One Night With the Billionaire (Men of the Zodiac)

by Sarah Ballance

  “Let the record show—that’s attorney talk, right?” When she rolled her eyes and nodded, he continued. “Let the record show you’ve assigned me to be your bodyguard. And if I’m not mistaken, I think that makes checking you out part of my official duties.”

  “So what’s my excuse for checking you out?” As soon as she spoke, she nearly slapped her hand over her mouth. Her drink had gone from relieving stress to causing it, but the look on his face made the flash of embarrassment worth it.

  “You don’t need one, princess. I spent too many years wishing you’d see me.”

  This guy had flirting all wrong. Too sweet. Too thoughtful. Too much like something he’d already said he couldn’t be. “Did you not earlier bemoan the way I used to look down on you? Because my window was above your head, as previously discussed?”

  “Have you taken off your shoes?”

  She looked toward the sky and kicked off her sandals, then tried not to melt when he took her free hand and playfully dragged her to the water’s edge. When the first surge hit her feet, she squealed, expecting cold, then realized how warm it was. “Wow.”

  “Eighty-two degrees. It feels warmer at night when the air temperature dips.”

  “It feels incredible.”

  They stood, face to face, just a few inches away from full body contact. His hold on her shifted, her fingers winding through hers. He tugged her a step closer, and in low, dangerous tones, said, “I shouldn’t be here with you.”

  In her little euphoric bubble, the words registered slowly. Shouldn’t be here with you. A thousand possible reasons converged, all valiantly trying to save her heart from the ache that crawled in, but they didn’t matter. For reasons she didn’t fully comprehend, his words stung.

  “But,” he added, “I don’t really give a fuck.”

  When she met his eyes, he was already looking at her. And when she froze, he tugged at her hand one more time until she landed against him. His lips at first brushed hers softly, then with more intensity. With possession. And when he deepened the kiss and dropped her hand to press the small of her back, she finally got the chance to ease her fingers through his hair. But her attempt at polite exploration went to hell when he dragged her fully against him and kissed her deeper still.

  Her frantic heartbeat belied the gentleness of his touch. Slow and lazy, teasing and tender, he found every corner of her soul with that kiss. In a world as vast as the sea swirling at her ankles and unending blanket of stars overhead, it was just the two of them. Just the softness of his lips contrasting wildly with an early hint of stubble on his jaw, and her irrepressible need to drink it in. His soapy scent tangled with the sea air, clean and fresh and free. The wet sand felt like silk between her toes, and the delicate pressure of his hand at her back like heaven. His fingers curled downward, flirting with the curve of her ass, but he didn’t go there.

  He didn’t go anywhere. He just lingered, a long, slow slide into torture.

  Whether the alcohol or the man, Zoe was suddenly hot. So hot. She wanted him to grab her and fulfill his every dirty fantasy. To take away the decision he never asked her to make. She was torn between taking off his clothes with her teeth and putting enough distance between them that she could take a deep breath—one not laced with his intoxicating scent—and figure out what the hell she was doing. Her desire to dodge scandal seemed a little too distant, her reasons for avoiding him too weak. She no longer needed space. She needed Ryder Nash working those long, agile fingers into her body while he owned her with his mouth. She wanted to know firsthand his strength, his passion.

  And instead he broke the kiss.

  “You take away my control,” he said gruffly, his lips brushing hers when he spoke. “You make me want to let you have it. To give every damn shred to you and just fall.” His arm tightened around her, erasing any potential for thinking the words were laced with regret.

  Did she want them to be?

  Just one night…

  She’d spent countless moments craving her bad-boy neighbor, and now he’d touched her. Tasted her. And it wasn’t enough. She didn’t care about his money. She never had been one of those women who chased assets, but now that she’d been humiliated by a growing number of that class, she despised them more than ever. And her ex…what had he been thinking? She’d once thought him a decent guy, but clearly he had an ego on him if he thought digital proof of his indiscretions wouldn’t go public. Zoe would have been a good wife, but she wouldn’t be a doormat. She wouldn’t be disrespected. She wouldn’t—

  “Where are you, Zoe?”

  She looked into Ryder’s clear blue eyes and found salvation. They brought her back to a time when her life had been her own—when she dreamed of being something other than the attorney her father insisted she become, or of marrying a man who had a rebellious streak. Not a man in early midlife crisis mode who got off doing interns twenty years his junior, but one who could look at her the way Ryder did and send white lightning through her veins.

  “I’m here,” she whispered. “With you.”

  He traced the length of her spine with his free hand, his touch light. Evoking chills. He immediately drew her in, to the solid warmth of his body. “I’m not usually afraid of making mistakes,” he said, his low tone matching hers, “but I don’t want to make one with you.”

  He thinks this is a mistake. The realization landed like a rock in the pit of her stomach, but before the impact spread to her limbs, his lips touched hers. Then his hand was in her hair and his tongue in her mouth, and every piece of her begged for his touch. He was better than she’d imagined he could be. With a single touch, he possessed her, not trapping her with force, but leaving her clinging and needing and wanting. With all he gave her, she craved more—more of his lips on her neck and his body hardening into hers.

  “I’ve told myself a thousand times that I need to stay away from you,” he muttered through kisses. “Unprofessional. Inappropriate. But underneath all that potential for reason is one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I have wanted you for too damn long. I get away from you and take a breath, and I think I can walk away, but then you’re there, and something primal tears through me, and I want to make you scream.”

  An honest-to-goodness full-body shudder tore through her, leaving her grateful he held her up. Otherwise she might well have hit the ground, which wouldn’t have been such a terrible idea if he’d follow after her. A vision of her lying on her back, clutching uselessly at the sand while he tasted her, drove into her, did nothing for her growing bonelessness.

  “But I won’t do it, Zoe.”

  She blinked. He was still close, one hand caught in her hair, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke. Won’t do what? If he meant what she feared he meant, he was the reigning king of all mixed messages.

  “I won’t make you scream. Not tonight.” The confession, as it were, was a seduction in itself. He whispered the words against her neck, his body hot and hard against hers. His breath grazed her ear before he kissed the side of her mouth. He caught her lip and nipped, dodging her response by tugging on her hair and gently biting the expanse of neck he exposed.

  “W—why not?” Geez. Pathetic.

  “It’s not something I can legally discuss, except that too many people depend on me for me to go down that road, no matter how much I might want otherwise.” He punctuated the words by releasing her hair and kissing her gently on the lips. Then he took her hand and grabbed her shoes, carrying them in the same hand as his drink, and led her back to the cabana.

  To her own room.

  “Ryder?”

  He paused on his way out of the room.

  “You said you’d hit the ground hard twice, once with the stairs. What was the second time?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “It hasn’t for a long time.”

  Chapter Nine

  Three days and not one word from Ryder.

  Fresh from the shower, Zoe dropped onto the sofa in t
heir shared cabana and picked up the shirt he’d left lying there. In a move that was part stalker, part creeper, she held it to her chest and inhaled, living for a moment in his scent. Trying to push away the hurt she had no right to feel in the first place.

  He hadn’t come home, and she hadn’t seen him on the island. He’d left a note saying the orders were coming in early and asking if she was willing to work with Aggie to check the shipment. When the plane arrived, Hector, Carson, and Neil unloaded it and took care of the heavier items, while she and Aggie dressed windows, made beds, and folded towels. Every linen she touched was sumptuous. Ryder truly had created a paradise, so why wasn’t he in it? She’d paced the room, paced the beach, thinking of him. Of his words.

  Doesn’t matter.

  Why wouldn’t it matter? He said he couldn’t legally discuss the ramifications of sleeping with her. If that was supposed to dissuade her from wondering, it backfired. A simple no thanks would have sufficed, but instead it wasn’t legal? No sane person could let something like that go, let alone her—an attorney.

  Still, she’d killed her vibrator batteries thinking of his hands and mouth on her. Wracked her brain wondering what falling meant to him. Wondering how her life might have changed if she’d had the nerve to walk up to him a decade before and demand something for which she was still afraid to ask.

  Make me scream, Ryder.

  She missed him, the cloud of sex and seduction in which he seemed to exist. She gave herself every out. Tried to convince herself any man would do, that the fact she was too chicken to ask Aggie if there were any C batteries on the island was all that stood between Zoe and satisfaction. Tried to believe it had just been too long since anyone had truly wanted her. Coveted her. But the truth was, it had been far too long since she had wanted. Since her desires had had a face.

  And now that face was gone, along with the rest of him.

  It was going to be a long flight home. More and more, she wondered if she should take it.

  There was nothing about them that could last, but if she could toss aside her perfectly orchestrated—until recently, anyway—life and just feel, just for one night, she’d deal with the fallout later. She’d put the pieces back together when the resort and the white sand and the equatorial sun were all distant memories. Proof she’d for once taken a chance—a chance that would be her sustenance when she returned to her boring existence. Funny how back then she thought she had everything. A wildly successful career at a top law firm that was destined to be hers. Engagement to a powerful, highly-respected man. An enviable address in the best part of town. Prestigious friends…most of whom had turned their backs on her when her ex had been exposed.

  She blinked back an unexpected burn in her eyes. Since arriving at Latitude 13, she’d gained the unexpected. Getting over her ex had been easy—learning of multiple affairs had a way of quickly and effectively dousing the embers of a lukewarm attraction—but maybe the brunt of the impact just hadn’t hit her yet. She’d dodged a lot of reality by coming to the island, and Ryder’s being there swept her further from that world.

  But he didn’t want her. Not like she wanted him. His outrageous flirtations were probably just his normal way of relating to women who weren’t Aggie’s age. She should be grateful, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by his claim that too many people depended on him. Mr. Straightforward Sagittarian wasn’t exactly living up to his sign, at least not when it came to her.

  Behind her, the door opened. The softest of whispers, but in the quiet, the sound was unmistakable. She turned.

  Ryder.

  Cargo shorts, faded tee shirt that matched his eyes, and a horse’s ass tattoo.

  Sweet Jesus.

  Every cell in her body demanded to close the distance between them, but she could do nothing but stare. She wouldn’t have imagined she could forget how incredibly sexy he was, but despite the nonstop replay of every moment he’d ever graced her vision, her breath caught and her heart stopped.

  “Where have you been?” she asked. She felt a little clingy, and that startled her. Maybe if he hadn’t made a mystery of himself, she wouldn’t be sitting there turning over the questions in her mind.

  His pale blue eyes intensified to a fiery hue. “Trying to wrap my head around what’s happening between us.” He stepped closer, lowered his voice. Wrecked her. “Trying to talk myself out of touching every inch of your body until I own it—until there isn’t a single piece of you that doesn’t crave what I can do. Trying not to imagine you in my bed, trembling and sweating and screaming for release. Trying not to want it so damn bad.”

  “But what?” she asked, managing a hefty dose of sarcasm despite the thrilling, terrifying impact of his words. “People are depending on you?”

  After a tense moment, he turned and walked toward the window. “Yeah. That.”

  “And what exactly does that mean?”

  “It means I have responsibilities,” he said, spinning to face her. The Caribbean stretched behind him, its tranquility a sharp contrast to his tension. “It means I can’t want you, but I do. It means I’ve spent too much time wondering what would happen if I gave in. If one night would make the wanting go away, or if it would just make things worse.”

  “You’ve already established me as one night stand potential?” she bit back. “Classy. And yet not entirely unexpected.”

  His eyes flashed the color of a summer storm. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what I’m risking just by being here with you.”

  “Then why don’t you enlighten me?”

  “Because I can’t,” he said quietly.

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “I signed a non-disclosure agreement.”

  Oh. He didn’t have to tell her what that meant. The NDA meant legal consequences for whoever broke it. But… “What could I possibly have to do with your people and your NDA?”

  He shook his head, a humorless smile toying with his lips. “Does it matter?”

  “If I pose some kind of risk…” The words faded. None of it made any sense.

  “Not just a risk, Zoe.” He pushed his hand through his hair, drawing her attention to the throbbing in one temple. To the resolve on his face. In his eyes.

  “Then what?”

  “Giving in to this—being with you—could cost me everything.”

  She stared at him, unsure she’d heard him right. A thousand questions formed in her mind, but none crossed her lips. They didn’t have a chance.

  Because after a long moment, the entirety of which she remained speechless, he simply turned and left.

  Ryder hadn’t exactly been honest with Zoe.

  Every word he’d said was true, but he’d left a lot out. Like that he’d completely violated her privacy by digging into her life. He didn’t stir anything up, at least not anything more than the interest of his friend, Senator Knox Hamilton of Virginia, whose wife was a beltway reporter. He’d known Knox would undoubtedly have heard details a Google search wouldn’t turn up on a local scandal big enough to send a woman on the run. What Ryder learned had set him on his ass. Zoe’s ex was one of the biggest names on Capitol Hill, and that influence didn’t stop in the District. The scandal he’d gotten himself caught in would do a lot to derail that influence. And if Ryder got his name attached to that whole ordeal, it could give Zoe’s father the ammunition he’d need to start looking into Ryder’s relationship with Zoe—and how he could use it to legally wipe Ryder out financially.

  But still, he wanted her.

  He’d placed a call to his lawyer, who’d listened to the whole sordid story without a single interruption. Then the lawyer had shot him down with three words.

  “Assume it’s enforceable.”

  “It’s ridiculous.”

  “It may be, but you were of age and signed it in front of a notary. And no disrespect intended, but it’s not as if Davenport went in for the jackpot. The odds of him breaking even back then if you went after his daughter
were slim to none. He couldn’t have realistically expected to get his money back, let alone a billion-dollar profit.”

  Nothing his attorney said surprised Ryder, but that didn’t mean he was happy with the response. “What judge would hold that up?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Davenport is a top Washington attorney, and his daughter was engaged to a Senator who had White House potential until he got caught sexting and giving interns rides on his shiny desk. This guy makes Anthony Weiner look like a junior high school nuisance. Granted, the media is running out of new things to run on this story, but if this hits the headlines, what happens in court would be moot. You’ve done a good job of keeping a low profile, but something like this would paint you in an unfavorable light, which might scare off some of your targeted clientele.”

  His grip on his phone tightened. “It shouldn’t. I don’t have a criminal record. Never did a damn thing wrong but escape a situation no kid should have to endure to begin with.”

  The attorney’s sigh infiltrated the connection. “I agree. But you can’t untell the story once it gets out. People will think what they want, and you can count on a few bleeding hearts turning you into the jack of all asses for putting money before love.”

  Ryder snorted. “What love? I was eighteen. What does an eighteen-year-old kid know about love? Besides, there was never anything going on. I never even spoke to the man’s daughter.”

  “Good luck selling that one. Especially if the situation has changed, which I can only assume is what predicated your inquiry.”

  Fuck. He tried switching tactics. “This doesn’t exactly make Davenport look like a good guy, especially if he’s planning on wearing a robe. Any robe, let alone that of the Supreme Court. Maybe he’ll bury it for his own sake.”

  “Or he’ll spin it. Punk kid next door and the sainted virgin daughter? He’ll make himself a hero.”

  Ryder swore under his breath. “Bottom line?”

  “Your money? Give me a few days. I doubt there’s a clear-cut precedent on this one, but I’ll put a team on it.”