Mistletoe Not Required by Anne Oliver Page A

a toothpaste ad, anticipation in his eyes. ‘Yeah? You going to invite me aboard?’
    ‘Yeah.’ A plan was coming together in her head and she felt a grin to rival his spread over her face. ‘One of our crew had to pull out due to illness three days ago. And you would be the perfect person to fill the void. Snowflake needs publicity. A quick word to the media and you’d be doing me, us—my foundation —a huge, huge favour. Wouldn’t he, Brie?’
    She glanced at Brie, who’d not said a word but seemed to be enjoying the moment as much as Olivia. ‘Yes,’ she said, slowly. ‘I reckon you’re right.’
    When Olivia looked back at Jett, she noticed a little of his smugness had slipped.
    ‘On the boat?’
    ‘ Yacht. You’d love it, Jett.’ Olivia lowered her voice an octave and added a husky purr. ‘The entire crew is female. Imagine. All those bronzed beauties in bikinis.’ Except they wouldn’t be in bikinis, but the word image begged to be painted for him all the same. ‘And I’m sure you’d enjoy hot-bunking.’
    His eyes grew round, his brows raised. ‘Hot-bunking?’
    She nodded. ‘You’ll find out if you join us.’
    ‘The entire crew? The skipper too?’ His smugness seemed to have disappeared altogether.
    She tipped an imaginary cap. ‘Yours truly.’
    ‘But...’
    ‘I know. Unlucky for some, but Chasing Dawn ’s had her fair share of women aboard and she’s not sprung a leak yet.’ She swore he blanched and she pressed her lips together to stop her enjoyment from showing too much. ‘Come on, Jett. Say yes. Please. We need you.’
    ‘Please, Jett,’ Brie chimed in. ‘It’s for a good cause and we’re having roast quail and veg on our first night at sea.’
    Olivia knew they’d never win the race—it had never been about winning. The whole reason behind the motivation was to raise money and awareness, and a celebrity aboard would be just what they needed. A sexy celebrity chef even better.
    A sexy celebrity chef out of his comfort zone the best of all—the media would eat it up.
    Roast quail. Was that supposed to be a deal maker? Jett detected the tiniest twitch at the corner of Olivia’s mouth and ground down on his back teeth. He’d been outmanoeuvred. His masculine pride was at stake, because he knew from bitter personal experience that seasickness could turn the toughest of the tough into a whimpering shipwreck of a man.
    And that was before leaving the dock.
    ‘You’re right about the late notice. Too bad, I didn’t bring the appropriate gear.’
    ‘No worries.’ Her reassuring tone did nothing to alleviate his quickly burgeoning discomfort. Already he could feel the roll and swell beneath his feet.
    ‘We have caps and T-shirts with the foundation’s logo left over from last year’s charity run,’ she told him. ‘Rest assured, we’ll find one to fit you. And we have abundant spray jackets and oilskins on hand for when it gets rough.’
    When it gets rough. Her gaze drifted down his body as she spoke, raising goose-bumps and questions he wasn’t game to ask. Like whether it was too late to check in. Or back out. Except quitting was never going to be an option.
    ‘Think about it over dessert,’ Brie suggested, giving him time to digest this new twist as a traditional flaming plum pudding was carried in and set on the table.
    He helped himself to a second slice a few moments later. Olivia surprised him. Her drive and enthusiasm for a cause she believed in. Other girls her age were self-absorbed party princesses. When he’d first seen her he’d thought she was the same, but now he knew differently. And he wanted to help her.
    But did it have to be on a boat?
    He was still digesting the idea when they’d scraped their bowls clean, licked the last of the brandy sauce from their spoons and Breanna said, ‘Presents time,’ and pushed up from the table.
    An uncomfortable sensation slid down Jett’s spine but Breanna was right behind him, her hands on his shoulders.