The Billionaire Of Coral Bay. Nikki Logan

her, she found herself feeling particularly sorry for Richard Grundy.

      Captain Farrow pressed a finger to his headset and spoke quietly, then he turned to Rich.

      ‘Lunch is served, sir.’

      ‘Thanks, Max.’

      They backtracked and found the sumptuous spread and the remainder of the wine set out on the aft deck. The deckhand known as Damo lowered his head respectfully then jogged on tanned legs up the spiral stairs to the helm and was gone.

      Rich indicated for her to sit.

      The first thing she noticed was the absence of the promised crayfish. In its place were some pieces of chicken. The little kindness touched her even as she wondered exactly how and when he’d communicated the instruction. Clearly, his crew had a talent for operating invisibly.

      ‘This is amazing,’ she said, curling her bare legs under her on the soft leather. The deep strains of wind chimes flew out of the back of the boat and were overwhelmed in the wash, but they endured. Mila loaded her small plate with delicious morsels.

      ‘So how long have you worked for the Department?’ Rich asked, loading a piece of sourdough with pâté and goat’s cheese.

      It wasn’t unusual for one of her tour clients to strike up a personal conversation; what was unusual was the ease with which she approached her answer.

      She normally didn’t do chatty.

      ‘Six years. Until I was eighteen, I instructed snorkelers during the busy season and volunteered on conservation projects in the off-season.’

      ‘While most other teens were bagging groceries or flipping burgers after school?’

      ‘It’s different up here. Station work, hospitality or conservation. Those are our options. Or leaving, of course,’ she acknowledged. Plenty of young people chose that.

      ‘Waiting on people not your thing?’

      She studied her food for a moment. ‘People aren’t really my thing, to be honest. I much prefer the solitude of the reef system.’

      It was the perfect in if he wanted to call her on her interpersonal skills. Or lack of.

      But he didn’t. ‘What about working on the Station? Not too many people out there, I wouldn’t have thought.’

      ‘I would have worked on Wardoo in a heartbeat,’ she admitted. ‘But jobs there are very competitive and the size of their crew gets smaller every year as the owners cut back and back.’ She looked out towards the vast rust-coloured land on their port side. ‘And back.’