Billionaire Daddy - A Standalone Novel (A Single Dad Billionaire Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #6)

by Claire Adams

I snorted. "You don't think I can do this? I'm going first."

  I grabbed the higher rope and inched onto the lower one. Moving hand over hand and sliding my feet first apart and then together, I moved out past the tree branches. Everything was fine until I felt Ford's weight bounce the ropes.

  "You're doing great, Clarity; keep going," he called.

  I couldn't let him catch up with me. The temptation to grab onto his agile and strong body would be too much, and we were literally hanging, fully exposed above a group of Landsman College students.

  "Slow down, if you want," Ford said. "This isn't a race."

  My inappropriate attraction to him drove me faster along the ropes. I hit the next platform and kept going, as if the devil himself was chasing me. I didn't slow down until my safety line, secured by carabiners, got tangled at another treetop platform.

  "Here, let me help," Ford said. He stepped onto the small platform and reached his arms around me.

  I peeked out around his shoulder and realized the rest of the college students were far behind. In my anxiety to keep an appropriate distance between me and Ford, I had somehow separated us from everyone else. Despite the chill in the air, the trees still held reddish and gold leaves, secluding us from everyone else.

  "Yeah," Ford said, following my gaze. "Looks like we've got the place to ourselves for a few minutes."

  A wave of dizziness swept over my head, and I swayed back. Ford's arms immediately locked around my waist and drew me hard against his chest.

  "I got you. Don't worry, Clarity; I won't let you fall," he said.

  The plunging sensation only increased as I tipped my head up to meet his smoky-gray eyes. "Thanks, professor, but I'll be fine." I brought my gloved hands up between us and pushed against the hard contours of his chest.

  He didn't release me. "You know, you can call me Ford. There's no policy against that."

  "I can't do that," I said.

  Our lips were just inches away, and for a moment, Ford shortened the distance and I couldn't breathe. "Maybe if my name was prettier, like yours. Clarity," he whispered. "Why do I like saying that so much?"

  I felt heat as if the sunlight had burned through the high clouds and reached through the treetops to touch me directly. I blinked and saw the light had not changed, except in Ford's eyes. The smoky-gray had deepened to reveal a dark blue, like the stormy ocean when the depths are disturbed.

  My hands were supposed to push him away, not drag my fingertips across the ridges of his abs, and start to slip around his waist. The absentminded move made Ford's lips part on a ragged sigh, and I felt his arms flex around me.

  "Clarity," he whispered, louder this time.

  "We can't," I said.

  Ford’s voice was a low growl. "That doesn't make this any easier to ignore."

  A wave of desire was pouring out from his eyes, and I felt myself about to drown. My entire body buzzed with the need to press against him, test the soft pressure of his lips, and dive into the whirlpool of lust I could feel spinning inside of me.

  It took every bit of strength and nerve for me to turn around and secure my carabiner to the zip line. The line stretched out through the branches at a reasonable angle, but I wasn't prepared for the speed my body weight would create. I flew through the autumn leaves, and the wind buffeted away my scream before it could escape my throat.

  I wanted to enjoy it, the wild rush of it. The free flying sweep out of the treetops and over the forest floor was exactly what I needed to capture for my news article. If I could make the reader feel the same exhilaration and sense of rapture, then Ford would have to give me an A+.

  The only problem was separating it from my personal experience. What I had felt on the far-reaching ropes and the treetop platforms was not what the reader wanted to know. Somehow, I had to untangle the riot of feelings I had experienced on the high platform. My heart skidded to a swinging stop at the thought. Did Ford feel the same way I did when we touched?

  I must have imagined it. Otherwise, he was right; how were we supposed to ignore it?

  Two ropes course instructors caught me at the bottom and released me from the harness. Ford came flying down, laughing and whooping. When he was also free, he walked over to me.

  "I don't care what you say, that was awesome."

  I drew a shaky breath and pushed him away. "How's that for getting outside my comfort zone?"

  Ford bumped a bare arm against me, and we both felt the jolt of electricity pass between us. "There's no going back now," he said.

  #

  My notes trailed off into a blank space slashed with absentminded pen marks. I had forgotten to hit record on my laptop, and Professor Bauer's lecture was almost over. I wanted to throw down my pen and admit defeat, but I could feel his eyes on me. Not a long stare, or a glance that anyone else would notice, but every time his eyes passed over me, I was back in the treetops.

  The night after the ropes course, I couldn't sleep. It gave me plenty of time to write and rewrite the article to make up for my D+, but even I had to admit that was not why I was sleepless. Lexi had pressed me the entire way back to campus, but I didn't say a thing.

  There was no way anyone could know what happened with Ford. Almost happened. I had to keep reminding myself that nothing actually happened. The proximity, the temptation, and the ragged words he whispered were all so heady in my memory that I felt a wave of hot guilt every time he glanced up at my row.

  "Ms. Dunkirk, perhaps you can recap the best storytelling beats for a human interest piece?" Professor Bauer asked.

  The lecture hall turned on me, and all I could do was shake my head. If there had been a crack in the floor, I would have tried to crawl in it. Where was my focus? I bent my head and concentrated on that day's material. The answer had to be in there somewhere.

  I couldn't untangle any of my other thoughts, but I was determined to find the answer to his question. When I didn’t answer, he moved on to someone else.

  The next time I looked up, the last student stepped out of the lecture hall, and I was alone with Ford. He startled when he looked up and saw me, then his surprise turned into a slow-burning smile. I slammed my book and stood up to gather my things.

  "Having trouble focusing?" Ford leaned a hip against his desk.

  "No. Why would I be unfocused?" I snapped.

  He laughed. "I don't know, maybe your head is still up in the treetops. It was pretty impressive how you conquered that ropes course."

  "As long as the article I wrote changed that D+ to an A+," I said.

  Ford caught me at the exit. "Clarity, I want to apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I think the excitement of the course just got the better of me."

  All I could do was stare at his strong fingers holding my arm in a gentle but iron grip. "I was terrified," I said, "I don't remember much."

  He grinned and my insides flipped. "You can't lie. And I meant what I said."

  My vision furred around the edges. "About what?"

  "You can't go back to being all ultra-focused. Now that you pushed your own boundaries, there's no going back." Ford slipped his hand down my arm to squeeze my fingers.

  "Did I get the A+?" I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. "Yes. Happy?"

  I walked out of the lecture hall before he could see me smile.

  In the foyer of Thompson Hall, I let out a wobbly breath, then almost screamed as someone called my name.

  "Clarity? Jeez, sorry. Are you okay? I didn't mean to startle you," Thomas reached out a hand to steady me, then shoved it in his pocket instead. "I was just waiting in case you wanted to grab a coffee or something."

  "Thanks, Thomas, that's nice, but I'm going to head over to the library," I said.

  "Maybe tomorrow," Thomas said. "Hey, I've got the notes from today's lecture if you need them. Professor Bauer really zeroes in on you, doesn't he?"

  I stopped and turned back to my classmate. "Why do you say that?"

  Thomas brushed his shaggy brown hair ou
t of his eyes and shrugged. "Everyone thinks you're Professor Bauer's prized student. I mean, you're the one he calls on with all the hard questions, and you're usually the first to make him clarify something."

  I cleared my throat around a rising knot of panic. "I don't think he singles me out. He's hard on the students he thinks aren't paying attention."

  "That's not you, usually," Thomas said. "Usually you're more than ready to hold your own."

  I knew Thomas wanted to say more. He shifted from one lanky leg to the other. "What is it?" I crossed my arms and looked up at him.

  "It's just, well, I feel like you should know the rumors, even though you're totally above all that." Thomas didn't know what to do with his hands, and they flapped around until he shoved them deep in his pockets again.

  Thompson Hall started to spin around me. "What rumors?"

  Thomas cleared his throat. "Professor Bauer, people say that he, I mean, he has in the past..."

  I groaned, "Just spit it out, Thomas!"

  "Professor Bauer seduces students."

  I stepped back and gawked up at my tall classmate. "You think Professor Bauer tries to sleep with students? And you think you need to warn me about this?"

  "It has nothing to do with you," Thomas yanked his hands out and held them up in surrender. "I just thought you should hear that rumor in case he starts paying you, you know, too much attention."

  His eyes darted back and forth, and his nerves made sense. Thomas had been trying for a year and a half to ask me out, but he'd never gotten up the courage. We were friends, and I never encouraged him past that. Now he was warning me as a friend, but also as a jealous rival. Thomas couldn't stand the idea of Professor Bauer getting close to me when he wasn't.

  "Thanks, Thomas," I patted his arm and walked away.

  "I'll see you at the football game tonight?" he called.

  I waved over my shoulder and kept walking. Our class was meeting at the football game to practice capturing quick details and to try the fast pace of sports journalism.

  It was just my luck that when I arrived at the game, the only available seat was right next to Ford. I had intended to spend the whole game thinking of ways to insulate myself against gossip, but now with Ford cheering beside me, my good intentions were scattering.

  "More important than the game is the crowd," Ford told me and the students near us. "The reader is one of the cheering fans, so it's important for them to know how the real fans reacted in the stands. Look around and take note of what you see."

  "I see Professor Appleyard in face paint," I said.

  Ford looked where I pointed and burst out laughing. "You've got a good eye for details, Dunkirk," he said.

  It was casual, and none of the other students even noticed, but I felt his thigh bump against mine as if an explosion had rocked the entire set of bleachers. I had to find a way to put some serious distance between us.

  After the game, Ford led us onto the field to interview the players. The players had been prepped by their coach, and it was a learning opportunity for them too. That didn't explain why the players jostled each other to answer my questions, but Ford put an end to that quickly.

  "Why don't you talk to Brian Tailor? You met his father at the art opening, remember?" Ford asked me.

  "The star running back?" Thomas asked. "I have questions for him."

  Ford frowned, but before he could steer me in another direction, the quarterback appeared in front of me.

  "Hi, I'm Adam," he said with a charming smile.

  I smiled back, despite Ford's gunmetal glance. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Adam?"

  "If you answer one for me first," the quarterback said. "Would you go out with me tomorrow night?"

  His teammates cat-called, and the nearest ones landed punches on his shoulder, but Adam kept smiling at me with his bright-blue, hopeful eyes. He was perfect.

  Ford hovered near by and a few of my journalism classmates whispered about the look on his face.

  "I'd love to, Adam." I squashed the rumors, shut down my own inappropriate feelings for a professor, and accepted a date all in one sentence. "Now, how about that interview?"

  Chapter Four

  Ford

  I met Jackson outside the bar and waited while he made kissing noises into his phone.

  "Sorry, I haven't seen Alice all day," he said. He dropped his phone into his pocket and opened the swinging door of the bar.

  I patted my friend's shoulder as I went inside. "That's alright, 'cause you're buying."

  We both stopped immediately inside the door and scanned the room for students. Landsman College was in the midst of a smaller outlying town, and the chances of running into students was high everywhere I went. Normally, it was fine, fun even, but tonight I wanted to drink.

  Seeing only a few quiet couples and scattered regulars, Jackson and I found seats at the bar. The standing lamps mixed in amongst the shelves of booze was almost the only light in the place. Weak lightbulbs encased in dusty, red, glass shades hung over us with barely enough glow to light a bowl of peanuts.

  I felt the knots in my shoulders finally start to loosen. "Beer and a shot," I ordered.

  Jackson handed the bartender his credit card and ordered a beer. "Was the blind date really that bad?" he asked.

  The bartender chuckled as he moved over to the taps. I caught his sympathetic glance and nodded. "What made me think going on any date in front of students was a good idea?" I wondered.

  "Alice thought she was fun, might break you out of your perpetual bad mood," Jackson said.

  "Since when is fun discussing the details of a pet iguana's eating habits?" I picked up the beer the bartender passed me and took a long, grateful gulp. "At full volume in the middle of an art opening?"

  "I thought she was at least pretty." Jackson clacked his pint glass against mine.

  "Yes, in a bright, cartoonish sort of way. She didn't let me get a single word in between the iguana, her bathroom grout, and plans to host a karaoke Christmas."

  My friend choked on his beer. "Yeah, Alice warned me that Tara was really into karaoke. I just figured you wanted the fun of meeting someone knew. I didn't think you'd be singing duets or anything."

  "Singing duets?" The thought was horrifying. The openly laughing bartender poured us both a shot of whiskey.

  I knocked it back neat and smiled. "Did I tell you Dean Dunkirk's daughter saved me? She had questions about class and suggested I meet with all the journalism students before they left."

  Jackson gave me a curious, sideways glance. "Saved you from a blind date?"

  "Not like that," I shook my head. Why had I told Jackson about Clarity? "Besides, I thought you liked to be up on campus gossip. She's dating the star quarterback."

  Jackson breathed a sigh of relief and started talking football. All I could think about was Clarity smiling up at that young jock. Adam was tall, with black hair and blue eyes. Was that Clarity's type? I ran a hand through my own wild, black hair and scowled.

  "I know what's bothering you," Jackson said.

  I took another long sip of beer. "I doubt it."

  "You want to get back into journalism. You never wanted to leave. And now your department head is breathing down your neck, you took on the student paper to appease her, and it's only made you miss the real thing."

  "Macken doesn't bother me," I said.

  "God, how can she not? I'm not even in your department, and that woman frightens me." Jackson leaned his elbows on the bar. "She's had you on unofficial probation since you started. Doesn't that drive you insane?"

  I ground my teeth and finished half my beer. "You and I both know I deserve to be on probation."

  "One accidental indiscretion your first year does not make you the scourge of the School of Journalism. There was no complaint, no proof, and it was a one-time thing. Macken needs to find a new hobby," Jackson said.

  It was more than once. Just one unforgivable week. I crushed a peanut against the polished wo
od of the bar. "At least we have a winning football team this year. Not that I think the sun shines out our quarterback's ass. He's good, but too showy, and it's gonna cost the team. The star running back, Carl, on the other hand. He's got his head on straight."

  Jackson swiveled on his bar stool to study my face. "Not a fan of the quarterback, huh? I've got him in class, and he's a good guy."

  I snorted, thinking about the special considerations college football players thought came with their talent. "Wait 'till you try to give him an honest grade."

  "Better a football player than the Dean of Students' daughter. No wonder you're not into the flow of the semester yet. It has to be hard thinking the dean is getting the lowdown on your class every day."

  "Clarity's not like that." I put my beer down too sharply. "She's hard-working and ultra-focused. Too focused, actually. Dean Dunkirk keeps hinting that he wants her to break out of her career track and try a few other things before graduating."

  "Hmm," Jackson said, considering me. "Maybe she should try out my creative writing elective. I'll let you suggest it if you want to score points with the dean."

  "Somebody's got to do something about this music," I stood up. "Order me another beer, will ya? I'm going to go stock the jukebox with something good."

  "Sure. Two beers and shots for a bad date sounds about right."

  I left Jackson chatting with the bartender and made my way across the bar to the jukebox. It stood just outside the hallway to the restrooms, and I was relieved to see the pop playlist was almost over. I selected a few blues pieces and slipped something a little harder in between. My mood was definitely darker than the upbeat chorus that was currently repeating.

  "Ford Bauer, what a surprise! Wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."

  The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. "Barton," I bit out.

  Wesley Barton sauntered down the hallway from the restroom and held out a hand for me to shake. I crossed my arms and looked the disgustingly wealthy entrepreneur over. The suit was Italian, custom-made, and his shoes flashed with a high polish. Despite his husky build and his salt and pepper hair, Barton was attractive. His jovial smile had the women that passed us to the bathroom fluttering their eyelashes.