Page 40 of The Exposed Heiress

They went under the Tower Bridge and Emma said, “This is remarkable. I’ve never seen London from this vantage point.”

He navigated past a larger vessel. “It’s different. Many of the wharves are now converted into luxury apartments, but in the nineteenth century, the wharves would have been packed with tall ships and sailing barges, bringing goods into and out of London.”

She looked back at him. “It’d be interesting if we found commercial space down here for Francis Bolles.”

He kept an eye on the river. “The price for commercial buildings in this area is high.”

She nodded and didn’t say anything.

“I picked up wine and food for this evening. It’s packed in that thermal bag.”

Looking into the bag, she asked, “When did you find time to do that?”

He smiled. “When you were at your flat. There was a small grocery down the block.”

“Thank you.”

He looked ahead of them. “It’s safe to put up the sails.” He moved a series of levers and tugged on the lines to open the jib and then the main sail. Next, he turned the engine off and raised it.

He moved into the wind and adjusted the jib.

Emma moved to get a better view. “Do you always sail barefooted?”

He kept his eyes on the river. “I guess. Sailing is about being in tune with the wind and water. I can feel the movement of the boat easily when standing barefoot.”

“It’s relaxing. I can only hear the water and not the engine.”

“It’s why people choose sailing.”

She smiled. “Have you always sailed?”

He shook his head. “My Uncle Harvey is afraid of the water, but I was driving him insane when I was fourteen so he signed me up for four weeks of sailing camp. I was immediately hooked.”

“I imagine most teenagers are difficult at fourteen. I remember being rebellious and causing my mother to lose her mind on several occasions.”

He nudged the till to move the boat to the right. “It’s hard to imagine you being rebellious.”

Emma shrugged. “I challenged my parents in private, but knew to keep a public façade, most of the time.”

“Is that why you’re so reserved?”

She leaned back. “I’m not that reserved.”

He easily recalled an image of her when she was a young teenager attending an event with her grandmother. “I remember the media loved taking photographs of you. In each one, you were captured with a perfect outfit and matching handbag.”

She laughed. “I hope I wasn’t as predictable as carrying a matching handbag.”

“It’s how I picture you. Your hair is flawless; a feminine dress and proper accessories.”

Emma took off her sandals and stood up, shaking out her hair. “I imagine I can’t look flawless now.”

He looked at her silhouetted against the setting sun. Long, wild hair. Slim, toned body with her legs far enough apart to balance on the water. She tempted him. An irresistible combination of wildness and perfection.

“You’re still flawless.”

She turned her back on him and gazed out at the water.

He adjusted the main sail. “So tell me about today.”

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