Page 62 of Bargain with the Bachelor
The captain also sailed us past the childhood home of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. President John F. Kennedy spent so much time at the seaside estate it had been nicknamed the “Summer White House.” The owner of the Fruit of the Loom company had since bought the place.
After giving me a perfect vantage point for photographing some of Eastport Bay’s other well-known mansions, the captain turned the yacht out to sea. The chef texted Hunter to tell him dinner was ready to be served.
“Thank you,” I said as we went back indoors and into the beautiful and delicious-smelling dining room. “That was worth the trip even without dinner—though I am starved.”
“Me too. Not sure if the food can live up to the view though.”
Hunter needn’t have worried. The chef he’d purloined from one of the area’s top restaurants for the evening had prepared a sumptuous feast.
The appetizer course consisted of tiny crab cakes served atop mixed baby greens, fresh asparagus, and edible flowers, and drizzled with the most delicious sauce.
Next the chef brought out bowls of lobster bisque with espresso cream.
The main course was lobster flown in from Kennebunkport, Maine and prepared with a champagne glace, caulilini, gnocchi, fennel, and morel mushrooms.
For dessert, blueberry pie soufflé with Vanilla Crème Anglaise.
“Oh my gosh—blueberries are my all-time favorite,” I exclaimed, my mouth watering at the sight of the gorgeous dessert in spite of all the delicious food I’d already consumed.
“I know.” Hunter looked quite pleased with himself.
“You do? How?”
He shrugged. “Imighthave done a little recon. I called Cinda today.”
“You did?” I shook my head, amazed and feeling a little light-headed that he’d gone to so much effort for my sake. And then I lifted the first bite of the sweet souffle to my mouth.
All conversation ceased.
When I finally came up for air, I laughed at my empty plate. “I think I might have just embarrassed myself there. I’ve never eaten so much so fast in my life.”
“I have to admit… thatwaspretty impressive,” Hunter joked. “And I live with six large men.”
I gave him a chiding glance but laughed again.
The sound of his rich laughter joined mine, and for a moment, I was suspended in time, as if watching the two of us together from outside my own body.
Hunter had removed his sweater and now wore just his dress shirt. The top two buttons were undone, giving me a glimpse of his throat and the beginning of his muscled chest.
The sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and the interplay of muscles and tendons beneath the masculine skin of his arms and hands was nothing short of fascinating.
There was no getting around it—Hunter was devastatingly handsome.
But more than how he looked, it was the way he was acting tonight that was a revelation. He’d smiled more, laughed more, and talked more than I’d ever seen him.
Relaxation lookedgoodon him.
After dinner, we went back out on deck to take in the 360-degree water view and starry skies. The yacht moved at a leisurely pace, stirring a light breeze that ruffled Hunter’s dark hair.
I longed to reach up and touch it, to stroke his clean-shaven jaw and run my fingertips over the plush lips that had drawn my eyes like a magnet all evening long. It had been hard not to stare at them.
I wanted to take pictures ofhimto keep and enjoy, to look at as long as I wanted to when he wasn’t around.
Well that wouldn’t be weird at all now, would it?
The wind kicked up, and I shivered.
“You cold?” Hunter asked. “Come here.”
