“I guess the satellite dish goes without saying,” she joked when she saw the TV.
“Aye, the reception is perfect. Isn’t it, Aidan?” Again, MacVicar’s eyes twinkled with devilment.
Aidan shrugged sulkily. “Good enough I suppose.”
MacVicar turned to Casey. “Give me just a minute to tidy up before I show ye the master suites on this deck. I wasna expecting a beautiful lass to visit today.”
He studied his scowling crewman for a moment before disappearing through a door in the passageway ahead.
When Ian was out of earshot, Aidan hissed, “It’s time to go. I don’t want to be late for my first tour.”
Honestly, what was wrong with this man? You’d think he would be thrilled for her to see the beautiful ship where he crewed.
“No, we won’t,” Casey replied calmly, hiding her exasperation. “We still have another half-hour before we absolutely have to leave.”
“Frank said we needed to be a half-hour early.”
“He did? I’m never there sooner than ten to fifteen minutes ahead of the tour and then only if I need gas.”
Aidan hesitated. “He said I’d need the extra time to get ready for my first run.”
“Oh, I suppose that makes sense, but we’ll be fine.”
“No,” he argued, “we need to go now. You don’t need to see the bedrooms. Especially . . . his.”
“Ian’s?”
He stared oddly at her. “He can’t be trusted. We have to go.”
He had her elbow again and started back for the stairwell. She tugged free.
“What do you mean can’t be trusted?”
Another odd stare as though he were deciding something. “He’s a womanizer. He might try to grab you.”
Her hands involuntarily went to her hips. “With you right there?”
Aidan scowled. “He’ll probably, uh, send me off for something.”
MacVicar reappeared in the passageway before Casey could argue. “Shall we have a look then?”
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, which would have been cute ten minutes ago. After what Aidan just revealed, she wasn’t so sure.
“Aidan, why don’t ye fetch us some Guinness from the galley while I show off the master suites,” he said.
Definitely mischief in those Scottish blue eyes now, and if Aidan was right, not the good kind.
~ ~ ~
Aidan watched Casey’s eyes grow wide with surprise and would have laughed except for the guilt choking him. Rotten of him to let Casey think one of his best friends in the world was a groping womanizer. Heck, that was even funnier than the shock on her little busybody face. Ian, the practically celibate guardian of his eight wild nephews, as a womanizer? The big Scot would be appalled.
Served them both right, come to think of it. Casey for not staying on the runabout like he had ordered, and Ian for awaiting their arrival on the fishing platform and then claiming Aidan had only forbidden him from appearing on deck. Which he hadn’t.
“Thank you for the tour, Mr. MacVicar, but it’s getting late and we have to go,” Casey was saying. “I have a tour scheduled, and Aidan is my boat driver.”
Ian’s astonishment made Aidan want to fist-pump the air. Take that, you rascally Scot. Serves you right.
“But it will only take a few minutes, lass.”
“Um, no, we have to go.” She turned Aidan and pushed him toward the stairs. “Thank you for the tour.”
Aidan was relieved, no, thrilled she wouldn’t be seeing his suite. No way could Ian collect and hide every item that might shout “Aidan!” at Casey if she entered. She was too perceptive by half. Hell, the Scottish jokester probably left something damning in plain sight on purpose, as dead set as he was against Aidan’s little undercover ploy.
“Ye are going to screw this up, just like Garrett did. And he almost lost Andi for it,” Ian had lectured on the phone earlier. “It’s no way to treat a fine lass. She’ll never forgive ye.”
That was just silly. Of course, Casey would forgive him when she saw the beautiful resort he built and saw how much the venue would help the town and its residents. To say nothing of helping her and Frank. He halted at the top step and grabbed for the handrail.
Of course, she’ll forgive me. Won’t she?
Ian stomped down the steps behind them. “Don’t ye want to see the lower deck, lass?”
Aidan felt her hesitate, could hear the wheels turning. She might think the lower deck would be safe.
“There’s just the galley, barely big enough for us all to fit,” Aidan said quickly. “And the banquette where the crew dines—and us most nights, since we never use the dining room—and the crew’s quarters,” he called over his shoulder.
He stopped and turned at the bottom of the stairs. “My room’s down there if you want me to show it to you.” The wolfish smile he gave her was completely intentional.
And the smile worked.
She stared a minute, then pushed Aidan toward the door onto the mid-deck. “We have to go.”
Outside at the stairs down to the runabout, Aidan stepped aside for Casey to descend first.
She grabbed Ian’s hand, gave it one good shake, and said, “Thanks again for everything, Mr. MacVicar. Nice ship.” and started down the stairs.
“Well, that was a fine fare-thee-well,” Ian grumbled and looked genuinely disappointed.
Too bad. Ian had flirted with Casey long enough with his lass this and lass that. Aidan knew from their college days that American women loved to be called lass. He would have used it himself back in college if he could have gotten away with it, but Ian was usually with him when he partied.
“Serves you right, you bloody knothead,” Aidan hissed back. “I told you to stay out of sight.”
Ian waved him off. “Och, I didna give yer rotten secret away. So, what now?”
“Now? You stay and fish as long as you want, and I go ashore and work off my bail.”
“Ye are not going to give up that fool idea, are ye?”
“If I don’t get that town and its residents on my side, my project here will tank, and I don’t fail. The two entities—Cypress Key and my resort—need each other to survive. Right now, the whole town hates the idea of a new golf resort. I have to change their collective minds.”
“I hope ye know what ye’re doing.”
“By the time I’m through, the town will be begging for my new resort and all the new jobs it brings.”
“No, Aidan, I meant about the lass.”
He glanced down the stairs as Casey boarded the runabout. “I hope so too,” he murmured.
Crawford materialized on deck with the packed duffel Aidan had requested. “Casting off, sir?”
“Right. Keep in touch. Both of you.” Aidan started for the stairs.
“The part works fine, sir.”
Only then did Aidan notice the vibration signaling the boat engines had started. “Damn, Joe. I almost forgot. I need the money to pay for the part.”
Crawford held out a wad of hundred-dollar bills. “Ian gave me the amount. Plenty in petty cash, sir. You said a thousand, right?”
“Right.”
“I added a few hundred extra as you instructed, for the repairman’s hustle.”
“You’re a good man, Joe. I can’t believe I almost left without the money.”
“I can,” Ian muttered. “Yer head’s not screwed on straight these last couple days.”
His friend was right. Where was his head today?
Aidan gazed down the stairs at the green-eyed beauty waiting in his boat. He knew right where his head was.
~ ~ ~
By the time Aidan had stomped and glowered his way down the stairs and cast off the runabout, Casey had her own
dander up. Given a few extra minutes to stop and reconsider what had happened on the boat, she decided she’d been a fool to listen to Aidan about his boss. No way would MacVicar have tried anything serious with five crewmen well within screaming distance, especially if Aidan had expected shenanigans.
Plain and simple, she’d been had. Aidan had not wanted a yacht tour for whatever reason, and he had gotten his way. By cheating. She was glad she hadn’t needed to test her theory all the same, but MacVicar had looked like his feelings were hurt when she’d rushed her goodbye and scurried off the boat, this time like her own pants were on fire. And now, she felt bad, and her remorse was all Aidan’s fault.
To add to his growing list of iniquities, Aidan ignored her on the ride back, keeping his eyes glued to a point on the shore. She had been a fool to think he might be the one handsome guy in the world who wasn’t also a jerk. Had that only been an hour earlier she had entertained that idiotic notion? He had been rude to his boss and rude to her, scuttling her off the ship the way he had. If she didn’t step up and have it out with Aidan, he would run roughshod over her for the next month. She needed to set boundaries. Now.
The wind lashed tendrils of hair against her cheeks as the runabout rocketed toward shore, Aidan’s hand heavy on the throttle. No way would she try to talk over the roar of the engines and double no way would she argue with him at the marina where anyone in town could happen by and usually did—if for no other reason than to see how many visitors showed up for her tour.
She held up a hand, and Aidan glanced over. She pointed at the engines then dragged a finger across her throat in a sign to kill the engines. He frowned and pulled the throttle all the way back. The runabout floundered to a standstill.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“We can talk at the marina,” he said curtly and reached for the throttle. “We don’t want to be late.”
His bossy tone only served to light Casey’s fuse. “Now listen here, Mr. Crosse.”
“Mr. Crosse?”
“That’s right. You work for me, remember?”
He looked ready to argue, but she kept going. “And while we’re at work, you’ll be Mr. Crosse.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No, ridiculous is you making up that trash about your boss trying to make a pass at me. You were rude to me, and we hurt MacVicar’s feelings with our abrupt departure, which is what you wanted all along.”
“What makes you think I made it up? You don’t even know the guy.”
“I know the man was polite and eager to show off his ship.”
“Oh, he certainly was,” Aidan muttered.
“What’s so wrong with that? He earned the right to show it off.”
“No, he didn’t. I—”
She met him glare for glare. “You what?”
“Nothing.”
“No, say it.” She hated her voice going higher, but he was pressing all her buttons.
“You just like him better because he is rich,” Aidan taunted.
Casey gasped. “Better than who?”
“Better than me!” he shouted. “Better than everyone just because he has money.”
“That’s not true,” she shouted back.
“Isn’t it?” he sneered. “And here I thought you would be different.”
“Different how?”
“Not caring about money.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Oh, I’m not?”
“Everyone has to care about money. Well, except rich yacht owners.”
“Which is why you wanted him.” His hands fisted at his hips. He loomed over her.
“No, I didn’t,” she said indignantly.
“It was obvious the way you were cuddling up to him.”
“Oooh!” she growled. “No. I. Wasn’t. You big dummy.”
“Right,” he said in clear disbelief.
“He trapped my hand on his arm, and I couldn’t tug free without being rude.” She threw her hands up in the air. “And why am I explaining to you? I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Yes, you do.”
“What?”
“We’ve already kissed. You’re mine.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”
Aidan glowered at her. “I had first dibs, and I didn’t like him hanging on you.”
“First dibs?” Her jaw dropped before she could stop it. “Like a boat up for auction?”
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought there might be some devilment in his eyes.
“He was trespassing,” Aidan said bluntly.
“Trespass—” She huffed out a disgusted exhale. “Why you conceited, puffed-up, arrogant—”
Her next words muffled as his lips covered hers. His big hand at her nape held her in place, so he could control the kiss like he had everything else that day. The heat of his body, his masculine scent, and his oh-so-provocative tongue all combined to melt her resistance and tease her into sensual compliance. She felt pliant and lightheaded and achy all at once. One big hand wrapped in her hair and the other at her lower back pressed her in against all that marvelous heat.
She knew there had to be a good reason she shouldn’t allow him to get away with this, but darned if she could remember what it was once Aidan made her feel so good.
He leaned back first, and Casey feared she may have whimpered. When she finally opened her eyes, a smug grin filled her field of vision.
Smug? After a passion-filled kiss like that? Hadn’t he felt the magic?
Smug!
Now she remembered all her anger at him and his dumb accusations. She was about to restore their employer-employee relationship, when he’d said he had first dibs. Had she been suckered? Again?
“Why did you do that?”
“What?”
“Kiss me.”
“I wanted to. And to get you to stop talking.”
“How dare—”
“You were calling me names I didn’t like.”
“Did you ever think you might have deserved them?”
“Nope.”
Nothing else. Just nope. So full of himself, so confident in his rightness.
“Well, don’t do it again,” she commanded.
“Fine!” His dark eyes flashed with irritation. “Time to go.”
Without warning, he threw the throttle forward sending her back in her seat so fast he almost dumped her into the narrow aisle between their seats.
She wanted to stop him again, so she could give him a piece of her mind, but she glanced at her watch. He was right. They had to go. She settled for a fulsome glare. The jerk wouldn’t have listened anyway.
As the runabout skimmed across the water’s surface toward shore, she stole a sideways glance at her new tour partner. He didn’t look any happier than she did at the moment. Casey knew she was angry because he’d bucked her authority and taken control of every situation today. She’d expected him to be angry when she tried to seize the control back. Instead, he’d shocked her. He was angry about first dibs.
So, which did she prefer him to be mad about? Losing control over her or jealous of his boss? She honestly didn’t know, but this was not settled. Not by a long shot.
Aidan couldn’t just go and kiss her whenever he wanted, or to win an argument. She was in charge. She had to be in charge to keep her heart safe. If she allowed herself on an even footing with Aidan Crosse, she risked falling for him like a perfectly aligned golf putt. He knew it too. Handsome guys always knew that. That’s why they ended up being jerks.
She would regain control, and she would have paybacks.
; Chapter 8
Aidan barely had time to get the boat ready before the first tour guests arrived. He had needed the remainder of the return trip to shore to get the blood back to the thinking head on his shoulders.
Kissing Casey had been stupid. Again.
But she had looked so gorgeous all fired up and spitting mad, he couldn’t help himself. Plus, some inner demon insisted he be the last male she thought of after her yacht tour.
Once he’d had a moment to calm down and think things through, he realized he hadn’t had to drag her off the yacht. Ian wouldn’t go after Aidan’s girl. He and Ian were best friends for crying out loud and had been since their college roommate days.
That last part had made Aidan temporarily crazy back on the yacht. When he saw Casey and Ian snuggled up together, his mind called up images of his and Ian’s college days, when they all too frequently hustled girls together—side-by-side, hound dogs of a feather. And more times than he cared to remember, Ian won the prettiest girl with that goofy Scottish accent of his. Aidan had worried Casey would succumb to Ian’s accent, too, and he had gone a little nuts.
No, Ian wouldn’t go after his girl. Ever. But would Casey go after Ian? She swore not. And when did he start thinking of Casey as his girl? And where had he pulled that bull from about dibs? He stifled a groan.
No, that last kiss had been a momentary slip up. Their unplanned yacht tour had thrown him off his game, off his focus. And so had that last kiss. He was back in control now.
Yup, all in control. No more kisses for me.
Just work and readying the town for his new project.
Much easier now—back at the dock—to think of the whole yacht trip as one big stupid mistake, what with Casey bossing him here and there all over the tour boat. Her sitting like Nefertiti, Queen of the Nile, under the canopy reminded him of the concussion she had told Ian was nothing.
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