Billionaire Daddy's Virgin

by Bella Love-Wins

  He warmed one plate in the microwave and switched the cooled ice pack for a chilled one in the freezer. It made him pause for a moment, when it dawned on him that she might want a change of scenery. He replaced the fresh ice pack and went back to the living room.

  “Dinner’s warming up in the microwave. I was going to ask, would you like a glass of wine, or a drink?” I promise not to take advantage of you. Unless you want me to.

  “Sure,” she answered. “White wine would be great.”

  “Great,” he said jovially, happy for the one-on-one drinking companion. “While I’m at it, how about we actually eat in the dining room? You’ll probably find eating at a table a lot more comfortable, even with the sprained ankle. And moving around will help get your circulation going so you can heal faster.”

  “Good point,” she answered. “Okay, I’m game. I’ll just need a hand. Well, you know the drill.”

  “Of course.”

  “But no more carrying me,” she pointed out with a short nervous giggle as she got to her feet to take his arm.

  “Definitely,” he answered, looking down at her wide eyes and warm, cheerful smile.

  He felt a little like he was going on a date. A pretty woman on his arm, a bottle of wine, and a nice meal. Maybe some good conversation. Except she had no choice but to walk with his assistance, she probably wanted wine to dull the pain, and who knew how the pasta would taste. After all, it was college kids who made it, so it was possible it bore little difference from Kraft dinner.

  Andrew was painfully aware of how much he doubted himself. Still, he was looking forward to getting to know more about Abby. Just being around her now—feeling her hand gripping his forearm tightly for support—made a heat radiate through his own body. The thought of getting to learn more made his heart wrench a little. His biggest hope was that she was single.

  “Care to sit here?” he asked when they made it through the kitchen to the formal dining room. He motioned Abby to sit at the large table, which had twelve place settings.

  “Sure. Thank you.”

  He pulled out the chair beside her on her injured side, and turned it slightly so she could elevate the leg while seated.

  “There you go,” he said, helping her sit before he got the fresh ice pack.

  “Thanks so much.” She accepted it and eased it onto her exposed ankle.

  “I’ll grab the wine while the food is warming up.”

  Within a few minutes, Andrew had opened the bottle and served a glass of wine, and dinner was warmed and on the table.

  “Bon appétit,” he wished her as they began to eat.

  They ate quietly at first. Andrew had become so used to eating alone he wasn’t sure what to talk about. He already wasn’t one for small talk, and he knew so little about Abby, he had no idea what her interests were. It didn’t help that Abby let out soft moans between bites. He assumed she was either really enjoying the food or completely starved. Either way, the sound was like an aphrodisiac to Andrew’s ears. It had to stop or he’d end up bounding over that table to kiss her again.

  “So what are you studying in San Francisco?” he asked, feeling it was a nice, safe line of questioning to start with. All he really wanted to know by then was whether she was single and if she felt more than just a physical attraction to him. School was a better bet, and hopefully it would keep his mind from reliving their kiss.

  “I’m doing a Master’s in Oncology Nursing at University of California, San Francisco. I have a year of independent study and one semester of clinicals left.”

  “Ahh, so that may be where I know you from,” he remarked. “I never forget a face. Maybe we met at the guest lecture I gave at UCSF a couple years ago. Do you know a Doctor Sansbury?”

  “You mean Professor Sansbury?” She perked up. “He’s my pathology and genetics professor. How do you know each other?”

  “Well, he’s a close friend of the family, and I see him as my informal mentor. From the time I entered med school, he pulled out all the stops to get me interested in oncology medicine. He even flew me out there for that guest lecture on pathology while I was still doing my residency.”

  “That’s awesome,” she said in awe. “So you studied in California?”

  “No, out East,” he offered, not wanting to come across as too pretentious.

  “Which med school?”

  “Yale.”

  “Nice! So you’re an Ivy Leaguer,” she commented with a nod.

  “Well, it was my dad’s alma mater and not too far from home.”

  “I’m surprised I don’t remember being at your lecture,” she said, seeming pensive, as though trying to find something buried deep in her mind. “What was the topic?”

  “It was some secondary genetics research I had presented. I had summarized work of some researchers from the Cancer Genome DNA Project. Have you heard of it?”

  “I think so,” she answered with a hasty nod. “Was it the study where they analyzed the DNA in something like 25 types of human cancers and were able to classify some of them into even more sub-groups?”

  “Yes,” Andrew said aloud, impressed she knew that much about it. “Dr. Sansbury was part of that project, and had taken the lead in classifying the molecular changes that may cause certain cancers. They looked at tumor characteristics and were excited about possibly creating a new classification system for cancer, based on their molecular abnormalities, as well as their organ or tissue site of origin.”

  “Sounds like such exciting work.”

  “It was. He had also invited me to support a new project on immune targeting.”

  “Wait, let me see if I remember this,” she said enthusiastically. “Immune targeting. Eradicating the malignant cancer stem cells to curb the spread. Right?”

  “Exactly. The project was to investigate the targeting of antigens, which is a departure from most of the prior research. I’m not sure how much clinical experience you’ve had, but this work focuses mostly on chronic leukemia, as it’s a stem cell disease. In the past, they tried treatments that used potent cyto-reductive agents, except those didn’t completely eliminate the stem cells, so the disease would persist.” He paused as he heard himself getting so technical. “Are you sure you want to hear more of this?”

  “Definitely,” she insisted. “This is the reason I decided to do my Master’s degree. I wanted to learn more about cancer treatments so I can be a part of helping to improve the oncology nursing field. Well, not by myself. But every person helps, right?”

  “Absolutely,” he agreed. “I wanted to make sure because I can get pretty boring if you don’t stop me.”

  “You’re not boring me at all. In fact, I’m excited. Tell me more.”

  “Okay. For years, decades actually, there have been clinical and lab evidence that allogeneic stem cell transplantation could work for leukemia and other blood cancers, as well as hematologic malignancies. Sansbury wanted me to join his team so I could help them research—well, it would all be learning for me as I had just finished my residency—but their work was going to explore immune targeting of the antigens on cancer stem cells. It’s just staggering what their findings can do for future cancer treatment.”

  “It would be like creating a giant laser that kills only cancer cells and leaves everything else healthy,” she said in awe.

  “Exactly. Sansbury always felt he would eventually pass the oncology medicine torch to me one day.”

  Andrew hesitated. He couldn’t believe he had shared so much with Abby, and hoped desperately that she wouldn’t ask him why he stopped practicing medicine. It was not something he wanted to discuss with anyone. Not even Abby.

  “I’m sure I would have remembered you,” she said, and paused abruptly. “I mean, maybe I missed that lecture. I definitely would have been at the front of the class for that one. It’s exactly the kind of topic that would interest me.”

  He was relieved. For a moment, he was sure he saw a hint of…something in her eyes. Was it desire? Lust
? Or just curiosity? He wished he could just come out and ask, but he had never been the suave, sweet-talker.

  “Could we have met anywhere else?” she asked. “I did two summers of nursing clinicals at North Nevada Medical Center.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “Never been there. What about at Barton Health?”

  “I’ve only been down there once,” she answered after taking her last bite of pasta. “To visit a patient. Not sure I would have met you there.”

  “Then I’m stumped,” he said with a nervous smile.

  Andrew heard the mild frustration in his own voice. He was disappointed in himself for not remembering. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. He looked up from his plate and saw that Abby was almost finished her wine.

  “Another glass?”

  “Sure.” She leaned back on the chair.

  He poured her wine and refilled his glass. He hadn’t toasted anything. Not that there was much to celebrate. Except maybe for meeting her, and that mind-altering kiss they had shared the night before.

  “Mind if I raise a toast?” he asked quickly, knowing that if he didn’t do it right away, he’d likely talk himself out of it.

  “Not at all,” she smiled. And there it was again. That glint in her eyes.

  “To strangers and new memories,” he announced with his glass raised.

  “To strangers and new memories,” Abby repeated between chuckles. “Good one.”

  He clinked her glass with his and they each sipped their wine. God I hope that didn’t sound too corny.

  “My friends will probably wish they had stayed indoors so they could enjoy the wine too,” she remarked, placing her napkin on the plate to let him know she was finished.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” he answered, smiling. “They took three bottles with them outside.”

  “Ahh, then I don’t feel so guilty anymore,” she said and laughed.

  Andrew found her laughter to be soft, welcoming, and so sweet. He was hooked.

  “Would you like something for dessert?” he asked. Something like me holding you in my arms again?

  “I’d normally say yes to dessert, but I’m just too stuffed after the pasta. How about a rain check for tomorrow?”

  “No problem,” he answered. “So are you ready to head back to bed… I…I mean to the living room?” Shit. A Freudian slip of the worst kind.

  “The living room would be great,” she answered politely.

  Maybe too politely. Andrew hoped he didn’t just blow it with that asinine slip-up. He hurried around the table and held out his arm to help her stand. She was still smiling, so maybe there was hope. He realized almost immediately that there was more than just hope, and perhaps the liquid courage deserved some credit, too, because as Abby took his hand and stood up, she placed her other hand gently on his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she started, looking up into his eyes. “I lost my balance for a moment there. It’s either the wine has me tipsy, or my ankle is still weak.”

  Before Andrew knew it, he had wrapped one arm around her waist and tilted his head down, seeking out her lips for another kiss. He pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers. Abby was more eager this time, to his pleasant surprise. She parted his lips with her tongue and explored his mouth with what he guessed was a hunger that had been ignited the night before. He felt her arms reach around his waist, and her hands rested on his back, pulling him closer to her as she leaned into his chest. They stood at the table, lost in the kiss and trapped in time. But it was not meant to continue.

  Chapter 12

  ABBY noticed Andrew pull out of the kiss before she heard the front door open and voices shouting his name. He took a step back before answering whoever it was at the door, despite the clear urgency in their voices.

  “We’re in the dining room,” he called out.

  He started for the kitchen, the shortest path to the front hallway. Before he left the room, he looked back to her.

  “Maybe you should have a seat, Abby. I’ll go see what they want and then help you to the living room.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  As he turned to leave, Trina and John had made their way into the dining room. They were completely clothed in winter coats and jeans, and still had snow-covered boots on.

  “There’s some kind of wolf or wild dog outside,” Trina said, panting heavily, probably from running.

  “It’s a coyote,” John corrected her. “But I think it has rabies. I’ve seen coyotes before, and this one ran toward us from the clearing as we were walking from the guest house.”

  “Rabies is possible for that kind of behavior,” Andrew agreed. “Let me get a rifle. If it’s still out there, I may need to kill it. I’ve seen some deep in the forest out back, but they never come this close to the cottage.”

  “I think you should hurry,” Trina said anxiously. “I’m worried about Rob, Barb, and Ruth. You think it can get inside the guesthouse?”

  “Just wait inside,” Andrew said firmly and walked through the kitchen. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Abby hobbled after John and Trina as they followed Andrew into the hallway. They looked on as he threw on his boots and parka, and hurried outside. He reached into a closed shelf at the top of the hallway closet and pulled out a rifle. They couldn’t see him outside—he had slammed the large wooden front door shut as he rushed out into the cold—but the three of them jumped when they heard the loud bang of the rifle going off.

  “Help me to the living room, guys,” Abby quickly instructed them. “We can see more from there.”

  John and Trina came to each side of Abby and practically carried her to the living room in their mad dash to get to the windows.

  There was nothing to see at the window, however, except for Andrew walking into the guest house.

  “I wonder if he got the coyote.” Trina looked up at John.

  “Hard to tell from here,” John answered.

  “Well, he shot the rifle,” Trina pointed out.

  “Let’s just wait.” John walked toward the hallway to the kitchen. “I’ll go take care of the dishes in the dining room. You guys call me when Andrew gets back inside.”

  “John’s right,” Abby said to Trina after he left. “We’ll find out soon enough. And all the more reason to be grateful we’re safe and warm in here.”

  “So true,” Trina answered, turning to Abby.

  A smile slowly emerged on Trina’s face. “By the way, I see some clear evidence of brand new kiss-blush on your face. Were you and Andrew just…?”

  “Okay, enough of that already,” Abby said softly, blushing even more.

  She looked toward the hallway to see if John might return, and then looked back at Trina.

  “I don’t really know what’s happening. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “I do.” She squeezed Abby’s hand gently. “Not to worry. I won’t give you any grief over it.”

  “Thanks, Trina. I guess it’s good to have someone like you to talk to if I need to.”

  “I’ll be here.” Trina chuckled as she pointed to the window. “Not going anywhere in that blizzard mess. Though I may be liable to quietly point out when I see you all blushed from kissing again.”

  “I’ll take that.” Abby noticed Andrew and the rest of her group walking across the clearing from the guesthouse. Andrew was at the front, with his rifle ready. He was so tall, he towered above the rest of them. And even through the window, she saw he had a commanding presence.

  Trina helped her to sit in the armchair near the fireplace again, knowing they would all gather in that room. She shouted out to John so he would be there for Andrew’s recount of what happened outside.

  “So what was it?” Trina asked quickly as the front door opened.

  “Coyote,” Andrew answered, placing the rifle back in the closed drawer and kicking off his boots.

  “Did you shoot it?” Abby asked.

  “No,” Andrew answered. “I just fired a warning shot i
n the air. It ran to the wooded area out back.”

  “That’s a relief,” John said aloud as he walked in. “I guess we should forget about using the guesthouse for the time being.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Andrew answered. “The storm will eventually be over and you’ll be able to head back to your lives. But for now, let’s keep the entertainment indoors.”

  Abby noticed him shift from one foot to the other after he made the statement. She wasn’t sure if he was nervous or anxious.

  “Well, that’s a bummer,” Barb said. “We were just starting to have fun with Rob, weren’t we, Ruth?”

  “Speak for yourself, Barb,” Ruth said, rolling her eyes.

  Rob ignored them both.

  “What about the firewood we were going to bring inside?” Rob asked. He was shivering as he had only his boxers on under his winter jacket.

  “You and John can help me do that first thing in the morning,” Andrew answered. He looked at the pile left in the storage area beside the fireplace. “We’ve got enough to make it through tonight.”

  “Sure thing,” Rob nodded. “You know, I noticed some tall yellow markers around the clearing outside. I was curious about what it was because I notice there’s a lot less snow built up on it.”

  “It’s a heliport,” he said as nonchalantly as if he had said it were a garage. “My dad uses it when he visits.”

  “Oh, that’s pretty cool,” Rob exclaimed.

  “What good is a heliport if you can’t use it to get us out of this place,” Barb said. Her speech was slurred. She was definitely drunk.

  Before anyone could scold her, she made for the hallway.

  “I’m going to head up for the night,” she announced, and sauntered upstairs.

  “Sorry about that, Andrew,” Ruth said with pleading eyes.

  “Not to worry,” he said dismissively.

  “I think we’ll turn in too,” John said, taking Trina’s hand. “I cleared the dining room table, and the dishwasher is loaded and running now. Thanks for saving our hides out there, Andrew. Again.”