“Wait a minute,” Sage said slowly, as if a crucial piece of the puzzle had just clicked into place. “Three days. On board the sailboat.Together?”
“That is accurate, yes.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do it.” From the look of horror on her face, you’d think he’d proposed sharing a prison cell with a psychopath.
“I understand, mademoiselle. And if you’d like the boat to go to Mr. Cahill by default—”
“Wait.” Sage closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath before opening them again, her expression resigned. “Fine. I’ll do it. Under one condition.”
“And what might that be?” Herman asked.
“The boat is forty-five feet long. And I expect Mr. Cahill to stay as far away from me as possible.”
Her words stung like salt water slapping a wound, but he nodded. “Works for me.”
Putting distance between them would be in his best interest, too.
In fact, it may be the only way he’d survive.
Chapter 5
LOGAN
Come on,come on, come on.
Logan wasn’t sure he’d survive another second of suspense. Waiting for the right minute to propose should be added to the categories of cruel and unusual punishment.
He lingered in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, cradling a towering platter of fresh-from-the-oven scones. He hadn’t eaten a single crumb all morning, but not even the rich, buttery scent of pastries could divert his attention from the day’s mission.
Abby flitted around the long antique table, readjusting a rosebud here, a cucumber sandwich there, while Max and several of Abby’s friends sat in tall high-backed chairs, waiting for her to kick off the afternoon tea—an event she took as seriously as the Super Bowl.
She’d even dressed up for the occasion. Which, for his laid-back girlfriend, meant a white silky blouse tucked into dark jeans and black heels.
Wait a sec. He glanced beneath the table.Yep. Just as he suspected. She’d already ditched the shoes. But man, did she have the cutest bare feet. In truth, he found everything about Abby downright adorable, from her frazzled, pink-cheeked perfectionism to the warm, motherly way she fussed over her friends.
He couldn’t wait to tell her exactly how he felt about her.
At the thought, his chest swelled, on the verge of bursting. Every fiber in his being burned with excitement, like an electrical current carrying too much voltage. He’d felt the same fire the first time he sat in an F-16, one hand on the side stick, ready for his whole world to change.
The crazy part? Marrying Abby would be a million times more momentous. He just needed her to say yes.
The sugar bowl, resting on the platter, hidden among the scones, suddenly felt heavier than a cargo plane.Whatever you do, don’t look down and draw unnecessary attention. He shifted the platter in his arms, waiting for Abby to get the party started.
“Everything looks lovely, dear.” Verna Hoffstetter beamed from behind a tiered tray of something Abby called petits fours—code for absurdly tiny cakes.
“Thank you.” Abby leaned over her friend Sage—who’d seemed distracted since she arrived—to light a tapered candle. “Is it like you remember?”
“My heavens, yes. Very authentic.” Verna nodded, and her strange hat nearly toppled off her short tangerine-colored hair. At least, he thought it was a hat. She called it afascinator. Fitting, since it fascinated the heck out of him. The weird netting material had a fake bird sitting on top of it.
“I feel like I’m back in London with my Harold.” Verna placed a hand to her heart, her features soft and blissful. He’d never met Verna’s late husband, but from the stories Verna told, he would’ve liked the guy. And he hoped he and Abby would have a similarly long, happy marriage.
His heartbeat accelerated again. If he didn’t propose soon, he might keel over from high blood pressure.
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that!” Abby breathed. “I want everything to be perfect for Sadie and Lucy, and I couldn’t have done this trial run without you. Without all of you.” She lightly dabbed the corner of her eye with her fingertip, instructing her tears to stay put as her gaze swept their smiling faces.
Besides Verna, Max, and Sage, the partygoers included Abby’s best friend, Nadia Chopra, and the Belles—a group of spunky older women who got together under the guise of a book club and philanthropy. Although Logan suspected it had more to do with the snacks and socializing.
“You know we’re happy to be guinea pigs anytime food is involved. Right, Max?” Nadia gave Max a gentle nudge with her elbow.
