Читать книгу One Wild Night: Magnate's Mistress...Accidentally Pregnant! / Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress / The Good, the Bad and the Wild - Heidi Rice - Страница 15

LIFE WAS JUST TOO GOOD to be true. Ally wanted to pinch herself, but she’d be black-and-blue by now if she acted on the impulse every time she thought about it.

After their escape from her mom’s house on Sunday afternoon, she’d spent an unbelievable afternoon in Chris’s arms, taking him back to catch his ride long after sundown. Victor, Chris’s crewmate and pilot, had worn a knowing grin as Chris had given her a goodbye kiss that thrilled her to her toenails, reigniting a spark that should have been sated by then. If Victor hadn’t been waiting, she’d have dragged Chris back to the car for a quickie in the backseat.

The look on Chris’s face said he wouldn’t have objected.

Molly had taken one look at the dopey grin on her face Monday morning, and not a lot of work had been accomplished as she’d insisted on a play-by-play recount of the weekend. When Ally got to the part about Chris and her family, Molly had merely snorted and said, “I like him more and more.”

Her family, on the other hand, wasn’t speaking to her—other than one message from her mother on the answering machine, chiding her for her behavior. The four days of silence had been…well, not quite bliss, but a least a welcome break from the norm.

The scent of stargazer lilies filled the air in her and Molly’s office, and Ally knew she still wore the same dopey smile for the fifth day in a row. It was hard not to; Chris had only managed one quick trip down to see her on Wednesday night for pizza, but he called and sent e-mails—not so many or so often that she felt smothered, but enough to make her feel, well, special. The flowers arriving this morning just intensified that feeling.

She still worried a bit that she wasn’t making the smartest of decisions right now—that the hormones shaking up her normal equilibrium and the heady rush of Chris’s attentions were affecting her judgment—but she wanted to believe she was. Even Molly encouraged it and joked about expanding the business to an office in Charleston.

That was a little further ahead than Ally liked to plan at the moment. Being caught between a dreamlike possibility and a contingency plan wasn’t good for her higher brain functions, but she was hopeful—even if she didn’t say it out loud too often.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and call it quits for the day. Head on up to Charleston and get the weekend started early.” Molly grinned. “You’re not doing me much good here, you know. All that smiling and sighing is getting on my nerves.”

“Can’t. Chris has meetings tonight with sponsors and he has to be at the yacht club early in the morning to prep for the race. I’d just be in the way.”

“I doubt that.”

“Anyway, there’s work to be done here.” She scooted her chair up to the desk, determined to actually work now. “I’ll try to keep the mooning to a minimum.”

“Yes, please do try.” Molly shot her a mocking smile before turning her attention back to her own keyboard.

The concentration lasted for only a few minutes before her cell phone rang. Chris’s ringtone—he’d downloaded it himself on Wednesday night while they’d eaten pizza on the floor of her living room. She glanced up at Molly as she answered and saw her eyes roll.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. Any chance you can sneak out early today and come on up?”

“Molly just asked me the same thing. I thought you were busy tonight.”

“Technically, I am. But I’ll make time for you.”

A warm glow settled in her stomach, followed quickly by that need to pinch herself again. Molly waved for her attention from her desk, and when Ally made eye contact, Molly mouthed the word, “Go.”

“I guess I can get away.”

“I’ll send Victor down to get you. What time?”

The thought of flying in that tiny helicopter made her feel queasy—as if the morning sickness was coming back. “I’ll just drive, if that’s okay.”

Chris made an exasperated sound.

“One step at a time. We’re not all daredevils like you.”

“It’d be easier my way, though. Faster, too. Plus, you don’t know where you’re going.”

“I’ll get a map.”

Thankfully, Chris didn’t push and instead agreed to e-mail directions to her. She told him she’d call when she was on the road, hung up and started shutting down her computer.

“I’ll make this up to you, Molls,” she promised as she headed toward the door, mentally reviewing her packing list as she walked.

“Like you’ll ever have the time.” Molly waved goodbye. “Drive carefully and I’ll see you Monday.”

Molly’s parting words bothered her as she threw her clothes and toiletries in a bag, but she couldn’t put her finger on why.

She finally shrugged it off as yet another side effect of pregnancy brain—right up there with her new case of forgetful-ness—and simply enjoyed the drive up to Charleston, singing along with the radio.

It wasn’t until late that night, as Chris curled around her in bed, his hand absently stroking across her stomach as he dozed, that she realized what Molly’s words meant.

No matter what happened with Chris, things would never go back to “normal.”

The man was an absolute god. Neptune, Poseidon and Chris Wells. Mercy.

Ally’s eye hurt from peering through the telescope for so long, but she couldn’t pull away from the sight of Chris, two miles out at sea and rounding the second buoy.

She’d known the water was his element, but a simple day sail on a borrowed catamaran hadn’t prepared her for this. Watching Chris skipper his seven-man crew…damn.

Although the water was choppy, sending up spray as the boats moved through the waves, Chris stood sure-footed at the helm, moving in perfect harmony with the boat—as though it was an extension of his body instead of an inanimate object. The wind whipped through his hair and fluttered the sails. When he shouted an order across the decks, men scrambled. Then Chris was working the winch, drawing her attention to the movement of back and arm muscles outlined under the shirt the wind nicely plastered to his skin. Her mouth went dry.

“Taylor’s hoisted a flag.” The words came from beside her, and Ally snapped her attention to the man who’d been her tutor for the day. Carl Michman held the impressive title of vice-commodore of the racing association, but as far as Ally could tell, his main job today seemed to be to keep an eye on her and explain what was going on.