Читать книгу The Agent's Proposition - Lyn Stone - Страница 12

Cameron followed Tess’s lead as they retrieved their bags from the back of the plane and made their way down to the tarmac. He stopped for a moment and drew in a deep draught of the night air after leaving the stuffiness of the plane’s cabin.

He loved the Riviera. Everything was close to the water, and every town, burg and beach was usually teeming with people there to have a good time. The entire coastline had a laid-back party atmosphere.

The level of sophistication was like no other, though a great deal of it was pretense. Everybody liked to think they were rich whether they were or not, and this was certainly a prime place to do that. He found the people watching great entertainment.

They hopped a shuttle to the main terminal and whisked through customs, belongings intact, as soon as they identified themselves. Mercier had cleared the way.

“We’ll get started in the morning, when the shops open,” he said as he headed for the bank on the upper level to exchange their funds for euros.

“I hope we’ll be able to get a car at this hour,” she said as he waited for the exchange to be completed.

“We’ll taxi. It’s not far to the marina. We’ll shop in the morning, then sail on down to Saint-Tropez.”

He noted how she paled at the mention of sailing. This could be a problem, he realized. He didn’t relish the idea of her barfing every few minutes and being miserable the whole time. Maybe he could fix that.

In short order, they were on their way to the marina and the Jezebel, a sixty-footer with a fifteen foot beam and a top speed of thirty-two knots. Mercier had promised it was air-conditioned and roomy enough to impress. Cameron got excited just thinking about it and couldn’t wait to board her.

The marina was lit up like Times Square at Christmas, he noticed as the taxi dropped them off at the boardwalk. He had to exhibit a little false cool to keep from rushing to slip twenty-two.

Tess was busy gaping at the surrounding scenery while he was zeroed in on the boats. And there she was! He stopped just to take her in. She was long and lean as a spearhead honed out of white granite. “What a beauty!” he exclaimed in an almost reverent whisper.

“What did you say? What? The boat? Which one is it?” Tess asked.

“Which one is she?” he corrected. “There she is,” he said, pointing. “Just look at her!”

“Humph. You sound like you’re in love, Cochran. It’s only a boat.”

“But what a boat! Man, I’d give my eyeteeth to own her. C’mon, let’s go.” He didn’t wait. Couldn’t.

He lifted his bag and Tess’s over the rail and stepped onto the aft deck, loving the feel of it beneath his feet. He went up to check the fuel level first, then viewed the controls to make certain the boat was adequate for their needs. “Who am I kidding?” he asked himself. “This baby has everything. State of the art.”

“Good grief. You sound like a kid who just got his first bike,” she said. When he turned, he saw her exploring the saloon.