Chapter Ten

He stepped aside and allowed her to walk ahead of him and onto the yacht, through a canopy covered walkway. The first thought that came to her mind was not of her safety, for there was nothing in Creighton’s words or mannerism that made her worry about him or his plans for the evening, but rather her concerns were of her shoes. If they were going to walk the decks of a yacht, she really shouldn’t be doing it in four-inch heels.

Creighton stepped up behind her, and as if reading her mind, slipped a large warm arm around her slender waist to steady her, then led her across the exterior deck and into what appeared to be a parlor. A middle-aged man in a black and white Steward’s uniform stood before the wet bar, nodding at them as they entered. The sounds of the piano she had heard were coming from small round speakers in the walls of the room, while several candles burned in the windowsills and on the tables, illuminating the room in a romantic glow. The floor was covered in a soft short