Page 50 of As You Crave It

“Not yet. You just caught me coming home.”

“Come with me.”

Without hesitation, she opened the passenger door and got in. “Where are we going?”

“Not far,” he told her, reaching over and taking her hand. She warmed from his simple touch as he took off up the street. “I took care of something that’s been giving me a lot of stress recently. I feel much better now.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

He frowned. “Has Jared been bothering you lately?”

“No more than usual,” she said. “I’ve compiled all the evidence I have so far. Not sure if it’s enough, but I can’t wait to lower the boom.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good.” His stare darkened, and she sensed the shift in mood after talking about Jared.

He turned into the entrance of the Miami marina. The sun was setting over the water, casting an orange hue over them. He got out of the car and Celia followed suit. Quin reached out his hand and she took it. They walked until they stopped at a gangway in front of a huge yacht—one like they’d been on in St. Martin.

“What are we doing here?”

“Well, today the business I took care of is that we aren’t going to be stocking rum with Seacoast Prestige.”

“What?” she asked. “That would have been so good for you!”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t worth it. But Jared did offer me the use of one of his yachts for the night—to change my mind, I guess. So I thought we’d have dinner, some drinks, spend a bit of his money. What do you think?”

“I’m sure we could find six or seven bottles of Dom Pérignon to open, whether we drink it or not,” she said, all for costing her boss as much money as possible.

He wrapped his arm around her. “Now you’re talking. Let’s go.”

They were seated at the small two-top table that had been set up on the yacht’s sky deck as the steward removed their dinner plates and replaced them with dishes of chocolate mousse. Quin had been surprised by Jared’s offer of his yacht for the night. It might have been a peace offering to change his mind about the supply deal. But he also knew that Jared didn’t do anything to be nice. He couldn’t think of what Jared would have to gain, but didn’t want to think about it. For now, his night was turning out perfectly. The weather was perfect, the food was delicious, the champagne was chilled and his company was exquisite. It had been torture staying away from Celia for the past couple of days.

“How was that for a dinner?” He looked across the table at Celia. The sun had fully gone down, and the moonlight cast a soft white light over them, while the lapping of the waves against the hull created a relaxing mood.

“It was delicious,” she said, spooning up some of the mousse and tasting it. He was stock-still as she closed her eyes and hummed at the flavor. His body tightened in response to her overt pleasure. “I don’t know what Jared’s ulterior motive is,” she said. “But this has been incredible. Thanks for inviting me.”

“There’s no one I would rather have here.” He paused. “You think he might have an ulterior motive, too?”

“Jared’s a bad person. He didn’t loan you the use of his yacht out of the goodness of his heart.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But I just don’t see why this would benefit him.”

She shrugged. “Maybe he wants your rum and wants to curry your favor.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, we’re here in the middle of the bay, and Jared is nowhere in sight,” Celia said with a smile.

“That’s true.”

They finished their dessert in silence, listening to the sounds of the ocean. The servers refilled their champagne flutes and cleared their dishes. “Thank you for everything,” Quin told them. “Would you mind giving us a little privacy?”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Rexford, we’ll just leave this bottle here,” the first steward told him, putting the recently opened bottle in an ice bucket on the table. “We’ll be downstairs. Page us if you need anything.”

“Thank you. We will.”

Celia sat back in her seat and closed her eyes as she sipped from her glass. “This is how the other half lives, huh?”

“Yeah, I could definitely get used to this,” he told her, not taking his eyes off her resting form, unable to look away, transfixed by the rise and fall of her chest.

---