The Billionaire's Second Chance

by Peyton Reeser

  As the door of the bathroom shut Shannon caught sight of her reflection in the oval mirror hung above a very modern basin bowl and frowned at what she saw. With one bandaged hand gripping the towel bar and the other using the high knee wall surround for balance, she looked like a cowgirl after an encounter with some outlaws. Her hair was all over the place and her clothes were wrinkled and mussed. Eyes a bit too bright stared out at her above cheeks which bore the blushing imprint of the situation she found herself in. No lady wants to be helpless in the bathroom and as embarrassing as the situation was, she wryly acknowledged, she’d be screwed without his help right now. She may not like his take charge, I’m the man way of doing things but she was damn glad in this moment she had that option. Better to be childishly annoyed while accepting his help than be completely alone at a time when letting someone else take care of her was the best thing if she wanted to recover quickly.

  Shannon tried to wrap her mind around everything which had transpired in the last few hours. When she’d awoken this morning the day had promised to be just like any other. That was how she’d preferred it. Nothing unusual or out-of-the ordinary. A busy Saturday, working an event. All business, all the time. The usual.

  Hell, she liked things to be that way. It suited Shannon to immerse herself in her work for after all what she did supplied a certain degree of emotional satisfaction. She liked pleasing her hand-picked clients, liked the feeling that what she did had meaning whether in the pursuit of charity donations or the simple smile of a child whose birthday she’d made super special.

  That was enough for her to live on, or so she told herself these many years. Never again would she risk her true feelings. For longer than she felt comfortable admitting, this slightly jaded and all-consuming need to protect herself from further hurt by simply shutting off the feeling side of her nature, had served her well.

  She was an island unto herself. No foolish romantic fantasies, only carefully chosen and infinitely superficial friendships and lots and lots of solitude had been her norm. Except for Jules, Shannon hadn’t allowed a meaningful friendship into her life since that moment when Nick had sliced and diced her naïve heart.

  Shannon wasn’t immune to her inner life, far from it. She was though, very careful not to indulge in flights of fancy or foolish dreams and if this meant she didn’t date, then that was fine. Besides, she wasn’t the kind of girl who could simply chase after her own needs and pleasures without her emotions being involved. Oh, she’d watched her share of Sex and the City and found something to admire in those quirky, fascinating women and the story they told but she could never be as free and adventurous no matter what the situation.

  The very notion of being physically intimate with someone actually frightened her. What she had experienced with Nick had been so intense and so powerful that she couldn’t conceive of ever laying herself bare like that for any other man as long as she lived. It was too raw and too intimate.

  Try as she might to deny a sudden flash of vivid memories, she couldn’t banish from her mind’s eye the way they had twined around each other in naked communion. Flesh to flesh, joined so closely they were practically in each other’s skin, whispering words of adoration and desires spoken the way lovers do when lost in the sensual heat of the moment.

  No, there was absolutely no chance of Shannon ever going there again. When the rose colored glasses of first love had been yanked from her and she’d been forced to understand that while she was falling in love, her so called prince charming was simply getting laid, Shannon knew then and there she would never allow herself to be put in that position ever, ever again. Trust was off the table from that day forward.

  He’d reappeared the moment Shannon had indicated she was finished and carried her solemnly to the bedroom where she hoped to have some privacy at last. Quickly swallowing the pills Nick had thrust her way she shut him out completely after that. Reassuring him that she was fully capable of getting undressed and into bed, he had reluctantly retreated while the air around them still swirled with emotion.

  Finally snuggling deep into the soft cocoon of blankets and pillows in her massive sleigh bed, Shannon sighed deeply in exhaustion and frustration, feeling drowsy but unsettled. Returning to the train of thought from earlier, she fell into a whirlpool of self-doubt followed by crippling confusion as her mind sought answers. In her heart of hearts she just could not understand how he could have been so detached, as he claimed, and she not known it. He hadn’t seemed detached or unaffected by their brief, intense relationship.

  Hell, it had been him as the slightly older and definitely more mature alpha male who had taken one look into her eyes and simply marked her as his own. He charmed her with his impeccable manners, seduced her with his intellect and humor before sealing the deal with a devastating journey of the senses into a realm of sensuality made all the more intense by her own sweet innocence.

  He hadn’t acted like that with anyone but her even though she had seen first-hand the admiring glances and sometimes bold suggestions thrown his way by nearly every female in his general vicinity. She’d seen it happen in small tribal settings, at team meetings, in public, at social gatherings, you name it. He was the type of man who exuded a lethal erotic vibe made all the more sexy with his rakish, pirate charm and those adorable dimples hidden in several days stubble under a head of long sun washed hair.

  But in all those settings and on all those occasions he’d never had eyes or a speck of interest in anyone but her. Yes, he’d devoured her in every way a lover could but he also lay shuddering in her arms in the aftermath of their loving. He slept possessively wrapped around her and his eyes never failed to twinkle with leonine intensity when she was nearby.

  Those were not the signs of a man who was just interested in sex. How could he say those things to her? At the core of every argument and memory Shannon always returned to that. How could he?

  She wanted to cry but she had no tears left for a man who had selfishly trashed her adoration; the aftermath of that act leading to a series of events that would forever shut down her heart and suck her soul of its passion. Hot tears found their way from the corners of her smoky turquoise eyes, dripping in silent acknowledgment of the truth she could never completely hide from.

  She had given this man her heart and the passion they had shared, not just in their most intimate moments but in the way they each grabbed at life, had altered her soul. When she learned that for him their time together had been nothing more than a time filler on the way to his real life, his important grown up life, she had been beyond consoling so deep was her pain.

  Over the years that pain had morphed many times to other emotions; anger, desolation, regret, despair but here she came back as she always did to the one thing she couldn’t ever understand – how could he not want to build on the deep emotional connection they had shared? How could he turn his back on something that had been so perfect and special and devastatingly deep? That would always be the thought that brought her up short. How could he live without knowing that kind of perfection ever again because she knew he felt it too even though he tried to deny it.

  The rejection is still what hurt the most and reconnecting with that brutal truth increased the torrent of super-heated tears leaking from the depths of her very soul.

  He said he’d been wrong and made a mistake by shutting her out. She tried to mull over everything he had said earlier about his family and the business he’d inherited but the after-effects of a long, trying day and a good dose of medication was not helping clear her mind. Hidden memories of unspeakable loss surfaced when she recalled that their intimacy had created a life, quickly followed by the horrible, heart wrenching truth that his bitter, angry, hurtful handling of their final moments together had stripped her soul leaving nothing on which to build a future.

  She cried the entire night, silent hot tears that spoke of a broken heart and a damaged soul in need of healing. Hopefully, a calm and clearer mind would greet Shannon with the sun
rise.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ow, oh Ow! Shannon came awake instantly when her restless movements collided with her injuries. Usually slow to wake, the jolt of discomfort invaded the leisurely and pleasant experience Shannon was accustomed to and just like that, the events of yesterday came flooding back to her sluggish brain in vibrant Technicolor replay.

  That she’d been banged up a bit in a clumsy accident was NOTHING compared to the dawning realization that Nicholas Barrett was on the other side of her closed bedroom door. Yeah, that thought had her sitting up in a hurry.

  “Ow and damn!” she muttered as the sudden movements brought more pain slamming into her half-awake brain making Shannon mutter dark curses of frustration and discomfort. What was worse she mused? A swollen, black and blue ankle or the presence in her home of the man who had arrogantly thrown away what she’d imagined was true love?

  Cautiously swinging her legs off the bed, Shannon winced when her mangled foot gently lowered to the floor. Shaking her head to clear away the fogginess leftover from the nighttime pain medication, she wanted nothing more than to hit the bathroom for a cold water face splash and a chance to relieve herself before having to confront what awaited on the other side of the closed door.

  Unfortunately she realized, her foot was going to make that impossible without help, but right at this second the last thing she intended to do was ask the high and mighty rich guy to provide any needed assistance.

  Releasing a deep, heavy sigh Shannon perched on the end of her bed and let her thoughts wander. She’d had restless dreams for weeks. Hazy scenarios ripped from the darkest corners of her heart, the all-to-real dreams had rocked her tightly controlled world; vibrant memories and sensory tugs from long ago steeped in sensual awareness and yes, longing for what had been and what was lost.

  And then of course there was the suddenly strange behavior of her friend Jules, which now made perfect sense but at the time had her baffled and confused.

  She thought about Dominic’s cowboy extravaganza and the role Belle Events had played in the event. Jules and Ned had been thrilled and Dom, well he was beyond chuffed at the transformation of his backyard into cowboy heaven. Belle Events had done a great job and Shannon was proud of the result.

  Then her mind hit on the moment when she’d all but plowed into an immoveable human object which turned out to be her biggest nightmare and wickedest dream in the flesh.

  Nicholas Temple Barrett, fantastically rich, old family, power all rolled into one. He’d been masquerading as one of the regular folk and once she had learned of his real name and who his family was she was still in the dark as to why a young man of his background and abilities had been hiding from the world working on third world start-up projects in amenity-lacking stations along dusty African back roads.

  Not too long after that she’d understood more about his other persona when she’d tracked him to New York and come face to face with the ruthless, high-powered tycoon he’d become. She’d been such a fool.

  He hadn’t needed her comfort and all but spit on the love she offered up, telling her in no uncertain terms that she’d been a distraction during those long months of hard work in Africa. A way for him to let off steam. A second thought at best in the mind of a man whose future had been determined at birth. A rich man’s folly. In his world, she was nothing. His words that awful day were tattooed forever on her heart lest she forget what a blind, stupid twit she’d been.

  Everything which followed his take down of her entire world had left scars. The sort of deep, painful emotional wounds which still today she couldn’t allow to see the light of day lest the heartache leave her shattered. Some things really did need to remain in the shadows.

  And yet despite all that bitterness and regret, she had listened with half an open mind as he attempted to explain why he’d done all those hurtful things. She wanted it to be that simple. Wanted for it all to fade away and be replaced by something joyful instead of an endless, nagging tirade of past regrets and heartache.

  Unfortunately, the reverie of the past colliding with the reality of the present was nothing compared to her physical needs. She had to use the bathroom. Conceding that she couldn’t stand much less walk, Shannon clearly required assistance and the only option available to her right this second was the man she couldn’t believe had suddenly reappeared and practically taken over her life after all this time.

  Releasing another in a long series of heavy sighs, Shannon screwed up her courage and resolved herself to calling out for a bit of help. Help, she mused as in heaven help her. Another sigh, a brief shrug, and then no more stalling.

  In a barely audible voice she called out, “Um, Nick? I could use some assistance.”

  Less than a second later she remembered that she was wearing next to nothing; a childish baby doll nightie which gaped in all the wrong places and showed way more of her voluptuous figure than she thought prudent in this scenario. A pithy swear, something decidedly unladylike, slipped from her pursed lips in dismay at the exact same moment her bedroom door swung open.

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was another brilliantly sunny day in southern California but Nick couldn’t have cared less. He’d been awake for hours, his mind shifting between crushed hopes and dreams, past regrets and the unbelievable opportunity to repair all that which had suddenly presented itself.

  Working on the latest cup of strong coffee he’d conjured up in Shannon’s delightfully modern brew system, Nick’s mind was overflowing with thoughts and emotions he was unused to. Such things didn’t have space in his highly scheduled and relentlessly busy life. The business world he operated in dominated his existence; knowing others considered him hard and sometimes ruthless never gave him pause. Not until now anyway.

  Suddenly he didn’t like the idea that Shannon might see him through those eyes, but then again, why the hell wouldn’t she? That had been exactly the intent he had in mind when he had ended their relationship. Gazing with vacant eyes at the view from the window where he stood, Nick fell easily into a rewind of that time before the world had caved in on him and he’d learned to shut off from his emotions.

  The year he’d spent in Africa working with the Peace Village Initiative was something he had locked away in the deepest recesses of his mind. Away from the brutal glare of his own conscience, safe from meddling and entirely under his control.

  Unbidden and yet unavoidable, Nick let his mind wander back in time to another brilliant sunny day which had begun wrapped in the simplicity of that stolen year only to crash and burn before the sun had set; moving him along in a trajectory of reality that found him today as president and CEO of the family business interests, a global empire of multi-national assets and endeavors of which he was the lord and master.

  He’d been busy as he’d always been that year. His unique ability to marshal resources and people held him in high regard on a project with commendable goals and aspirations that lacked funding and political power.

  A water pump station had gone off-line in the overnight so he’d been gathering supplies and information before making the grueling bumpy drive, in a patched together truck, to trouble shoot a problem which spelled big problems in the water challenged region where the initiative was based.

  He remembered it had been hot. Every day on the African continent had seemed hot but this day especially so. Dressed in his usual jeans and a simple t-shirt, Nick looked like all the other western volunteers working the project; yet another reason why that period had been so meaningful. Being just one face among many without the burden of his name and family connections had been what Nick had hoped for. It was a moment out of time for him when he’d gone by his middle name and lived as plain Nick Temple

  That last day, his mind full of facts and figures, he’d been walking distracted to the sad-looking truck when his vision collided with his worst nightmare; a young man in a brilliant white dress shirt and tailored black trousers who stood out like a sore thumb in a world of khakis, jeans an
d t-shirts. In the stifling heat the young man had lost the ubiquitous suit jacket which had undoubtedly completed the ensemble yet still looked as inappropriate in the dusty hot African sun as an Eskimo would have.

  Every alarm bell in Nick’s sharp mind went on full alert. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. A feeling of dread moved through him. He felt the icy cold drip, drip, drip of tension that let his system know there was most definitely a disturbance in the force.

  Dr. Stephen Ames, a harried professor type from Oxford Uni who was top man on the village initiative stalked alongside the out-of-place suit and judging from the pained expression on his weary face Nick knew in an instant that his hideaway sojourn, where he was just another guy, was about to come to a screeching halt.

  The business suit turned out to be just as empty and vacuous as could be. Some twenty-two year old sycophant who desperately wanted to join the ranks of the rich and powerful; sent on an unenviable errand to the back roads of a third world country to drag the unwilling heir apparent to a billion dollar conglomerate back to reality.

  His grandfather, the awesome and feared Randolph Barrett who had reigned over the huge business empire with an iron fist and an evil, twisted spirit for more than six decades had been felled by a massive stroke. Although clinging to life the old bastard wasn’t expected to last much longer; hence the personal valet turning up to escort him back to the canyons and towers of power and money which awaited him in the real world.

  He hadn’t given a good god damn that the old man was on life support. He’d hated the old buzzard for more years than he could count. After his father’s tragic accidental death when Nick was but fifteen, Randolph Barrett had exercised a heavy hand in every aspect of his life and the lives of his adored younger sister Jules and his sweet, southern belle mother, Alanna.