Millionaire Dad's SOS by Ally Blake Read Free Book Online Page B

was drinkable.
    He wound the rope around his hand and elbow, muscles contracting with every easy swing. ‘ Marilyn’ s been a faithful companion since I was about eighteen.’
    ‘ Marilyn ? Are you serious?’
    His cheek twitched into one of those almost smiles that gave a girl unfair hope there might be more to come. ‘She came with the name.’
    ‘Sure she did. You haven’t thought to trade her in for a fancy schmancy yacht with all the trimmings?’
    ‘I’ve got one of those too. A hundred footer moored off St Barts right now.’
    ‘The Norma Jean?’
    And there it was. The holy grail. His mouth tilted into a slow smile complete with brackets that arced around his beautiful mouth and creases fanning out from the edges of his delicious dark eyes. Boy, were they worth the wait.
    ‘I called her Lauren. ’
    ‘Bacall?’
    ‘It was my mother’s name.’
    Of course it was. Meg looked down at her shoesinstead of into those too discerning eyes. ‘And a tad extravagant to use for a paddle about the lake.’
    ‘Just a tad.’
    She glanced up, and for a brief moment Meg swore she saw a glint warm his dark eyes before it was gone. He ought not to bandy those about unless he meant them. It was hard for a girl not to get ideas.
    Zach threw the rope into the boat, then held out a hand. Unless she wanted him to know her mouth turned dry at the thought of him touching her again, she had no choice but to take it.
    A slide of natural warmth so out of sync with the constant cool in his eyes leapt from his hand to hers. She gripped on tight as she stepped into the wobbly vessel, but the second she had her backside planted on a bench she let go.
    He stepped in after her and tossed her a cosy, redchecked, woollen blanket. It was too soft to be freshly washed, too fluffy to be new. It was the kind of thing a man might keep at the end of his bed, or the back of his couch. She imagined it covering his long bare legs as he lay back—
    She cleared her throat. ‘What exactly am I meant to do with this?’
    ‘Slide it beneath your backside or you’ll get splinters,’ he ordered. ‘That or that dress of yours will be shredded.’
    Of course. So what if it carried a faint lingeringscent of him—he hadn’t given it to her as some sort of come-on. It was near forty degrees out! She lifted her backside and planted it back on the folded blanket.
    ‘This too,’ he demanded, throwing her a soft khaki fisherman’s hat, which was frayed to the point of falling apart.
    She gripped the hat between tightly coiled fists. All that commanding was beginning to get on her nerves. Her voice was sugary sweet as she asked, ‘And where, pray tell, am I supposed to put this?’
    His hands stilled. He glanced up. The smile hovered; the glint loomed.
    And it hit her as if the lake had suddenly thrown up a tidal wave over the boat. Zach Jones might prefer her to be far, far away, but a certain part of him took a purely masculine pleasure in having her close by.
    She licked her suddenly dry lips and blinked up at him. The smile faded and the glint disappeared without a trace.
    ‘Just stick the thing on your head, will you?’ he growled.
    ‘Aye aye, Captain,’ she muttered.
    The hat smelled like the sea and fitted over her head like velvet. Atop her sateen cocktail dress it must have looked a treat.
    He slapped an old cap atop his curls, shoved a foot against the jetty, pushing them off before easing down onto his own bench.
    She tucked her knees tight together and pretended to pay attention to the ripples fanning out through the flat silver water, and not how close his knees were to hers, as he picked up the oars and pushed them effortlessly out into the lake.
    Within seconds the wilting reeds shielded them from the rest of the world and they were alone.
    The sun beat down upon Meg’s back, making her glad of the hat. The soft swish of the displaced water created a slow, even rhythm. And as Zach built up a sweat every breath in gave her a fresh