One for the Money

“Along with rogue.”

“Scoundrel.”

“Ne’er do well.”

“I do certain things very well, actually.”

She gives me a reluctant grin. Then her eyes go wide. “That’s yours?”

“I told you it was a yacht.”

“That’s not a yacht. It’s a freaking cruise ship.”

She exaggerates. A little bit. It’s a custom-built superyacht with two pools, a hot tub, a glass bottom, an IMAX theater, and a crew of twenty. They’re not here. The boat is quiet on the water as I hand Eva out of the car.

“Not that one,” I tell her, leading her past the craft used for events to the fifty-foot bluewater sailing yacht. It’s the one I take when I want a long, peaceful ride through the ocean. It also offers some of the best views of the stars in Bishop’s Landing.

I climb aboard and then help her make the hop to the deck.

She wobbles a little in my arms, and my hands immediately go around her waist. I steady her in a split second, but I hold her for several heartbeats after that. Her eyelashes brush her cheeks. Demure? Nervous? Then she glances at me, and I see something else entirely.

A fiery passion that’s been banked for years.

Heat rushes through my body in implicit answer.

I force myself to let her go, except for a loose link of our hands. The boat isn’t in motion, but it sways gently. I don’t want her tumbling overboard. I lead her to the back, where a platform can be used for boarding or sunbathing.

I throw down a couple of outdoor pillows, making us a nest.

Then I pull her down with me.

After an initial stiffness, she relaxes against my side. I’m stretched out flat on the deck, my arm around her. My gaze is on the sky, instead of her, but somehow that makes this moment feel more intimate. I run playful fingertips down her arm, teasing out more goosebumps.

“Beautiful,” she says, looking at the stars.

When you lie down like this, you feel insignificant. That’s what I like about it. Like I’m a speck of cosmic dust. Like the fate of my entire family, as well as several thousand other families, doesn’t rest on my shoulders.

I look down at Eva’s face in profile—her strong brow, her faintly upturned nose, her full lips. Her black silky hair tickles my nose. “Beautiful,” I murmur in agreement.

Her dark gaze meets mine. “Thank you for tonight.”

“For almost getting you arrested?”

“For taking pity on me. I know that’s why you did it.”

I don’t pretend not to understand. “Alex fucking Langley.”

She makes a face. “I mean, he’s nice. But going to my mom instead of me, the whole arranged-match thing…I hate it. I’m sure you must get that, too.”

“Something like that.”

There’s a ticking clock where I’m concerned.

Get married while you still can, my mother implies with every society chick she introduces me to. I’ve already told her I’m not getting married.

And I’m sure as hell not having children. Not ever.

I wouldn’t do that to them.

“At least he’s honest about what he wants. In a way that’s better than someone asking me out and charming me as if they want…you know. A real relationship.”

“What’s wrong with being charming?”

“I don’t like charming men,” she says, earnest.

It makes me grin. “Everyone likes charming men.”

“I want a real relationship with you,” I say, my voice low in the style of a confession.

Her eyes are as luminous as the night sky. “Do you?”

The words are hard to get out. “I can’t have it.”

Because of my family’s secrets.

I don’t get that with anyone. Especially not a woman like her.

Hurt ricochets through her eyes. She gives a short nod that doesn’t quite hide the pain.

I’ve never been tempted to tell anyone before, but part of me wants to do that now. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s not you, it’s my family. It’s not you, it’s a modern-day curse.

“Do you know any of them?” she says, gesturing upward. “The stars?”

“A sailor has to know. That bright spot right there? That isn’t a star. That’s Jupiter.”

She squints.

“And to the right… there’s the Lion. And the one right above it, that’s Denebola. It’s bigger and brighter than the sun. And it’s the tail star in Leo. Like your brother.”

“Like my brother,” she repeats, her words slow and thoughtful. “He’s going to have so many questions when my mom tells everyone that I left the gala with you.”

“Tell him to mind his own business.”

She laughs a little. “No one tells Leo Morelli what to do.”

Everyone knows the Morelli brothers are overprotective bastards. Which makes their sisters off-limits unless you’re willing to run the gauntlet. I wouldn’t let that stop me. I have my own reasons for keeping this casual. “Besides, Sarah Morelli isn’t going to tell anyone about one little joyride.”

“Oh, she’s already told everyone at the gala. I’m sure.”

I wince, acknowledging she’s probably right. Which means my mother will hear about it. She’s no fan of the Morellis, but she’s desperate enough to want me married and producing offspring that she’d probably accept it.