No, not his. He suspected Allie would never belong to any man, especially not him. But so long as they were partners, she was under his protection and no one was going to take advantage of her.
Allie clamped her mouth closed. “I’m underdressed.”
She was the most beautiful woman in the room, but he’d told her that sort of thing enough for one night. “You look fine.” He snagged two glasses of champagne and handed one to Allie.
She took an experimental sip. “Wow.”
“This definitely isn’t the stuff you can buy for $5.99 a bottle at the corner liquor store,” he agreed after his own taste.
“I want to try the snacks,” she said. “I’m guessing they’re something special, too.” She looked around. “No one else is eating. Maybe rich people think it’s gauche to actually eat at a party.”
He wasn’t sure if the “aw shucks” act was real, or if she was subtly taking a dig at him, reminding him of the difference in their backgrounds. “You can eat the snacks and no one will think you’re gauche as long as you take small bites and don’t stuff extras down your cleavage for later.”
“No need for that. I’m so hungry I’ll probably eat everything in sight.” Despite her threat, she got herself a plate from a buffet line, then only put two small canapés on it. She tasted one, then another, looking thoughtful.
“What’s the verdict?” he asked.
“I’ll stick to the champagne,” she said. “I can make better appetizers than these.”
“Really?” Again, he considered what a boon it would be if Allie could work for him-long-term, not just until the Dragonfly was back in the water.
She shrugged. “If I can get the right ingredients and I have time.”
“What about cooking facilities?” he asked. “Are the Dragonfly’s adequate for fancy cooking?”
Another shrug. “There’s an oven, a grill and a cooktop, a few pans and utensils. A gourmet seven-course meal is beyond my capabilities, but I can do better than cold cuts. Why are you asking me this? ’Cause much as I love to cook, you aren’t demoting me to galley slave.”
“Don’t get all defensive on me. I’m just wondering what is and isn’t possible. Our brochures do say something about gourmet food.”
“And I did caution you about making excessive promises.”
They couldn’t continue the argument because Jim Jameson, president of the yacht club, had spotted Cooper and was making a beeline for him. Stuck to his arm was an obvious trophy wife, maybe thirty years old to his fifty-plus.
“Remington!” he bellowed. “Glad you could make it. And this must be your girl.”
Cooper felt Allie stiffen beside him even as she extended a hand toward the other man.
“I’m Allie Bateman, Cooper’s partner,” she corrected gently.
Jim smiled slyly as he took Allie’s hand and, rather than shaking it, brought it to his lips. “Oh, I get it. You all have one of those modern arrangements. Don’t want to be tied down, eh?”
Allie snatched her hand back, her green eyes sparkling dangerously. “No, Mr. Jameson, I don’t believe you do get it. Cooper and I are business partners. I’m not his wife or girlfriend or plaything.”
Cooper cringed inwardly. Although it was refreshing to see Allie go off on someone besides Cooper for a change, Jim Jameson wasn’t someone she should be insulting. The man was powerful, a millionaire half-a-dozen times over, and he could open doors for them.
Thankfully, Jim didn’t seem to be easily offended. “Of course, of course,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply anything unseemly. You two come with me, there’s people I want you to meet.” He offered Allie his arm, and she reluctantly took it, giving Cooper an annoyed eye roll over her shoulder as she and Jim walked off, leading the way. Cooper gave his arm to the trophy wife and followed.
The next few minutes were given over to meeting and greeting some of the Gulf Coast Yacht Club’s elite. Once Allie relaxed a bit, she became the belle of the ball. A few of the men had heard of her, as females running fishing charters were pretty rare. She didn’t seem ill at ease, even when confronted by wives dripping in diamonds who sensed her lack of sophistication and, perhaps feeling threatened by her youth and beauty, tried to put her down.
But she didn’t let them get to her. Her small-town ways were charming, and Cooper found himself silently cheering her on as she made friends of the women and impressed the men with her knowledge of sailing and fishing.
She managed to subtly turn away flirtations without ruffling any feathers, which left Cooper feeling more relieved than he ought to. If she met some billionaire playboy who could set her up on her own boat, it would soften the blow of losing the Dragonfly-if she did lose. Maybe she’d even release her claim on the boat. But the thought of Allie in the arms of another man made his blood turn to steam.
He never should have slept with her. Now that he had, though, it was like Pandora’s box. He couldn’t put the lid back on.
Even as these thoughts chased through his head, Cooper did his best corporate networking, exchanging his newly printed business cards with other boat owners. As Allie had pointed out, people who owned yachts probably weren’t their target customers. But they might very well have friends who were.
By ten o’clock the party was in full swing, but Allie looked tired and Cooper took pity on her. They had another full day ahead of them. He extricated her from a group of younger women she appeared to be bonding with; they said a few goodbyes and slipped out.
“Thank God,” she said, leaning against the elevator wall and closing her eyes. “That was exhausting.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?”
She shrugged one delicate shoulder. “I’m not really a party girl. I guess I prefer my own company to just about anyone else’s.”
“Not too many people can say that.”
“A lot of people are scared to be alone with themselves, so they fill every spare minute with parties and drinking, TV, talking on the phone, shopping, cruising the Internet. But give me a quiet morning anchored in a deserted cove, just me and the ocean and sky and maybe a few seabirds. That’s when you really find out who you are.”
“You paint a pretty picture. Only one problem with it.”
She opened her eyes to look at him. “What’s that?”
“No man in it.”
“I don’t need a man.”
“Last night says you do.”
She backed away from him. “Last night was…unusual.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
The elevator doors opened onto the hotel lobby and Allie scurried out. She refused to meet his gaze as they waited under the hotel canopy for the valet to bring around his car. She continued to look uncomfortable as he drove the few blocks back to their own hotel.
All day he’d been looking forward to tonight, when he could have Allie all to himself again, naked and burning with passion in his bed. But her current attitude didn’t bode well for his plans.
It seemed she was having second thoughts.
The valet opened her door, and she stepped out and thanked him with a dazzling smile. She could have been a princess instead of a tomboy boat captain. She walked ahead of him toward the hotel’s revolving door, and he noticed the light dusting of freckles on her shoulders.
The curve of her bare back made his mouth go dry.
Nothing more was said until he unlocked the door to their suite.
“Well, we’ve got a long day ahead of us,” Allie said with false brightness. “I’m going to bed.”
“Whoa, wait a minute.”
She skidded to a stop. “What?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something? Didn’t we go to the party looking forward to when it was over?”
“You caught me in a weak moment. You know us having sex is a bad idea.”