The Billionaire Bundle

by Michele De Winton

  “Tip me over the edge so easily.”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “Yes, but it’s easier for a man, isn’t it?”

  “It’s easier for a man to come, sure, but that doesn’t mean it has to be so good he loses control.”

  She raised herself up on her elbow. “I make you lose control?”

  Like you wouldn’t believe.

  The thought caught him up short. What the hell was he doing? Having fun, being distracted from work and Brian’s messy family back home, absolutely. But was he in danger of getting distracted himself?

  Possibly—but for all the right reasons. In less than three months, he’d be back at the office, and this would all be a happy memory.

  His heart dipped. It wasn’t going to be as easy as it usually was to say goodbye to Michaela. Their time together was making very happy memories.

  “I wonder if anyone would see us in the water just there,” she said.

  He could see the feisty flicker appearing once more in her eyes. She was insatiable. As she gazed up at him, Dylan hoped he had it in him to go again. He peered down at the sea, then looked left and right. Not a soul disturbed the view. The thought of the water swirling around their naked bodies was irresistible. He stood and hopped over the balcony rail into the ocean.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “It was your idea. Come on, no one’s around.” He watched her from the water as she looked all around. “Chicken?”

  Giggling, she ducked under the rail and stepped into the water, hardly making a splash as it rose up to her waist. “Now, this is fun,” she said.

  “Come here.” Dylan hooked a hand around her waist, dragging her through the water to him.

  Even though his body ached from their earlier exertions, he wanted to be inside her again. The tight grip of her around him, the heat of her mouth, the low, long moan she let out each time she came—it was a joy to be with a woman who knew how to let herself go, and who got so hot and wet. He let his hands play over her soft skin as the water swirled around them.

  “This is bad,” Michaela whispered.

  “Yes, it is.” Without his trunks on, the sensation of the water was mildly erotic. He pulled her up him, slicking his hands beneath her bottom and along her legs so that she wrapped them around his waist. “You’re great,” he said and smiled.

  Nibbling at his throat, she whispered, “You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Johns,” in his ear as she moved to lick and kiss his lobe.

  All too quickly, he was hard for her.

  “Again?” she asked.

  “I think it’s my turn in the driver’s seat.”

  Slipping his hands beneath her thighs, he felt for the wet groove of her. She was slick, the warm water against her naked skin obviously adding to her arousal as much as it did his. Without ceremony this time, he slipped a finger inside her, then two. “Don’t fight it,” he said as she went to unwrap her legs from his waist. Moving into a steady rhythm he added a thumb to circle her clitoris.

  “No,” she gasped.

  “Oh, yes,” Dylan said, continuing to work her with his fingers. But as her tension built, he wanted more.

  Michaela must have sensed it. “I want you inside me again.”

  “I haven’t got a condom, and anyway it’d be useless in the water.”

  “Well, then.” She flicked her eyes up toward their room.

  Too greedy to ignore her request, he strode out of the water and up the steps at the side of their bungalow with her still wrapped around him.

  Quickly sheathing himself, he pushed her against the wall, not bothering to towel the seawater off them. He hooked her leg up around his waist while she balanced on the other and then drove himself into her without hesitation.

  She sighed, pressing forward into him, lifting her leg higher and allowing him more access as he thrust into her.

  Smart, driven, independent, values family, trusting, and a fox in bed. But the best thing about her was how open she was about wanting him. As if echoing his thoughts, she cried, “Harder. Lift me up, harder.”

  Pulling her other leg up off the floor, Dylan pushed his weight against her, holding her up against the wall. Her legs now fully splayed, Dylan pumped into her until he felt the thrill of his climax ripple through his body just at the same time her muscles clenched and she yelled out his name.

  Her cry filled the room, and he held her in place as it echoed into silence.

  Breathing hard, he gently, gently let her down, withdrew, and then pressed his body against hers, both of them leaning on the wall.

  “Wow,” she said.

  Dylan didn’t quite have it in him to speak.

  “You win,” she said, and he looked down into her dazzled eyes. Win? It felt like he was about to lose himself completely—and for a change he was happy to lose, as long as it meant keeping her.

  By the time five o’clock came around and the sun started its descent over the ocean, Dylan felt like a cat, well stroked and purring.

  Michaela snapped him out of it. “I guess we should go back,” she said. “You have a show to do.”

  Shit, he’d almost forgotten. “In a second,” he said, pushing her gently back into the cushions. “So.” He trailed his fingers lazily over her face. “What are we going to say when we get back?”

  Michaela’s eyes widened. “What should we say?”

  He smiled. “Nothing, unless someone asks. Then we probably just bumped into each other on our day off.”

  “Oh, right.” Was that disappointment clouding her features? What had she thought he’d meant?

  “I mean, you have a position to maintain,” he told her. “We don’t want people talking any more than they have to. I’m not sure the captain will make your life any easier if you rub his nose in it.”

  Michaela nodded, but her smile lost some of its warmth.

  Damn. “Or maybe the sneaking around part of this is what gets you hot? You like the thrill of it, don’t you? Does the danger make you excited?” He pulled her to him, trying to raise a laugh.

  She pushed him off, playfully slapping at his hands as he continued to stroke her, then giving him a final shove and standing. “We really should go.”

  Dylan nodded and stood, scooping up his bag and heading for the door. “I’ll see you later on tonight?”

  She nodded, and he felt her eyes on his back as he left to catch a separate ferry.

  …

  That night they met surreptitiously in Michaela’s stateroom. She had tidied every corner, plumping the pillows and folding the towels just so. “You sure get better treatment than we do. These towels are amazing,” he said.

  “I begged the fluffiest ones from housekeeping. Said I was sunburned,” she told him with a smirk.

  “It even smells better up here.”

  “Essential oil.”

  “Pulling out all the stops, eh?” He didn’t think he’d have anything left in him after their long day of lovemaking and the two performances, but as she wrapped her arms around him, he felt a stirring below his waist. Maybe he was the insatiable one. The two of them fell back onto her bed.

  Out of the blue, Dylan wondered what touches she’d add to his apartment.

  None, you dope. She wouldn’t add anything because she’d never see it.

  He kissed her to distract himself.

  “I didn’t think you’d have the energy,” she said.

  “I didn’t either. But who can stand in the way off all this fun?”

  There it was again—that look. Dylan hoped there wasn’t something she hadn’t told him, some deep hurt that he might be tapping into by insisting they keep their affair light.

  We discussed this. She knows I’m leaving in three months.

  “Okay?” he asked, just to check. He tweaked one of her breasts and grinned cheekily to try and remove the tension.

  She slapped playfully at him, and the smile on her face wasn’t forced, so he grabbed her hands and pulle
d them over her head, pinning her to the bed.

  “Careful,” she said, but he could tell her struggles were only for show.

  Their lovemaking was delicious that night, and over the next days and weeks they grew to know each other’s bodies intimately. He let her know about the spot on his wrist where he would melt if she put her mouth to it and nibbled her way up his arm, and he discovered the soft skin just beneath her ear where he could blow hot air and make her his instantly.

  On the rare nights that Dylan slept in his own stateroom, he flicked through his time with Michaela in his mind. His picture of her was growing clearer and clearer, and now when he slept she wasn’t far from his dreams. Her face appeared as it had in Vanuatu their first time together: free of makeup, glistening with seawater and with that smile—a smile that threatened to destroy his usual commitment-phobia.

  This was not part of the plan. Dylan had escaped the few relationships that had looked like they might get serious with the excuse that he needed to focus on the company, yet here was a woman whose list of good attributes grew daily and who made him feel like he could do anything. Maybe even leave the corporate world and keep dancing.

  Don’t be a fool.

  Long-term love was impossible. Lily and Brian, his mother and father—everyone he knew in a long-term relationship had ended up unhappy. Someone always loves more, and someone always gets hurt, he reminded himself.

  Michaela would never hurt me.

  When he was with her, he experienced a glimmer of something new. His heart felt lighter, his shoulders less tense.

  But it was the three-month break, wasn’t it? His break from reality.

  What if it’s something more? he wondered more than once.

  So what if it was? Three months was three months. He’d deal with what else this was—if anything—at the end of that time.

  No promises, no commitments. They’d both agreed on that.

  Chapter Ten

  A week later, the ship stopped at Norfolk Island. Few cruise ships visited the Australian protectorate, and even the Pacific Empress had trouble making it into port because of rough seas and shallow waters. But one sunny morning Michaela found herself strolling hand in hand with Dylan next to the ruins of old Australian penal colony buildings. With someone to enjoy exploring with, she now made time to get ashore more often.

  “Wow,” she said. “Imagine being locked up here. What a view they must have had—and what a wicked temptation to escape. The water is like blue glass.”

  Dylan smiled. “I can lock you up if you like. Is that what you’re really saying? You’d like to be my prisoner with only a view of the sea and me to look at?” He pinned her against the warm sandstone wall with her wrists spread wide and pressed his body up against hers.

  “Dylan, the passengers,” Michaela said, struggling ineffectively against his strong grip and the solid form of his body.

  “They’ve all gone on the tour buses,” he said, not even bothering to look behind him.

  Michaela looked around quickly and discovered he was right, but she only allowed him one deep, delicious kiss before she wriggled so much he set her free.

  “I don’t think they would have had much time to appreciate the view,” he said as he took her hand again and they continued walking, this time toward the small beach. “They would have been working every hour possible.”

  “You think?” Michaela tried to picture what life might have been like on this isolated island a hundred years ago.

  “I know. I read up about it before we came. It would have been a hard slog out here. The island’s not very big, and its resources would have been limited. Even now they have to rely on a generator to provide power for the whole island, and there’s not enough grass to farm cows or much livestock. Food must have been pretty hard to come by back then.”

  “Except for fish,” she stated, pointing toward the spectacular spread of ocean and the many fishing boats dotting in the sea in front of them.

  “Yep, except for fish,” he agreed. “But I think I’d go mad if I only ate fish. You seem to like them, though. Maybe you are a fish.” Smiling, he lifted her up and deposited her in the ocean, drenching the shirt she’d thrown over her swimsuit.

  They spent a leisurely morning in and out of the crystalline water, Dylan stealing kisses, Michaela constantly aware that a passenger could come across them at any moment. After they’d had their fill of the water, they walked up the hill and strolled through the small town, enjoying lunch at one of the many cafés before renting bikes and cycling out to the headlands on the other side of the island.

  “Oh, look, a wedding.” Below them, a small party stood on the beach. The bride’s white veil flew dramatically in the wind, and the groom laughed, helping with her skirts. “Don’t they look happy?” she asked, turning to Dylan. His stony gaze was not what she expected.

  “I wish them the very best,” he said.

  “Do you know them or something?”

  Dylan looked down at the couple and their friends. “No.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  He looked at her with all the wild energy of the ocean in his eyes. “I don’t believe in marriage.”

  “At all?”

  “At all.”

  She remembered him saying something along those lines when she’d overheard him talking to Brian. “Is there something else you haven’t told me?” Michaela put a nervous hand to her mouth. “You said you weren’t married—that you’d never been married.”

  “No. Don’t worry, it’s nothing like that. I haven’t lied to you.” He took her hand away from her mouth and kissed it.

  “What, then?”

  He took a breath and released her. “It’s nothing. I just don’t believe in marriage. Someone always loves more, and someone always gets hurt. Look at my brother and Lily. She’s always loved him, and what has it gotten her? Heartache and frustration.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “My father died when I was young. That’s why we’ve been involved with the business. When he died, it almost killed Mom. No. I don’t do marriage.”

  Michaela bit her lip. Okay, she didn’t really need the white frock. But what about long-term? What about love?

  “Besides, you know I have to leave.”

  She nodded, and the pause lengthened.

  “There’s more to life than running a cruise ship, anyway,” he said gently. “What do you want to do next? You could live here if you wanted to. You’ve said how beautiful it is about a dozen times.”

  She tried answering his question with one of her own. “What do you want to do? Are you sure you want to run your family company for the rest of your life?”

  “I’m not sure. After this experience, I’d love to dance more. But I can’t at the moment. I’m needed back home, and until that changes I’m stuck there.”

  The concrete reappeared in Michaela’s chest. He’d never promised more than three months, and the longer she was with him, the more she was at risk. Everything was changing for her, but not for Dylan. She wanted to yell at him, to open her chest and show him the mess he was making of her heart. Even her head couldn’t help getting swept away with dreams and fantasies—and all the while Dylan Johns was simply having fun.

  Even if she waited for him to sort out his company, there were no guarantees he’d want her. Rejected, her heart would collapse in on itself, irrevocably broken, and he’d carry on with his life without a second glance.

  Stop it, Michaela Western.

  But it was too late. She couldn’t help herself. She was hooked, just like the fish out in the bay below them.

  The day ended without any drama, and in the company of passengers Michaela and Dylan kept their distance.

  Back on board, Dylan’s cell buzzed. He scanned the message quickly. “Damn it.”

  “More trouble with Brian?” Michaela asked.

  He nodded. “I’m sorry, but when we get into Auckland, I’m going to have to go and sort this out.”<
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  “Of course. I’ll go to a spa or something. Don’t worry.” Michaela forced out a bright smile.

  It was already happening. There was still almost a month left of his three months, but already Dylan Johns was leaving her.

  …

  As the passengers disembarked in Auckland, Michaela wondered what she would do for the next three days. It would be nice to spend a little bit of time on land, though. She’d been feeling a bit seasick of late, the first time in years. It happened as you got older, she’d heard. You started to be more susceptible to the ebb and flow of the ocean against the ship.

  “I’ll see you in three days,” Dylan said as he walked down the ramp to shore. “And I’ll ring you.” He held up the cell he’d made Michaela program her number into.

  Despite her disappointment at being without Dylan, she found that she did enjoy herself. A number of harborside bars provided a fine array of food and drink, and the days whizzed past. The spa she booked into was wonderful. Freshly pummeled, oiled, and smelling divine, Michaela sighed into her hotel bed at night. The days ashore had been a perfect rest and just what she needed. Her nausea seemed to have lessened a lot.

  On the third and final day of her shore leave while she was having breakfast on her hotel balcony, Michaela’s phone buzzed. Answering it, she heard a woman’s Australian twang on the other end of the line.

  “Is that Michaela Western?”

  “It is.”

  “Hi there. It’s Helen Grady here, from head office. Glad I finally tracked you down. We’ve been sending you e-mails the last couple of days.”

  “Sorry, I’ve been on shore leave. We’re not due to leave until later tonight. Is everything okay?”

  “Oh, yes. Everything’s fine. But I have a rather interesting proposition for you.”

  Michaela waited, expecting a new comedian or perhaps a famous writer. They sometimes came onboard to give lectures and teach workshops.

  “One of the girls here is leaving, and we’d like to offer you the position.”

  Michaela started. A job in head office?

  “There wouldn’t be the same sort of travel as you’re used to, although you would get to travel a little bit to view and book new acts. But you’d be making a significant amount more money. It would be based in our Sydney office.”