“Aw, don’t be mad, Jilly,” he said plaintively.
“I need to hang up. I’m in a cafe and I’m sure the other customers don’t want to listen to our sibling conversation, all right? I’ll see you when you get into town later. Don’t miss your flight,” I reminded him. He nodded and gave me a thumbs up.
“Good luck, sis. Call me right after you’re done. I might be on the plane, but just leave a message if I don’t answer.”
“Will do. Now, stop calling,” I said firmly, even as a smile crept over my lips.
I hung up on him and sat back in my chair, rolling my eyes. Don’t let him ‘handle’ me. Who the hell did my brother think he was, insinuating something like that? I glanced down at the digital time on my phone screen and nearly jumped out of my seat. Too late to study my notes now. It was time to rush off to the meeting. I gathered up my things and, carrying my gigantic coffee, headed back out into the bright Florida sunshine.
Three
Bruin
I wasn’t sure where I slipped from a comfortable dream into the waking world. For a while, I just let myself wallow in that space between sleeping and waking, only vaguely aware of where I was and with no idea of what time it was. All I knew was that I was comfortable, and my body felt relaxed.
I wondered which bed I was in. Maybe the penthouse suite at the resort? Was I even still in Miami? No, that wasn’t right. I was in... Ft. Lauderdale. That was it.
My hand slid over to my left while I tried to prop myself up on my right elbow, and I became aware of two things.
The first was the warm skin of a woman in my bed. She squirmed in her sleep at my touch, breathing lightly. The second was the throbbing headache I felt that made me sink back down into the sheets. Memories of last night came flooding back to me. Well, most of them did. I remembered taking the girl home, and my body remembered the sex, vaguely.
I looked over at the sleeping form beside me. My drunk self hadn’t done too bad, I figured, but I wouldn’t be holding her around for breakfast. The crying of seagulls outside was like an itch in my head thanks to the hangover, and I grumbled.
Now I knew where I was—the master bedroom of the ship. I was on the Mirabella, one of my yachts.
All my yachts had custom master state rooms that I personally managed the designs. The Mirabella’s was a gunmetal gray color scheme, with tile floors and a massive rug under the California king-size bed. Fine brown silk sheets covered the mattress, and the soft glow of an aquarium that took up the entire wall opposite the foot of the bed illuminated the room with blue.
I was grateful for the blackout curtains I had drawn.
The aquarium’s light illuminated shadows of my private gym just through a doorway on the right, and the bathroom was on the left. I saw a few towels strewn about, which made me suspect whatever fun I had with this chick last night involved either the shower or the bathtub.
My survey was interrupted by the buzzing of my phone on the bedside table, and the rattling made me wince. I reached over and checked the screen.
Fuck.
It was my yacht broker, and if he was calling me this early in the morning, it must have mea
nt there was some business to deal with. I was in no condition for business right now. I noticed a missed call icon on the screen and wondered how many times he’d tried me before now.
I swung my legs over the bed and sat up slowly before answering the call.
“Talk to me,” I groaned.
“I was wondering what kind of night you’d had,” said Rob, my yacht broker. Years ago, he might have been testy, but he’d grown to work with my lifestyle. “Six missed calls, by the way, in case you’re wondering.”
“That a record?” I said with a smile.
“Not even close,” he said. “You still haven’t beaten the twelve after that bender in Tokyo.”
“Oh God, Tokyo,” I moaned with a reminiscent sigh and a smile. “I still can’t touch sake anymore.”
“Probably for the best,” Rob muttered before taking a breath. “Anyway, I’m guessing you had a fun night, but I wanted to call to make sure you’re not on the Mirabella,” he said pointedly. “Because like I told you four or five times yesterday, you’ve got a broker coming onboard a few minutes from now to tour the place, and she’s expecting it to be empty.”
“Uh-huh, I remember,” I lied, jumping up and moving to the other side of the bed.
“You’re not on the yacht, right?” he asked. He probably knew the answer.
“Of course not,” I lied, and I ripped the sheets off the sleeping girl on the bed, who stirred and grunted in protest.