beyond what any reasonable person would expect. She didn’t deserve to be invisible. I couldn’t imagine not noticing her.

I wanted more of the woman I’d watched the sunrise with—her loose hair and warm wonder. She pulled me in despite doing her best to be invisible but available to me. I wanted to fill in the gaps, get to know the real woman, not the shadow who was always around in case I needed something. “How old’s your brother?”

“A year younger than me.”

I’d put her at twenty-five, though I bet she’d look the same for the next decade. She had a timeless beauty about her—the small waist, the high cheekbones and perfect arse.

“He’s twenty-five.”

“I had you down for twenty-five.”

She grinned. “You were close.”

“I’m thirty-two,” I said. I wanted this to be a conversation between us but I guessed she wasn’t going to feel comfortable asking me questions.

“I know,” she said, popping another pickle in her mouth. “I Googled you when I went on shore that first time.”

“You did, huh? What did Google tell you?”

She poured herself a glass of water from the bottle of San Pellegrino on the table that I’d not touched. “Not a hell of a lot, unfortunately.” She leaned back in her chair, for the first time acting as if she might stay more than a few short seconds, and smiled. It was Avery Walker’s smile, rather than the grin of the stewardess on the Athena.

“I’m quite careful about what’s out there about me,” I said.

“Shocker.” Her eyes widened teasingly. “I just like to personalize the guest’s experience, you know? I thought I might find something useful.”

“I filled out my preferences sheet. Because you asked me to.” I probably would have ignored anyone else. But she’d caught my attention—shown me that I was being a pain in the arse by not doing that. And I respected that. I didn’t expect servitude from the people around me but the more successful I got, the bigger the gap between me and those in my orbit.

“I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what got into me. I should have just accepted there was no sheet.”

“I liked that you did.”

Our eyes locked and she didn’t reply.

Eventually she looked away and over the dark waves that were lapping at the boat. “The crew was grateful. As you would say in England, it caused great consternation not having the information.”

“I’m not sure anyone says that in England, outside a Jane Austen novel.”

She laughed. “I suppose not.”

“I’m just not that fussy about things like that.”

She scrunched up her nose in the most adorable way and I couldn’t help but smile at her expression. “I think if I were rich, I’d want the things I like. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“I agree, but I just don’t care about the water I drink or the sheets I sleep in.”

“Why?” Leaning forward, she rested her chin on both hands, and I couldn’t help but notice the way the movement pressed her full breasts together under her top.

My dick twitched and I blinked, trying to force myself back to our conversation. “Because that’s not what matters. We have to focus on the important stuff, like people. You reminded me of that.”

Her lashes swept up as she blinked, almost in slow motion as if I’d said something profound she had to give weight to and assimilate. Damn my dick needed to behave itself. But that pink in her cheeks, the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail—I wanted more of that Avery.

I put my knife and fork together and leaned back. Talking with Avery was far more fulfilling than food. “It’s not like I’m slumming it.” I glanced around, indicating the boat.

She laughed. “I guess not.” She checked her watch. “It’s coming up to nine. There are going to be fireworks on the shore. We should be able to see them, but the view will be best from the upper deck.” The way her eyes lit up, she didn’t just want me to see the fireworks because I was a guest, but she was actually looking forward to them. “Are you finished?” She pushed her chair out and reached out to take my plate when I nodded.