Christmas on the Royal Yacht by Nicole Burnham

Author:Nicole Burnham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nicole Burnham

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Rock glanced at the Roman numerals on the large black and white clock mounted at one end of the yacht’s working galley. Quarter past ten. It wasn’t like April to be late. To her, being on time meant arriving at least five minutes early.

It had to be because he’d told her not to be late. Stubborn woman.

He placed a large cucumber on the cutting board, sliced off the ends, then diced it. Another glance at the clock. Quarter past ten and thirty seconds.

After using a knife to scrape the cubes into a stainless steel bowl, he set a second clean cucumber on the board. Anyone watching him would think it was a routine day, but the churning in his gut said otherwise. Inviting April to the royal yacht on Christmas with the promise of kitchen work—then calling her a chicken on top of it—had been a risk. Knowing April, she’d likely stayed at her apartment out of spite.

“Don’t call me a chicken again.”

Adrenaline shot through Rock at the unexpected sound. He’d forgotten how silently April moved. The sumptuous carpets of the salon and dining room and the well-oiled hinges on the door connecting the family galley to the main galley worked in her favor. It was a miracle he hadn’t jumped out of his skin…which had likely been her intent, just to get back at him. Without turning around, he sliced the ends off the second cucumber and began dicing. Matching her firm tone, he replied, “You’re late. Nevertheless, I’ll refrain from calling you a chicken if you’d be so kind as to slice those tomatoes. Rounds, not wedges.”

Despite the thudding of his heart, he kept a steady pace with his knife while he waited for her response. She took a few steps closer, then filched a piece of cucumber and popped it in her mouth as she inspected the contents of the countertops. While she was distracted, he stole a sideways look at her. As he’d instructed, she’d dressed comfortably, wearing a pair of curve-hugging jeans and a relaxed black T-shirt, one old and worn enough that it’d faded to ash. Her hair was loosely pinned at her nape and she wore no makeup, yet she glowed with health.

Five years of island living had made her even sexier than she’d been back in New York. Instinct made him want to unpin that hair and have his way with her, right here in the galley. See how her pink-tinged cheeks and lips felt beneath his own. Explore her smooth skin, investigate every nook and cranny of her sumptuous body. But he’d called her here to play for all the marbles, not for a single afternoon of delight, and to do that he needed to tread lightly and stick to his plan.

“You’re actually working on Christmas? And you expect me to help?”

“Yes and yes. I’m giving the New Year’s Eve menu a trial run before the big event and Andreas isn’t here to assist.” Rock dared another sidelong glance. “Nor is he here to sample the finished product.

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