Suzie pressed her lips together to keep from screaming. "It wasn't like that," she said, her voice tight. "I can't stand Nate Mason. As far as I'm concerned, he can drop dead."
"Oh-kay," said Laura. "Well, do you think there's a way to fix your dress? I'm about to do the bouquet toss, and I want you to catch it. I know it's a stupid tradition, but you never know, right?"
Her baby sister was obviously convinced that Suzie needed all the help she could get. And wasn't that just the poop-flavored icing on top of a perfectly screwed up day?
"Laura, listen to me." Suzie put her hands on her sister's arms to make sure she had her full attention. "You've married a great guy and I couldn't be happier for you. But that's not me, okay? I don't need you to set me up with anyone or try to marry me off. I'm going back to my room to change, then I'll be back at your wedding with a big smile, ready to help you celebrate and do whatever you want. But honestly? Men suck. So please do me this one favor and throw the bouquet to anyone but me."
5
Even after giving himself the relief he so desperately needed, Nate's sleep was restless. Partly because he'd had too many beers. Mostly because he kept remembering the way Suzie had felt in his arms, and that made him hard. And being hard led to obsessive thoughts of last night.
For years he'd dreamed of discovering whether her lips were anywhere near as soft as they looked, and whether she'd taste of cinnamon rolls, which was what her smell had always reminded him of. Now he knew, and the reality had been even better than his dreams. Whenever he closed his eyes he could smell her warm, irresistible scent. He felt again the way her lips had parted for him, the way her tongue had met and danced with his. And he could feel her hard nipples, pushing upwards and demanding attention from his fingers.
Just before dawn, he gave up on sleep and got out of bed to take care of his software instead of his cock.
Dalton, the resort owner, had agreed to bring the yacht into the wharf and meet him there at nine. Nate couldn't start work on integrating his system until he was on board and could see exactly how the yacht's existing navigation system worked, but there were plenty of tweaks he could make to it in the meantime.
By Wednesday, he wanted to have the software taking into account the movement of the water, the underlying current, and the force of the waves. While other auto-drive systems could only navigate threats they'd been programmed to recognize, Nate's software was designed to learn. A nautical environment was totally different from a road, so it would need thorough testing. But he should be able to get it to steer safely around surface objects fairly quickly.
Nate made himself a coffee and sat on the veranda of his bure with his laptop. From there he could see over the water, a view that the dawn light made even more spectacular. He admired it for a few minutes before jotting down some notes on his software modifications. Then, as promised, he called Tristan back.
His business partner answered on the first ring. "I still want to sell," said Tristan. "It's too good a price not to."
"You'll change your mind. On Wednesday, I'll live-stream the yacht sailing with our system integrated, navigating obstacles. Then we'll talk."
His business partner blew out a loud breath. "The car manufacturer is waiting to hear back from us. What about if we sold them some kind of licensing deal? I'm not sure they'll go for it, but if we push hard, maybe-?"
"Once we hand over control, they'll get to dictate how the system works in their cars. Remember that terrible interface that ruined our Journeyman software?"
"It won't matter what they do to it, because the end product won't be ours."
"But I want to own the first car prototype to drive itself around a track at high speed. A regular car manufacturer will make a boring, safe car. We could make beautiful, sleek machines. Imagine us cracking open the champagne as the first commercial models rev their engines and blow a few eardrums."
"You can't seriously want to build our own cars? That would cost millions. There's no way we could-"
"Maybe we could, if I can get our software to plug into a yacht's navigation system. Imagine if we could sell something basic that sailors could use off the shelf. It shouldn't be that hard. We could have something in stores within a year, and the sales could fund the rest of the-"
"A year?" His partner's voice rose. "We don't have the money to last that long. And I don't want to gamble away millions just because you didn't like what happened with Journeyman." Tristan drew in his breath. "Besides, selling products is a whole new set of skills. And reclusive programmers don't make the best company directors."
Nate clenched his jaw. He wasn't a recluse, just cautious about getting close to anyone, and for good reason. "Speak for yourself. This is exactly the kind of challenge I've been waiting for."
"Is it because of all those glowing headlines you got? You need to prove they weren't wrong about you?"
Nate bit back a sharp retort. Agreeing to a whole lot of media interviews after they'd sold Journeyman had been the best way to raise the profile of their new company. His business partner knew damn well he'd had to grit his teeth every time.
Maybe it was time for him and Tristan to part ways. Problem was, he didn't have enough left in his bank account to buy his partner out. Not if the price was half of fifty-five million dollars. Three long years with no income and a team of programmers to pay had eaten up their Journeyman profits.
"There's no point talking about it anymore." Nate's disappointment came through in his words. "I'm still going ahead with the test on the yacht. In the meantime, think about what you'll accept for your half of the software, and I'll figure out a way to get it."
"Wait." Tristan sounded startled. "We're a team, Nate. You're not really thinking about doing this on your own? Listen, if the test goes well … I'll … well, let's talk about it some more when you know for sure. I still think it's crazy to turn down that much money, but if you really want to do it all ourselves, I'll consider it. I don't want to be the fifth Beatle, or the guy who started Microsoft with Bill Gates, then sold out of the company before it even got going."
"The test will work," Nate promised. And if it did, Tristan wouldn't be able to say no. Although Nate didn't like to get close to anyone, he and Tristan had worked together a long time. He'd be happier to stick with their partnership than he wanted to admit.
After hanging up, Nate pulled on a pair of board shorts, threw a change of clothes and a towel into a bag with his laptop, and rushed out. The wharf wasn't far, but he didn't want to keep Dalton, the owner of the resort, waiting.
He tracked across the beach, glancing toward the clump of trees that had been the site of last night's mistake. Hopefully he wouldn't have to see Suzie again. He'd be busy until Wednesday and with the wedding over, she might not stick around too much longer.
Nate got to the wharf, shading his eyes as he started toward the yacht. Without any breeze, the sea was flat and he was dazzled by the sunlight's bright reflection. The yacht sat low in the water. Around 40 feet long, Nate calculated. A nice size.
Dalton was on deck, and Nate could hear the engine running. That was a relief. As the yacht apparently hadn't been used for a while, Dalton hadn't been sure whether it would start.
When Nate jumped on board, Dalton turned from where he'd been coiling a rope and gave him a nod. Though the man had mentioned he didn't usually live on Lantana Island, he looked like he belonged here. His tan was deep, and he had visible nicks on his hands as though used to physical labor. A scar cut through one of his eyebrows, completing his rugged island look.
"Nice day to go out on the water," said Nate over the noise of the engine. It had been far too long since he'd been on a boat. Though he was here to work, the feel of the deck moving a little under his feet brought back his only good memories of his time in Florida. His father's yacht had been mainly for show, until Nate had arrived. It had become Nate's escape, and the only place he had felt at home.
"You'll need to run the engine for several hours to charge the battery," Dalton explained. Don't switch it off in the meantime, or it might not start up again."
"Sure, I can run it all day. There's no wind for sailing anyway." Nate scanned the horizon. Not a cloud in the sky, and not much chance of any breeze. Probably a good thing, so he wouldn't be distracted by the temptation to put the sails up.
All he needed to get the software integration working was a few hours under engine power. Once he had a baseline, he could do most of the software modifications on dry land before Wednesday's final test.