Catching the CEO (Billionaire's Second Chance)

by Victoria Davies

  Her home was small, all things considered. With the company’s success, she could have afforded an upgrade, but as long as she lived alone, she didn’t mind the cozy feel of her little two-story house. She loved that she could shut out the world and nurse a cup of tea on her back patio or stream a movie in bed. Something that sounded like an excellent plan tonight.

  She set the bags on the kitchen table and started unpacking them. It’d been an endless day, and the sunshine was long gone. In a few hours she’d be back at it. Rinse and repeat, every day. Nothing in her routine ever changed.

  Except when you’re at conferences.

  Her hands tightened on the wine bottle she’d picked up. Coming home had been just as she’d feared. Instead of banishing Damien from her mind, their night together had changed something for her. Something important. Try as she might, he was more than just a competitor now.

  Not that the feeling was mutual.

  There’d been no word from him since the conference ended. No text to see if she’d made it back safely, no call inviting her to dinner. He’d probably erased her from his mind the second he walked back into Reid Enterprises.

  What was wrong with her that she hadn’t been able to do the same?

  She grabbed a wineglass from the shelf with a bit too much force. There was no one to be mad at but herself. They’d made it very clear where they stood before they parted ways. One thing she could say for him, he hadn’t left her with any illusions.

  We’re rivals. Nothing more. No softer emotions are involved here.

  And once she exorcised this inconvenient yearning, she’d be fine, too. All she needed was time.

  Time and wine.

  My personal motto.

  She’d just poured herself a large glass when the doorbell rang. Glancing at the clock on her microwave, she wondered who would drop in so late. It was a quick jog down the hallway to reach her front door, but when she pulled it open, the last person she expected to see was waiting for her.

  “Hey, cupcake,” Damien said. “Can I come in?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Had she conjured him by thinking his name too many times?

  Caitlyn blinked, trying to compute what she was seeing.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s a long story. Please don’t make me tell it on your doorstep.”

  The words spurred her into action, and she stepped to the side, pulling the door open wider.

  He slipped into her home without another word, immediately filling the space of her small entranceway.

  As she closed the door behind him, her mind whirled. What could he possibly want now?

  “Is this business or pleasure?” she asked.

  He ran a hand over his jaw. “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t sure?”

  She took in his appearance with a critical eye, noting the loose tie around his neck and the top two buttons undone. His hair was tousled, and something in his expression made her heart clench.

  “Want wine?”

  “Are you an angel?”

  “Only outside of office hours. Come on.” Moving past him, she led him down the hall to the kitchen. They passed the living room on their way, and she gave it a quick glance to see if she’d left anything lying on the coffee table she shouldn’t have.

  “How did you know where I live?” she asked as they entered the kitchen.

  “You’re not terribly hard to track down given we run in the same circles,” he replied. “Also, you told Shireen. Sorry to barge in unannounced.”

  “I’m not complaining,” she said, taking out another glass from the shelf. “Yet.”

  He offered her a tired smile in response.

  Frowning, she poured the second glass and walked over to him. He took it gratefully, clicking it against hers before raising it to his lips.

  “Rough day?” she guessed.

  “You can say that again.”

  “Me too, if it helps.”

  A rough chuckle escaped him. “Too bad we can’t talk about them.”

  “Yep.”

  Any other man she could have leaned on. A different partner would have let her vent about all the roadblocks she’d hit over the past week.

  But the man in front of her would listen to her secrets and then skewer her with them.

  What if it could be different?

  There was no denying the way hope fluttered at the thought. Foolish though it might be.

  Damien turned, wandering through her kitchen as he studied the magnet-studded fridge and the spotless oven that she used for storage rather than cooking. Eventually he reached the sliding glass door that exited onto her back porch and leaned against the dark glass.

  She watched him for a heartbeat before silently trailing after him. His eyes met hers in the door’s reflection as she drifted closer.

  “If we can’t talk about work, can we talk about why you’re here?”

  “Do we have to?”

  She thought about it for a second, realizing she only had one answer. “No.”

  It didn’t matter why he’d showed up at her door.

  She was just inexplicably glad he had.

  His breath rushed from him in a huffed laugh. “Is it any wonder I missed you?”

  Though the words were said more to himself than to her, her heartbeat raced a little faster anyway.

  Sliding up beside him, she stood silently, waiting.

  “I saw my mother today,” he said finally.

  Ah. Nothing like the scars of family.

  She took a sip of her drink to buy herself time to craft a reply. “You don’t have to tell me about work,” she said. “And you don’t have to tell me about your mother if you don’t want to. But can you tell me if you’re okay?”

  Silence stretched between them as he stared out into her garden. He was quiet for so long she wondered if that was her answer.

  When he turned to face her, though, there was a pain in his gaze that robbed her breath.

  Without a word, he took her glass and set both of them on the nearby counter before reaching for her. Still not understanding why he was here, she let him tug her into his arms and stood still when he dropped his cheek on the top of her head.

  Comfort, she realized. He was here for comfort.

  Wrapping her arms around him, she returned the embrace and held him close. He wasn’t the only one who could use a little time-out from the real world.

  She had no sense of how long she stood in his arms, breathing in the sandalwood scent of his skin. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend this wasn’t the anomaly it probably was. What would it be like to have someone she could do this with any time she had a bad day?

  Her hands tightened on his waist. That wasn’t a thought she should be having. Not about this man.

  How twisted am I?

  He shifted then, his forehead resting against hers. Closing her eyes, she soaked up the closeness. Who knew how long it would last?

  When he finally drew away, her arms ached to pull him back. The urge was so strong, she forced herself to take a step back.

  “I should go,” he said.

  Her throat tightened. “Okay.”

  But he didn’t move.

  “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “All right.”

  “It’s the last place I should have come.”

  She had no arguments there. Trying to keep her conflicted feelings off her face, she waited for him to walk away from her again.

  Except this time, he reached out to cup her cheek, and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

  “What are we doing?” he asked, his voice soft.

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  His thumb traced over her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

  “Did you think about me since the conference?” he asked, shifting closer.

  The smart answer would be to lie. This could all be one elaborate game to make her drop her guard.

  But surely he couldn
’t be that diabolical, could he?

  “Yes,” she said, unable to do anything but tell the truth.

  There was no triumph in his gaze at her admission. If anything, he looked even more tortured.

  “Me too.”

  Shireen’s advice drifted through her mind. Could they have an affair that burned this strange need out of her? Was she strong enough to walk away from him when the passion faded?

  What if it doesn’t?

  Because she’d never felt this way about anyone, and that scared her almost as much as the danger he posed to her company.

  “What do we do?” she asked, the question half rhetorical.

  As much as she’d racked her brain, she couldn’t come up with any solution for them. Not one that ended well.

  Though staring up at him now, she wondered if a repeat of the one night she couldn’t forget might be worth a little heartbreak.

  …

  What do we do?

  It wasn’t a question he had any answer to.

  The impulse to come here had been a complete mistake. One he’d known he was making the second he slid behind the wheel of his car. Yet still he’d made it, driving in the opposite direction of his home. He’d come here hoping to find…

  What?

  He didn’t even have a name for it.

  Once his mother had left, he’d tried to forget the encounter. He had far more important things to think about than the failings of a woman who’d given him some DNA and little else. But when he’d left the building, the desire to see Caitlyn had become a visceral need.

  He’d shown up on her doorstep before he could talk himself out it, and now that he was here, he wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse.

  She fits perfectly in my arms.

  The thought was anathema to him. He never noticed such things. Never had such romantic musings. He was stronger than that.

  And yet, when she stared up at him with her big green eyes, he’d never felt weaker.

  How does she do that?

  Strip away the CEO and get at the man buried inside? No one else had ever cared to try.

  Only her.

  Only the one woman he couldn’t ever be with. This game they played was dangerous. Sooner or later, one of them would let something confidential slip. It was inevitable if they tried to pursue anything.

  Would I even want to? I don’t do long term.

  Hadn’t he just told his mother he was going to remain a lone wolf for the rest of his life?

  It hadn’t seemed like such a lonely option until he was staring down at Caitlyn.

  I shouldn’t be here with her.

  His family was poison. His company was the enemy. If he was half the man he wanted to be, he’d walk out the door and out of her life for good.

  “Damien?” she whispered.

  There was a confusion in her expression he knew was mirrored in his. But something told him it wasn’t confusion at why he was suddenly standing in her kitchen.

  No, all of this was far more complicated than that.

  “I don’t have any answers,” he admitted. He always knew what to do. Always made the right call. But with her, all he seemed to do was stumble.

  She raised a hand, one that hesitated slightly before she touched the tips of her fingers to his jaw.

  Did she worry her touch would be unwelcome?

  Silly woman. Can’t she see she’s my addiction?

  The featherlike caress made him hard as iron in seconds. It seemed just being near her was a turn-on.

  One night was supposed to have been it.

  A single time-out to take what they both wanted and get this lust out of their systems.

  Except moving on was the last thing on his mind.

  All he craved was one more taste. Then another, and another. Would he ever be done with her?

  What do I do if the answer is no?

  He was no good for her. They both knew that. The longest relationship he’d ever had was with the potted fern in his office. All he could offer her was a handful of nights, and she deserved a hell of a lot better.

  Then walk away. If that’s really all you have to give, you shouldn’t be here. Let her find a better man.

  But leaving wasn’t an option with his feet rooted to the ground.

  Her fingers traced along the edge of his jaw, her gaze on his mouth. Glancing up at him, she said, “Maybe answers are overrated.”

  He groaned as she rose up and touched her mouth to his.

  It was impossible not to wrap his arms around her. He pulled her close, feeling her breasts press up against his chest and breathing in the rose scent of her skin. Tilting his head to the side, he deepened their kiss, needing more of her.

  The longer she touched him, the quieter his mind became. The unsettling encounter with his mother faded away, taking the rest of his work problems with it. Nothing mattered but the feel of Caitlyn in his arms.

  But with the quiet also came a roaring need. He hadn’t come here for just a kiss. He’d come here because it was impossible to stay away. And now that she’d made the first move, he wanted a hell of a lot more from her.

  “Let’s take another time-out,” he said against her lips.

  She smiled, drawing back enough to meet his gaze. “This is beginning to be a habit.”

  Which would be bad. She couldn’t become someone he needed.

  Too late.

  Ignoring the thought, he grinned down at her. “If you had as bad a week as I did, do you really want to spend the night alone?”

  “Not even a little,” she agreed, cupping his jaw. “Doesn’t change the fact that this is a bad idea, though.”

  “Bad enough to walk away?”

  Something flashed through her expression, an emotion so fleeting he couldn’t even name it. But the tenderness that followed tightened his throat.

  “No,” she said softly. “I seem to have trouble in that department. You’re a hard man to forget.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” he offered, “letting you leave my hotel room without calling you back was one of the hardest things I’ve done in months.”

  “This is risky,” she said, one hand dropping to press against his chest. “And complicated.”

  “Yes.”

  “If it was just lust…”

  Then everything would be so much easier. But he understood what she meant. As much as he’d like to be the stoic, icy CEO his reputation demanded, even he had to admit more was going on than desire. If all he wanted was her body, that was an easy urge to fill with anyone else. But it wasn’t just that. He liked the way she snapped at him, stood up to him. She had infuriated him for months, and before he’d ever learned what her kiss tasted like he’d still had the urge to applaud when she got the best of him. Anyone else he’d have wanted to bury. But not her.

  They might have always been rivals, but he suspected even before the conference they’d been something more as well. Sex was just bringing everything to the surface and forcing them to acknowledge a truth neither wanted to face.

  If it was more than lust, then they were both on shaky ground.

  Because rival CEOs couldn’t ever be together. Not if both of them wanted their companies to survive.

  “Just one more night?” she asked, her fingers popping open a button of his shirt.

  “Just one,” he lied.

  In the morning he vowed to find a way to stay away from her. But raising his hands to frame her face, he somehow doubted it was possible.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Just one night more stretched into two. Then three. Then four. Before she knew it, three months had passed following the same pattern.

  Caitlyn sat out on her back deck, a cup of tea in her hands. Each time Damien turned up on her doorstep, they agreed this was the last night. Once more was all they needed to go their separate ways.

  Each morning she kissed him before going to work, wondering if this time would really be their last.

  And each evening he turned up on
her doorstep.

  Sometimes it’d be early, and they’d go out to eat or watch Netflix on the couch. Other days he’d turn up late into the evening, looking worn and tired.

  A soft smile curved her lips as she remembered one night where she’d traipsed downstairs to let him in and he’d grabbed her hand, leading her to the bedroom. She’d been about to tell him she was too tired to play when he simply climbed into bed, wrapped his arms around her waist, and fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

  She’d stayed up, watching him as he slept, and marveled at how right it felt to have him in her bed. Even when it wasn’t about sex.

  Sipping her tea, she glanced at her watch. He’d texted that he had an early morning tomorrow and wouldn’t be able to make it over. The idea of not spending the evening with him put a damper on her enjoyment of the garden.

  I miss him.

  During the day, she thought about him, checking her phone half a dozen times to see if she’d missed a text.

  If he were anyone else…

  She’d say they were dating. But Damien didn’t do relationships. Which left her wondering what, exactly, they were doing.

  Is it just sex?

  He always came here, after all. Not that he left so much as a toothbrush behind in the mornings. Was she his booty call? Or his girlfriend?

  What do I want to be?

  She wasn’t sure. Her life would be far less complicated without him.

  And more boring.

  True enough.

  But if she wanted to be more than a convenience, she needed to start being less convenient.

  He showed up at my door without any warning or invitation, and I didn’t turn him away.

  Would he do the same?

  A smile started to grow. If he closed the door in her face, she’d at least know where she stood.

  But what if he doesn’t?

  She grabbed her cell off the patio table next to her and pulled up a number she never thought she’d use.

  It took four rings before he picked up.

  “Spencer,” she said in greeting. “I need a favor.”

  …

  Caitlyn stared at the dark wood door. This had seemed like a much better idea when she’d gotten the address from Spencer.