Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door

by Therese Beharrie

  If she added how full her heart felt because of the way his arms held her close to him, as though he would never let her go, she was helpless.

  And hopelessly in love.

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—’

  ‘No,’ he said, cutting her off. ‘You should have. We might not know what we are yet, Jess, but you can tell me anything. And I’ll be there to listen.’

  A lump sat in her throat. ‘You don’t—’

  ‘I do, and you’re going to stop doubting it.’ He pulled back from the embrace, both her hands in his now. ‘I know you’ve been hurt. And abandoned. You shouldn’t have been, Jess. You didn’t deserve it.’ His eyes were hot, serious, and she almost, almost believed him. ‘You didn’t deserve it, Jess. I’m saying it again because I need you to hear me. To believe me.’

  Was her face that obvious to read? ‘I do.’

  ‘No, you don’t. And that’s fine for now. Because we believe what our experiences teach us, and your experiences haven’t shown you that you can believe me.’ He paused. ‘Or they have, but you haven’t seen it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘How long have you been friends with Anja?’

  ‘You know the answer to that,’ she said softly. ‘Two years.’

  ‘Has she done anything in the last two years to make you believe that she wouldn’t be there for you once the baby’s here?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Then why do you think that she won’t be?’

  She couldn’t answer him when the lump in her throat doubled. It was accompanied by tears burning in her eyes. It took all of a few seconds for them to roll down her cheeks and, for the second time, Dylan brushed them away.

  He had a tender look on his face, and she hated what it did to her heart. No, that wasn’t true. She didn’t hate it at all. But she was afraid of it. Because she’d never felt this way before, about anyone, and she didn’t know if she could trust him...

  ‘What’s it going to take for you to believe me?’

  ‘Kiss me,’ she heard herself say. Surprised herself with the words. But then she wanted it more than she’d thought possible. ‘I want you to kiss me and make me believe that—’

  His lips were on hers before she got a chance to finish her sentence, and she sank into the kiss. Sank into the moment.

  For her, the moment was goodbye. It was setting aside the hope he’d stirred in her, and placing the love she’d only just discovered she had for him in a box somewhere inside her, to visit, to cherish whenever she felt strong enough.

  But goodbye had never felt so good in her life. It had never come with a strong man holding her in his arms, with his hands caressing her body. It had never caused her spine to tingle, and her breasts to ache. She pressed closer to him, wanting to give him all that she had inside. Wanting to tell him how much he meant to her. Wanting to make sure that one day, when she was no longer there, he’d remember this kiss on the beach.

  That he’d remember the passion, the tenderness. That he’d remember how her hands felt on his body, sliding up, underneath his shirt, kneading, skimming. That he’d remember the moan he gave when she scraped her nails lightly over his back, and the one that came from her when he nipped at her lip in response.

  They drew away from each other, breath shuddering from their lungs, and then Dylan lifted his hand and set it on her cheek, his gaze intense as it met hers.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere, Jess. And I’m going to prove it to you.’ His thumb grazed across her cheek. ‘You can believe me.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked, her heart hurting. ‘Why is it so important that I believe you?’

  ‘Because I love you.’

  He stopped her reply with another kiss, and this time she was swept away in it. She didn’t think about what he’d just told her, only felt it, and allowed the sweetness of his kiss to convince her to believe it.

  And it did.

  The time when they kissed, when their tongues tangled with one another in a sweetly intense duel, Jess believed that Dylan loved her. That he wouldn’t leave. She could see herself as a part of his world, as a part of his family. She would give birth to Anja’s child, and she’d still be a part of their lives.

  Her own life wouldn’t change all that much. She’d get a new job and find her own place, but she’d still see the people who’d changed her life so much. And there would be a baby she’d share a special bond with, who would enrich her life further.

  Fantasy, she thought, but gave herself a few more minutes of it before pulling back.

  ‘Dylan,’ she said hoarsely.

  ‘Hmm?’ He smiled when he looked at her, but it faded. ‘What?’

  ‘We can’t—’

  ‘No,’ he said, taking a step back. She immediately felt colder, and only then noticed the sun had lowered and it was dusk. ‘Don’t say that we can’t. Say that you don’t. Because that would be the only reason why we can’t.’

  She opened her mouth, tried to say what she needed him to believe. But she couldn’t. Because she’d been hurt in her life by rejection, by abandonment, she wouldn’t hurt someone else in the same way. Especially when it wasn’t true.

  ‘You feel the same way.’ The darkness that had been on his face lifted.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Because you’re scared.’

  He saw right through her, she thought, and resented it so very much. ‘How far is your mother’s place from here?’

  ‘Jess—’

  ‘How far?’ she asked tersely.

  ‘A couple hundred metres.’

  ‘So let’s get to it.’

  She walked in the direction she remembered he’d been leading them in, and sighed in relief when he fell into step beside her silently. She didn’t want to talk any more. Not to him, not to Anja. All she wanted was to go home and—

  She cut her own thoughts off when she realised she’d thought about Dylan’s house when she’d pictured home. That she’d thought about him. It had her feet stopping. Had her grabbing his hand, pulling it and forcing him to stop with her.

  ‘I love you, too, Dylan,’ she said hoarsely. ‘But it doesn’t change anything. It can’t,’ she said when she saw him open his mouth. ‘It can’t change anything because I’m... I’m not strong enough to deal with whatever might happen if this doesn’t work out.’

  ‘It’ll work out.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ she said, and shook her head. ‘No, it’s just better for us to...’

  Her voice faded as she realised she didn’t know what would be better. Or, she thought, what would be worse. For her to fall into this web of hope they’d spun around them, only to find out she’d been fooling herself—she’d been fooling her heart—in the process? Or to ignore it, and constantly be tempted by the hope—the love—that Dylan was telling her to believe in?

  She had to figure it out, and she couldn’t do it with Dylan by her side.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Dylan said softly, and for the briefest moment Jess thought that she’d spoken out loud.

  ‘You say that now.’

  ‘So, I won’t say it any more,’ he replied simply. ‘I’ll show you.’

  He leaned forward, kissed her forehead, and then continued walking back to his mother’s cottage. After a moment Jess followed, her head and her heart a mess.

  * * *

  Since Dylan had never told a woman outside of his family that he loved her, he wasn’t quite sure what should happen afterwards. But having her avoid being alone with him... Well, it was safe to say that that hadn’t even made his list of possible consequences.

  Especially since she’d told him she loved him, too.

  And yet, as soon as they reached the cottage that night, Jess excused herself for the evening. And then she made sure that there weren’t any more opportunities
for them to be alone for the rest of the trip.

  It was fairly crafty—it clearly required a lot of manoeuvring—and, if Dylan was honest with himself, she impressed him with her efforts. She woke up before he did, disappeared for a walk on the beach and only returned when everyone had arrived for breakfast. If she woke up later than he did, she would only appear after his mother had already got up and would dive into the breakfast preparations, using it as an excuse not to speak with him.

  She went to bed before he did. Stuck to his mother’s side at every spare moment. When Anja arrived, she’d switch between the two. And Anja was the perfect deterrent, he thought, remembering how she only needed to send him a look when he tried to get Jess alone and he would abandon his efforts.

  If he hadn’t understood it—expected it, even, knowing what he did about Jess now—he would have been more offended. But he did understand. He understood that she was scared. Terrified, he corrected himself, thinking about her expression on the beach. And the only way she would get over that fear was if he showed her that she had nothing to be scared of.

  Which he could focus on now, he thought, since his trip to Langebaan had been somewhat successful.

  Their conversations with their mother had been...hard. Hard and painful and, at times, ugly. His mother had greeted him with the nerves, the hesitation he’d come to expect from her. That had always been her personality, though he couldn’t deny that there had been a part of him hoping she’d come out of her shell after their father’s death.

  But it seemed his death hadn’t changed that much for his mother. When Anja had asked her why she’d chosen to have them, knowing what their father was, she’d broken down. Had defended him at first and, when he and Anja had refused to accept that, had admitted it had been selfish.

  But the more they talked—and it had been strange going between tense, difficult discussions and meals with Jess where everyone pretended nothing was wrong—the more Dylan realised it had been more about hope than selfishness. He’d heard it loud and clear in the way his mother had described the joy of feeling them grow, move inside her. Of sharing that with their father.

  She’d told them her pregnancies had been the only time he’d been the kind of man she’d always wanted him to be. And Dylan had finally realised that he and Anja had been his mother’s hope that he would stay that man. That each day after they’d been born she’d hoped for that man to pitch up again. And each day, when that man hadn’t—when it became clear he’d left for good—she’d mourned.

  She’d broken down in front of them. Had told them how sorry she was for failing them by loving their father. By abandoning them. Hearing the words, the apology, had loosened something inside Dylan. Perhaps because for the first time he believed that she wanted to make up for it. And that maybe she would finally become the woman—the mother—Dylan had always hoped she would be.

  It didn’t magically allow him to forgive her. And it hadn’t done much to change his opinion of his father. But it had made him think that things weren’t as black and white as he’d thought. Perhaps if he’d still been alive, Dylan could have had the same conversation with his father. Maybe that would have given Dylan a glimpse into the psyche of the man he’d resented all his life. Maybe it would have helped Dylan to understand him.

  Now, Dylan realised that his grief was part dealing with his father’s abandonment, half wishing that he hadn’t died so that Dylan could have tried to understand him sooner. The guilt that came from that—the regret—had merged with his anger and that had made Dylan grieve.

  He knew it would take him time to work through it all, but Dylan was choosing to move forward. Moving forward meant working on forgiving his parents for not being who he’d wished they had been. For abandoning them. It meant working on accepting who his mother was, and learning to move on from who his father had been. It meant appreciating the closeness he and Anja had started forging again, and making sure that she knew he would never jeopardise their relationship as he had in the past.

  And, most of all, moving forward meant making sure Jess knew he was serious about showing her he loved her.

  ‘This must be torture for you,’ he said mildly into the silence in the car. Jess might have been able to avoid him in Langebaan, but on their way home it was just the two of them. He almost enjoyed the sound of her shifting in her seat.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ he replied. ‘You hate being alone with me.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Really? Because I clearly recall you honing the skill of avoiding it over the last few days.’

  ‘I did—’ She broke off when he gave her a look, and then sighed. ‘I don’t hate being alone with you. I just know that being alone with you is...tempting.’

  He felt his lips curve. ‘Tempting?’

  ‘Yes, tempting.’ His head turned in time to see her roll her eyes. ‘You know you are.’

  ‘And I’m not even shirtless,’ he said with a smirk, and chuckled when she slapped at his hand on the gear knob. He let the silence that fell on them sit, felt her get restless as it did. He didn’t mean for it to make her uncomfortable enough to talk to him, but he couldn’t deny he didn’t appreciate it when she spoke.

  ‘I don’t get it. I don’t get you.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Why are you...why is this...why don’t you sound annoyed with me?’

  ‘Oh, I’m annoyed with you,’ he replied easily. ‘I’m pretty annoyed, actually.’

  ‘I know I shouldn’t have avoided you, but it was easier than—’

  ‘And that’s why I’m annoyed,’ he interrupted. ‘Not because you avoided me, but because you’re avoiding your feelings for me. That you see them as complicated.’

  ‘And you don’t?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You really don’t think our admission of love for one another is going to complicate our lives when we get back?’

  His heart did a flip. ‘No. Because it won’t.’

  Seconds passed, and Dylan felt himself grow anxious, the easiness of the silence before gone.

  ‘You know I’m moving out of Anja’s place soon, right?’ she said finally, and he softly exhaled the air he didn’t realise he’d been holding in his lungs.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Chet told me he’ll be finishing work on my flat the end of next week.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Minutes passed this time. ‘And I’m not going to work for Anja after the baby is born.’

  ‘You’re...’ His hand tightened on the wheel. ‘Does Anja know?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ll tell her, though.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘At the right time.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s going to be a right time for that conversation,’ he muttered.

  But she replied seriously, ‘Probably not. But I can’t work for her any more. Especially not after I give birth.’

  ‘Is that your plan, Jess?’ he asked quietly. ‘You’re going to push away the people who love you?’

  ‘I’m going to protect myself.’

  ‘No, you’re pushing us away.’ Dylan told himself to stay calm. ‘I know what it’s like to be abandoned. And I know the fear that it’ll happen again can make you want to abandon the people you care about before they can abandon you.’ He only then realised how true his words were.

  ‘I’m not abandoning anyone,’ she said. ‘I’m trying to make sure this whole process is...easier on all of us.’

  He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he took his time thinking about what he wanted to tell her. ‘Do you know what this trip made me realise?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That that fear of abandonment will stay with you until you let the people who love you show you it won’t happen.’ He let out a shaky
breath. ‘After my father died, I didn’t give my mother a chance to tell me why she’d done what she’d done. And, now that she has, it’s helped me to understand and...it’ll help me to forgive.’

  ‘Are you telling me to...give my parents a chance?’

  ‘That’s entirely up to you. But no. What I meant was that you have to give people chances. You have to give us a chance.’ He reached over, took her hand. ‘We’re your family, Jess. Give us a chance to show you that we won’t let you down.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ‘BUT YOU’RE NOT my family,’ Jess told him with a clenched jaw. ‘That’s the whole point of this. I’m not a part of your family,’ she said again, her voice cracking. ‘I’m not even a part of my own family.’

  It still hurt. She hated that it still hurt. And that perhaps it always would.

  ‘Then maybe it would help to give your parents a chance.’

  Surprise had a laugh spilling from her lips. Not because his suggestion was funny, but because it was ludicrous. ‘I have given my parents a chance. I’ve given them countless chances.’ She paused. Let the hurt pass through her now. ‘They haven’t tried to find me in two years, Dylan. They’ve made what they think about my chances pretty clear.’

  ‘You haven’t tried to get in touch with them either,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Because I shouldn’t have had to. I’m the child. I’m their child. If they don’t care enough about me to find out where I am, why should I care about them?’

  ‘And you’re happy with that?’

  ‘I have to be.’

  ‘Jess—’

  ‘Enough, Dylan,’ she interrupted. ‘Nothing you say is going to convince me that I need to speak with my parents. I know where I stand with them. Even though they haven’t heard from me in two years—even though they don’t know where I am—they’ve never tried to find me.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘I do,’ she said, exhausted now. ‘And that’s the point. I know they haven’t looked for me. Their only child. I’ve made it easier for them by leaving. I’ve made it easier for myself. Now I don’t have to constantly feel unloved and unwanted. Now I can just move on and—’