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  She returned his smile with a warm, if grateful, smile of her own. When she shifted her attention back to Theo, she’d already turned off the lightness on her face. “I think it’s time to let these guys work while we get down to business. Since it’s just the two of us working here, it’s even more important that you get me up to speed as quickly as possible. Starting right now. Please.”

  She said it with such conviction, and she’d handled the news of Whitley’s mistress with such poise that he nearly went along with her suggestion. It took reminding himself that she’d refused to sell Cloud Nine to him, despite her lack of business training and fear of water. He had to remind himself that she held the fate of his career and home in her ill-equipped hands.

  Anger coiled inside him once more. She’d put him in exactly the kind of terrible position he’d meticulously structured his life to avoid. Never again, no matter what, was he going to get suckered into playing the part of hero in someone else’s sob story. He concentrated on those details, brushing aside his admiration and sympathy for her.

  “Like I said last night, if you want to play like you’re cut out to be a business owner, then go for it. I have a lot of work to do.”

  Will raised his head from where he was scraping the flooring off and frowned at him. Brandon also looked like he was about to pipe up, so Theo spun around and strode outside.

  Too bad for him, Allison followed. “I am your boss. You can’t talk to me that way.”

  All that admiration and pity he’d felt evaporated at the word boss and that she was already holding that over his head. “What are you going to do, fire me?”

  That shut her up. Red faced, she stared daggers at him. Her expression reminded him about the night before, the bluster she’d been full of because he’d saved her. It reminded him of the way she’d looked stripped to her underwear, in his home, wrapped in the quilt from his bed. Desire wormed its way into his consciousness. High emotion looked good on her. It added a flush to her skin, a fire to her eyes, and a quivering tension in her body that reminded him of—

  Stop.

  He summoned his anger again. “You can’t throw it in my face that you’re my boss, then expect me to teach you how to be that boss. If you’re not going to sell to me, then you’re on your own. You’re going to sink or you’re going to swim. Either way, I’m not going to save you again.”

  Huffing, she threw up her arms. “Why does every damn thing in my life come back to water?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Look, I don’t want you to save me. I hate that I need you. I don’t want to need anybody anymore. I trusted Lowell and look where it got me. I’m sick and tired of feeling helpless, but just because I’m done with it doesn’t mean I can snap my fingers and suddenly know everything necessary to running this company. If you won’t help me learn, then you’re interfering with my ability to save myself.”

  She had him there. “Fine. You want to learn the ropes? We’ll start with a tour of the rental boats.”

  She rolled her eyes with flippant aplomb. “That’s a cheap shot.”

  Yes and no. “There’s nothing more important to our business than the boats”—which was the God’s honest truth—“so we might as well dive right in.”

  “Enough with the water analogies.”

  It hadn’t been intentional, but now that she’d brought it up, he had to admit it was kind of funny how many English phrases referenced water. French, not so much. He wasn’t a jokester by nature, but the degree to which it aggravated Allison was quite motivating, which was why he added, “No sense in wading in slowly.”

  “Oh, ha-ha.” Her attempt at sarcasm was overwhelmed by the quiver in her voice.

  He swept his hand toward the canal stairs in invitation. “After you.”

  She looked over her shoulder at the office. “I guess Katie will be okay in her activity center without me there.”

  “Duke and the guys will keep an eye on her. There’s only two types of boats, so this won’t take too long.” Just long enough to prove his point.

  With a determined nod, she marched past him and stood at the top of the stairs. “It looks like there are four little boats and four houseboats, not counting yours.”

  “Lanette.”

  “Hmm?”

  “My boat. Her name is Lanette.” He shocked himself with that. Sure, her name was painted on the hull, but he couldn’t speak of Lanette without affection warming his words. Why would he reveal that intimate piece of himself with her?

  “Did you name her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she named after someone?”

  “A lover.” Another joke? What had gotten into him? He was not that man, but flustering Allison seemed to come naturally to him.

  “So, Lowell brought his lover upstairs and you brought yours to your boat? What kind of hedonistic place is this? Am I going to need to take a lover to fit in around here?”

  Priceless. He covered his mouth with the side of his fist lest she saw him smile as he debated whether to tell her the truth, that Lanette was named after his childhood pet. He decided against it.

  “We’re wasting time,” he said, affecting his grouchiest voice. “Let’s get moving on this tour. I don’t have all day.”

  She eyeballed the stairs. “These stairs need an outer railing. This is dangerous.”

  “They’re safe enough. You climbed up them last night just fine.”

  “I didn’t have any choice to get back to solid ground.”

  “Are you going to act this scared around the customers? Because that would be bad business.”

  She ignored him. “Tell me the interiors of the boats are nicer than they seem from here, because what I’m seeing through the windows is depressing. Gray walls, no frills. Boring.”

  “Find out for yourself.”

  She squinted at the boats for another few beats, then shook her head. “These are going to need a major overhaul before the season starts.”

  “Day one and you’re already criticizing the way I’ve been doing business all these years? That’s presumptuous.”

  “I was meaning to criticize the way Lowell had done business, not you.”

  “He was, to put it politely, a silent owner.”

  “But he came here a lot over the years to stay on top of the business. He—”

  A cruel and mocking choice of words, if that was the exact expression the scumbag had used with Allison. Away from the other men and their pitying looks, this time Theo allowed his internal cringe to show on his face.

  “Ah,” she said. “Shawna.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He didn’t help at all?”

  “No. His accountant handled the bills and payroll, and Whitley signed off on the paperwork that required the owner’s signature, but he left the rest to me, which is why the business has stayed viable. He had enough sense not to interfere since he didn’t know the first thing about running a boat rental company.” He let that last part drip with subtext.

  “You’ve made your point, a lot. Here’s mine again. I’m not leaving. I’m not giving up. And I’m not selling Cloud Nine to you or anyone else. I’m not going to go bust my butt working double shifts at some low-paying job so Katie can be raised in day care. If you think I can be so easily swayed to do something that’s not in my child’s best interest, then you obviously don’t understand the determination that comes with being a mother.”

  Her words made his skin prickle. She had no idea how close to home she’d hit with that declaration—on multiple levels. Determination was only a positive attribute in mothers if what they wanted for their children wasn’t toxic, or if it wasn’t so overwhelming that the child didn’t self-destruct from the pressure.

  “If you’re so determined, then walk down the damn stairs and let me show you around the boats.”

  H
e’d called her bluff and, by the look on her face, she knew it. “I’ll be inside looking through the files and the computer programs. If you won’t help me like I need you to, then I’m going to figure out this business on my own. That’s a promise you can take to the bank.”

  He muttered a prayer for patience, then before he could second-guess himself, he hooked his hand around her knees and swung her into his arms.

  She shrieked. Trembling, she lassoed his neck so tightly, she nearly choked him. “Don’t throw me in.”

  Man, she was terrified of water. Beyond normal fear. He almost asked her what happened to make her that way, but he already felt too much sympathy for her with the whole Lowell and Shawna affair.

  He started down the stairs, concentrating on keeping his steps deliberate, ignoring the way she felt clinging to him, the way her supple body felt in his hands. “I wasn’t planning to, but I also wasn’t going to stand there anymore. I wasn’t lying about how much I have to do today. I’ve got an engine to fix on one of the day-rental boats, then I promised Duke I’d help him with an electrical issue at the ice rink later this afternoon.”

  “Take me back to the office. Right now. I’m serious. You can’t handle me like this.”

  “Fine. I’m stopping.” He was a “no means no” kind of man, so even though they were right in the middle of the floating dock, only a few feet from the boat he’d intended on setting her down on, he stopped and released her legs to the dock.

  She sagged into him, refusing to relinquish her hold on his neck. “I didn’t mean you should set me down here.”

  He knew she didn’t, but he wasn’t going to scurry around doing her bidding or stand around waiting for her to put up or shut up.

  “You have two choices right now. You can trust me or you can trust yourself.”

  With her arm still around his neck and her other hand twisting his shirt with a death grip, she backed her face up from where it’d been burrowed against his chest and looked in his eyes. “You haven’t given me a reason to trust you. All you’ve done is make my life more difficult.”

  “Je pourrais dire la même chose à propos de toi.” He winced, then repeated it in English. “I could say the same about you.”

  Which didn’t explain why he had his arms around her or why his heart was pounding so loudly that he couldn’t hear anything save for the rush of blood in his ears. It didn’t explain why he kept accidentally speaking in French to her without meaning to. Was that some kind of new nervous tic? He certainly hadn’t counted on nerves or embraces when he’d indulged in this half-baked plan to teach her a lesson.

  His gaze dipped to her lips, but only for a second because he got a grip, fast, and settled his attention on the water beyond the boats. “You have to get over this irrational fear of water.”

  “It’s not irrational and I don’t need to get over it. Fear is as natural as breathing. There’s a reason fear has survived with evolution.”

  He wasn’t going to stand on the dock embracing his boss while they had a philosophical discussion on the Darwinian importance of fear. He’d proven his point that she was completely unqualified to work at a boat rental company, much less run it. Bending into her, he gathered her in his arms again. She gave a little whimper and mashed her face into his cheek.

  “I think I hate you.”

  The movement of her lips against his skin gave him goose bumps. “Then I’ll consider this little field trip a success, as long as that doesn’t mean we have to have a discussion about the evolution of repulsion.”

  As soon as he’d crested the stairs, he set her down, careful to do so out of view of the office. The last thing he needed were his hockey teammates seeing him carry Allison around like she was some damn princess.

  She retained her grip on his shirt and stared up at him, as angry as she’d been earlier, complete with the flushed cheeks and fiery eyes, and the same trembling body. “That wasn’t very nice.”

  “Yes, well, I’m not a very nice man.”

  He expected her enthusiastic agreement on that point, but all she did was stare at him. The fire in her eyes changed, as though his declaration had reminded her of a secret she was determined to keep. Dropping her focus to his chest, she released her hold on his shirt and smoothed out the material.

  “I’m going to go check on Katie.”

  She slid past him, toward the office. It wasn’t until they were no longer touching that he realized how right she’d felt in his arms—and how close he’d been to kissing her.

  He spun away from her, disgusted with himself. “I’m going to go fix that engine.”

  Without looking back, he stopped by the garage for his tools, then headed to the boat in need of repair. Rather than go straight to the engine, he walked through the boat and got a glass of water from its kitchenette, rattled by the confrontation with Allison and his own haywire emotions.

  He took stock of the boat’s bare walls and brown carpet. It did look drab, as Allison had said. Shawna had read the same complaint of Cloud Nine on Internet business review sites, but what was he supposed to do? Hire a decorator on the paltry budget Whitley had allotted Cloud Nine? He was sick and tired of being an employee, at the mercy of the owner’s whims.

  He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Oscar, his attorney.

  “Yes, hello, Oscar. This is Theoren Lacroix. You know that sale of ownership proposal you drew up for me for Cloud Nine Boat Rentals? Unfortunately, the previous owner passed it to his ex-wife instead, and . . .”

  His stomach lurched. He thought about Allison, soaking wet, naked, and freezing on his couch, her baby in her arms, absolutely livid at him for saving her life. He thought about her in his arms, trembling, paralyzed with fear of the water. He thought about how badly he’d wanted to kiss her, how right she felt with her face pressed to his cheek.

  This is for the best. For you, and for her, too, even though she can’t see it yet.

  He looked through the kitchenette window at the landing office. He could just make out Allison’s silhouette, bouncing her baby on her hip. He turned away from the view. He’d warned her that he wasn’t a nice man. She hadn’t believed him, but she sure as hell would now.

  “I have a notarized written statement from Lowell Whitley declaring his intention to sell Cloud Nine Boat Rentals to me, and I’m interested in contesting his ex-wife’s right to ownership. How soon can you meet?”

  Chapter Six

  The ring of the phone on Cloud Nine’s reception desk cut through the album of nursery-rhyme songs Allison was singing along to for Katie’s entertainment. The caller ID said the call was coming from Virginia. A customer. With a mild curse, she fumbled to mute the music’s volume, lowered Katie into her activity station, and grabbed the receiver.

  “Cloud Nine Boat Rentals, this is Allison.” Not bad. She’d sounded like she knew what she was doing. Maybe.

  “Yes, hello,” a male voice said on the line. “I’m interested in reserving a houseboat for Independence Day weekend, and your website said to call for rates and availability.”

  Crap. Allison had no idea where to begin looking for such information other than going to find Theo. “Sure. Thank you for your interest. That’s one of our busiest weekends,” she guessed. “Let me check the availability. Would you mind holding?”

  With another, more stringent curse, she dug up the only calendar she’d found in the office from the middle desk drawer. It had not a single word written on it, but only lines of different colored highlighters and shape stamps. A quick search around the office yielded nothing that her last half-dozen searches had. Shaking her head in frustration, she pressed the HOLD button again.

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that. Our computer system seems to be down. May I take your information and call you right back?”

  This was what she’d been dreading. Flailing in front of customers. This was her first one and she was de
termined not to let the sale slip past her. There were a lot of boat rental companies along the canal, and she was sure they needed every customer they could get, especially since it was the first inquiry since she’d arrived at Cloud Nine.

  She was left with no other choices than to pursue the least savory option, so she stuffed the phone in her pocket, picked up Katie, the calendar, and the customer’s callback information and went looking for Theo. They’d had relatively peaceful days spent ignoring the other’s existence, but she could see now that wasn’t going to work.

  He wasn’t on any boats that she could see. She circled the building. The roll-up door to the garage was open. In the past few days, she’d barely seen him except through windows—from her bedroom, from the office, and once, while she was driving, she saw him on his motorcycle.

  In the garage, he was lying on his back on a towel, tinkering with his motorcycle.

  “We have a potential customer on the line.”

  He lifted his head and regarded her for a brief moment, then got back to work. “Congratulations.”

  “I need to know about the boat availability for July Fourth weekend and all I found was this calendar in the desk. Is this for reservations? What do the colors mean? And what about the shapes? Is there a calendar on the computer that I’m not seeing?”

  He sat, wiped his hands on a rag, then stood and strolled toward her.

  “Can you pick up the pace? I told the customer I’d call right back.”

  Ignoring the pad of paper with the customer’s callback information that she held, he plucked the calendar from her hands, then the phone from her pocket, and retreated to the workbench. He pressed a button on the receiver, probably the redial button, and turned his back to her.

  By calling the potential customer back himself and refusing to guide her so she could respond competently to customer calls, he was once again actively standing in the way of her learning the business, and just as soon as she’d gleaned all the knowledge she could from his phone call, she was going to get properly pissed off.