One Night With the Billionaire (Men of the Zodiac)

by Sarah Ballance

  He laughed. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who doesn’t like being stalked by the salespeople.” He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and gave her a sideways look. “Just a regular department store? Are you sure?”

  “A regular high-end one. They need to sell gowns.”

  He shook his head. “You might be the only woman on earth who’d rather shop at a department store than the international brands.”

  She frowned. “You’re not worried I’ll look frumpy next to you, are you?”

  “Nope” he said as he tapped his phone screen. “I’m trying to find something far enough away.”

  “Away from what?”

  “Away from here.” He laughed. “You know, to make sure the cab ride is long enough.”

  Tempting as more sex would be, Ryder couldn’t bring himself to maul Zoe in an environment that smelled vaguely of cabbage and salami. Also, he couldn’t be sure someone else’s bodily fluids weren’t already hanging out on the back seat, nor could he stand the idea of bare skin—hers, his—touching any surface available to them. Maybe he’d gotten more discriminating after all.

  That, or he was just still in shock.

  He couldn’t believe she hadn’t jumped on a blank check to one of the high-end boutiques. On some lesser level, the move fit her. She’d taken his wealth in stride and saved the orgasms for the sex, which was as it should be, but he couldn’t fathom that he might have actually found a woman more interested in him than she was his wallet.

  One who had, upon arriving at a department store, taken less than an hour to settle on a dress. She’d claimed the gown was beautiful, but he figured it was her. She could wear a sack and take his breath, but seeing her in the dress was like a mule kick to the gut. Every eye at the gala would be on her. The event was closed to the press and attendance was exclusive, but that exclusive crowd included members of the United States Senate. Someone would recognize her. He just hoped they wouldn’t recognize his increasingly muddled feelings. He’d have to avoid looking at her. All night. Not likely.

  “Are you okay?”

  He blinked her into focus. She had her hair pulled back. Sunglasses on. A dress that, though not immodest, couldn’t hide her curves. Fucking gorgeous. “You want to stay overnight?”

  “You’re not worried about getting ready for the opening?”

  “It’s taken care of.”

  “So we just…stay in Saint Lucia?”

  “Babe, we’ll rock Saint Lucia.”

  She grinned. Rocked him. “What do you have in mind?”

  “How about we get a room with a view, then we leave the curtains open.”

  “Do I at least get dinner first?”

  “You can have anything you want.”

  He waited for her to say she wanted him. That she could leave her life behind if he asked, but then he realized he couldn’t do the same for her. Of course, he might not get the choice if Zoe’s father found out about their affair and pulled the trigger on the contract.

  “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

  “I don’t know where I am,” he said. Honest to a fault. “Don’t know where we’re going. Just want to go there with you.”

  She leaned into him, nudging him off balance. “Could you just, I don’t know, be an ass?”

  “Can’t be anyone other than me, but most people would say that qualified.” He flagged down yet another cab, then told the bewildered, bemused driver to take them to the best hotel on the island. Handing the driver a couple of hundreds, he added, “And don’t scare me on the ride over.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Miniature golf.

  Really?

  Zoe lifted the damp remains of her ponytail off her neck and watched as Ryder sank a par 3 in one shot. “That might be considered obnoxious in some circles, you know.”

  He grinned. Not even lopsided, just straight and perfect and impossible to forget. “Must be your lucky day.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Did you not ask me to be an ass?” His smug, perfectly ass-like expression suggested he had the part nailed.

  She narrowed her eyes but couldn’t stop her own smile. “When it’s cute, it’s not being an ass. It’s endearing.”

  “So what you’re saying is you like it when I own you on the golf course.”

  “Easy there, big talker. This isn’t exactly regulation PGA, and you’re not owning me.” She leaned down and scooped the balls out of the hole. “I think I’m only three strokes down.”

  He took his when she offered and did one of those slow visual tours of her body that made her quiver inside. “If you want strokes, I can give you strokes.”

  “Keep your strokes. I think I prefer a good hard thrust.” She smiled sweetly and attempted to brush past him, making it two whole steps before he caught her and caged her against the faux rock wall that lined the course. She was surprised to learn it was soft, like hard foam. Probably the result of a lawsuit after some terror of a kid bumped his head on a real rock. Convenient now that she was pinned against the wall at the thirteenth green, getting half soaked by a chlorinated waterfall that tumbled into a water element.

  “What I think,” he practically growled into her ear, “is that you prefer a good hard fuck.”

  “Yeah that’s…not…gonna…”

  He’d reached under her dress and, despite his threat, the single finger that curled through her was gentle. Like he was stroking a kitten. Then he got his thumb involved and instantly hit pay dirt. She practically shot up the wall, orgasm already threatening.

  “You’re drenched,” he said.

  “All this water…”

  “You’re drenched for me.”

  “Could you not?” she sputtered. “This is a family establishment.”

  “This family establishment is closed to the public, at least until we leave.” To her puzzlement, he added, “I paid the guy not to let anyone else in, and the last group ahead of us left a few minutes ago. Now where we were?”

  She didn’t have a chance to answer. He let her go long enough to open his fly and tear open a condom, because of course everyone brought a condom to play mini golf, and then picked her up, holding her by the hips, guiding her onto his erection.

  She thought she knew what to expect. She should have known, because they’d made a very real habit out of this, but the jolt that shot through her when he filled her had her gasping air, which was full of water thanks to their proximity to a water fall. She was a sputtering drowned rat getting nailed by a sex god in the middle of…

  “You all right?”

  “Closed or not, we. Are. In. Public.”

  He flashed a deviant grin she couldn’t wait to taste. “Better hurry then.”

  She thought she’d seen every side of him. The slow, sensual soap opera sex. The ass-smacking kind. That of the tie me down and make me scream variety. The kind a few thousand feet in the air. And now, this rutting beast thing that was probably supposed to happen exclusively to strangers in bars who had gotten a little too close on the dance floor. Only the thrill that shot through her wasn’t cheap, and they weren’t strangers. Not by a long shot.

  Clutching at his back was useless. Shoulders were a big nope. Whatever rhythm he had going on, she’d sooner throw herself over the man-made waterfall at her back than ruin his action, so she steadied herself with her hands against the foam rocks and let him roll his hips against her. The sweet, punishing grind he orchestrated against her clit had nothing on Duracell. She came hard and fast, no idea what was going on with him, only that if he, too, lost touch with gravity they’d end up on the wet ground, passed out, at least until some employee came along and took a cheap shot with a putter.

  Oh. God.

  “There are people here. They probably have cameras.” She wriggled down, finding her feet and just as quickly finding them useless.

  Ryder caught her before she fell.

  He silenced her with a kiss. The kind that had her trying to re
member how far they were from their hotel. “Relax, princess. You kept your clothes on. No one saw anything but that look on your face, and as soon as I can feel my legs I’d like to see what I can do about seeing it again.”

  “You are insatiable.”

  “Your fault. I have never been that way before.”

  She straightened her clothes and peeked from around the rock. The place really was deserted. She relaxed a notch. “So what you’re saying is I’m the first woman who hasn’t satisfied you?”

  “To the contrary,” he said as he stuffed the anaconda back in his pants, “you’re the first I can’t taste enough. First one who says my name and makes me want to hear it again and again. First one I—”

  “I get it, cowboy. You like me.” And she liked every word that came from that sensual, dirty mouth of his—she liked them too much. How the hell was she going to go home? Easy. Your whole life is there. Because even if he asked her to stay—which he had not—she could not live her entire life in a perpetual spring break. She had a job and a law firm and…okay, not so easy. But required. Ryder might be up there in international playboy status, but she had rent to pay, and the parts of DC where a single woman could walk at night didn’t come cheap.

  He kissed her, hard and fast on the lips. “I more than like you, sweetheart. Get used to it.”

  The words, playful as they were, hit her in a dark place. She couldn’t afford to get used to it. She couldn’t afford to be more than liked, whatever that meant.

  “Want to play the next hole?”

  Was he serious? She shot him a look, a bit relieved to see he was holding their putters and clearly referring to golf. Probably. Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like get out of here before the cops arrive.”

  Ryder shook his head and laughed, but he took her hand and led her to the exit, where he got a hearty wink from the guy who collected their putters.

  Yep, they’d totally been on camera. No doubt about that now.

  Ryder pulled out his wallet and handed the guy a few bills. Ben Franklin stared accusingly from the top of the pile. As Ryder handed over the cash, he said, “Thanks, man.”

  “I thought you already paid him,” she said as they walked away. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful or embarrassed or—

  “Nope.”

  Relieved. Yep, that was it.

  “I paid him to close the place down when we got there. That, princess, was the tip.”

  By the time they arrived back at Latitude 13 the following day, the sun was down, the island dark. Ryder’s idea to escape the island’s vibe had seemed like a good one at the time, but it failed. Miserably. They’d meshed. They worked.

  She was perfect.

  Fucking perfect.

  He knew that before he took her in his bed that night. Knew it was a mistake. Knew it wasn’t fair to her because that whole just sex concept had been convoluted and twisted into a knot and he’d tied her to the bed with the damned thing, and then he’d owned her with it.

  But it couldn’t be just sex, and his resolve to keep it that way had long faded.

  She lay in the bed next to him. Moonlight cloaked her bare skin, kissing every perfect inch. Her soft breaths reminded him she was real, that he wasn’t caught in some hell of a dream where he had everything he ever wanted but it was just out of reach.

  Not a dream, but the bitter fucking truth.

  Emotionally shredded, he eased out of bed. Found the document he’d signed that took her away from him. That, along with her picture, he’d kept within reach all these years. Not because he was pining over her like some love-wrecked schmuck, but because there were times he needed to look back. To find value in how far he’d come. To know he’d made it.

  But now, with her in his bed, he realized he hadn’t gone as far as he thought he had. When she left, he’d be that same fucked-up loner, only now he’d know what he was missing. In that moment, he almost understood his old man. When Ryder’s mom took off, his dad had looked for salvation in the bottom of a bottle. Whether or not he found it, Ryder didn’t know, but Ryder had the sense to know he’d rather live the rest of his life with the memories than try to drown them in alcohol.

  “Ryder?”

  He dropped the contract and went immediately to the woman stretched out in his bed, all smooth skin and tangled sheets. He didn’t ask what she wanted.

  He knew.

  He crawled across the bed, scooping her into his arms. Held her. Kissed her. Made love to her. Tomorrow would come, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  But he could hold on to tonight for all it was worth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ryder’s room felt like hallowed ground.

  Zoe hesitated in the doorway, not entirely sure she should enter. He hadn’t shut the door after he’d left that morning, much less locked it, but it was his private space.

  It’s not like you were shy last night. Or this morning.

  She flushed hot, but more from pleasure than embarrassment. They’d probably still be in bed if not for an issue with one of the vendors, but Ryder had a resort to run. And she, meanwhile, had an earring to find. It hadn’t any particular meaning until she’d lost it in Ryder’s bed. Some people took coasters and matchbooks.

  Zoe wanted the earring that had spent the night with Ryder Nash.

  The bedding seemed the logical place to start. The duvet had landed in a heap on the floor, so she started with it, lifting and shaking it gently. When she’d worked her way through the entire thing to no avail, she laid it on the table and started on the sheets. To her relief, she found the diamond pendant under one of the pillows, then eyeballed the bed. She should probably change the sheets, but she wasn’t going to dig through his closet to see if he had extra linens in there, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to call Aggie for a fresh set. That left making the bed, which she did quickly. When she pulled the duvet from the table, it didn’t come alone. A flurry of documents came with it.

  Great.

  She tossed the duvet on the bed, then bent to pick up the papers she’d scattered, doing her best to straighten them without looking too closely at what they held. But one name caught her eye. Davenport Law. That was her firm. Why the hell would he have anything written on her letterhead?

  She dropped the offending papers on the table and tried to walk away, but her feet didn’t move. Too many questions swirled, especially once she recognized the font on the letterhead to be one of the older typesets. Her father had updated it when she joined the firm, which meant it had to be at least three years old. She could think of any number of reasons Ryder might need an attorney, but many people in circles far less affluent than his kept lawyers on retainer. Ryder, with his assets, probably had a whole team working for him. Unless he and her father had purposefully hidden the relationship, she knew with a degree of certainty that team did not include her firm.

  The answer to her questions lay directly in front of her…with her name on it. She blew a frustrated breath, then snatched the page from the table before she could talk herself out of it. This agreement made this day between Ryder Nash and Edgar Davenport…

  The document was dated ten years ago, high school graduation day. She scanned it quickly, then read it again. And again. When the words finally sank in, she wasn’t sure with whom she was angrier—Ryder, for letting her father buy him off, or her father, for once again trying to control her life. Or maybe that was the time that started it all. Got rid of the boy next door easily enough…now let’s find a senator for her to marry and make us all look good.

  Neither man had given her a chance, but at least Ryder had an excuse. He’d gotten quite the payout, especially considering he’d never touched her. He’d touched her now, though, and according to the document he’d signed, the cost was that of his entire net worth.

  Was he crazy?

  A small part of her was angry he hadn’t told her, but even she had to admit there hadn�
�t exactly been an opening in the conversation for such a revelation. Plus there was the matter of the NDA, and as an attorney, she knew better than most how damaging it would be to break the terms. He hadn’t owed her anything then, and he couldn’t know either one of them would come to…this.

  But he knew it now.

  He had told her they couldn’t be in a relationship. That too many people depended on him. He’d told her a dozen times he couldn’t have her, that it was somehow illegal. He hadn’t done that ten years ago.

  He’d done that yesterday.

  Maybe all his concerns about keeping her off the radar weren’t for her, but for himself. The fewer people who knew about her, the lesser the chance of her father finding out about that stupid contract. Tears stung her eyes. Ryder may not have sold her out then, but he sure as hell wasn’t risking anything now.

  “Zoe.”

  She spun to the sound of Ryder’s voice, the document still clutched in her hand. “What is this?”

  His gaze tracked to the paper she held, then back to her face. Calmly, he asked, “Rhetorical question?”

  His indifference only added fuel to her myriad of emotions. “You were paid to stay away from me?”

  “You can’t be mad about that,” he said evenly. “He gave me a chance, and I took it. You never wanted anything to do with me back then anyway.”

  Anger, frustration, and hurt swirled until she didn’t know what she felt. Hadn’t a clue. “I wanted…never mind. Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  He shrugged. “What would be the point? I violated the agreement. Your father might have made an ass move, but he thought he was protecting you. And I wouldn’t be where I am today without the money he paid me to leave town.” His expression softened. “He’s not on the wrong side of the law here, Zoe. I am. And putting you in the middle would have gotten us nowhere.”