Read The Invitation (Matchmaker Trilogy) for Free Online

want one woman along, much less two. Not that he had anything against women in general, but on this trip, they would be in the way. He’d planned to relax, to take a break from the tension that was part and parcel of his work. He’d planned to have one of the two cabins on the boat to himself, to sleep to his heart’s content, to dress as he pleased, shave when and if he pleased, swim in the buff, and, in short, let it all hang out.
    The presence of women didn’t figure into his personal game plan. They were bound to screw things up. A widow and her niece. Charming. Samson was already carrying their bags. If they thought he was going to wait on them, they had another think coming!
    Actually, he mused, the aunt didn’t sound so bad. She had a pleasant voice, sounded lively without being obnoxious, and to her further credit, had protested Samson’s playing bellboy. He wondered what she looked like and whether Samson would be enthralled. He hoped not, because then he’d be stuck with the niece, who sounded far less lively and more obnoxious than her aunt.
    It was obvious that the niece wasn’t thrilled with the looks of the sloop. What had she expected? The Brittania? If so, he decided as his eyes skimmed the gloomy interior of the Golden Echo, she was in for an even ruder awakening than she’d already had.
    Not that the boat bothered him; he’d sailed in far worse. This time around, though, he could have asked for more space. This time around he’d have preferred the Brittania, himself. At least then he’d have been able to steer clear of the women.
    Though he didn’t move an inch, he grew instinctively alert when he heard footsteps approaching the gangway. Samson was in the lead, his booted feet appearing several seconds before the two suitcases. “The Golden Echo was refurbished ten years ago,” he was saying, his voice growing louder as his head came into view. “The galley is quite modern and the cabins comfortable—ah, Noah, right where I left you.” Stepping aside, he set down the bags to give an assisting hand to each of the women in turn.
    Noah didn’t have to marvel at his uncle’s style. Though a bit eccentric at times, Samson was a gentleman through and through, which was fine as long as he didn’t expect the same standard from his nephew. Noah spent his working life straddling the lines between gentleman, diplomat and czar; he intended to spend his vacation answering to no one but himself.
    “Noah, I’d like you to meet Victoria Lesser,” Samson said. He knew better than to ask his nephew to rise. Noah was intimidating enough when seated; standing he was formidable. Given the dark mood he was in at the moment, intimidation was the lesser of the evils.
    Noah nodded toward Victoria, careful to conceal the slight surprise he felt. Victoria had not only sounded lively, she looked lively. What had Samson said—that she was in her early fifties? She didn’t look a day over forty. She wore a bright yellow, oversize shirt, a pair of white slacks with the cuffs rolled to mid-calf, and sneakers, and her features were every bit as youthful. Her hair was an attractive walnut shade and thick, loosely arranged into a high, short ponytail that left gentle wisps to frame the delicate structure of her face. Her skin was flawless, firm-toned and lightly made up, if at all. Her eyes twinkled, and her smile was genuine.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Noah,” she said every bit as sincerely. “Thank you for letting us join you on this trip. I’ve done many things in my day, but I’ve never been on a treasure hunt before. It sounds as though it’ll be fun.”
    Lured by the subtle melody of her voice, Noah almost believed her. Then he shifted his gaze to the young woman who’d followed her down the steps and took back the thought.
    “Shaye Burke,” Samson was saying by way of introduction, “Noah VanBaar.”
    Again Noah nodded his head, this time a trifle more stiffly. Shaye Burke was a looker; he had