He shook
his head. “No, I’m sure the Quixote’s in good hands. However, I do need you for something else.”
She arched her brow. “What’s that, Mr. Sinclair?”
“I need you to be my girlfriend.” The words flowed smoothly from his lips, but she looked like she was about to choke on them.
Nadia’s mouth fell open at his audacious request. “Excuse me, Mr. Sinclair, but I don’t have time for games.” What was he thinking?
He held up a hand. “Hang on, Nadia. Just listen to me for a second.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, wanting to reject his request. She also wanted to demand he stop using her first name, because she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all, especially the way he spoke it—so intimately, as though his tongue was dipped in honey, and he was drawing it out sweetly. It wasn’t at all appropriate, and neither was the way it made her shiver slightly. She was not going to have any sort of reaction to this playboy. “I can’t imagine what universe you live in to think that’s an acceptable request, Mr. Sinclair.”
He looked over his shoulder, ensuring they were alone on the bridge before moving closer. “It’s nothing like you’re thinking. I promise. My grandfather wants to see me stable and settled down, so if I bring home a girlfriend, it will make him happy. He’ll get off my back, and life will be easier for everyone.”
“Not for me, sir.”
Sawyer tipped his head slightly, giving her a small wink. “I’m sure I could make your life way easier, Nadia.”
She frowned, certain there was a hint of sexual innuendo in that tone, though his words were ambiguous. “I have to get back to work now, sir.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
She had been in the process of turning away from him, but froze as anger roared through her. “I’m not a hooker, Mr. Sinclair,” she said in a biting tone. “I don’t accept money for my favors, and if you continue this, I’ll be forced to tender my resignation.”
His eyes widened; those adorable blue eyes that always won his way with women. Not her, of course, but the susceptible women who went for his kind.
He held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Whoa, hang on there. That isn’t what I meant at all, Skipper. I’m talking about a business deal that would give me what I need and reward you. There must be something you want? Name your price.”
Almost immediately, the mental image of a catamaran similar to the one her father had owned popped into her head. A quick mental calculation yielded exactly how much she would need to leave this job five to seven years early and pursue her own dream. Without thought, the figure rolled off her tongue and out her mouth.
He didn’t even blink. “Done. You be my loving girlfriend for a week with my family, and I’ll deliver a check to you at the end of the week for that amount, plus another ten grand because you’ve been an excellent skipper.”
“You do realize I’ll be resigning, sir? I have plans for that money.” She spoke professionally, sounding unfazed even as her brain whirled. Was she really going to do this? Had he found the price to make her act in a dishonest manner? With another mental flash of sailing her catamaran in the America’s Cup, she nodded just once, more to herself than to him. Yes, she supposed he had found the exact number to buy her.
Not that he was actually buying her. There would be none of that. It was simply a business arrangement, a slight pretense that would be over quickly. She’d probably have to endure some snide comments and some ugly looks from his old-money family, because they surely wouldn’t be pleased if he brought home a black girlfriend, but that was his problem instead of hers. “I’ll require half the money up front as well, just in case our deal ends early.”
He shrugged. “Done again. And I’ll regret losing you as skipper of the Quixote, because you’ve been an excellent captain, but I’m glad we could both find mutual benefit from this arrangement.”
He held out his hand, and she accepted it to shake. It should have been purely businesslike, a way to seal their deal, and shouldn’t have made her palm tingle. Quickly, she dropped his hand and cleared her throat, banishing all contemplation of inappropriate reactions to his touch. “What shall I do to prepare for this, Mr. Sinclair?”
“You can start by calling me Sawyer, and we’ll stop before San Francisco to acquire a new wardrobe for you. You need it for some of the fancy crap my mom will plan.” He grinned and winked.
She managed a small smile, responding to his conspiratorial wink even though she didn’t want to. “Very well. What role am I supposed to play? Where did you meet me? Am I one of your usual bimb…types?”
His lips twitched, and it was clear he understood what she’d almost uttered. “I don’t see any reason to maintain a pretense. Simply tell them the truth. You’re the skipper of my boat, and the captain of my heart.”
Nadia couldn’t help letting out a groan at those words. “Would you like some wine with that, Sawyer? That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve heard in a long time.” His name felt strange on her tongue, since he’d always been Mr. Sinclair or just Sinclair in her more irritable moments, at least in her internal thoughts.
Generally when addressing him, she called him sir. It was going to be a strange change, thankfully one to which she had a couple of days to adapt. And since she would not be returning as skipper, she didn’t have to worry about slipping back to the employer-employee dynamic after their pretense ended in a week.
It was a strange bargain they had struck, but she supposed she could live through a week of pretending to be his partner in exchange for having her dreams that much sooner. Even his family’s likely disapproval wouldn’t be that bad if she just remembered the check awaiting her at the end of their transaction.
Chapter Two
In keeping with his plan to purchase a suitable wardrobe for the coming week, Nadia modified their trip to include a stop in San Diego. That didn’t strike her as a particularly high-fashion destination, but Sawyer insisted. After they docked at the marina, she was unsurprised to see a limousine waiting for them. It was a familiar sight when he disembarked from the boat, though she had never ridden in one with him before. The last time she’d been in a limo was for her senior prom.
This one was nicer than that had been, and she couldn’t help appreciating the small touches of luxury, including a wet bar and an iced bucket of champagne with two flutes awaiting them. “I’ve never been much of an actor, Sawyer. I suppose I should warn you about that ahead of time.”