Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Text copyright ©2018 by the Author.
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The Billionaire Trap
By
Dominique Eastwick
Copyright
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.
Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2018 Dominique Eastwick
Editor Wizards in Publishing
Cover Art Design Fantasia Frog
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Dedicated to Nadine who always is there when I need her
and
to Tam my partner in crime on the slopes. Friday nights at Mount Wachusett are some of the best memories I have.
Special thanks to Nan, who I couldn’t do this without.
Chapter One
The white powder crunched beneath his skis. Connor Rankin didn’t need to look back to know his best friend Lance was fast on his heels. The only thing holding Lance back from being a better skier would be that he lived in the stifling, humid warmth of Charleston, South Carolina.
Nothing made Connor feel more alive than taking the double diamond slope at neck-breaking speed. Rounding the bend, he slid out, turning to gaze up the hill he had conquered. Lifting his goggles, he smiled. “The snow is perfect.”
“That was exactly what I needed,” Lance admitted. “Another run?”
“You bet.”
They had been riding the slopes for the last several hours and, at the moment, they had no reason to stop. They chatted on the rides up the mountain, but the descent was always a one-man joyride. At the top of the slope, they watched three people struggling to make it down the mogul run. Waiting until the run was clear before attacking the mounds head-on, they were just to push off when something caught his eye. Mid-run down the first section, he spotted a bent pole and a red spot in the otherwise-white snow.
“Do you see that?” Connor asked.
“What?”
With the tip of his pole, he indicated the direction. “The small patch of red over there by the tree line.”
“I do.” Lance bit his gloves off and pulled out his phone. “Damn. No signal. I thought they were going to address that.”
“Wait here. I’ll check and you can alert the lift operator to get help if needed.” Connor pushed off and made his way across the slope. Lance remained up on the hill, waiting. As he got closer, he worked his skis off. Someone had hit the tree. He found skis, a rental pair, one broken in the snow mound. The second pole lay in the trees. He followed the tracks and, a few feet away, he saw the body. The skier must have hit their head and stumbled. “Lance, get the ski patrol,” he yelled.
He made his way through the knee-deep snowdrifts to the skier in light pink. Gently, he turned her over. Her breathing held strong, but her blonde hair was soaked with blood from the still-seeping wound. Removing his coat, he placed it over her body and, after pulling his scarf off, applied pressure on the cut. “Can you hear me?”
Her lips parted on a groan.
“It’s okay. Help is coming.”
She moaned and moved into him.
“What’s your name?”
Her eyes, beautiful hazel with green rimming the edge of the irises, fluttered open. “Where am I?”
“At the moment, in the snow.”
“Oh.” She tried to sit up.
“Please wait, ski patrol is on its way.”
She eased into him and pouted. “Don’t make me ride down on the red sled. I already feel like an idiot.”
“Trust me, you can’t get down on your skis. They are broken.”
“No.” This time she did sit up. “Oh, I think I might throw up.”
“Just lie back and try to relax. You most likely have a concussion.”
“Damn it. I really needed to get my deposit back on those,” she said on a near sob.
He checked the head wound again. “Shhh. Don’t worry about that now. You need to focus on getting down this hill.”
He heard voices in the distance getting closer. Connor offered her a gentle smile, and she reached up and grabbed his arm. “Please don’t leave me?”
“I’ll stay until your family or friends get here. I am sure someone has gotten down the hill by now and are waiting.”
“There is no one on the mountain. I came up on my own today.”
“You were skiing a double diamond on your own?”
“I’m a great skier. Today notwithstanding.”
“I’ll let you prove it to me later on.” He stayed as close by as he could as the ski patrol eased her into the dreaded red sled. He grabbed her skis and poles and followed close behind. Getting down the mountain was slow going, but safety was the key, and as their patient seemed to be stable, there wasn’t a great rush.
Lance waited for him at the end of the run. “How’s the patient?”
“A little bruised, I guess. If it’s okay with you, I think I’m going to follow her to first aid to make sure she has everything she needs. But, first, I’m going to deal with the issue of her rental deposit.”
“That ski is toast,” Lance pointed out.
“We can take the hit.”
Lance shrugged. “I could use a break anyway, With the sun setting, I’m reminded this southern blood is thin. I’ll head back to the hotel and meet you there?”
He waved his best friend away. He would deal with her fees, check on her then head to the bar for a quick beer. He told himself he was only following up on her because his mother would never forgive him if he didn’t. He would pay for the skis because, quite frankly, the cost was less than the bar tab a few nights back, and he had the money, where his damsel in distress appeared to be not so well-off.
He also needed to find out her name.
The small wood shack with a large red cross on it stood just past the main lodge. Taking the steps one at a time as best as one can in a pair of downhill ski boots. Stepping inside, the warmth of the building washed over him.
“Can I help you?”
Taking off his gloves and hat, he offered a smile to the young girl behind the desk. “I’m looking for a woman who would have been just brought in from the Bend. I am the one who found her, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“Hold on one second.” She smiled and shimmied her ass a bit more than necessary. Good lord, she was probably half his age. Give or take a year. A second later, she returned from the back. “Third bed on the r
ight.”
“Thanks.” He removed his coat and walked down the hall to find her resting on a gurney, a white bandage on her forehead. “How’s the head?”
She smiled. “Hi. They gave me some Tylenol for the pain. I seem to have a concussion.”
“Sort of called that one.”
She grimaced but didn’t say anything.
“So, when are they springing you from this joint?”
“I’m trying to get ahold of my friend who I came with this morning. I skied, and she went to party. I can’t leave until I have a babysitter to wake me up every couple of hours.” She sighed. “But Kimberley doesn’t seem to be answering her phone.”
“And this Kimberly didn’t want to ski with you?”
“No. She hates the slopes but loved the lodge, the bars, and the hot tubs.”
“So it’s very likely her phone is somewhere with her clothes and out of reach.”
“That’s my fear.” She scooted up the bed and patted the edge. “Sit down. So, do I get to know the identity of my rescuer?”
“Connor Rankin. And you are…?” he asked though he had discovered her identity when he returned the skis.
“Breanne Scott.”
“Well, Ms. Scott, are you sure your friend will turn up?”
“I have the car keys.”
“That would do it.” He chuckled. “How about I treat you to a meal in the lodge. Well, more like a cup of oatmeal and some toast.”
Her brow furrowed. “Not usually an oatmeal kind of gal.”
“Yes, well, having been on the receiving end of a concussion or two, the one thing I remember is my mother always gave me oatmeal and toast. Easy on the stomach she claimed.” He stood. “What do you say?”
“Oatmeal sounds pretty good right now.”
“Let me go get someone to spring you.” He winked and left the curtained area.
Breanne let her smile fade. Her jaw hurt from pretending to be happy to see Connor Rankin. She reached for her phone and reread the text message from her sister.
Sarah~ Brea, he stood me up. He had me come all the way to Vegas to elope and he didn’t come.
Breanne~ Who? What are you talking about
Sarah~ Connor wanted to keep us a secret. He didn’t want the press to be mean to me, he said. But he didn’t show. I’m stuck in Vegas.
Breanne~ I’m calling
Sarah~ No, I don’t want to talk. Can you just send me a ticket home?
Sarah~ Breanna?
Sarah~ Brea, don’t be mad at me.
Breanne~ I’m not mad at you. Who is this Connor?
Sarah~ Connor Rankin
Breanne~ YOUR BOSS?
Sarah~ Don’t yell at me, please. I love him, and I thought he loved me.
The sound of boot steps coming back had her changing the screen on her phone. She plastered a on a smile and wondered how she’d thought she could pull this off. “Someone from the rental shop is bringing over your shoes so you don’t have to walk around in your ski boots.”
“But it’s so sexy.” She bit her lower lip and let her gaze linger on his fine-shaped ass. And it was fine. She couldn’t fault her sister for falling for this man. Under different circumstances, he would have been just her type. Tall, well built, and with that sexy haven’t-shaved-in-a-few-days scruff. She had never been great at flirting, but right now she pulled out all the stops. She would be damned if this man got away with what he’d done to her sister. She would break his heart and leave it in a million, no, a billion, billionaire pieces.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to keep mine on, then.” He moved aside as a young boy came in with a bag for her.
She got her release papers with suggestions to eat light and follow up if she vomited or if they had a hard time waking her up. He led her through the lodge. “I thought…?”
“There is a waffle joint about a five-minute walk down the mountain. You up for it?”
“Sounds delightful. I’m not keeping you from anyone, am I?”
“Nope. I’m sure Lance is doing just fine on his own.”
“Hooking up with the townies?”
“Nah. He’s a good Southern boy who is pining for his Cinderella.” He looked up at the hotel. “Would you mind if we stop off to get my boots?”
She raised an eyebrow.
His eyes twinkled with mirth. “You can stay in the lobby. I’ll run up to my room.”
“Okay.”
“They even have cocoa in the lobby.”
“Well, that’s all you had to say.” Breanne made a beeline for the coffee and cocoa in what she was sure was the continental breakfast nook. Steaming cup in hand, she took a seat out of the way where she could keep an eye on the elevators. Her phone rang. “Hello?”
“Brea, where are you?” Sarah demanded, her voice full of panic.
“Hanging out with Kim for the weekend. Why?”
“Oh.” Her sister calmed, which seemed strange. “Kim hates skiing.”
“Yes, she does,” Breanne said carefully. “Why?”
“I thought you went skiing today. Kim posted online that she was at the Diamond Run Inn. I just… If you’re with Kim, then it’s okay.” She giggled.
Her sister seemed to be teetering on the edge. All because of Connor Rankin. As if by magic, the elevator opened, and he emerged. “Hey, can I call you later?”
“I’m going out with a friend.”
“Good. You need to get out. Enjoy yourself.” She rang off and stood to greet him. “I thought you were just changing your shoes?”
“Jeans are more comfortable. Hope you don’t mind.”
She made a show of looking over the jeans, letting her eyes rest on his perfect ass. “Don’t mind at all.”
“Connor!” A yell rent the quiet of the lobby.
“We’ve been caught.” He groaned and then smiled. “Hey, Lance.”
“Hey.” He paused, his eyes lingering on the bandage on her forehead. She reached up to touch the wound. “You must be…”
“The klutz,” she finished. “Hi. Breanne.”
“We’ve all had a bad fall once or twice. Now you’ll have a great tale to tell.”
“Hadn’t thought of it that way.” She liked Lance and wouldn’t judge him by the company he kept. “We’re heading for waffles. Want to come along?”
“Yes, that sounds—awful. No, I”—he made a big display of yawning—“I think I’ll head to bed. I want to hit the slopes early. I won’t wait for you in the morning.”
“Don’t.” Connor chuckled.
As soon as they were out of earshot, she turned. “I need you to know I won’t sleep with you tonight.”
He faced her. “I never assumed you would. I don’t do one-night stands, and I never sleep with women I just met. Those situations always get men in my position into trouble.”
“But what was just said…”
“Lance is a morning person. I’m not. Also, we’ve no idea how long it will take your friend to call. The waffle house is open twenty-four hours, and who knows how much coffee it will take to stay up. There is no way I’m getting up for the first runs on the mountain tomorrow.”
She blushed and wondered why she felt any shame about him. But she did. His words rang true and his face showed no signs of deceit. She spent her life reading people both with and without lie detectors. She saw nothing in his demeanor that said anything but he spoke the truth. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“No, it was honest, and you spoke your truth. If more people were upfront and honest, there would be a lot fewer misunderstandings.”
As they made their way down the hill to the yellowed fluorescent lights of the diner, she second-guessed herself. This man spoke with honor and truth. What if she had it wrong? What if her sister was talking about someone else? There could be more than one Connor Rankin. She hadn’t reached a point of no return. She could have a meal with this man, get to know him better, and decide what to do. If he was the monster who stood her sister up, she would wreck his world. B
ut if he was innocent, she could walk away with nothing worse than a self-imposed and possibly well-deserved concussion.
They took a booth by the window with a beautiful view of the mountain. Now that the sun had set, the trails were aglow with lights. “It’s beautiful.”
“I love skiing at night.”
“Is that why you come here instead of one of the larger resorts?”
“That and there’s less partying here. More family based.” He leaned back in the booth. “That strikes you as odd?”
“A little. I mean you’re young, attractive, and, I assume, unattached.”
He held up his left hand. “Very unattached.”
She watched and listened for any signs he might be untruthful. “So, no girlfriend?”
“Not even casual.”
This didn’t add up with her sister’s tale. All his mannerisms made her want to believe him. “You said a man of your position?”
“I’m well-off. It puts a target on my back for money-hungry women.”
“I have no interest in your money.” She couldn’t blame his show of disbelief as his eyes narrowed and eyebrows lowered. “Scout’s honor.”
He leaned forward. “Then tell me what your interest is?”
“First, your amazing eyesight. Second, your heroism. You are, after all, my knight in tight ski pants. And let’s not forget, you look good in a pair of jeans.”
“So this is about my ass.”
“It certainly doesn’t hurt.”
He eased back, and his shoulders relaxed. “Better than my money.”
“Money? Oh no. I didn’t return my skis. Well, what’s left of them.” She got up. She couldn’t afford another day’s rental on top of the damages.
“It’s taken care of.” He took her wrist with a gentle touch. “Please sit.”
“No. I didn’t buy the extra insurance.” She’d worried that would make her accident look preplanned, which it was, but she had hoped to do no real damage to the skis. So far, this was going down as her worst idea ever.
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