Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“I sometimes stay on it when I’ve been visiting with family and friends on the island and don’t feel like heading back to my flat in central London. But I haven’t used it much at all in the past couple of years.” He shot her a sidelong glance. “You didn’t think I’d be staying there with you, did you?”
She planted another big fake smile on her face before saying, “No, of course not,” in what she hoped was a convincing voice. “I just didn’t realize the houseboat belonged to you until today.”
“You should be comfortable enough on it,” he said. “Although you should know that it doesn’t have the latest gadgets or even a TV, so if you don’t like it, there are plenty of nearby inns or flat rentals you could book into.”
Wow, it had barely taken him any time at all to propose that she stay elsewhere. Had she offended him in some way? Because it felt like her entire presence was offensive to him at the moment. Then again, even before he’d known who she was, that was the vibe he’d been giving off. Like he was too busy and too important to take a break from negotiating some zillion-dollar deal to pick someone up at an airport.
“I’m sure it will be great,” she said in as positive a voice as she could manage. “I’ve never stayed on a houseboat before. But every time I’ve read a book about someone who lives on one, it has sounded so romantic. And I don’t need a TV. I have books.”
She wasn’t completely positive, but did his lip curl a little bit at the word romantic? Honestly, it was enough to make her laugh, and though she did manage to keep her laughter in, the smile on her lips was finally genuine.
This whole situation was just too ridiculous. Almost as though she were still on the plane, trying to sleep in an uncomfortable seat while having weird 30,000-mile-high dreams. If this hadn’t actually been her life, it would have been the perfect plot for a novel: A cranky Englishman and a fish-out-of-water American who’d kissed once when they were teenagers come face to face again without any warning.
If you couldn’t laugh, what could you do? The only time she let herself cry was when she was reading a beautifully sad story. But in her real life? Nope, she refused to be a crier. She was a get-on-with-it-er.
She was about to ask him if he had been back to Coeur d’Alene—basically looking for any kind of small talk to fill the uncomfortable silence in the car—when his phone rang.
“I have to get this,” he said.
“No worries. Just pretend I’m not here.”
“Genevieve, what’s the latest?” For the next twenty-five minutes, he talked in business-speak. Next year’s projections, something quotas, import duties… Pretty much the only words she understood were New Zealand.
She had no idea what he was talking about, so she closed her eyes, letting his lovely accent and the movement of the car lull her into a dream state.
Malcolm Sullivan.
Who would have thought she’d ever see him again?
CHAPTER TWO
Malcolm parked in the space allocated for his houseboat and turned off the ignition. Beside him, Josie was sleeping in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window, one leg tucked up beneath the other.
He decided it would be best to let her sleep for a few more moments. He needed time to not only figure out how this balls-up had happened in the first place, but also how to best deal with it. Especially given that he hadn’t exactly been his most charming self so far today.
Since that moment in Mari’s bookstore when he’d received a call letting him know that a deal he’d been chasing for a decade—and had all but given up on—was in play, he’d been working toward the biggest deal of his career. He didn’t need more money—he could never spend all he already had and gave a great deal to charity. However, there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing he could turn a local brand into a global leader. His second-in-command, Genevieve (call her Jenny and be prepared to lose a body part), had been working even more tirelessly than he on the deal and had hit a snag. Genevieve Duvall didn’t often come to him, only when she was truly stuck. But she’d come to him this morning with news that the brand owner was having second thoughts.
“They don’t want to grow too fast,” she told him. “I explained that we’ve done the research and they are ready, but let’s face it, the wonder boy who invented House in a Box is more interested in saving the world than in reading financial projections.”
“Can’t he see that we’re helping him save the world?” Malcolm exploded in frustration.