Bring the Heat Margot Radcliffe (classic romance novels TXT) 📖

watched as she did the same. “In all seriousness, Molly, have you given any thought at all to being together when we leave this boat?”

Molly met his eyes, her smile kind. “Of course I’ve thought about it,” she laughed. “But I don’t know that I fit in your life, Oliver. And I think you don’t realize the implications of that.”

He nearly snorted. “I’ve had nothing but time to think about the implications, Molly. That’s why I’m here, because I’ve thought about all of them and I don’t give a shit. You mean more to me than any of that stuff. I just want to be with you. It’s as simple as that.”

She drew her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth. “I think maybe I need a little longer to believe that.”

A trickle of unease slithered through him because he’d made the big romantic gesture, had left his old life behind, and had been completely honest with her about how he felt, pulled back the curtain on his parents, so he didn’t know what else could convince her to believe that he was serious.

But when she climbed into his lap to deliver a kiss so sweet it turned his knees to jelly, he let it go. Waiting for her to come around was no damned hardship at all.

CHAPTER TWELVE

NASSAU WAS STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL. Molly had forgotten just how lovely it really was. She stood at the yacht’s bow facing west toward the Gulf of Mexico, thinking back to all those times during grade school when she’d looked at places on a map and wondered what they were like. Being on this boat was a “pinch me” moment and yet it paled in comparison to Oliver telling her he wanted to build a life with her and her actually believing it this time.

But she still didn’t understand how their lives could ever work together.

She could see herself building awesome boats, better ones than existed now, but the idea of working for Oliver gave her literal chills. It didn’t matter that she wouldn’t see him or he might not be her immediate boss, he would essentially own her because he owned the business. Nope—she shook her head—it couldn’t happen.

Which meant the other option was that he come back with her to Colorado. And that seemed lovely, but just as unlikely. She tried to imagine Oliver in his two-hundred-dollar pair of socks (she’d done an internet search for them and had nearly choked on Liam’s scone in the process) in the little bungalow she’d shared with Max. Not that she’d be moving back there, but even though she made a good living and loved her life it was not the same as Oliver’s. Hers was not an “owning a yacht and buying companies for sport” kind of existence. And frankly, she didn’t want that kind of life, either. She wanted a regular one with a guy who loved her, who liked to hike on the weekends and watch movies at night, and that was about as complicated as it got.

Except that she’d had that with a safe, reliable guy and he’d still fucked it up.

So maybe that was an argument for Oliver. She’d had more fun in the past couple weeks with him than she’d had in the entirety of her relationship with Max, but she kept going back to the fact that she was on vacation right now. This was not how she operated in her everyday life. When she was deep into a project, she rarely made it home before nine or ten o’clock at night. She worked until she couldn’t work anymore; that was her work ethic and the one that had gotten her where she was in her career. She just couldn’t believe that Oliver had truly considered what a life together would look like for them in Colorado.

What the hell would he even do there? Make conference calls from a home office? Fly back and forth to the company he was buying on the coast? Sun himself on the mountains? None of it made any sense to her.

Stopping by the engine room, she took a quick look to make sure everything was functioning properly. She’d had to fix another wayward kitchen appliance for Liam this morning, a food processor with a twisted wire, but other than that life was pretty chill on the boat. The rest of the day would include lying out and reading with Oliver as usual, their casual touches and teasing revving them up for the night, when they’d let loose in the bedroom.

Smiling about what they’d done this morning with those hooks, she didn’t see the woman standing with Oliver on the main deck near the stern. She stopped mid-step when she noticed the strain on Oliver’s face.

“Is this her?” the girl asked, and Molly’s stomach tightened. Had his parents sent down their choice for him to marry? She’d had no idea how awful this would feel, but her insides were burning with embarrassment and rage. Plus, Molly didn’t exactly look like the girlfriend of a billionaire in a white T-shirt and khaki shorts, both of which, as well as her fingers, were streaked with engine grease.

Oliver sighed. “Daphne, this is Molly,” he said, taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “Molly, this is my sister, Daphne, who has arrived here unannounced and unwelcome.”

Daphne swatted at her brother before holding out her hand, an emerald-cut sapphire glittering on her ring finger as she did so. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Molly,” she said, her voice a subdued and cultured alto.

Molly started to hold out her hand, but then swiped it back at the last second. “I’m sorry, my hands have grease on them,” she said, holding them up so they could see. “I wouldn’t want to get you dirty.”

Daphne’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, that’s okay,” she laughed, leaving her own hand held out. “I’m already so dirty from the trip.”

Molly shook her hand and right away she wondered how she