olo shirt, shorts, and deck shoes. He
must be in his early thirties.
“Mac.” Christian beams.
“Mr. Grey! Welcome back.” They shake hands.
“Anastasia, this is Liam McConnell. Liam, my
“Anastasia, this is Liam McConnell. Liam, my
girlfriend, Anastasia Steele.”
Girlfriend! My inner goddess performs a quick
arabesque. She’s still grinning over the convertible. I ha一ve
to get used to this—it’s not the first time he’s said it, but
hearing him say it is still a thrill.
“How do you do?” Liam and I shake hands.
“Call me Mac,” he says warmly, and I can’t place his
accent. “Welcome aboard, Miss Steele.”
“Ana, please,” I mutter, flushing. He has deep brown
eyes.
“How’s she shaping up, Mac?” Christian interjects
quickly, and for a moment, I think he’s talking about me.
“She’s ready to rock and roll, sir,” Mac beams. Oh,
the boat, The Grace. Silly me.
“Let’s get underway, then.”
“You going to take her out?”
“Yep.” Christian flashes Mac a quick wicked grin.
“Quick tour, Anastasia?”
“Yes, please.”
I follow him inside the cabin. An L-shaped cream
leather sofa is directly in front of us, and above it, a
massive curved window offers a panoramic view of the
marina. To the left is the kitchen area—very well
appointed, all pale wood.
“This is the main saloon. Galley beside,” Christian says,
wa一ving his hand in the direction of the kitchen.
He takes my hand and leads me through the main
cabin. It’s surprisingly spacious. The floor is the same pale
wood. It looks modern and sleek and has a light, airy feel,
but it’s all very functional, as if he doesn’t spend much time
here.
“Bathrooms on either side.” Christian points to two
doors, then opens the small, oddly shaped door directly in
front of us and steps in. We’re in a plush bedroom.
Oh . . .
It has a king-size cabin bed and is all pale blue linen
and pale wood like his bedroom at Escala. Christian
obviously chooses a theme and sticks to it.
“This is the master cabin.” He gazes down at me, gray
“This is the master cabin.” He gazes down at
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