The Billionaire's Bauble

by Ann Montclair

  Watching the quotes and averages roll by, he realized it would be another long wait to make the big deal Tony and he had planned. Maybe even a couple of months. Why did everything take so much time, he wondered.

  Spending the ensuing weeks learning the ropes at Forster, avoiding David’s phone calls, and preparing for this dreadfully long trip to New York had exhausted Sloane. As she slumped into her seat in the coach section of the airplane, she was grateful there wasn’t another plane change until she hit the continental United States. The puddle jumper from Fairbanks to Anchorage had been a bumpy, unpleasant ride. She hoped the jet would ease some of the fear she had felt on the previous leg of her journey home.

  As the flight attendants prepared for takeoff, Sloane prayed the seat next to her would remain empty. The leg room in coach miserably limited her long legs from stretching. If the seat to her left stayed free, she could spread out a bit and enjoy the long flight ahead.

  Adjusting her earphones and listening to the music the plane provided as entertainment, she grabbed her e-reader and a bag of pretzels from her tote. Finally she’d be going home. Her heart ached in her chest and her stomach reeled. Even the salty braided twists couldn’t lessen the burning in her belly.

  Nervous?

  Scared?

  No, she knew it was more longing for David.

  She’d spent weeks fighting a stomach ache, and from everything she’d read, she knew the symptoms were like home sickness but worse because it was love sickness. She hoped a trip home would help her decide one way or another if she was going to give him the chance to completely destroy her heart.

  His flowers kept coming. Almost every day he sent her a fresh bouquet—one to her apartment and one to Forster. His phone calls never ended. He’d leave her voice mail that made her pant.

  But he never once told her what she needed to hear. She wanted to give him a chance, but she was drowning already, and if she gave him that chance, she would be doomed to loving him forever. While most girls would take a billionaire, a sexy, hot, completely exciting billionaire any way they could get him, Sloane hoped she could resist. Truth was, she was awfully close to allowing him to have her any way he wanted. Thank goodness, the trip had given her an escape.

  The pilot announced the plane had reached cruising altitude, so Sloane lifted the arm rest next to her and with her e-reader in hand, stretched out her legs. Having splurged at her favorite book selling web site, she had several new romances into which she could sink her teeth. Just as she began a wonderful, exciting story, she heard a familiar voice.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re in my seat.”

  Sloane didn’t want to look up. No way. It couldn’t be. But it was. Sloane’s heart jumped into her throat as David casually pushed her legs off the adjoining seat and settled into place.

  “Hi, sweetheart. Long time no see, eh?” He smiled into her gawping face.

  Sloane rubbed her eyes, and blinked several times, making sure he wasn’t a longed for hallucination; but there he sat, all knock-out handsome in his blue jeans and golden and white striped polo shirt, muscles rippling and tanned from the long summer days they’d spent apart. His dazzling smile only further assailed her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she gasped, trying to make herself as small as possible so he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t unmake all her weeks of strenuous effort. Her heart beat a staccato in her ears.

  “Going to a wedding, of course. Did you think I’d break my promise to your brother? I said we’d be there, and we will be. Though God knows it’s going to take all day. Why did you buy a ticket with so many stopovers? It ended up costing me a small fortune to fly coach.”

  “Well, it was cheap for me. Ha,” Sloane rejoined quickly, feeling some small satisfaction at making sure he knew she hadn’t been ripped off.

  “Good,” he said, and smiled even more broadly, making Sloane’s body temperature rise as quickly as the jet’s altitude. “A working girl has to mind her dollars and cents. Thanks for the payments on the car, by the way. I’m so pleased you like it. You know I don’t want the money back, but I do appreciate a woman of her word.” The flatterer.

  Sloane felt gutted, completely stripped bare. David’s smug attitude, his tone of entitlement, his presumptuous actions aroused Sloane powerfully. Damn, she had missed this man.

  “Oh my God,” she said, and she prayed for the strength not to kiss him. Too late. He came in for the kill.

  His mouth hovered over hers for a moment, and she couldn’t help but lean in and caress the lips she had been dying to kiss for almost two months. The gentle kiss soon turned into a full blown make-out session, and when Sloane finally had the sense to pull away, she could see in David’s soft brown eyes he had missed her just as much as she had missed him.

  “Now that’s more like it,” he said, his voice husky with passion.

  How could she resist? She couldn’t bolt out the plane doors mid flight; nor could she conquer the elation that made her feel suddenly weightless. David looked like a cat that swallowed a canary, yet Sloane had never seen a more precious face.

  “I missed you, David,” Sloane blurted, and she put her hand to his jaw, and then rubbed her knuckles against the breadth of his chiseled chin.

  “I missed you more,” he said, and he took her hand and brought her palm to his warm, pliant mouth. Sloane sighed and sank into her seat, suddenly more relaxed than she had been in two months.

  Chapter 11

  As it turned out, David couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day than the one he spent plane hopping through the United States. Sloane, compliant with all his demands for affection, proved the ideal travel partner. She snuggled next to him and read or napped, allowing him a lovely view of her cleavage and her long tanned legs. She wore a blue cotton tank dress that hugged her curves in all the best places. As his hands roved hungrily, relearning some of the contours he had missed so much, Sloane giggled and preened. David clasped her hand in his every time they deplaned, and she seemed to enjoy him leading her through the complexities of airport navigation.

  More than once she’d told him how glad she was to have him with her, and by the way her velvet green eyes swept over his face time and again, he knew she meant every word.

  The last two months had been an exercise in self-control for David. As he quelled his inclination to make Sloane see reason, he grew to respect the fact that she managed her life quite well without his aid. She’d not veered once from her belief that she must become self-sustaining, that his interference was not only unnecessary but unwarranted.

  She had become the best assistant Tony had ever hired, or so he bragged constantly, and she had her rent paid through the summer. David knew the latter because he bought her apartment building in a quiet sale.

  At first his plan had been to kick all the tenants out for renovations, thus forcing Sloane to seek his help in relocating, maybe even move in with him; but instead, he smartly realized that rash action might sink his plans to keep her in Alaska, to get her back in his bed.

  David had taken Maya’s and Tony’s stern advice, and so far, their wise words had born fruit. Sloane was as docile as a milk-fed kitten. Apparently, he had not waited and suffered in vain. He must remember to send Maya flowers.

  The only down side to the trip so far was the niggling worry that Grant Oil needed him. Though the company’s profit margins continuously grew, the deal he and Tony so rigorously attended seemed about to pop. If he missed their chance, it could cost him millions in surplus revenue. David tried to forget Grant, and when he looked into Sloane’s dreamy eyes, it wasn’t as hard as he’d imagined.

  “We’re here. Finally,” she said as they maneuvered their rolling carry-on luggage to the baggage claim area. David loved to watch Sloane’s hips sway as she walked a few feet ahead of him, suddenly in charge now that they were back in her stomping grounds. Her long hair reached the middle of her back and it shone like fresh caramel in the bright late afternoon sun.


  “If we’re lucky, there will still be fireflies in the pasture. They’re beautiful at night,” she enthused, as the wheel of bags spun round before them and she reached for her giant suitcase.

  David swiftly cut in front of her, grabbing the heavy bag and hauling it to the ground where it landed with a loud thump.

  “You’re beautiful at night, too. Sloane, what did you pack in here–a weight set?” he chuckled as she spanked his rear playfully.

  “A girl has to be prepared when she travels, you know? It gets blessedly dark here at night, and I brought some warm clothes, so I wouldn’t get cold. I love to be outside on summer evenings. You’ll see.”

  And he couldn’t wait to see her by moonlight, just as he had the first time they met at Hal’s. This time, though, he hoped to have her naked and wanting him. Frankly, earlier, it had taken all his reserve patience not to commit them to the mile high club.

  “Are you hungry? We can stop and get a bite before we make the drive.” Sloane smiled her devastating smile, and it was all David could do not to lay her down right there in the airport. More than he wanted food or drink, he wanted Sloane. He wanted to feel her body, soft against his hard form, wanted to cup her ample breasts, needed to possess every inch of her. The thought made him anticipate the coming night with relish.

  “It’s up to you, sweetheart. As long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.”

  David had been on his best behavior, and the words he spoke were true. He wanted to impress upon her that she was the most important thing in his life right now, maybe even more important than Grant Oil.

  “Keep saying things like that, David, and I’ll have you baling hay with me before the weekend is finished.”

  Oh, he planned to make hay all right.

  David had called ahead for a limousine, and it waited for them at the curb, sleek and shiny like a black panther. Sloane climbed into the luxurious confines, and he tailed her closely. “Oh, nice touch, David,” she smiled as she situated onto the smooth bench seat and looked out the large, tinted window. As the driver secured the doors, David reached out and pulled Sloane across the leather seat and into his lap.

  “How long did you say we’d be driving?” he asked, his voice muffled by the kisses he was depositing on the back of her neck. Sloane leaned back, pressing herself against his hardening groin.

  “Not long enough,” she whispered throatily.

  He cupped her breasts through the fabric of her dress and sighed heavily.

  This trip might just be the best thing he’d ever done.

  As the miles ticked quickly by, Sloane narrated the journey. There was the state community college she’d attended, and there she saw her favorite ice cream store, and beyond that stood her high school, middle school and grammar school.

  When the long black limousine pulled into a longer dirt driveway, she almost leapt out of the car window with excitement. Twenty or thirty cars lined the thoroughfare, and amongst them she could identify her brother’s truck, her mother’s SUV, and a passel of children playing basketball on the concrete pad in front of the family’s garage.

  The garage had a large net for a door, and through the mesh, she spotted her mom and dad lounging in front of a TV set, probably watching baseball. Sloane’s voice caught in her throat. How she’d missed the farm, the beautiful green landscape, so spread out and fertile.

  She smoothed her hair and straightened her dress then grabbed David’s hand as the driver swung the door open.

  Her mother was the first to arrive car side, tugging her father along. Sloane dropped David’s hand and was enveloped in an enormous kiss and hug.

  “Oh, you feel so good, Sloane. And this is your young man?”

  Sloane nodded, though she wasn’t sure how true the words were.

  “May I present to you David Grant?”

  Her mother beamed, looking magnificently tanned and slim in her shorts and Yankees T-shirt. Her father, who was shaking David’s hand vigorously, soon wrapped her in one of his famous smothering bear hugs. His spicy aftershave tickled Sloane’s nose. He, too, looked great with his red plaid button down shirt tucked into old blue jeans, suspenders safely over his massive shoulders. His salt and pepper hair flopped over his brow, and Sloane lovingly smoothed the wayward locks away from his lined forehead.

  “Sloane, so glad you’re both here. We’ve been waiting all day. You must be so tired. The gang’s all here now. Oh, how happy they’ll be to see you and your boyfriend. Come in. Come in,” her mother chattered as she led the way up the walk to the front door of the old farm house.

  A basketball came whizzing up the flagstone path, and David caught it and did a few moves with the kids. They cheered as he sunk a basket from across the court.

  “Oil and basketball. What else can he do?” Sloane’s father noted favorably.

  Sloane smiled and rushed ahead into the cool, comforting home in which she’d grown up so happily. Home sweet home at last.

  The 2500 square foot white farmhouse was built sometime in the early 1800’s and had most of its original wide planked wooden floors. Built in the Federal style with columned porches spanning the front and back sides, it boasted six bedrooms and two bathrooms. The inside was country chic, adorned with rooster and star motifs. Everything about the house had remained unchanged since Sloane was a child, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

  “Where is everyone? By the looks of the driveway, the place should be swarming,” Sloane said, looking through the back sliding glass door toward the acres and acres of corn seemingly waving its stalks in welcome. David stood at her side, smiling into the late afternoon sunshine. His demeanor, so relaxed and attentive, made Sloane’s homecoming even more special.

  “They’re all over the farm. Most are at the pond, swimming and setting up the barbecue; others are setting up tents, and by the sounds of things, we’ve got some folks on the ATVs. We kept the children who didn’t want to go swimming,” Sloane’s mother answered as she moved like a hummingbird around the vast open kitchen pouring lemonade and preparing a platter of home baked chocolate chip cookies. The kitchen, warm, bright, and fragrant, filled with herbs and potted plants, reflected her mother’s tastes perfectly.

  Grabbing a cookie from the platter, Sloane bit into the rich sweet and rolled her eyes in sublime pleasure.

  “Oh, Mom, you’re still the best baker in New York. Taste one, David.”

  Sloane put her cookie to David’s lips, and he opened his mouth obediently.

  “Mmmmmm,” he agreed, and Sloane wiped the chocolate off his full lower lip with her thumb before putting it in her own mouth.

  “Even sweeter,” she said, and he reached out to give her shoulder a quick squeeze. Their easy intimacy had returned the moment he sat beside her on the plane.

  Sloane hadn’t allowed herself to question anything. She decided to allow one weekend where she let life happen. No plans. No expectations. Sloane was home for her brother’s wedding, and the fact that David stood beside her in her parent’s kitchen seemed too good to be true, but also too good to be disputed.

  “How many acres do you have here, Mr. and Mrs. Porter?” David asked with what seemed genuine interest.

  “Please call me Bill, and the Mrs. is Dora to you, okay, son?”

  “Yes, sir,” David smiled, and Sloane felt the color rise in her cheeks. ‘Son’ sounded like they expected more than David could give, and it embarrassed Sloane for a moment. Yet, David didn’t seem to mind. His handsome face drew Sloane’s gaze like a magnet.

  “We’ve got a little more than 600 acres. Some of it still has old growth oak and maple, but most of it is farmed. This year we’re growing soybeans and corn. Want to take a look around?” Bill asked.

  “I’d love to see the place. Sloane, you catch up with your mom, and I’ll be back. Maybe we could take a swim before the sun sets,” David said, and Sloane’s heart dropped. She knew her mother would ask a million questions for which she had no answers. David must have recognized her c
hagrin because he amended, “Unless, you’d like to come along?”

  Sloane smiled in gratitude. “Yes, I’d love to get outside and show you the whole shebang. Dad, is my old clubhouse still standing?”

  “Of course, dear. The cousins love to climb it and play on the tire swing. We better head out before it’s too late. We’ve got a chicken dinner to attend soon,” her father answered proudly.

  He had diligently worked this farm since he and Sloane’s mom bought it thirty five years ago, and he liked nothing better than to show it off.

  “Mom, are you going to stay with the children?” he asked, and she said, “I am. I expect their parents will be back for them soon. The tents should be up by now, and I know they’ll be needing dinner. You must be famished, Bill,” Mom still glowed when she spoke to Sloane’s father. They shared a powerful bond, and Sloane knew her entire life had been blessed by their constancy, their joy.

  “Dad has never worked harder than in preparations for your brother’s wedding. We built a white gazebo out by the pond, and we laid down a dance floor. Everyone invited will bring flowers grown in their gardens, and we plan to strew them about as blessings. Charlie and Eva are so grateful, so excited for their big day. The wedding is at noon tomorrow, and the forecast is perfect sunshine. Just like when we married.” Her mother slid an arm around her husband’s waist.

  “Let’s hope they’re just as lucky,” her dad concurred, kissing the top of his wife’s graying head.

  Sloane and David sat close as the tractor bumped along the farm’s lanes. Her father narrated the crop rotations, the weather facts, the old Native American lore that gave the place so much history and flavor, and all the while Sloane’s center throbbed as David’s leg pressed to hers, as his forceful hands held her waist, or stole a touch of a bouncing breast or bottom. She wanted it to be dark, so they could crawl into a tent together and make love.