Cooper was surprised at how swiftly he’d agreed to Allie’s counter-proposal. At Remington Industries he was known for taking a hard line, showing no mercy. No one would ever have accused him of being soft.

But before he could even think through all the ramifications or at least discuss matters with Reece and Max, he’d said okay. Maybe it was because he was itching to get back on board the Dragonfly; maybe it was the way Allie’s chin had wobbled. But somehow he’d quickly convinced himself her idea had merit.

Partners? Where had that come from?

“I have to get back to the boat,” Allie said. “I’ve got customers arriving in about thirty minutes. You call off the judge and draw up whatever papers you feel are necessary, but we depart at ten-thirty sharp. And, Cooper, you might want to change into shorts and deck shoes and…I don’t know, maybe a shirt with some color in it? The clients expect Jimmy Buffet, not Warren Buffet.”

Without giving him a chance to sputter any reply, she turned and jogged down the sidewalk to where she’d parked her old car. If she hadn’t departed so abruptly, he’d have told her the wheels of justice don’t turn that quickly. He couldn’t simply undo the injunction and produce a contract out of thin air.

But surely no one would try to stop her from sailing, particularly if he, the complainant, were there to reassure any trigger-happy law-enforcement types that it was okay. As for the contract, he could draw it up tonight, provided Reece and Max agreed. Allie had actually made some good points about protecting the Remington Charters reputation by not canceling any excursions or turning away loyal customers, and Reece would approve of employing their asset to produce income, rather than letting it lie idle.