The Billionaire's Island Bride (South Shore Billionaires Book 3)

by Donna Alward

  Now she was pulling him through tall, crackly grass as they made their way to the beach, ignoring any path. No matter where he was on the island, he could hear the ocean, but the shush of the breakers now reached his ears, and something built in his chest, something unexpected that he wasn’t sure what to do with.

  In this moment, he didn’t want to be anywhere else but here, with her. Especially with her. And that complicated things so much. He did dates. He didn’t do...more.

  “Come on,” she said, jumping down over a small dune and into the sand. She took off her footwear and left it at the edge, and let go of his hand as she danced toward the water. She was maybe ten feet away from the waves when she stopped, opened her arms wide and lifted her face to the sky.

  Oh, damn. This wasn’t a little complication; it was a huge one that he wasn’t sure what to do with.

  She spun around and called to him. “Come on!”

  He took off his shoes and socks, and the cool sand squidged between his toes. He’d gone business casual tonight, so he was wearing nice trousers and a tailored button-down. Not exactly beach attire. She trotted back and grabbed his hand. “Come on, slowpoke. We’re going to look at the stars.”

  He laughed and followed her, and then to his surprise, she dropped down onto the sand and made to lie down.

  “Wait!” He stopped her as he shrugged out of his jacket. “We can put this under our heads. So we don’t get sand.”

  Her smile was wide as she took his jacket, then spread it on the sand. “Okay, come on down.”

  He wasn’t sure if he’d get any fleabites...after all, this was Nova Scotia in early October. Wouldn’t it be too cold or something? And right now he didn’t actually care. He lay down on the sand beside her and put his head on his jacket. They had to lie close together to share the “pillow,” and he liked the feeling of her body next to his.

  “Look up,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath, and he opened his eyes to the sky above.

  It was so big. Inky blackness stretched endlessly, with thousands of stars blinking at them. The ocean swept in and out, lulling him into relaxing. And yet he was so very aware of the woman beside him that it was impossible to relax completely. He sensed her every breath and could smell her floral shampoo. And when she reached out and hooked a few of her fingers in his, his chest tightened.

  Brooklyn Graves was a beautiful woman. Not just outside, but inside, too.

  “Look,” she whispered, pointing up with her free hand. “There’s a satellite moving across the sky.”

  The silver light moved in a precise arc and he watched it for several seconds. “Do you know the constellations?”

  “Not really,” she replied. She slid her fingers away and he missed the contact. “I mean, I know the Big and Little Dippers. But the rest... I like making things up instead. Kind of like when you see shapes in the clouds? I like to find them in the stars.”

  God, she was so pure, wasn’t she? How many women had he met in his lifetime who would indulge in a bit of whimsy to make up their own constellations? It struck him that maybe he’d spent a lot of his time with the wrong sort of woman.

  And wondered if that was because of the example set at home. His mother had not been a nurturer. It was something that he and Jeremy had in common. Jeremy had had a stepdad. Cole had still had his father, but his father had barely been around. His first love was always Abbott Industries. And when his will had been read, his instruction to his son was “Please don’t ruin my company.” Nothing about being happy or finding love...and when Cole had looked at his mother’s impassive face at the cemetery, he’d wondered if they’d ever loved each other at all.

  He let out a long breath, wishing he knew how to let go of the past. But it popped up now and again, and more often lately. He couldn’t imagine living in a loveless marriage—or worse, loving someone only to have them stop loving you.

  Especially when you weren’t really that lovable to begin with.

  “That was a ‘deep thought’ kind of sigh. You okay?”

  He felt her gaze on his profile and stared at the stars. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

  “What about?”

  “My family.” He debated whether or not he should say more. He didn’t talk about his personal life. But there was something about Brooklyn that invited him to be open. “My mother would never have done this. Neither would my dad. To be honest, I’m not even sure why they had me. I spent my whole life trying to gain their approval, or rebelling at never getting it. Now it’s too late anyway.”

  “Even for your mother? I know your dad is gone, but she’s still living, right?”

  “Yeah. We don’t have much of a relationship. She wasn’t very maternal.”

  “I see.”

  “I spent a lot of time looking for validation, and not enough time actually living. Being here on the island has hammered that home, and sometimes I’m not sure what to do with it.”

  “It sounds like you made a lot of life changes after your health scare.”

  “Let’s call it what it is. I had a breakdown. Of course it was all kept super quiet, because if it had gotten out, Abbott stock would have plummeted.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure to put on a single person, Cole.”

  He didn’t answer, because she was right.

  “So what are you going to do? Walk away?”

  “No.” That he was able to answer definitively. “I do know I have to stop being self-destructive. Being a workaholic is not the answer. But I still need to have a purpose and a reason to be busy. I can’t just hide away here. It’s nice for a little while, but not forever.”

  “Balance.”

  “Yeah. It’s one of those words that get thrown around a lot, but for me it means making sure I take time out, that I don’t burn out, that I don’t have to do everything myself. It sounds like it should be easy, but when you’ve lived that way your whole life, the habits are hard to break.”

  He’d been on the island a few weeks, and he was already getting antsy to get back. He did actually like his job. He liked building things and helping people and solving problems. And so far he had not ruined the company. On the contrary.

  “You have wonderful friends who support you.” She nudged a little closer and he wondered if she was cold.

  “Here,” he said, sitting up a bit and holding his arm out. “You’re cold. Snuggle in.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then just when he thought she was going to say no, she slid closer and let him pull her next to his body. She fit there so well. Made him want things he’d never wanted in his life.

  They stargazed a few minutes more, silent but for the waves slipping over the sand. He wondered what he should do. He could send her home and say he needed to get back to his friends. He could walk her home and say good-night, and be a gentleman. He could turn toward her and kiss her soft, full lips, even though they’d agreed they would not be sharing kisses again.

  He should send her home. Get back. Forget about this impulsive beach trip and make plans to head back to New York soon. She wasn’t the kind of woman he could or should play games with.

  He rolled to his side so he was facing her and rested his head on his hand, braced by his elbow.

  Her lips twitched. “You’re supposed to be looking at the stars.”

  “I’m looking at something more beautiful than stars.”

  “There’s a line.”

  “It’s not a line if it’s true.”

  She turned her face toward him. “What do you want, Cole?”

  He struggled with how to answer. He couldn’t lie. He couldn’t say nothing, and he couldn’t say more than he felt. So he let his gaze lock with hers as he admitted, simply, “You.”

  Her chest rose and fell with a big breath, and her eyes widened. “But that’s all, right? You’re not looking for a
relationship or a girlfriend or whatever.”

  “I won’t lie to you, Brooklyn. I won’t do that just to get what I want, okay? I don’t use manipulation.”

  “But you want me.”

  “I do. Quite a bit, actually. But we agreed not to kiss again, so I’m lying here, admitting what I want, knowing that it all hinges on one word from you. Because I never, ever want to treat you unfairly.”

  Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and her eyes softened. “Even when you were trying to buy my house, you were always honest. I... I trust you, Cole.”

  The way she said it made him think that it was not something she admitted very often.

  And then she surprised him by lifting up and shifting so that her mouth was against his.

  He used gravity to his advantage, moving forward until she was back down on the sand, her head on his jacket, and he was braced above her, tasting her lips, which held the faint taste of vanilla and brown sugar from dessert. She was so sweet, so perfect. Her sweater was soft beneath his hand as he ran his hand up her arm and then behind her neck, cradling the soft skin and baby hairs there. She responded by nudging her left leg in between his, twining them together as he deepened the kiss. Her fingers gripped his arm as he slid his lips off hers and finally tasted the delectable hollow of her throat and she gasped, arching up. Without thinking, he ran his hand under her sweater to cup her breast in his palm, the pebbled tip pushing through her bra.

  This was going far faster than he’d anticipated, and while his desire was yelling at him to take this as far as she’d let him, his caution—and conscience—told him to slow down. She wasn’t his to ravish. She was his to protect.

  And he had no freaking idea where that notion had come from, but it made him temper his advances, removing his hand from beneath her sweater and instead indulging in long, sweet kisses that drugged his mind.

  At some point they slowed to gentle sips and nibbles, and then he pressed his forehead to hers. “Brooklyn. Please don’t ask me to be sorry we did that. I’m not. No matter what happens, I’m not sorry.”

  She pushed away a bit. “What do you mean, whatever happens? Is there something I should know?”

  Cole looked her fully in the eyes. “I don’t live here. This house, this island, is part of my life but not all of it, not like it is yours. It’s here for me to retreat to, for me to help others, too. Men and women like me, who forget to take care of themselves in their high-pressure lives.”

  “It’s a piece of the puzzle that is Cole Abbott,” she murmured.

  “Exactly. And I like you and I want you...but I don’t want to build up expectations that aren’t realistic.”

  “So this is a fling.”

  “No.” He put his hand under her chin and lifted it. “Not a fling. You mean something to me, okay? Flings are...a couple of dates and some hot sex and not calling each other back. That’s not us.” It had been him, though. More times than he cared to admit.

  And that alone scared him. The fact that he was saying all this out loud was terrifying. And yet he wanted to deal with her the way he ran his business—with integrity. She deserved it.

  “But you’ll be leaving.”

  “Yes, and soon.”

  She sighed, then sat up. Grains of sand clung to her sweater and he thought about the story she’d shared from her childhood. “Are you still close with your family, Brooklyn?”

  She pulled up her knees and rested her arms on them, staring out at the dark ocean. “Not like I used to be. We’re kind of spread out now.”

  But there was a hesitancy, a guardedness in her tone that made him curious. She could run her business anywhere. Why here, and why so isolated from everything? What was she running from?

  He didn’t have a chance to ask her as she jumped up from the sand and started brushing off her bottom. “You need to get back. You’ve left your guests a long time.”

  He gathered up his jacket, but then held out his hand. She paused, then took it, and they went back to where they’d abandoned their shoes. Once they’d brushed the sand off their feet and their footwear was back on, they took the narrow path toward Brooklyn’s house.

  The porch light was on, welcoming her back, and he fought against a sense of both wistfulness and homecoming. He was starting to realize how very much he’d wished to have someplace that felt like home and not just a dwelling...even if it was a dwelling he shared with other people. The closest he’d ever felt was Merrick, when he and Jeremy and Branson had been in boarding school together.

  Back then it had been the people who had made it his home. But that wasn’t true now. He’d only known Brooklyn a few weeks. He was at a loss to explain why the house felt so comfortable.

  “I guess this is good-night,” he said softly.

  “Thank you for dinner. And for introducing me to your friends. They seem very, very nice.”

  “They are.”

  “And tell Raelynn her food was exquisite.”

  “All right.”

  He kissed her lightly this time, not pulling her close, but a gentle, slightly lingering contact that left his lips aching for more. But he’d do the smart thing and go home, have a whiskey with his pals and put this whole thing in perspective. Stars and moonlight did strange things to a man, didn’t they?

  “Good night,” he said and stepped away.

  “Good night. I’ll wait to let Marvin out until after you’re out of sight. Otherwise you won’t get away for another twenty minutes.”

  He chuckled lightly, but his chest was tight at the feelings he was developing for this woman and her dog.

  So he turned away and walked out of the circle of her porch light and back toward the mansion on the hill, waiting for him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BROOKLYN WATCHED THE forecast carefully over the days ahead. The hurricane had been a category three as it barreled its way north, and now, maybe thirty-six hours away, had been downgraded to a cat two.

  She made a trip to the mainland for supplies before the surf started picking up. Batteries, lamp oil, dog food and easy-to-prepare foods were top of her list. It wasn’t her first storm, and she was fully prepared to spend a few evenings knitting by lantern light with a glass of wine if it came to that. There was still water in her rain barrels she could use for plumbing, and she filled two ten-gallon jugs that she’d use for drinking and cooking.

  All models pointed to a direct hit just south of here as it made landfall, and even if it ended up as a category one, Brooklyn was pretty sure she’d lose power for several days. She had a small generator that would run her fridge and a few other things if required, but she relied on low-tech solutions to weather any outages.

  She also hadn’t heard from Cole since the night of the dinner party. She missed him. Of course, that in itself was a bad idea, so she didn’t bother to initiate contact, either.

  Instead she figured she’d have one lovely evening to remember; the night she stargazed with a billionaire and they made out on the beach. She smiled a little. It was a damned good memory, to be honest. One of those “there was this one time” stories. Had she really said she trusted him, and meant it?

  Starlight was a funny, funny thing. Because for the first time in forever, she’d forgotten to feel threatened. Forgotten to be cautious.

  She grabbed her lamps and filled them with lamp oil to shake away the unsettling thoughts. When the power went out, the darkness was the kind where a person couldn’t see their hand in front of their face. Her favorite lighting was from the oil lamps. It was so warm and cozy. If she got cold, she’d put a fire on in the fireplace. She’d already brought wood into the back porch for that very reason.

  Marvin sat by her feet. He’d been keeping rather close today, a good indication that storm weather was on its way. Outside it was sunny, but the air was still. Brooklyn was glad she’d gone over to the mainland and was already b
ack. The surf would pick up soon, ahead of the storm. The wind would slip in, full of restless, restrained energy that shushed through the leaves. It was mild, too, the tropical air humid and heavy.

  She wondered if Cole was prepared. His boat was still at the dock, and unless the helicopter had come while she was in town, he hadn’t left the island.

  Lamps filled and fresh batteries in her flashlights, she called Dan and then took Marvin and headed to the main house and garage. Marvin trotted ahead, and she called to him when they neared the garage where Dan and Raelynn lived. Dan met her in the drive, wearing a pair of rubber boots and a windbreaker.

  “You’re sure the tractor will tow his boat?”

  She nodded. “Pretty sure. We only have to get them out of the water and to the boathouse. Then at least they won’t smash up against the dock, and they’ll be away from the trees.”

  Dan nodded and opened the garage door. “The key is in it. You’re in charge, Brooklyn. I don’t have a lot of experience with boats. Limos now...that’s more my style.”

  “Don’t worry. I know what to do. You just have to take orders.” She grinned and winked at him, and he laughed. She liked Dan a lot. He and Raelynn made a really cute couple.

  Brooklyn hopped up on the tractor and whistled for Marvin, who hopped up on the step beside her left foot. While Dan waited, she pressed in the clutch and brake and turned the key, the diesel engine rumbling to life. Marvin looked like she’d just given him the world’s best present. He loved riding on the tractor. It was maybe bigger than required, but Ernest had always wanted the best. And she had to admit, in the winter, it did a heck of a job at snow removal once the blower attachment was installed.

  They’d go to the boathouse and get the trailers, and then take the boats out of the water. Brooklyn wasn’t taking any chances. Her boat was her only way on and off the island.

  * * *

  Cole went to his window when the strange rumbling sound touched his ears. To his amazement, he saw a big orange tractor heading down the lane, with Brooklyn in the driver’s seat and Marvin’s golden head beside her. Dan was walking behind, and Cole wondered what the heck they were up to.