Rock Hard Mountain Man: A Billionaire and a Virgin Romance

by Rye Hart

  Mia didn't waste a second before she rushed toward her father and embraced him. "I forgive you," she said in a voice that rang heavy with emotion.

  "I thought I had lost you," Barrington confessed. "I was angry with myself for allowing my own stubbornness to drive away my only little girl," he whispered against Mia's hair as he embraced her.

  "I was worried I had lost you too," she cried into his shoulder.

  Georgina figured now would be a good time to make her exit. The room was heavy with the emotions of the reunion, and she knew that it wasn't her place in this family affair.

  She stole a glance at Devon, who remained awkwardly at his desk, before she quickly squeezed past the embracing family and out the door.

  She quickly made her way past the maze of desks in the small newspaper office, a bittersweet moment as she looked on at the place that had been like her second home for the past few years. She knew that it was time that she moved on, although she wasn't quite sure where she would go yet.

  When she opened the door that led out of the building and into the street, she stopped when her gaze locked with an all too familiar one at the bottom of the steps.

  "If it isn't my wife," teased the handsome and cocky Carter Heath.

  "I'm not your —" she stopped when his gaze turned decisively heated. It threw Georgina off, but only for a moment. Well two can play at that game, she thought darkly to herself.

  She glided smoothly down the stairs, her gaze not breaking from his for a second, until she stood at eye level with him.

  "Must have been a bit of a long walk all the way from San Francisco?" She took her hand and ran it along his arm. "You must be exhausted," she winked at him playfully.

  "It wasn't too bad," he shrugged. "I had the thought of our kiss and the promise of another as incentive to keep going."

  Georgina gasped before her lips curled into a seductive smile. "And how were you so sure you would get another?" she asked.

  "Well," he suddenly caught her arm as it glided across his and used it to bring her closer to him. "I have an offer for a beautiful woman," he said.

  "And what is that?" Georgina asked him from under her hooded lashes.

  "If she would like to go into business together and open a newspaper, focused on investigative exposé, in a growing city."

  Georgina blinked. Her mind was not only swimming with the dizzying awareness of Carter's body, but now her adventurous brain was intrigued by the prospect of running her own paper. "Really?" she breathed excitedly.

  Carter's gaze softened. "Do you think I would come all this way just to tease you about something like that?" he asked.

  "I thought you came here for a kiss?" she corrected.

  "Since that didn't work out, I figured the business proposal was the next best option," he chuckled.

  Georgina laughed, "What am I going to do with you?"

  "Whatever you may please," his gaze turned heated once again.

  "Then maybe I should just kiss you and end your suffering?" she wondered aloud.

  "It would be the more merciful option," he said as he brought his lips a hairsbreadth away from hers.

  "Done," she breathed.

  In the next moment, their lips collided with an unbridled passion. Georgina didn't care that they were kissing on the side of public walkway. All she could think about was the roughness of his lips against hers, the way he brought his strong arms around her small waist in an embrace, and the fire that crackled between them. A mutual fire that she knew would carry them through the many adventures to come.

  The End

  Amelia

  Chapter One

  Amelia Wellington would never have described herself as a snob. But whenever James Evans came near her, she couldn't help but turn her nose up at him.

  He was a country boy who dreamed of nothing more than the simple life provided by her brother-in-law's cattle ranch.

  Amelia dreamed of becoming an artist. Her world was occupied with thoughts of grand overseas adventures, cultured entertainment, and the pursuit of beauty through art.

  James was not the type of man that she fantasized about. She liked a man to be a refined gentleman. James was nice enough, but he couldn't tell the difference between a Monet and a Renoir.

  When Amelia's elder sister, Marianna, had written to inform her that she would be bringing the children for an extended visit, Amelia had been excited. She hadn't seen Marianna in a few years, and had yet to meet the newest addition to the Dover household. The past few years had been quite lonely in the house with just her mother, after father’s passing last year. Amelia saw her sister's visit as a much needed distraction from the boredom of daily life in Valley Springs.

  Amelia had expected Marianna’s husband Larsen would have accompanied his growing family, but as it turns out, he was needed to stay behind to manage the ranch. So instead, the Dover's relied on James Evans — who was more like family than a longstanding employee — to accompany Marianna, Elijah who was ten, Lilly who was four, and baby Gabriel to Valley Springs and stay with them for the duration of the summer, while Larsen and his eldest son Marshal stayed behind.

  But that didn't explain why Marianna had been insistent that James accompany Amelia to the art show. At nineteen, Amelia was used to being on her own. And ever since Amelia's second sister Georgina moved to San Francisco with her husband to start her own newspaper two years back, she hadn't been accountable to anyone and she wasn't about to start now.

  She had met James once before, five years ago, when he had accompanied the new Dover family on the first trip back to Valley Springs. She hadn't really liked him then, as he had spent the entire trip admiring Georgina. It had made Amelia's blood boil, that he had ignored her because she was youngest.

  Amelia hated being treated like the baby of the family. She hated it even more that everyone around her thought they could boss her around. And she hated dragging the uncivilized Texan rancher to a classy event.

  She hoped that maybe he would get bored and leave. But no amount of pouting was going to get her out of this one. She would have to just make do.

  "So, James," Amelia looked slyly at the man walking confidently next to her. "Do you enjoy art?" He was tall, with thick auburn hair, and bright green eyes that were filled with an excitement for life that was rarely seen around the dull town of Valley Springs.

  "As much as the next fella," he spoke with that Texan drawl. Had Amelia not already been set in her ways against him, she might have found it charming. Might have. "I'm usually too busy trying to survive what nature throws at us to spend time admiring a painting of it," he said with a small chuckle.

  Amelia blinked. Was the Texan making a joke? "So you haven't heard of the impressive artist, Thomas Florian?" She already knew that he hadn't, but she wanted to make sure that the Texan knew how out of place he really was.

  "Old Florian? Of course, we're buddies," he winked mischievously at Amelia.

  "Very funny," she rolled her eyes at him. What am I going to do with you? She knew she was being a little mean, but she couldn't help it where James was concerned. Every time she looked at him, all she could see was his stupid sixteen-year-old face looking dumbstruck at Georgina. It doesn't matter that it was almost five years ago, she thought. She still felt he needed to be punished for it.

  "So it's this Florian fellow whose work we are going to see?" he asked her.

  "Yes," she answered. "He is very well known in Europe and it was amazing that he chose Valley Springs for his traveling art exhibit." As she spoke, her voice lit up with excitement as she began to speak of a passion that was her only means of escape from the dreary life she led.

  Apparently, James didn't miss the sudden change in her voice. "So your sister tells me you are passionate about art," he prodded gently. "Do you create some yourself, or do you just enjoy admiring the work of others?" he asked.

  "I would love to be a famous artist. I think I could forgo the tortured life story like a lot of them seem to have, a
lthough living in Valley Springs is pretty tragic," she laughed. "But yes, to answer your question, I sketch."

  "That's pretty incredible," James said. "But not about the whole tragic life story part," he laughed nervously. "I mean," he cleared his throat roughly. "Valley Springs seems like a really nice place, can't be much tragedy here."

  "You don't think a life of boredom, cooped up in a house all day, is tragic?" she questioned.

  "Beats worrying every day if said house might be blown apart by a tornado, or burned down in a fire, or even repossessed by the bank because the cattle drive was a failure and you weren't able to pay your loans," he said.

  Amelia wondered what James was talking about. "How could you think that is worse?" she wondered aloud. "The thought of every day, waking up and wondering what you will face — why that's real living!" she argued.

  James stopped walking and turned to survey Amelia. She stopped with him and cocked her head in response to his peculiar action. "Why did you stop?" she asked.

  "Because I wanted to remember this moment," he said mysteriously.

  Amelia rolled her eyes and sighed. "Well you can keep remembering this moment on the side of the street if you like, but I'm going inside to admire some real culture," she said abruptly. As she turned, she heard James give a low whistle.

  Barbarian, she thought.

  Chapter Two

  Amelia didn't think twice about leaving James on the curb. She had places to go and cultured people to become acquainted with. These types of people rarely came to Valley Springs, and they were her only glimpse into the outside world. If she could get to know some of the people in the business, they might take a look at her work, tell her what an undiscovered talent she was, and the next moment she would be sipping tea with the Queen of England.

  She had her whole plan mapped out, and it definitely did not include James Evans.

  She took a quick look behind her; he hadn't followed her in. Good, she thought. Now she would be able to gain the undivided attention of the people that really mattered.

  She stopped before a lavish landscape. It was a breathtaking scene of a blue-peaked mountain that overlooked a crystal clear river. The details were stunning and presented at a level she aspired to achieve one day.

  I wonder, she thought.

  "It's a dangerous thing, when a beautiful woman thinks," echoed a deep voice with a thick British accent.

  Amelia was startled out of her thoughtful trance by the man's bold statement. "Pardon?" she asked before she turned to face him.

  Her stomach dropped a bit the moment she beheld him. He was classical looking, with round-rimmed spectacles, floppy brown hair, and a dazzling smile. He was a bit older, perhaps in his mid-thirties, and wore a well-fitted suit. He was exactly the type of distinguished, artistic gentleman that she had envisioned in her fantasies. The type of man that would take her on has his muse and teach her the secrets to creating beauty.

  "A dangerous woman," he chuckled softly. His blue eyes flashed behind the clear rims of his glasses. "

  Amelia cocked her head and batted her eyelashes in response to his attention. "You are very bold to make such a statement sir," she replied.

  "Forgive me," he apologized, "but when I see such sharp intelligence in a woman as beautiful as you, I can't help but voice my observation."

  Amelia felt herself smile in response. "I'm sure you've used that line on every woman," she said.

  "On the contrary." As he spoke, he reached down to capture her hand and bring it up to his lips. His attentive eyes met hers in a heated gaze, as his lips brushed against the back of her hand. "I only use that line when I absolutely mean it," he said as he kissed her hand.

  Amelia shivered under his touch. She found his attention exhilarating, the intensity of his gaze made her feel alive and womanly. She rarely had the opportunity to experience the company of men; especially men like —

  "I'm sorry," she said as it dawned upon her that she did not know who the man was. "I'm afraid I did not catch your name."

  "Thomas Florian," he said with a flourish. He let go of her hand and performed a formal bow. "And does the beautiful creature have a name?"

  "Amelia Wellington," she all but stuttered. She couldn't believe that this was the Thomas Florian, the famous artist who's worked was being exhibited. She had dreamed of this moment, fantasized about how she would approach such a distinguished cultivator of the arts. Even in her wildest fantasies, she hadn't imagined it quite as flirtatious as this. "It is a pleasure to meet you," she added once she had regained her composure.

  "Likewise," he nodded.

  "I've admired your work for a long time," she said in an excited rush. She still couldn't believe that she had met Thomas Florian.

  "Well, it is always reassuring to know that there are still people like who you appreciate true art," he stated. "Are you artistically inclined?" Thomas asked with a slightly teasing air.

  "I sketch," Amelia answered.

  Thomas raised a curious eyebrow. "Really?" he said. "I would love to see your work," he stated coolly.

  Amelia was about to reply, when James interrupted her.

  "This place is fascinating," he said with excitement.

  Thomas took an assessing look at James, before proceeding to excuse himself. "I am afraid I must make my rounds," he said politely. "But Miss Wellington," he captured Amelia's attention once again with his intense gaze, "perhaps we can make arrangements sometime to view your work."

  "Of course," she said enthusiastically.

  Thomas made a quick nod toward Amelia and James.

  Once Thomas had left, Amelia couldn't help but direct her frustration toward the man that had interrupted her conversation.

  "James!" she seethed through gritted teeth. "Didn't you see that I was busy?"

  "Sorry about that," James flashed her one of his dazzling smiles. "I thought you needed saving from the man, I got the sense that he was being a bit too forward with you," he said.

  "He was not being too forward," she quickly dismissed his claim. "That was Thomas Florian, the artist I was telling you about, the artist that painted all of these works of art," she gestured to the paintings hanging on the walls around them.

  James took a surveying look and nodded. "Just because he is a good painter, doesn't mean he can't be a weasel," he said casually.

  Amelia gave a huge sigh. "What do you know of great art and the artists behind them," she muttered.

  James caught her hand up in his, startling Amelia. "I know that beauty is not necessarily a reflection of what goes on beneath the surface," he said mysteriously.

  Amelia's instinct was to pull her hand away, but as she gazed into James's green eyes, she couldn't help but get a little lost. His large, rough hands made her own feel small and delicate in his grasp; quite different from Mr. Florian's grasp, which demonstrated that he came from a privileged life. And although Amelia had felt her senses tingle with anticipation when Thomas touched her hand, she felt something entirely different when James grasped hers just now. Instead, she felt something stir in the pit of her stomach, something more primal, unknown, enticing, and just a little frightening. She wondered if James felt it too, their odd connection.

  "James," she stopped. Her thoughts jumbled the longer she stared into his emerald gaze.

  "Perhaps we should head home now?" he offered.

  Amelia just nodded her agreement. Her mind was too busy sorting through the new emotions she had experienced in the last half hour. The enigmatic Thomas Florian had set her senses on fire, but it was James that had ignited a sense of longing within her that she could not quite explain.

  Obviously I've been spending too much time with the Texan, she thought to herself. She thought to herself.

  She allowed James to escort her out of the art gallery. But while she left with him, she wasn't sure that she hadn't left a piece of her heart with a certain charming Brit.

  Chapter Three

  Amelia felt like she was floating on clo
uds of happiness. That is, until she came crashing down with the harsh realization of reality.

  Thomas Florian hadn't contacted her since their initial meeting earlier that week. She had expected that he would send her a letter, asking that they rendezvous to discuss their artistic passions. She had thought she felt a spark between them, and she had been so certain that he would contact her.

  Just when she was about to give up hope that she would never hear from him again, she received a surprising house call.

  She thought it was her friend, Margery, who was calling when she heard the doorbell ring. And since she expected it to be her friend, she hadn't cared to make herself any more presentable than one might be if they were lounging about the house. Therefore, when she opened the door and saw the handsome Thomas Florian smiling back at her, she couldn't help but feel incredibly flustered.

  "Mr. Florian!" she exclaimed. "Why are you here?" she asked.

  "I believe a beautiful woman made a promise to me about allowing me to view her art," he said mischievously. I asked the owner of the art shop where your family resided and here I am.

  Amelia tried to remember what exactly she had said back at the art exhibit, but her mind was too clouded by the sudden appearance of the object of her affection to think clearly. "Did I?" she questioned. She brought her hand up to her chest to quell her rapidly beating heart. "I must have," she stated.

  "I hope I'm not coming at a bad time?" Thomas said.

  Amelia ran her hand down the front of her dress in a vain attempt to smooth some of the wrinkles. "Why of course not," she said as her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "Please come in," she stepped aside to allow him entrance into her family's home.

  "Actually," Thomas stopped before entering. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind going out for a ride with me?" he asked. He motioned toward a carriage that waited behind him.

  Amelia glanced at him and then back down the narrow foyer. She could hear the muffled commotion of her sister's children echo off the thin walls as they played. She wasn't exactly sure the house and the occupants were ready to receive such a high profile visitor, especially since Amelia wanted to make the best impression possible. It was bad enough that her outfit was not up to par, but in the moment she would just have to make do. And besides, he was offering to take her out.