The Tycoon Meets His Match. Barbara Benedict
Hard not to cower as his sharp, blue gaze probed her. “Technically, it’s your fault,” she said with false bravado. “You stole my cell phone. What was I supposed to do?”
He shook his head in disbelief. “First you eavesdrop, then you trespass, and now you say I’m to blame for it all?”
“Not all of it. I admit I was wrong to hide on your boat.” She bristled when he smiled in triumph, but she tamped down her temper, aware that any display of anger would only make matter worse. “I’m sorry, really I am, but how else could I hope to reach Lucie?”
Having taken a huge bite of his sandwich, he had to be content with glowering at her until he could swallow. “What makes you think you’re supposed to reach Lucie?”
“We’ve been through this, Paxton.” Even she could hear the irritation in her voice. “I have to find her,” she added more calmly, leaning across the table. “I have to help her. It’s the least I can do for my friend.”
She watched his eyes widen. At first, she thought she’d impressed him with her resolve, until she realized his gaze was focused on her chest. Looking down, she saw her blouse had come unbuttoned.
Her cheeks now matching the color of her hair, she sat back and did her best to remedy the situation. “Lucie’s my best friend,” she continued vehemently as she buttoned. “I won’t sit back and watch her get bullied.”
“Bullied?”
“C’mon, Lucie obviously doesn’t want to get married any more than I do. If you’d spend more time listening to her and less to her mother, you’d know that.”
He bit off another chunk of the sandwich, chewing as he spoke. “And you’ve reached this conclusion how? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you two haven’t spoken for six months.”
Did the man know everything?
Before she could explain about busy lives and diverging paths, Rhys quickly added, “Except for your little tête-à-tête in the church. Just what did you say to her, anyway?”
“What makes you think it was something I said that made her run? Believe it or not, Lucie does have a mind of her own.”
He shook his head firmly. “She might have her flighty moments, but she’d never run off like that. Not without encouragement, and certainly not there, in front of her parents and five hundred guests. I think even you would have to agree that it was an act that defied all logic and good sense.”
“Not everything in life is determined by logic, you know,” Trae countered angrily. “Sometimes, you have to go with your gut reaction. And in this case, Lucie’s gut instincts told her to flee.”
“Funny, though, how she didn’t have any such instincts until you showed up.”
How smug he seemed, calmly chewing his sandwich. How proprietary, as if he had sole knowledge of Lucie’s inner emotions.
“Can you really be so sure you know what she’s thinking, Paxton? Maybe she was just so afraid of how you’d react, she told you what she believed you wanted to hear.”
That stopped him. But only for an instant. Narrowing his gaze, he leaned closer. “Goes both ways, Trae. What makes you think you have the hotline to the real Lucie Beckwith? Don’t tell me you knew she would bolt. I saw your face. You were as shocked as the rest of us when she raced out of that church.”
He’d been watching her? “I was surprised, yes,” she said primly, trying to control the flush now creeping up her neck. “But honestly, Rhys, it wasn’t all that unexpected. It’s not like she hasn’t run out on you before.”
He winced, and she suddenly wished she could take back the words. It was a low blow, bringing up the incident, but the man had a knack for getting her riled.
No doubt he blamed Trae for that defection, too, but Lucie swore to Trae that she’d come up with the idea on her own. She’d claimed she had a sudden urge to see London, but Trae knew how little she’d looked forward to her engagement party. “Rhys won’t care,” Lucie had told her blithely, suggesting Trae go to the party and see for herself. Sure enough, Rhys had smiled throughout, acting as if nothing were wrong, telling everyone that a bout with a minor virus had his fiancée confined to her bed.
But to this day, Trae regretted not flying off to England with her friend. The minute the party was over, Rhys had hopped the next flight to London, bringing Lucie back home a few days later with the huge rock still on her finger.
“The point is,” Trae continued with a dismissive wave of her hand, “the poor girl is obviously confused. She needs to talk about this marriage. To someone other than yourself. The minute we reach that island…”
Cursing under his breath, Rhys glanced at his watch. “Damn, what am I doing?” Dropping what little remained of his sandwich, he rose and raced to the door.
“What’s wrong?” Trae called out. “Where are you going?”
“The bridge. At this speed, we’ll be slamming into the island in fifteen minutes.”
Rhys stood at the wheel, watching the sky brighten above the approaching shoreline. Fortunately, he’d had ample time to slow the yacht down before they hit the island. Pulling the throttle again, he brought the engines to a crawl as they hit the harbor limits.
What had he been thinking, letting himself get so distracted? He must be more tired than he thought. How could he get so involved in Trae’s incessant chatter that he’d put his boat—not to mention their lives—at risk?
Then again, had it merely been her chatter that had him so distracted?
Against his will, he recalled the sudden rush of desire as his hand had touched hers over the bread. He’d been caught off guard by how slender her hand had been, how soft and warm. Just like he’d been surprised by the unexpected view of her full white breasts, which had left him wondering if they were as soft and warm as her hands…
“Here.”
Wheeling around, he found Trae behind him, holding two mugs. He hoped she didn’t plan to make a habit of popping out at him from unexpected places while he was engrossed in his thoughts. Especially those thoughts.
Ignoring his frown, she smiled as she offered him one of the mugs. “I made coffee. I figured we both could use it.”
He took the mug. As the rich, aromatic steam teased his nostrils, he could feel his anger dissipate. Trae was right, he decided after a long, reviving gulp. He did need it.
He did not, however, need her on his boat. Or interfering with Lucie. Studiously ignoring his unwanted passenger, he concentrated on bringing them into port.
“I thought of something while I was below,” Trae said, oblivious to his displeasure. “In all the confusion, I had no time to grab my passport. Will there be trouble when we dock?”
“We’ll be mooring at my place.” Keeping one hand on the wheel, he gestured to the cove on the starboard side. “No one should question you there.”
What he didn’t bother to add was that while getting onto the island should be easy enough, getting off again might pose a problem. For her, anyway.
He had no intention of sticking around to find out. Once they docked, she was on her own.
Misinterpreting his smile, she returned it with one of her own. “This coffee sure hits the spot, doesn’t it? I know I needed it. I took this pill for seasickness and it’s got me feeling so groggy, I could have cotton balls jammed in my head. I guess it’s made me a tad grumpy. I blurted out things I probably shouldn’t have.”
Man, the woman could talk. “Your point is?”
He saw the flash of anger, just for an instant, but she clamped down on it with an impressive exhibition of will. “My point is, I’m sorry. For getting in the way, for hiding in your closet, for