Page 46 of Doyle

And sure, Declan had a pad that seemed straight out of a magazine for the rich and famous, with white travertine flooring, beautiful walnut cabinetry, a sunken living room with an aquarium center table, a theater, and some twenty bedrooms scattered about the mansion, but really...

Doyle only had eyes for Tia, beautiful in a floral summer dress.

And then she walked over to Ethan after the event, and all he could think was...oh no.

She was up to something. And he’d lay bets it had to do with Ethan’s quest for the pirate gold.

Oh, Tia. Please no.But he couldn’t exactly confront her in front of a roomful of guests.

Now, she held a glass of vinho verde that seemed untouched and mingled with the guests on Declan’s expansive veranda that overlooked the town of Esperanza.

In the distance, Hope House sat on a cliff above the town, soft lights glowing thanks to the twinkle lights the children begged them not to remove from the yard. They did cast an ethereal glow upon the place.

Moving here had been an escape, a desperate act, but it had brought a surprising balm to his soul.

“Bro. You good?” Stein had come up to him, holding a glass of ice water with lemon. He’d parked himself not far from Declan all day. Even now, the billionaire stood not far away, wearing linen pants and flip-flops, a white linen shirt. He stood with his hands in his pockets as he talked with a couple donors.

Stein wore a pair of dress pants, a short-sleeve shirt, and running shoes, ready, clearly, for anything.

“Yeah. Just...” Doyle blew out a breath. “Close call today. Thanks for saving Tia’s life. You nearly died doing it.”

The entire thing had his heart fisting, hammering, his mouth a little dry.

Stein clamped a hand on his shoulder. “You were there. I wasn’t worried.” He winked.

Whatever.Doyle took a sip of his lemonade. “Declan’s estate seems like something out of a Bond movie. Except Declan is the good guy.”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Stein said, glancing past him, his eyes on the horizon, the crowd. “Lots to cover.”

Right.Stein saw the dangers, not the opulence.

The three-story estate sprawled across a hillside, with a patio that jutted out over the side of the hill, bordered with glass railings, a pool set in the middle, now bright with firelight on the glassy water. Above them extended another patio, just enough to offer a covered seating area below, with two long sofas and a low granite fire table between them. The tile extended over the entire ground-level patio, and palm trees in planters sat in the corners, rustling in the breeze.

The second story looked just as fantastic, with floor-to-ceiling windows for a panoramic view. And he guessed another patio might be on the top of the building, given the rooftop walkway.

Elegant. Expensive. Yet Declan seemed a man easy with himself, not pretentious.

Doyle spotted Austen in the group talking with Declan. The red highlights in her auburn hair gleamed in the flicker of the tiki torches around the pool.

She’d nearly drowned today, and that thought punched a hole through him. If he hadn’t surfaced when he did—and if he hadn’t had that shallow dive—he wouldn’t have been ready to dive again. His gear would have been stripped off, his BCD hanging on an empty tank.

Timing.His words before the dive about God’s will issued back to him.“Now I don’t know what the destination is, and frankly, I’m not sure I want one.”

Maybe it wasn’t so much not wanting one but putting his heart into something only to see it shattered in a moment.

As he watched, Austen smiled up at Declan, a laugh in her eyes. “Is there something going on between Declan and Austen?”

Stein glanced at Declan, frowned. “Don’t think so. They met at Boo’s wedding, and he invited her to guide. That’s all.”

Breathe.

“Listen, Doyle. We lived, and it’s a gorgeous evening. Enjoy.” Stein winked and followed Declan as the man moved away.

Gorgeous was right. Not a cloud to mar the overhead sprinkle of stars, the breeze warm off the ocean, and the smell of Wagyu-beef shish kebabs sizzling on the grill. An armada of chefs cooked the accompanying seafood paella, saffron spicing the air, prawns and clams simmering in the juices. Glistening plantain fried in another pot.

“Shrimp?”

Doyle’s attention jolted to a server holding a tray of hors d’oeuvres. He helped himself to a grilled shrimp in some tangy sauce on a cucumber.

---