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He shrugged insouciantly. “It’s only eighty feet. That’s not even the biggest we make.”
Out of words, she blinked at him.She’d worn the wrong kind of shoes for an eight-foot boat. That kind of luxury demanded blinged-out stilettos and designer bikinis, not pantyhose and machine-washable sandals.
“Climb aboard,” he said spiritedly. “It’s old but reliable.”
“What do you call old?” she asked in an undertone. “Three?” The vessel looked brand new to her, but she could admit she didn’t know much about boats. Houses she knew. Things that floated? Not so much.
She stepped on and he closed the little door behind them.
Guiding her toward the front by pressing a hand to the small of her back, he said, “This one’s fifteen. It was custom designed for a client who wanted to take a long anniversary trip with his wife.”
“If it was so special, why do you have it? Did they not take the trip?”
“Oh, they took the trip. But the thing about people who have more money than sense is that they sometimes waste what they’ve got. He didn’t really plan on using it after the trip, so I bought it off him for a steal. Or rather, I bought it off the guy on his staff who handled such things. Dude probably doesn’t even know it’s missing. Maybe one day he’ll reminisce and ask about it and will end up buying a new boat from me to replace it.”
She shook her head but was actually impressed by his high level of transactional prowess. Something about the idea of rich people eating each other alive gave her the warm-fuzzies. “Tim Dowd, you’re a shark.”
“I sure am.” He opened the cockpit door and gestured toward the inside.
She stepped into the dark room and stood very still so as not to break anything until he turned on a light. “I’m surprised you’d want a secondhand boat when you could just make yourself a new one.”
“Nah. I put a lot of blood and sweat into this boat.”
“No tears?”
“I leave the crying for my staff to do. Come on. What I want to ask you about is down in the living area.”
He got her moving again, and she could only hope he wasn’t walking her to her doom. She couldn’t see a damned thing, but shehadseenDead Calmfar too many times for comfort. Bad things happened on boats. She’d watched the movie because she’d liked the looks of young Billy Zane, and around the fifth time or so that she’d watched, she’d decided she was some sort of masochist. That had turned out to be truer than she’d expected. Sometimes, she liked a little pain mixed with her sex. She didn’t want to live in a horror movie, though.
Tim turned on the light in what appeared to be the boat’s galley.
It was sleek and modern, flush with stainless-steel-everything, with the exception of the built-in table and benches, which were wood in a deep mahogany tone that matched the wall paneling.
She whistled low and pondered dollars and cents. Not only were the materials expensive, but the salaries of the guys who installed the stuff had to be up there, too.
“Like it?” He chuckled.
“I see why you’d want to keep it.”
“I haven’t yet topped it. I keep trying, but I think I sabotage myself so it’ll never happen.”
“So, you never built a boat for yourself? If I ever settle down, I’m designing a house with top-of-the-line everything.” She cringed. “Well, top-of-the-line within my budget, which will likely be less than you’d expect.”
She’d been asking for a raise every six months for the past two years, and Lipton threw a bit of pocket change at her each time, but she still wasn’t earning a salary commensurate to her skills and experience. She couldn’t blame anyone for that but herself. After graduation, she’d been so happy to get a job offer that she didn’t negotiate ruthlessly enough. Deep down, she knew that if she wanted more money, she’d need to move to another firm.
She’d been with Lipton for so long, though, and worried the next place she went would be far from home. She didn’t want to leave her grandmother and sister all by themselves. Her grandmother had been getting along just fine without her, but still—Valerie wanted to be able to get home in a few hours if she had to.
“Well, I might be able to give you something else to customize in the meantime,” Tim said. “Open-ended budget.”
“You’re speaking my language. What do you have?”
He reached into a low cabinet and pulled out a long poster tube.
She jammed her hands onto her hips and clucked her tongue. “So, you weren’t kidding. You’re trying to eke free labor out of me.”
He stood the tube on its end atop the table and fixed that beguiling gaze on her. “If you’d prefer me to have my way with your body than your mind, just let me know.”
She swallowed hard and dragged her stare down from his narrowed eyes to his full, smirking lips. They were the most recognizable thing about him in all those pictures of him she’d seen. Especially the cleft beneath the bottom one that seemed to beckon for her touch.
