Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Cammie had discovered the flat and supervised the remodeling and decorating. With the world’s biggest Rolodex—no longer the old-fashioned mechanical kind, but an app—she’d tapped into some great resources and brilliant artisans. Since Dane always paid well, many of the workmen had willingly slipped their project in between others. Decorating appealed to her, and she’d made several suggestions for his resorts, as well as decorating all his other houses. The London townhouse and the countryside manor, however, had been perfect just the way they were, with the exception of the kitchens, which they’d modernized for Fernsby.
Beyond the massive great-room windows lay Alcatraz and the Golden Gate, Sausalito and Tiburon, the sun sparkling on the bay. Each of Dane’s homes had its own unique beauty that called to her. But for a city view, nothing surpassed that of the San Francisco flat.
The patter of doggy nails on the hardwood floor signaled Rex’s imminent arrival. He dashed into the room, followed by Fernsby.
“Here, you give it to Rex.” Dane handed her the bag with her balloon and the chipmunks, which he’d carried all the way up the hill.
When she threw the log for the dog, she smiled at Dane. “I told you he’d love it.”
Rex pounced, shook the toy viciously, and the chipmunks flew every which way.
“Good Lord,” Fernsby drawled. “What on earth is that?”
“Rex’s new toy,” Dane supplied.
“And just who is going to clean up the mess, sir?” Fernsby asked as Rex tore into a chipmunk and sent its stuffing flying.
“Well, that didn’t last long,” Dane noted.
Cammie huffed at them both. “He’s got nine more chipmunks.”
Fernsby merely blinked, slowly, with great meaning, which could have been either, That’s nine more chipmunk innards I’ll have to clean up or It’s your mess, you clean it up. Then he said in the driest of voices, “As instructed, I’ve prepared a celebratory feast for you. You’ll find it up on the terrace, where you can enjoy the sunset.”
She couldn’t wait to see what he’d come up with.
* * *
Cammie gasped as she stepped out on the rooftop terrace.
The sound hit Dane like her hand over his mouth had in the store. And he wanted to lick her.
He had no choice, of course, but to maintain control.
She laughed, a beautiful musical sound that wrapped around him.
Yeah, he really should have licked her.
He thought the gorgeous sunset through the glass had grabbed her attention. Then Dane saw it—a hot tub where no tub had been before. With a soaker tub in his suite, he’d never felt the need for a hot tub.
But suddenly, Fernsby had created a need. Dane wanted nothing more than to lounge in that tub with Cammie.
Two tables sat on either side, each filled with goodies, from bruschetta to shrimp rolls, seafood mushroom caps to pâté-stuffed phyllo kisses, antipasto skewers to crab cakes with mango relish. Fairy lights strung around the terrace winked on, illuminating the sparkling bottle already chilling in the champagne bucket, two glasses beside it.
Fernsby stood impassively by the terrace door as if he didn’t even recognize the impressiveness of what he’d done.
Dane gestured at the hot tub. “Did you forklift this thing up here?”
In a voice as cool as his features, Fernsby said, “You needn’t worry yourself about how I did it, sir. Just enjoy the fact that I was able to.”
He’d even laid out their swimsuits on a lounge chair, two rolled towels beside them.
Cammie put her hands on her hips. “That’s why you didn’t want to drive back to Pebble Beach. And why you wanted us out of the way today.”
Was that a flicker of humor in Fernsby’s eyes? Of course not. Fernsby was the antonym of humor.
“Let me just say, sir,” Fernsby intoned like the talking head on a news program, “I’ve watched you two work yourselves silly, and I’ve concocted some special treats for you.” Fernsby had obviously been working on this long before Dane called him. “Now enjoy the sunset, sir, drink the champagne, eat those scrumptious hors d’oeuvres over which I slaved all afternoon, and enjoy that hot tub. I’ll take care of the dog.” He gathered Rex under his arm, the little dog covered in chipmunk fluff, and marched through the terrace door, closing it behind him and leaving Dane alone on the roof with Cammie.
“Only Fernsby could get a hot tub up here.” Cammie inhaled deeply, exhaling with wonder.
Dane was still shaking his head. “I could drag him back here to tell me how he did it.”
Cammie pressed her lips together. “He’ll never tell.” Then she smiled. “And it’s more fun if we don’t know.”
Then she grabbed her suit off the lounge chair. “I’ll just put this on while you pop the cork.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “I want to sit in that tub and watch the sunset with champagne in my hand and one of Fernsby’s treats in my mouth.”