I wasn’t sure where I slipped from a comfortable dream into the waking world. For a while, I just let myself wallow in that space between sleeping and waking, only vaguely aware of where I was and with no idea of what time it was. All I knew was that I was comfortable, and my body felt relaxed.

I wondered which bed I was in. Maybe the penthouse suite at the resort? Was I even still in Miami? No, that wasn’t right. I was in... Ft. Lauderdale. That was it.

My hand slid over to my left while I tried to prop myself up on my right elbow, and I became aware of two things.

The first was the warm skin of a woman in my bed. She squirmed in her sleep at my touch, breathing lightly. The second was the throbbing headache I felt that made me sink back down into the sheets. Memories of last night came flooding back to me. Well, most of them did. I remembered taking the girl home, and my body remembered the sex, vaguely.

I looked over at the sleeping form beside me. My drunk self hadn’t done too bad, I figured, but I wouldn’t be holding her around for breakfast. The crying of seagulls outside was like an itch in my head thanks to the hangover, and I grumbled.

Now I knew where I was—the master bedroom of the ship. I was on the Mirabella, one of my yachts.

All my yachts had custom master state rooms that I personally managed the designs. The Mirabella’s was a gunmetal gray color scheme, with tile floors and a massive rug under the California king-size bed. Fine brown silk sheets covered the mattress, and the soft glow of an aquarium that took up the entire wall opposite the foot of the bed illuminated the room with blue.

I was grateful for the blackout curtains I had drawn.

The aquarium’s light illuminated shadows of my private gym just through a doorway on the right, and the bathroom was on the left. I saw a few towels strewn about, which made me suspect whatever fun I had with this chick last night involved either the shower or the bathtub.

My survey was interrupted by the buzzing of my phone on the bedside table, and the rattling made me wince. I reached over and checked the screen.

Fuck.

It was my yacht broker, and if he was calling me this early in the morning, it must have meant there was some business to deal with. I was in no condition for business right now. I noticed a missed call icon on the screen and wondered how many times he’d tried me before now.

I swung my legs over the bed and sat up slowly before answering the call.

“Talk to me,” I groaned.

“I was wondering what kind of night you’d had,” said Rob, my yacht broker. Years ago, he might have been testy, but he’d grown to work with my lifestyle. “Six missed calls, by the way, in case you’re wondering.”

“That a record?” I said with a smile.

“Not even close,” he said. “You still haven’t beaten the twelve after that bender in Tokyo.”

“Oh God, Tokyo,” I moaned with a reminiscent sigh and a smile. “I still can’t touch sake anymore.”

“Probably for the best,” Rob muttered before taking a breath. “Anyway, I’m guessing you had a fun night, but I wanted to call to make sure you’re not on the Mirabella,” he said pointedly. “Because like I told you four or five times yesterday, you’ve got a broker coming onboard a few minutes from now to tour the place, and she’s expecting it to be empty.”

“Uh-huh, I remember,” I lied, jumping up and moving to the other side of the bed.

“You’re not on the yacht, right?” he asked. He probably knew the answer.

“Of course not,” I lied, and I ripped the sheets off the sleeping girl on the bed, who stirred and grunted in protest.

I gave her bare ass a slap that made her wake up with a yelp. Covering the speaker of the phone, I said in a loud whisper, “Need you gone soon, hun. You can get some breakfast at Jerry’s on the dock and put it on the Kincaid tab. He knows me.”

“Who’re you talking to?” Rob asked, and as the girl rolled her eyes and slipped out of bed to get dressed, I made my way into the bathroom.

“A little company,” I said shortly. “Look, I’ve got to go, Rob. I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

“The broker will be there any minute, Mr. Kincaid,” Rob said wearily.

“I heard you the first time, Rob,” I said, and I ended the call. I could deal with an upset broker later. The headache was a much more present threat.

I shut the bathroom door behind me just in time to hear the girl from last night starting to stir, and I hoped she didn’t expect me to show her the way out. I threw the shower on before getting out a few aspirin and popping them, looking at myself in the mirror.

It was the same me as always, my dark hair mussed by the long night in bed and my blue eyes glaring back at me in the mirror, a little bloodshot. That would pass with the shower, though.

I climbed into the shower and felt the hot water washing away the night’s sweat, sex, and booze, rippling down my tight abs and the V that pointed to my manhood, still at half-mast from waking up next to a woman.

My body always wanted to go for another round first thing in the morning, but I almost never let myself do that. Too many strings attached where they didn’t need to be. I hoped that the Greek chick didn’t need to be told twice, though. Wouldn’t do to make it awkward. It wouldn’t have been the first time a one-night stand had awakened in one of my yacht suites and suddenly decided we were in love and going to get married.

Turning my face, I let the hot water run through my hair as I ran a hand through it, breathing in the steaming, hot air. In the shower, the urgency of needing to get off the ship seemed to melt away. It did wonders for a hangover.

I’d come to Ft. Lauderdale to sell this yacht. And I expected that deal to happen one way or another. I’d heard Rob mention that this broker was a she, though. I smiled up at the showerhead.

Sure, the broker was expecting an empty yacht to do her work in peace. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t meet her when she got off the boat to sweeten the deal a little.

I lathered my rock-hard body in soap and let the scent fill the bathroom. Maybe a personal touch was just what a deal for a ship like the Mirabella needed. While I was rinsing off, I heard the door handle click, and I turned to see the girl’s dark eyes and plaintive face peering in at me, then look me up and down.

I smiled. Okay, maybe just one string attached for the morning wouldn’t be the end of the world.