They’d barely been in the limousine five minutes when Macy felt it slow to a stop. The security had called the limo back early and had been waiting to bundle them inside once the coast was clear. They now followed close behind. She checked out the window and saw the wide Opera House steps beneath its distinctive sails. “This is the wrong direction. The hotel’s back in the city.”
Ryder nodded to the driver and opened his door as he said over his shoulder. “There’s something I want to do first.”
She waited until he appeared to open her door, but didn’t get out. “We have nothing on the schedule.”
“This is a personal detour,” he said as he offered her his hand.
Macy had never been a fan of detours from a set plan. Order and organization were the things that kept business and the world—including her life—operating smoothly. But this was Ryder’s business, therefore his call, so she took his hand and stepped from the limo.
Despite her ambivalence, one thing he’d said intrigued her. “Personal?”
He slipped his sunglasses from his jacket pocket, put them on and took in the expansive view. “I’ve never been to Sydney. My one previous Australian trip was also to Melbourne. There’s something I’d like to see while I’m here.”
Macy folded her arms under her breasts and studied his face. It didn’t seem right—The Machine taking time out for sightseeing. She was sure his American staff would never believe her if she repeated the story.
She found her own sunglasses in her bag and slid them on. “I wouldn’t have picked you for the tourist type.”
He raised one eyebrow. “You weren’t listening to my holiday description on the plane?”
She felt the heat rise up her chest and throat and turned away to the sails of the Opera House to obscure his view of her embarrassment. Except this wasn’t simply embarrassment, the heat flowed through her veins to every square inch of skin. Her body was responding to the mere suggestion of his kiss, whether she wanted it to or not. And she hated that loss of control.
She tilted her chin up. “Ryder, I—”
“Before you say anything,” he smoothly interjected, “I’ll show you what I have in mind.” He slipped an arm around her waist and gestured to the thirty-foot cruiser waiting at the jetty.
It was beautiful—large, sleek and white; its proud elegance easily outstripped the craft around it. But she’d be trapped alone with Ryder. Again. At the mercy of her own flawed ability to resist him. Again. The sweet pull of the heavenly and the allure of the dangerous had never been so strongly interlaced.
She took a small but symbolic step back from his arm. “I’m not sure we have time for a cruise. I have a lot of work to do at the hotel.”
He dropped the arm she’d evaded and—seemingly unconcerned by her reluctance—dug both hands into his trouser pockets. “You have to eat, and lunch has been prepared for us on board. Think of it as your lunch break.”
She looked at the gleaming cruiser. She’d never been out on the Harbour. Her trips to Sydney had always been quick business visits, but each time she’d promised herself that one day she’d explore this, the heart of Sydney. Maybe today was that day, and Ryder had handed her the opportunity. Could she do it? Ignore work for an hour or two, indulge herself, spend social time with her boss and not let it lead anywhere? She bit down on a secret smile, not willing to let it free, but ready to live in the moment for once.
A man in a white uniform waved to them from the cruiser and Ryder returned the greeting. She watched the exchange and suspicion pricked. “You already have a booking, don’t you?”
He grinned in approval as he started walking her down to the jetty, obviously aware she’d made her decision. “I made it from Melbourne.”
She shook her head as the smile she’d been restraining tried again to break free. Of course he had. This wasn’t an unplanned detour—she’d just been unaware it was part of the schedule. Even the security men, leaning back against their car, seemed to know this was the next stop.
However, that didn’t make her relax—now the question was, had he organized this to get her alone in a romantic setting? Or was it really just about him wanting a chance to see a world-famous landmark, the same way she’d been curious?
He guided her onto the cruiser and left her to speak to the captain. Macy looked around the Harbour, trying to sort out the competing thoughts tumbling around her head. She hadn’t made much progress a few minutes later when she heard Ryder’s footfalls on the deck come up behind her and then he joined her, leaning against the rail and looking over the view as the crew eased the boat out into the waterway. Despite being dressed in a handmade suit and polished shoes, he looked strangely at home. None of this made sense.
“What are you planning, Ryder?” she asked, an edge creeping into her voice.
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