Billionaires On the Beach: The Anderson Brothers

by Elizabeth Lennox

  Wyatt whipped out his phone and took a para selfie before the launch and she tried valiantly to look thrilled. She squeezed her eyes shut and held on to her harness as the wing filled and lifted them up. He was talking to her, saying something about riding a thermal core, but she just looked at the ocean below as they lifted up away from it. It was a dizzying rush and strange to be loosened from gravity and swing above the world she’d known with Wyatt in control.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said breathlessly. “This is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s so beautiful and so…quiet.”

  “I thought you’d like that part. Try looking at the sky if you start to freak out.”

  “I’m not. I like it.”

  “Good,” he said. “Do you see what I mean about adventures? If you share them, they can bring you closer. They’re not a distraction.”

  He guided their flight expertly. When he brought them down to land, it was over much too soon. She missed that sensation of soaring, of gently gliding along with Wyatt behind her, in control and keeping them safe. She could’ve stayed like that forever, suspended in midair, with only him.

  Starry eyed, she couldn’t wait to gaze into his face after having her back to him for an hour and a half. As the business of unbuckling took place, he talked to the crew. She chimed in that the flight was amazing, but she was in such a rush of love for him that she was only half listening. One of the guys mentioned going up the coast for some cliff diving and Wyatt said that it sounded like a perfect day for it. They started talking about the best spots and she wondered when Wyatt was going to finish talking extreme sports and take her back to the beach house and ravish her.

  Wyatt was pointing to the north and talking with the crew when, exasperated, she stalked over and caught his arm. “Have you looked at the time? We’d better let them get going.” She tried to say it sweetly but she was pissed that he was only fifteen minutes from the Tiki time deadline.

  “Going soft now you’re in love, buddy?” one of the crew teased. She saw Wyatt stiffen slightly and she stifled a groan. If he’d climbed a clock tower as a kid to shake the accusation of being boring, he’d do far more than that now. Just because she loved him didn’t mean she underestimated him. Questioning his adventurous spirit was a sure way to bring out the daredevil in him.

  “Aw, you go ahead, babe. I think I’m gonna take a ride with Brett here, show them the best spot.” He shrugged with his wicked grin.

  “You’re kidding me, right? Fifteen minutes,” she said pointedly. “You won’t make the curfew.”

  Laine waited, holding her breath as he stared her down. She waited for him to laugh it off, take her hand and go back to the beach house without a backward glance. To be the stand-up guy he said he wanted to be for his nephew. He shrugged and climbed in the cab of the pickup and she watched them drive off.

  Laine wrapped her arms around herself, clutching her middle as if her stomach hurt. Sobs shook her. He was choosing adventure and the excitement of the moment over her. Maybe he’d turn around, realize what he’d done and come back. She promised herself that if he just came back right now, in time to make curfew, she’d forgive him. Oh, she’d give him hell, but she’d forgive him and kiss him a thousand times.

  She’d just wait five minutes. The wind whipped up, tossing waves higher, and the sky began to darken. Still, she stood there.

  After ten minutes, she turned and bolted for the beach house just ahead of the rain. A storm came in fast and when the alarm on her phone rang, she grabbed it thinking it was a call from him, swearing he’d be back in two minutes and he didn’t know what he’d been thinking. But it was only the alert that Tiki time was over. “Fun’s definitely over,” she said.

  Laine sat in the kitchen watching their cooking segment on the GoPro, rewinding it, watching her favorite parts again, and hearing his voice. She loved his voice, damn him. A roll of thunder peeled outside. She made herself put down the video camera and turn away from the window. She would not watch for him when he had ditched her to go cliff diving, blowing off his court-imposed curfew and essentially being his most immature self.

  When the phone rang, she let out the breath she’d been holding. She’d known this would happen. Karma was a real thing, she was certain, as she picked up the phone and heard his case officer’s voice.

  “Hey, I need to do a voice check on Wyatt. The storm has blitzed our GPS on the bracelet again and we can’t get a bead on him.”

  “Right,” she said.

  “Put him on the phone, Ms. Maguire,” the officer said.

  Part of her wanted to throw him under the bus and pick up that phone and say: He blew us both off, lock up his ass. He broke the rules. He broke my goddamn heart. But she couldn’t do it. She picked up the GoPro and scrolled back through the frames and hit play.

  “Hello. Wyatt Anderson here,” she played the audio track and paused it again.

  “Wyatt, good, the storm blew out our GPS.”

  “What can I do for you?” Wyatt’s voice came from the GoPro playback into the phone.

  “Just making sure you’re still where you’re supposed to be,” the officer chuckled.

  “Consider it done,” she played the line of his voice from the video, when he’d been turning the fish for her.

  “Ok, thank you. Have a good evening,” the case officer replied and then Laine hung up the phone. She had covered for him and she was done.

  Laine packed her bag. She went into the sitting room to get her phone charger and her hidato puzzle book, the one he’d been trying to do in pencil and kept stuffing down the couch cushions so she wouldn’t see it. She picked it up, saw his writing on one of the pages and threw it back down.

  So much for a glowing reference. So much for a full-time nanny job on the strength of the Anderson endorsement. So much for believing that for once, someone she loved would choose her over adventure. She thought she’d already learned that lesson the hard way growing up, but now she felt like she could hardly breathe from the ache of it.

  Chapter 10

  When Laine quit the Anderson job before it was finished, the agency terminated her contract. She had to strike out on her own to find work as a nanny in the area and, thanks to an ad on Craigslist, she’d found what had seemed like a good fit. A pair of lawyers with a nice big house and three overachieving children, in need of her stabilizing influence.

  The evenings she’d dreamed of—quiet nights with board games and hot cocoa—were actually spent driving Preston, Peyton and Parsnip (okay, his name was Percy but it might as well be a bitter little Parsnip with his attitude) from cello to karate to modern dance to voice lessons to soccer. She even had to take Percy to Mommy & Me because, of course, his actual mommy was in a meeting with gin and tonic after work.

  It had been a long three months. This was her very first weekend off. Each time she was scheduled to be off, something would come up that was an absolute dire emergency. This time would be different. Because at five in the morning on Saturday, Laine was setting off for two full days of rest in the cottage she and Van had rented. They could unplug and have a true girls’ getaway. They’d do their nails and drink margaritas straight out of the blender.

  She loaded her duffel into the back of her Uber and rode to the cottage in total quiet. Laine had needed to immerse herself in the hectic life of that high maintenance family to take her mind off Wyatt Anderson, but the pain of losing him had gradually begun to fade and she thought it was safe to slow down for a day or two and let herself relax. On the ride, she checked his Instagram. The last picture in his feed was the selfie of the pair of them before paragliding. The gossip sites had no updates on him. There were no descriptions of scandalous affairs or record setting cliff dives. It was like he’d dropped off social media. Scolding herself for being an idiot, she turned off her phone.

  The cottage was tidy and gray. She heaved a great sigh of relief, paid her driver and tried the front door. It was open so sh
e walked into a cozy living room with a fireplace. She couldn’t wait to light a fire and sit by it, drinking tea and reading or doing a Sudoku in her pajamas. Then the door swung shut loudly behind her and she heard the lock turn. Whipping her head around, she tried the knob, looking for the interior lock but there wasn’t one. Peering out the window, she saw Vanessa wave at her.

  Turning around to find a back door, she came face to face—or face to broad muscled chest with Wyatt Anderson.

  ***

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she burst out, hurt and confused.

  “I gather from your reaction that you didn’t invite me here. A trap, then, thanks to your friend the Ice Cream Slut, I imagine.”

  “Why would you think I’d invite you anywhere? You ditched me.”

  “I went diving. It had nothing to do with you,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. How was she still mad after three months? How was she still irresistible?

  “It did too. It was a rejection of everything I stood for—helping you comply with your house arrest and helping you be a better man and grow up and—I was in love with you!” she said, her voice high and strained.

  “You were?” Something inside him broke free then, and he reached for her. He didn’t want to joke about her obvious anger. He wanted to hold her. He’d been wanting to hold her for weeks now.

  “No,” she said softly, “I can’t. Not again. It was hell trying to get over you the first time, Wyatt. I’m not strong enough to do it again.”

  “How about you get under me instead?” he said quietly. “Because I have no plans to let you go ever again. Listen, we need to talk.”

  “What’s in the envelope?” she said, pointing to a big pink envelope on the table. He ripped it open and read it.

  “Dear Laine and Wyatt, You’re under cottage arrest. There’s ice cream in the freezer, condoms in the bedside table, and I took all the knives so you can’t kill each other. Work this out. XOXO Van”

  Wyatt raised his eyebrows and looked up from the card. Laine had her hand over her mouth. She burst out laughing. “She better hide the knives so I don’t kill her. Check the freezer. There had better be a vat of Fifty Shades of Mocha in there.”

  Opening the freezer, he called out the flavors. “Looks like Size Does Matter Cookie Dough Chunk and Pop My Cherry Chocolate.”

  “Bitch. Lock me up with an ex and don’t even leave me my favorite flavor.”

  “Where does she come up with the flavor combinations anyway? I tasted her papaya prosecco and it was incredible.”

  “They’re mine. My idea, I mean. She is the ice cream maker, don’t get me wrong, but the combinations are mine. The first one I did was the blood orange and Grand Marnier shake. I like coming up with them and trying exotic flavors side by side. There’s a star anise and Galliano that made me gag—too strong—there are always failures, but it’s fun to experiment.”

  “Sounds…adventurous,” he said archly.

  “I miss the hell out of you,” she said.

  “Then quit. Quit missing me and have me.” Wyatt said, his voice raw, his palms itching for her curves, for the swell of her breasts and the hot wetness between her thighs.

  Laine took a step closer to him and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. He kissed the top of her head, wrapped an arm around her and hugged her, just breathing in her coconut shampoo and the sweet vanilla of her skin. He tipped her face up and kissed her forehead, her nose, and then her lips, a sweetheart’s kiss that deepened and blotted out every other sensation. His tongue took hers, his hands worked her shirt up and they broke apart so he could pull it off her. It was a rush of fire under his fingertips, the heat of her smooth skin and her breath on his neck.

  He scooped her up in his arms, his mouth devouring hers, and carried her to the nearest couch, peeling away what was left of her clothes to feast his eyes on her creamy skin, pale against the folksy red plaid couch. Kneeling, he kissed the flat of her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel and making her squirm, his mouth working its way up to lick the underside of her breast, trailing along the curve and swell before his lips closed over her nipple. He lapped and sucked at it as it beaded hard against his questing tongue. She moaned, her hands combing through his dark curls, anchoring his face to her breast greedily.

  Wyatt yanked off his own clothing, kicking his shoes away impatiently. Anything serving as a barrier between them was the enemy now. He needed her, needed to possess her fully, to close up that wound in them both that had ached during their time apart. The only way to heal was to cauterize that pain with the fire of their passion, the heat of a frantic coupling. Her hands even now gripped his shoulders and she panted words of pleading against his open mouth, urging him on. He wrapped her legs around his hips and drove into her, slick and raw. Her wetness, her clinging folds engulfed him and he nearly roared at the pleasure and anguish of being within her again. Braced on his elbows, he grabbed her face, fingers knotting in her hair as he kissed her, his mouth grinding into hers with urgency. With every stroke of his tongue, every thrust, the word ‘mine’ crystalized in his brain. She must never belong to anyone else, but be his alone and always. As he drove into her relentlessly, she clung to him, her face wet with tears and her words shattered to gasps and moans. He claimed her completely, reducing her to her molten core, a shuddering scream and collapse. He found his completion in her body and clutched her to him with a hoarse cry as he emptied inside of her. The primal satisfaction of climaxing inside her with no barrier, nothing between them was heady. He was dizzy with the cocktail of tenderness and ferocity that had been their coupling.

  Wyatt rolled onto his side and gathered her in his arms. She laid her head on his chest and nestled against him. “Never leave me again,” he said.

  “Never. Just be yourself, Wyatt. Don’t worry about being called a stiff. You don’t have to be exciting for me to love you. I loved watching Spectre with you—even though it’s a shitty sequel—and eating Size Does Matter together. And I can say from recent experience, size definitely matters in more than cookie dough chunks.”

  “Good to know. But the thing is, snuggling up on the couch and watching Die Hard with you was as thrilling as jumping out of a plane. Because you’re there. And you’re challenging me and teasing me and making me want to go down on you until you black out.”

  “We should try that,” she giggled. “And I definitely think we can keep each other interested.”

  “Yes, I know we can. And I also know your secret because I saw your eyes when we were paragliding and even when you talked about compounding flavors. You like some adventure yourself. So I have this idea.”

  “Have you spent three months practicing Operation so you can finally kick my ass?”

  “Sadly, no. I need a favor first, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need a date for my nephew’s christening. Sloan was finally convinced that I’d make a terrific godfather.”

  “It’s because I reformed you. I’m a good influence.”

  “Yes, you are. And I intend to be a bad influence on you, so we’ll balance each other out.”

  “It’s a deal,” she said, and kissed him. “So what’s the idea?”

  “I’m going on a trip to Europe because we’re looking to expand in the hospitality division so I’ll be scouting restaurants. We can try different foods and with your background, you’d be a great dish developer. You could consult on menu creation and I bet we could make something really special.”

  “That sounds amazing. Do you really want me to go with you? And are we going to have to base jump off anything?”

  “Yes, I want you to go! You’re the whole reason I started this project. I wanted to bring you in to consult after those mushrooms you made. We can base jump off the Eiffel Tower if you want or we can just sit on the balcony and do a Sudoku together. Because you’re the adventure I want.”

  “Yes,” she said, tears gleaming in her eyes. “You’re the adventu
re I’ve always been afraid to want. Now, I have everything.”

  Epilogue

  “I’m surprised you didn’t skydive in to your own wedding,” Greyson commented, handing Wyatt a beer.

  “I wanted the both of us to drop in at the reception but Laine was concerned about making an actual splash into the Atlantic in her wedding dress,” Wyatt told his brother before taking a big swig from the bottle.

  “But you do have something epic planned for the honeymoon, right? Zip lining in the Amazon? Swimming with the dolphins in Fiji? Free falling in Tibet?”

  Before Wyatt could answer, his brother became distracted when a woman wearing a cocktail dress sipping Champagne walked past them.

  “Thousand bucks says she turns you down,” Wyatt smirked at his brother.

  Finishing his beer, Greyson handed Wyatt his empty bottle as Laine joined them. “I’ll take that bet.”

  “What bet?” Laine asked as Wyatt kissed her.

  “Nothing, just brotherly teasing,” he replied.

  Walking toward the woman, Greyson stopped and pointed out toward the harbor where a yacht is bobbing up and down. “Your wedding present.”

  “Is he serious?” Laine asked, grabbing Wyatt’s hand and tugging him toward the harbor.

  Setting the beer bottles down, Wyatt scooped her up and ran laughing toward the yacht. “We’re Andersons. We always go big.”

  Turning to thank his brother, he was surprised that he was already gone. Just then, his phone beeped indicating a text. Setting Laine down, he pulled his phone out and swiped to look at the message.

  “You owe me a grand, bro.”

  Looking toward the parking lot, he saw a convertible backing out of a parking space with Greyson behind the wheel and the mysterious woman sitting in the passenger seat.

  Smirking, he tucked his phone back in his pocket and caught up with Laine. “Come on, let’s go christen our new boat.”