Million-Dollar Amnesia Scandal by Rachel Bailey Page A

cold comfort, but he resisted nonetheless.
    When he trusted himself to speak again, he said, “Can you get away tonight? I’ll take you out on the yacht and we’ll have dinner.”
    She bit down on her lip, but the smile peeped through anyway. “No chance of dragons appearing. You’re not taking any chances, are you?”
    â€œI’ve seen her in action. I think only the presence of a moat around our dinner venue will be enough.”
    She laughed then, fully and without restraint. Such a beautiful sound; and more, it made his heart kick up to see her so relaxed—for a few moments she wasn’t worrying, just being. And when her laugh ebbed to a natural end, her eyes still shone bright with the joy.
    â€œWhat time?” she asked.
    Seth had to drag his mind away from her laugh, her mouth, and remember what they were talking about. The yacht. Tonight. Dinner. “Seven o’clock.”
    She reached for the doorknob again, either because the conversation was coming to an end or because she’d read the thoughts in his eyes. Then she nodded. “I’ll meet you down at the dock. It’ll be easier to slip away if I’m alone.”
    â€œI’ll look forward to it,” he said—wishing he wasn’t looking forward to it quite so much—and watched her face disappear as she closed the door.

Six
    A pril followed the path to the dock at five minutes to seven, nerves squirming in her stomach. It was a warm night, so she’d chosen a silky violet dress that felt soft against her skin, and brought a thick shawl in case the breeze picked up out on the water.
    Up ahead, Seth stood staring out to sea, hands thrust deep in the pockets of his black trousers, the fabric of his crisp, white shirt draping his back. As she drew near he turned, and even from this distance she saw a fire ignite in his eyes.
    The heat of that same fire burst to life down low in her belly, kicking her pulse into overdrive. She stopped on the path. Was it wise to be out on the water alone with him at night, when they were so combustible?
    A movement caught her eye. Another man busily moving around on one of the three yachts at the dock, in what looked like steps to prepare to sail. She sighed withrelief. They wouldn’t be alone. Of course. A man like Seth would have staff for the menial tasks wherever he went. She continued walking down the path, partly disappointed, but mainly relieved.
    No, she corrected herself, completely relieved.
    Seth didn’t smile when she reached him, didn’t seem pleased to see her. The tightly leashed emotion in his eyes went beyond such superficial feelings. He was burning alive. She understood; she was right there with him, standing amidst the scorching flames, heart throbbing painfully, limbs heavy with shackled longing.
    â€œYou managed to get away,” he finally said, voice tight.
    She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, no words formed in her head. She blinked then reined in her recalcitrant body, and tried again. “I told my mother I had a headache and was going to bed. Not terribly imaginative, but it worked.”
    He scrutinized her face, as if checking for any underlying truth to her excuse. “Under the circumstances,” he said slowly, “I’m sure a headache was enough to create an effect.”
    A wave of guilt for potentially worrying her mother descended onto her shoulders. In her desperation to get away, she’d chosen a quick and easy excuse, which in light of her recent history, could cause unnecessary angst. But she forced herself to brush concern aside—her mother’s refusal to give her space even when asked had left no other option. She would make a point of telling her mother in the morning that she felt fine.
    Seth extended a hand. “Are you ready?”
    The yacht bobbed on the water and she could see the sense in having someone steady her as she stepped aboard. But since she