Treasured by Thursday
Page 39
“That’s not funny, Gabi.”
He was worried. Really alarmed.
“I’ve spent many years of my life in these waters, Hunter. I’m fine.”
“I saw you floating.”
She grinned. “And you came out here to rescue me.”
Hunter managed to stay afloat and cover his eyes with his hands. “You’re killing me, lady.”
“You try to be such a tough guy. In control of everything.”
He shook his head, offered a glare. “I thought you were shark meat out here.”
She laughed, kicked her feet. “Shark-infested island waters aren’t a selling point to my brother’s guests.”
For a moment, they swam in place and stared at each other.
The clear water made her realize that Hunter had jumped in with only boxer shorts. On the shore, she noticed clothing carelessly heaped into a pile.
“Are you a good swimmer?” she asked.
“I manage.”
She started to move. “Last one to shore cooks breakfast.” She ducked under the water and came up to hear him sputter.
“I don’t coo—” He gave chase, not letting the words finish.
Halfway to shore, he’d caught up, his arms stronger, his strokes taking the water and using it to propel him forward.
Still, her home-court advantage helped keep her in the race, but Hunter managed to crawl up on the white sandy shore before she did.
He sat with his arms resting on his knees, his lungs sucking in air.
The gentle waves brought her on shore with some grace. She felt Hunter’s eyes watching her as she pulled herself from the water. The bikini hadn’t had much use since she’d left her brother’s island. The fact that the strips of material didn’t hug her curves as well as they once had was a testimony to the weight she’d lost. Putting it back on hadn’t been a priority.
Instead of dwelling on the condition of her frame, she sat next to Hunter and let the white sand take up residence on her skin. “Next time I get a two second head start,” she told him.
“Five,” he countered. His sharp gaze dipped to her chest and lingered.
She couldn’t help the fidget. When was the last time someone other than a doctor looked at her in as little as a bikini?
“What would you cook me . . . if you’d lost?”
He turned his attention away from her chest and back to her eyes. “Crepes . . . maybe a Belgian waffle.”
It was Gabi’s turn to stare. His straight face and stoic delivery of menu choices had her stunned.
“Crepes?” Even she had no real idea how to manage crepes.
A ghost of a smile started at one corner of his lips and spread. For the first time since she’d met the man, that grin found his eyes.
“If only you could see the shock in your eyes,” he said.
“Crepes?”
He bust. A larger-than-life laugh erupted.
She closed her eyes and envisioned Val’s room service menu.
Gabi swept her hand along the sand, sending a plume of dust his way.
“Hey.” He shot sand her way in retaliation.
“Can you cook anything for yourself?”
“Does coffee count?”
She rolled her eyes. Don’t get mad, she told herself . . . get even. “If you want to get on my mother’s good side, plead ignorance in the kitchen. She’s a sucker for a helpless man in the kitchen.”
“Offering tips on making your family happy?”
She leaned back on her elbows, mirroring his stance. “We’re in this for eighteen months. Might as well find some peace.”
“Hmmm.”
She tilted her head toward the sun. “Besides . . . I miss the island.”
She caught him looking at her through the corner of his eyes. He diverted his gaze to the ocean.
“I couldn’t tell you the last time I sat in the sand.”
“Hard to sand sit when you’re playing millionaire.”
He laughed.
“Sorry, billionaire.” It was hard to wrap her head around his net worth. Money had never been a primary need in her life . . . but then again, she’d always had it. She’d read his portfolio . . . knew he’d made the majority of his worth on his own.
“One more zero.”
“Two more. I crunched the numbers myself.”
Hunter rolled onto his side, caught the side of his face in a sandy hand, and stared with amusement on his lips. “What numbers were those?”
“We can start with the Carlton takeover. The most profitable project to date.” The soft grin on his face slid. “Sam suggested I dig a little deeper into that one. Seems there was much more to Blackwell Enterprises’ merger with Carlton Ammunitions than what sat on the surface.”
His eyes drifted to the sand, where she noticed him drawing circles with his nearly dry fingers.
“I was fresh out of college when we merged with Carlton.”
“Merged and then imploded.”
“I didn’t implode.”
No, he halted sales of ammunition to many retail chains, and then manufactured and sold, nearly exclusively, to the government. Carlton held the majority of stock in the company to domestic sales. Only the government needed ammo. And the company took contracts from the US of A, and domestic sales hit an all-time millennium bottom. Within two years, Blackwell bought out Carlton completely.
“Carlton knew the risk. He didn’t wager using his brain.”
“If not his brain . . . what?” She honestly wanted to know. From the outside, it appeared Hunter knew the government contracts were coming and pounced on Carlton when sales were low.
He was worried. Really alarmed.
“I’ve spent many years of my life in these waters, Hunter. I’m fine.”
“I saw you floating.”
She grinned. “And you came out here to rescue me.”
Hunter managed to stay afloat and cover his eyes with his hands. “You’re killing me, lady.”
“You try to be such a tough guy. In control of everything.”
He shook his head, offered a glare. “I thought you were shark meat out here.”
She laughed, kicked her feet. “Shark-infested island waters aren’t a selling point to my brother’s guests.”
For a moment, they swam in place and stared at each other.
The clear water made her realize that Hunter had jumped in with only boxer shorts. On the shore, she noticed clothing carelessly heaped into a pile.
“Are you a good swimmer?” she asked.
“I manage.”
She started to move. “Last one to shore cooks breakfast.” She ducked under the water and came up to hear him sputter.
“I don’t coo—” He gave chase, not letting the words finish.
Halfway to shore, he’d caught up, his arms stronger, his strokes taking the water and using it to propel him forward.
Still, her home-court advantage helped keep her in the race, but Hunter managed to crawl up on the white sandy shore before she did.
He sat with his arms resting on his knees, his lungs sucking in air.
The gentle waves brought her on shore with some grace. She felt Hunter’s eyes watching her as she pulled herself from the water. The bikini hadn’t had much use since she’d left her brother’s island. The fact that the strips of material didn’t hug her curves as well as they once had was a testimony to the weight she’d lost. Putting it back on hadn’t been a priority.
Instead of dwelling on the condition of her frame, she sat next to Hunter and let the white sand take up residence on her skin. “Next time I get a two second head start,” she told him.
“Five,” he countered. His sharp gaze dipped to her chest and lingered.
She couldn’t help the fidget. When was the last time someone other than a doctor looked at her in as little as a bikini?
“What would you cook me . . . if you’d lost?”
He turned his attention away from her chest and back to her eyes. “Crepes . . . maybe a Belgian waffle.”
It was Gabi’s turn to stare. His straight face and stoic delivery of menu choices had her stunned.
“Crepes?” Even she had no real idea how to manage crepes.
A ghost of a smile started at one corner of his lips and spread. For the first time since she’d met the man, that grin found his eyes.
“If only you could see the shock in your eyes,” he said.
“Crepes?”
He bust. A larger-than-life laugh erupted.
She closed her eyes and envisioned Val’s room service menu.
Gabi swept her hand along the sand, sending a plume of dust his way.
“Hey.” He shot sand her way in retaliation.
“Can you cook anything for yourself?”
“Does coffee count?”
She rolled her eyes. Don’t get mad, she told herself . . . get even. “If you want to get on my mother’s good side, plead ignorance in the kitchen. She’s a sucker for a helpless man in the kitchen.”
“Offering tips on making your family happy?”
She leaned back on her elbows, mirroring his stance. “We’re in this for eighteen months. Might as well find some peace.”
“Hmmm.”
She tilted her head toward the sun. “Besides . . . I miss the island.”
She caught him looking at her through the corner of his eyes. He diverted his gaze to the ocean.
“I couldn’t tell you the last time I sat in the sand.”
“Hard to sand sit when you’re playing millionaire.”
He laughed.
“Sorry, billionaire.” It was hard to wrap her head around his net worth. Money had never been a primary need in her life . . . but then again, she’d always had it. She’d read his portfolio . . . knew he’d made the majority of his worth on his own.
“One more zero.”
“Two more. I crunched the numbers myself.”
Hunter rolled onto his side, caught the side of his face in a sandy hand, and stared with amusement on his lips. “What numbers were those?”
“We can start with the Carlton takeover. The most profitable project to date.” The soft grin on his face slid. “Sam suggested I dig a little deeper into that one. Seems there was much more to Blackwell Enterprises’ merger with Carlton Ammunitions than what sat on the surface.”
His eyes drifted to the sand, where she noticed him drawing circles with his nearly dry fingers.
“I was fresh out of college when we merged with Carlton.”
“Merged and then imploded.”
“I didn’t implode.”
No, he halted sales of ammunition to many retail chains, and then manufactured and sold, nearly exclusively, to the government. Carlton held the majority of stock in the company to domestic sales. Only the government needed ammo. And the company took contracts from the US of A, and domestic sales hit an all-time millennium bottom. Within two years, Blackwell bought out Carlton completely.
“Carlton knew the risk. He didn’t wager using his brain.”
“If not his brain . . . what?” She honestly wanted to know. From the outside, it appeared Hunter knew the government contracts were coming and pounced on Carlton when sales were low.
