“No, I enjoyed it! It was just more intense than I expected. Physically demanding. I thought I’d be lounging on deck, soaking up the sun, like Robbie assumed.” She laughs and takes a sip of wine.
“Like Robbiedid, more like,” Andy mutters, giving Robbie a pointed look.
Robbie just grins and knocks his glass against Andy’s with an exaggerated wink, clearly enjoying needling his teammate.
“What do I love about sailing?” I say, locking eyes with Gemma to answer her question. “It’s the thrill of someone more powerful than me being in control. It’s a challenge.”
She tries to hide a smirk behind her glass. “Skipper Magee?”
“No, Gemma,” I chuckle, leaning back in my chair. “Not the skipper. The sea.”
As Alastair takes the stage to accept his award, his voice dripping with false modesty, I’m not thinking about how I lost the race to that smug bastard. I’m not seething with the desire to wipe away his self-satisfied grin with my fist.
No, my mind is elsewhere, fixated on the way Gemma’s red dress clings to her curves, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs at something Robbie says. I find myself wanting to be the one responsible for that radiant sparkle in her gaze.
And as Sir Whitmore approaches our table, thanking us for taking care of his grandson, and Gemma somehow manages to convince him to come to our office to properly address their concerns about the acquisition, I’m not even thinking about how this play benefits me. Or how it puts us in a stronger position.
I’m distracted, drawn to the way her fiery red hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, begging to be fisted in my hands.
Through it all, I can’t take my fucking eyes off her.
Sharing drinks with Edward after dinner, I keep one eye on Gemma’s social butterfly act. Edward notices, of course. Nothing gets past that bastard.
And now, lying in bed on the boat, the gentle rocking of the waves doing nothing to calm the heat running through my veins, I’m still thinking about her. Imagining her out there, drinking with the team, laughing and smiling, her cheeks flushed with alcohol and excitement, her inhibitions lowered.
And so, I do something completely out of character.
Something reckless.
CHAPTER 23
Gemma
I stare down atthe text again, my heart hammering in my throat.
Liam:Meet me in Seafarer’s Haven. 30 minutes. Alone.
“Bloody hell,” Robbie groans beside me as Andy takes the tiny stage and proceeds to massacre “What’s New Pussycat?”
We’re still dressed from the awards gala, looking like a bunch of penguins in a pub where everyone else is wearing jeans.
Liam bailed right after dinner, leaving us to our own devices with a stern warning not to get too sloshed, lest we face his unholy wrath on the journey back tomorrow.
So why is he texting me now asking to meet up? My thumb hovers over the message as I swallow hard.
He probably just wants to debrief after the event, away from the rest of the team.
I check the location again, my stomach doing a flip when I realize Seafarer’s Haven is off the beaten path, tucked away from the main street where all the regatta teams are hanging out.
“Hey, Robbie?” I nudge his arm to get his attention over Andy’s awful karaoke. “I think I’m gonna call it a night and head back to the hotel.”
“Want me to walk you back?” he asks.
“No!” I yelp a little too forcefully. “Thanks, I’m good. The hotel’s just around the corner, I’ll be fine.”
I don’t give Robbie a chance to argue, just make my exit as casually as possible while Andy’s still hollering. The brisk night air is a welcome slap to my flushed cheeks as I navigate the quaint cobblestone streets toward the pub.
I’m nervous, which is ridiculous. I’ve had countless intense encounters with Liam before. This is nothing new, just another stern chat with the bossman.
