wanted to allay his concern by responding in a crisp, no-nonsense fashion, but her voice failed her. To cover her awkwardness and give herself more time, she grabbed her bag and searched for a wallet. Once she'd found it, she opened the door and climbed from the car without a word.
Tremont got out of the car and followed her toward the marina. "Better tell me how we're registering," he insisted.
That had her pausing to regroup. She swallowed the last of her silly tears and turned to him. "Think we can get by with separate names and IDs?"
"Sure, it's common practice these days. We don't have to pretend we're married. We can just be lovers," he explained, his eyes challenging her to refute.
The suggestion sent a shiver of awareness over her, but she humphed , pretending the idea was too annoying to consider.
Since she was handling the money, the houseboat was rented under the alias Donna Elise Simons. The normal check-in time wasn't until
three p.m.
, but due to the last-minute cancellation, their boat was ready to be boarded.
They left the car in a hillside parking area and hauled everything onto the boat. A dock attendant gave them a quick tour and basic watercraft instructions. Shortly after
noon
, they were casting off and making their way toward less congested waters.
Rianna quickly accustomed herself to the hum of the engine and its steady vibration as they glided over water as smooth as glass. The sun shone brightly, making everything sparkle with a freshness that soothed her nerves within minutes.
Tremont settled behind the steering wheel, just inside the combined living room and kitchen area. He wore a short-sleeved blue T-shirt that made his pale eyes look darker and deeper. She alternately admired the beauty all around them and his physique. His shoulders and chest were broad, the strength in his arms apparent as he easily maneuvered the big boat.
His thighs, encased in tight, worn jeans, also contracted with solid muscle. The rest of him was lean and just as appealing. She silently admonished herself for mental drooling and tried to concentrate on the water.
"It really is gorgeous here, isn't it. "
"Yeah, and probably one of the last places Haroldson would expect his high-society lover to hide."
"I'm not really, you know," she insisted. At his searching glance, she bit back the words she'd almost blurted in self-defense. Knowing it was safer to let him believe she had the morals of an alley cat, she rephrased her response. "I'm not really a high-society type."
"If you say so," he muttered.
All of a sudden, Rianna felt the strength drain from her limbs. Exhaustion overtook her with unexpected speed and force. She stared blankly at the water, then Tremont.
"Something wrong?" he asked, concern creasing his brows.
"I'm tired."
His laugh sounded more like an abrupt bark. "I'll bet you are. You've been running on nothing but caffeine and nerves for days. Ready to crash?"
"Yes" was all she said. Then she moved toward the sleeping compartments, her feet and limbs feeling like lead. She fell across the first bed she found and dropped off to sleep within seconds.
* * *
Kyle spent the rest of the afternoon learning his way around the lake. A map hung above the steering compartment that displayed the overall size and shape of the waterways, but he needed to get his bearings.
Over one hundred miles long, the lake had winding waterways that covered sixty-three thousand surface acres with twelve hundred miles of wooded shoreline.
The entire shoreline was dotted with sandybeach coves surrounded by twelve-foot-high, boulder-strewn banks. They'd been told that boaters could drop anchor in the coves to picnic, swim or fish during the day and to sleep at night. He liked the idea of being able to find their own private niche.
When hunger and thirst eventually had him stirring from his perch at the helm, he let the boat idle and went to check on Rianna. He found her sprawled, facedown, on one of the double beds.
Tremont got out of the car and followed her toward the marina. "Better tell me how we're registering," he insisted.
That had her pausing to regroup. She swallowed the last of her silly tears and turned to him. "Think we can get by with separate names and IDs?"
"Sure, it's common practice these days. We don't have to pretend we're married. We can just be lovers," he explained, his eyes challenging her to refute.
The suggestion sent a shiver of awareness over her, but she humphed , pretending the idea was too annoying to consider.
Since she was handling the money, the houseboat was rented under the alias Donna Elise Simons. The normal check-in time wasn't until
three p.m.
, but due to the last-minute cancellation, their boat was ready to be boarded.
They left the car in a hillside parking area and hauled everything onto the boat. A dock attendant gave them a quick tour and basic watercraft instructions. Shortly after
noon
, they were casting off and making their way toward less congested waters.
Rianna quickly accustomed herself to the hum of the engine and its steady vibration as they glided over water as smooth as glass. The sun shone brightly, making everything sparkle with a freshness that soothed her nerves within minutes.
Tremont settled behind the steering wheel, just inside the combined living room and kitchen area. He wore a short-sleeved blue T-shirt that made his pale eyes look darker and deeper. She alternately admired the beauty all around them and his physique. His shoulders and chest were broad, the strength in his arms apparent as he easily maneuvered the big boat.
His thighs, encased in tight, worn jeans, also contracted with solid muscle. The rest of him was lean and just as appealing. She silently admonished herself for mental drooling and tried to concentrate on the water.
"It really is gorgeous here, isn't it. "
"Yeah, and probably one of the last places Haroldson would expect his high-society lover to hide."
"I'm not really, you know," she insisted. At his searching glance, she bit back the words she'd almost blurted in self-defense. Knowing it was safer to let him believe she had the morals of an alley cat, she rephrased her response. "I'm not really a high-society type."
"If you say so," he muttered.
All of a sudden, Rianna felt the strength drain from her limbs. Exhaustion overtook her with unexpected speed and force. She stared blankly at the water, then Tremont.
"Something wrong?" he asked, concern creasing his brows.
"I'm tired."
His laugh sounded more like an abrupt bark. "I'll bet you are. You've been running on nothing but caffeine and nerves for days. Ready to crash?"
"Yes" was all she said. Then she moved toward the sleeping compartments, her feet and limbs feeling like lead. She fell across the first bed she found and dropped off to sleep within seconds.
* * *
Kyle spent the rest of the afternoon learning his way around the lake. A map hung above the steering compartment that displayed the overall size and shape of the waterways, but he needed to get his bearings.
Over one hundred miles long, the lake had winding waterways that covered sixty-three thousand surface acres with twelve hundred miles of wooded shoreline.
The entire shoreline was dotted with sandybeach coves surrounded by twelve-foot-high, boulder-strewn banks. They'd been told that boaters could drop anchor in the coves to picnic, swim or fish during the day and to sleep at night. He liked the idea of being able to find their own private niche.
When hunger and thirst eventually had him stirring from his perch at the helm, he let the boat idle and went to check on Rianna. He found her sprawled, facedown, on one of the double beds.
Similar Books
