Could a man like Troy Harrington ever truly understand her world? And could she ever truly be a part of his?
Look at how blithely he’d asked her to find him a massive yacht. She would be a fish out of water in his world, no matter how nice and even admirable he seemed. No matter how tempting he was. No matter how badly she wanted to throw herself at him. Sooner or later, his family would figure out she didn’t fit in. The Mavericks would too.
Besides, he was probably playing with her to win the bet.
And she wasn’t a woman to be played with.
Hands still jammed on her hips, she ground out, “I’m never going to date you.”
He raised one eyebrow as if to mock her. “Well,” he said in an easy drawl, “we’ve already had dinner together.”
She forced her expression to stay mutinous, even as she remembered how lovely that evening had been. “That wasn’t a date.”
He gave her an oh-so-not-innocent look. “It kind of felt like one.”
Oh God, it really had. She’d felt so comfortable, she’d told him her whole freaking life story. And it had felt good.
But that didn’t mean it was a date. “It was one hundred percent not a date.”
He spread his hands, saying mildly, as if she were a terrified kitten, “All right. If that’s what you want to think.” Which obviously meant her thinking was wrong. “But I did hear a lot about how you grew up and how you started your business.”
Part of her wished she could take it all back. And yet the crazier, dazzled part of her relished having been the center of his attention for two hours.
Then he went for the throat. “I don’t get the sense that you share that much with everyone you have dinner with. Am I wrong?”
He wasn’t. But she certainly couldn’t admit it. She could only double down. “It was not a date. And you and I will never, ever go on a date.” Never, ever, ever!
She thought he muttered, “Doth she protest too much?”
He was too far away, but it was certainly the kind of cocky thing he’d say.
After going for the throat, now he went for the soft underbelly. “Is it because I’m a billionaire?” Slipping his hands into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “Do you have something against billionaires? I can’t understand why when you work almost exclusively with them.” His lips curled into a half-smile. “After all, you’re the billionaire matchmaker.”
Naturally he’d bring that up. The arrogant, contentious, audacious—okay, she wouldn’t call him an ass. She had to admit he wasn’t an ass at all. But he did know how to rub her the wrong way. She felt her hackles rise as if she were a tabby cat going into battle with a Maine coon. The man befuddled and bewitched her until she couldn’t list all the reasons, even though she’d gone over them for days.
There was only one thing to do. “You need to get out of my office.”
But then, because she was a businesswoman, and she couldn’t help herself, she added, “I’ll find you that boat if you’re still interested.”
She was hooked. No one got this mad if there wasn’t a grain of truth in what he’d said. And he didn’t even have to give away that Alice Fletcher had inspired this tactic. But the woman was right; that was exactly when Michaela had become militant and ordered him out—the moment he’d asked if she had something against billionaires.
He thought about closing the distance between them and taking control of the situation by kissing her. Would that melt her stubborn resolve? Did she want it as badly as he did?
But just as his question about billionaires sent her off the deep end, a kiss would shoot her straight into orbit. And not in a good way.
As much as he craved a taste of her, the timing was delicate. And this wasn’t the right time.
Before he turned and walked to the door, he said, “Oh yeah, I really want it.”
He wasn’t talking about the boat.
For the entire day—and into the evening, if he was truthful—Troy wondered if he’d heard what he wanted to hear, when really she’d meant for him to take the boat and shove it. He didn’t receive a phone call or an email, not even a text.
But she called the next day—thank God—saying without preamble, “I found the perfect yacht for you.” He savored the sound of her voice.
There was no equivocation in her words, no I think preceding it. Just like there’d been no equivocation when she’d told him she’d never, ever go out with him.
But he had other weapons in his arsenal. “Great. I’d like to take it for a test cruise.”
