Page 39 of Lost At Sea With A Billionaire

“Mind?”He moved behind me, his arms circling my waist as he peered over my shoulder at the pan I was stirring.“This is the best thing I’ve smelled in weeks.”

“Better than fish cooked over an open fire on the beach?”

“Well, maybe it’s a tie.”His lips brushed my neck.“Need any help?”

I leaned back against him.“From the man who couldn’t identify a ripe mango?I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Hey, I learned eventually,” he protested, but his laugh rumbled against my back.

“Why don’t you go change?The search team will be here in an hour.”

He turned me in his arms.“Have I told you today that you’re incredible?”

“Not in those exact words.”

“You’re incredible.”He kissed me softly, then deepened it when I responded, his hands sliding up my back.

I reluctantly pulled away.“If you keep that up, dinner’s going to burn.”

He sighed dramatically.“We can’t have that.I’ll behave...for now.”

The dinner was a success beyond my expectations.Hector and his team—hardened professionals who’d seen everything—became almost giddy over the Caribbean-inspired dishes I’d prepared.The tension that had defined the search discussions eased as they enjoyed the meal, creating space for more creative thinking.

“So you were a chef on Mr.Black’s yacht?”Hector asked between bites.

“For about five days before we crashed,” I confirmed.“Before that, I owned a restaurant in Seattle.”

“She’s being modest,” Jonathan interjected.“Janet won Extreme Chef and ran one of Seattle’s most innovative kitchens before a lease issue forced closure.”

I glanced at him, surprised he knew these details about my career.He’d clearly done his research before hiring me.

“Well, their loss is our gain,” Hector declared, helping himself to seconds.“This might be the best meal I’ve had in years.”

After dinner,the conversation inevitably returned to the search.Hector spread maps across the dining table, pointing out the areas they’d covered and what remained.

“Based on ocean currents and the storm path, we’ve established this as our highest probability zone,” he explained, circling a region with his finger.“But it’s vast.Even with three boats, it could take weeks to cover thoroughly.”

Jonathan studied the map.“What if we add more resources?More boats, aircraft?”

“It would speed things up, but at significantly increased cost,” Hector warned.“We’re already looking at an operation that will run into the millions.”

“Money isn’t the issue,” Jonathan said firmly.“Time is.Every day reduces the chances of finding Captain Reynolds alive.”

I watched him, noting the determination in his jaw and the unwavering focus in his eyes.This wasn’t about guilt anymore—or at least, not just about guilt.It was about doing what was right, regardless of cost or conventional wisdom.

“Double the boats,” Jonathan decided.“And I want a second aircraft.We’ll run twenty-four-hour operations, rotating crews.”

Hector nodded, clearly impressed.“We’ll make it happen, sir.”

After the team left, Jonathan and I stood on the balcony, looking out at the night sea where the search continued under floodlights.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said, his arm around my shoulders.“It made a difference.The team needed that boost.”

“Food brings people together,” I replied.“Creates a space for conversation and connection.”

He was quiet for a moment.“That’s what your restaurant did, wasn’t it?It wasn’t just about the food.”

“No.”I smiled, touched that he understood.“It was about creating experiences, moments that people would remember.”

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