The Skipper & the Billionaire Playboy

Fortunately, sanity returned when he moved his hand lower to cup her buttocks and press her lower body more firmly against his, emphasizing the level of his arousal. It was like a splash of cold water in the face, allowing her to jerk away. “No more of that.”

She scrubbed at her mouth while she glared at him, wanting to wipe away all traces of the kiss—not because it had been unpleasant, but because it had been too pleasant, too earthshaking, and more than she wanted to accept. Being attracted to Sawyer was bad enough, but having an affair with him was unthinkable. She couldn’t think of any reasons why at the moment, but she was sure they would return to her when her mind cleared from passion.

He frowned. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is you and I have a deal, a business deal. We’re not involved, and I won’t let you do that again.” Without waiting for an answer, she spun on her heel and strode to the bathroom, pausing only long enough to grab sleepwear from the dresser where a maid had thoughtfully unpacked all her clothing earlier. Thank goodness she’d had the foresight to insist on a few comfortable pieces for sleeping during her shopping trip with Onja.

By the time she had removed her makeup and shoved her hair into an unflattering ponytail, she was feeling calmer. Stepping from the bathroom, she was disconcerted to find the light already out and Sawyer in bed. He was snoring softly, and though half the bed was available, the covers even thrown back for her, she ignored the unspoken invitation and turned to the furniture instead.

Some exertion allowed her to line up the ottoman to the loveseat in a semi-comfortable position, and she stretched out on the furniture. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as it had looked, and she supposed that was due to the quality of the pieces. Still, it wouldn’t be her favorite place to sleep for the next six nights after this one, but it was far safer to stay on the slightly uncomfortable loveseat than move to the tempting king-size bed.

She had no doubt the thread count of the sheets would be in the millions and super soft against her skin. The mattress would probably be the most comfortable she’d ever slept on, and she would snooze like a baby. None of those features were the most tempting one.

The main attraction and component holding her back was the bed’s owner and sole occupant. She had the feeling if she got into that bed with him, she’d wake up curled in his arms, her own body having betrayed her in the middle of the night. If that happened, she doubted she would be able to move away from him a second time. Not because she thought he would try to force her or hold her there, but because she didn’t think she could summon the strength of will to make herself leave again.

Chapter Five

The spa was amazing. Nadia had been to such facilities before, but never one quite like this. It was certainly upscale, and she was thankful Sawyer had pressed his card into her palm that morning despite her resistance. Yes, she could have afforded the indulgent luxury of the place, but she’d decided to allow him to pay for it instead. It was simply another bonus, like that mind-blowing kiss.

No, she couldn’t think about that and still hope to maintain any distance between them, especially when his mother and sister were regaling her with tales of his childhood and clearly trying to present him in a better light than he actually projected. Just remembering how it had felt to be in his arms, even briefly, made her too vulnerable.

“He sounds like he was just as precocious then as he is now,” she said with a grin as his mother wound down the tale of him sneaking out at fifteen, stealing Harold’s Rolls-Royce, and using it to take the gardener’s daughter on a date. There hadn’t been a hint of dis

approval about the fact it had been the gardener’s daughter. Their main objections seemed to have been that she was four years older than Sawyer, and that he had stolen the car.

“He is at times,” said Caitlin with an indulgent smile only a mother could wear.

Nadia wondered how indulgent his mother would be if she shared some of her tales of Sawyer, the kind of tales full of debauchery and womanizing—the kind of behavior about which no mother needed to hear. An unspoken part of her job was to shield his family from the truth of Sawyer.

He hadn’t stipulated that in their terms, but she had taken the task upon herself. They didn’t need to know just how wild their golden boy could be. Of course, it benefited her to remember his darker streak whenever she was tempted to succumb to his charms, should temptation arise again, as it had last night.

“What about you, dear? Were you precocious?”

Nadia shook her head. “Not at all, ma’am. Caitlin,” she corrected, reminding herself for the tenth time his mother had invited her to use her first name. “I hear I was always shy and cautious, certainly reserved. According to my papa, the only time I really came alive was on the sea. It’s in my blood.”

“You and Sawyer definitely have that in common,” said Kiersten. “He and Dad used to go sailing in the Bay every weekend. Dad had one of those wooden sailboats, and you know how much upkeep they require?” At Nadia’s nod, she added, “Sawyer worked side-by-side with our dad, keeping the boat shipshape and ready for sailing into the next adventure.”

It was difficult to imagine Sawyer working hard at anything without complaint, besides bedding his latest conquest. She held back that criticism, somehow able to envision that side of Sawyer, at least a younger version of him. It intrigued her that he had been a devoted sailor with his father, just as she had with hers. Could it be they had something in common?

Briefly, she wondered what had happened to Mr. Sinclair, but the hint of sadness in Kiersten and Caitlin’s expressions kept her from asking. In the three years she had known Sawyer—admittedly she didn’t know him that well, having mostly avoided him with the exception of the last few days—he had never spoken of his father. It was clearly a sensitive subject, and she swallowed her question.

As they moved from massages to mud baths, she put on a cooling mask and leaned back in the thin mud, surprised at how soothing it was. It didn’t feel at all like mud, but rather like cooling gel encompassing her from neck to toe. “This stuff is amazing,” she said with a small sigh.

From her left, she heard Caitlin give a similar sigh and murmur in agreement.

Kiersten was on her right, and she didn’t reply, clearly too lost in relaxation. Nadia realized with a start that she could get used to this. Oh, not coming to a spa every day, and certainly not living all of her life on land in the city, but it would be nice to have female friends, or family, with whom to do these things.

Her own mother had died when she was a little girl, and there had been no siblings. Her parents had met in foster care, both orphans, so it was just the two of them after Carla had died. Now, it was just her. An ache of loneliness shot through her, making her wish this was all real instead of a charade.

Nadia bunched her hands into fists, wincing as the cool mud squished between them. She couldn’t think like that, especially not about his family. This week was simply an illusion, and she couldn’t allow herself to grow attached to them.

They were certainly making it difficult though, since they were welcoming her into their lives so openly and with such sincerity. They were too kind to her, and guilt ate at her.

“When you two get married, will you have the ceremony here in the city, or will you get married on the yacht?”

Nadia choked at the question, coughing to clear her throat. “Married?”

“Mom, you’re terrifying her.” Kiersten sounded amused. “Mom’s just hoping for wedding bells in the near future.”