I ponder her words. They hit very close to my most sensitive secret, but then I realize she’s right. Even without the king-size ransom being held over my head—yes, I often refer to the inheritance that would make me a billionaire as a ransom—I still don’t need to win money. When my dad died, I received a small inheritance and I’ve been smart with my cash. I’ve gone to great lengths to ensure I never have to give in and fulfil the ransom conditions.
“What would you do if you won?”
Jill sighs and tucks her card away, her purchase complete. “I guess it depends on the amount. A million dollars would make sure I could put some money aside for Jack in case something happened to me. That’s something I worry about. It would make us comfortable. I’m pretty good with money so I think we’d live a nice life with that kind of cushion.”
“Hmm.” I drink my beer, not willing to think too hard about the fact that I could give her that life cushion without any more effort than signing a marriage certificate. All I’d have to do is swallow my pride and meet the ransom terms.
Her eyes light up and she has my attention, again. “This week is one hundred million, though. Can you imagine getting all that money in one go?”
The excitement in her voice makes me smile. “I try not to imagine it but tell me what you’d spend it on. It’s a lot of cash.”
“Oh, I don’t even need to think about it.” She snorts and throws a green chick pea into her mouth. Whose idea was it to turn those green and roast them? I pick the platter up and hand it to a passing waiter this time, as Jill shares her plans. “I already know what I’d do. First, I’d allocate ten percent to charity. Ten million dollars could do a lot of good in the right hands. Maybe split it into ten separate donations of a million each.” She stares at the dance floor where people are moving the furniture out of the way. “Then I’d make sure all of Mum and Peter’s debts were paid. I’d buy Jack and me a custom home, designed so he could reach every single part of it in his wheelchair. Oh, and I’d buy him the top of the line chair. I dream about that thing.” She glances back at me, frowning as her hand reaches out to find the snacks are gone. “Even though the one he has is pretty great. We had to fundraise for three months to get it for him. After that I’d invest the rest and we’d live off the interest. I’d like to build housing for homeless people, too. God, I could go on all night with ways to do some real long-lasting good.”
“Sounds like some pretty great plans. Nothing for you?”
“Hmm, not really. Maybe a nice holiday.”
“You don’t think it would change you?” In my experience vast quantities of money change everyone. Except maybe for the guys. Most of them still have their feet firmly on the ground. So far.
“I’d like to hope it wouldn’t. I think if you get a lucky break like that, you just amplify your own personality. So, if you were already spendy, you’re just more spendy. If you were already a jerk, you’re a bigger jerk. If you’re sensible and want to spread joy, then those attributes will be the ones that grow.”
“That’s a nice way to look at it. I’ve found people with money like to control other people. A lot.”
“The voice of real-life experience?” She turns her head sideways, examining my face.
“Uh-huh.” I keep my answer non-committal. I have no intention of telling her anything. I’m not big-mouth Sayer.
“I don’t think I’d turn into a controlling witch. With that kind of money, I bet I could hire a private jet and make the whole travelling with a wheelchair thing a lot less problematic. Yeah,” she smiles at me, a sparkle in her eye, “that’d be pretty awesome. Jack loves planes. I’d love him to take a trip that didn’t include a whole lot of fuss, for once.”
“You must miss him.”
She nods and I worry for a moment that she’s going to cry. A sniff and the tears in her eyes subside. “I do. It’s been three months since I’ve seen him. We’ve talked via video, of course, but it’s not the same. I’m looking forward to spending quality time with him. At least until the new job starts.”
“And when is that?” Talking to her about normal things makes me feel so relaxed. Or maybe it’s the beer.
“Two weeks. It’s not long, but it will have to do.”
“We had plans to buy a private jet. If it goes ahead I’ll make sure you can take Jack somewhere special. Get you that great holiday.” The moment the words are out of my mouth I realize my mistake. My arm freezes mid-air, then I take a quick gulp of beer and put my bottle on the table, steering my own eyes to the people now gathering on the dance floor.
She doesn’t let it pass, just like I knew she wouldn’t. I’m not that lucky.
“You’re buying a private jet?”
“Oh, not me. A group of friends are chipping in to get one. They’re going to share it for business.”
“Yes, but you said ‘we’.”
Damn it. What is wrong with me at the moment? The path to safety is surely to tell the truth. I don’t want to lie to her, but I can’t exactly tell her everything. “I was going to chip in, too.”
Jillian lets out a low whistle. “So, I was right about you not needing a windfall.”
“Sorry.” A couple dance past us decked out in shiny green top hats and masses of green beads. They laugh and spin around, each of them sporting shiny green shoe laces in their boots. “I didn’t mean to sound conceited.”
“You didn’t.” She laughs as green balloons are released onto the dance floor. The crowd is hyped up on green food colouring by now and they all start kicking the balloons. I laugh, too, as we watch adults fighting over cheap party decorations. Jill slips from her stool and holds out her hand. “Want to dance, soldier?”
Chapter Nine - Jillian
Dancing with Everett is like a bandage over my raw nerves. We find ourselves a corner of the dance floor, where people aren’t screaming and kicking balloons, and he slips his arms around me without a moment of hesitation. I didn’t expect that. I expected us to dance separately, in time to the music, moving with the crowd. Instead, he invited me into our own little bubble, and I swear we’re swaying in time to the beat of my heart.
I smile into his chest at that fanciful thought. I’ve definitely had one too many beers. I don’t care, though. I’ll take these moments pressed against him and tuck them away for examination at a later date. Right now, I sigh and lean my head on his chest, my cheek rubbing against the fabric of his shirt.
He’s gentle with me. Probably to protect his hands inside his swaddling. Whatever the reason, I pretend that it’s because he likes me. He has no way to know it, but his words hit home earlier.
I do yearn for someone to care for me.
The responsibility of being a single parent to Jack weighs heavily and I worry every month about how I’m going to provide for him long-term. My dreams of winning the lottery might have sounded like fantasies to Everett, but I could explain them in such detail because I’ve laid awake at night dreaming about what it would be like. To just once catch a financial break. To give Jack a special surprise—something that wasn’t a necessity to do with his illness—and watch his eyes light up. A frivolous gift, for no reason other than—just because.
We sway together through several songs, Everett’s arms holding me tight. The music changes but our movements don’t. I could stay here like this all night. Soon I’ll have to think about making my way home and putting an end to this closeness.
Not just yet, though. I’ll take a few more minutes to pretend this is more than two old friends catching up.
Several songs later, our slow dancing turns into a kiss. I don’t plan to kiss him, but it feels natural—and right. My insides flutter and I resist the urge to laugh. The memories of the couch at Tammy Mather’s house come flooding back and I wonder if I’ll think about this kiss as long as I did that last one.
Everett winces a little, when I squeeze his hand, his lips pulling away from mine. “Easy, tiger. The paws aren’t up to any rough stuff.” We laugh and he puts
his arm behind my back, guiding me back to our table. I pull my phone out and I’m surprised to see it’s after midnight. We’ve danced for over an hour, but the time flashed by as though it were just minutes.
“So.” Everett moves closer, his eyes glued to mine. “I’m scared to ask you this and ruin a lovely evening, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Hmm.” Excitement courses through me and I say a silent prayer to St Patrick, even though I’m not Irish. Please Sir. Let Everett invite me home with him. Just let me be his for one night.
“I’m staying next door. Can I interest you in another drink up in my room?”
Sanity rushes back into my brain before I answer, and all the sensible thoughts fly through my head.
I’m a mother.
My own mother is sick in the hospital.
Everett and I just met because school doesn’t count, does it?
Then the naughty thoughts take over. I can’t stop them as they stomp all over the sensible ones who were intent on upholding my virtue.
I find him attractive.
I’m safe with him.
He wants me.
I’m horny as hell.
“I’d love that,” I breathe. “Let’s go.”
We stroll next door arm in arm, because holding his bandaged hand would be weird, but I want to maintain the closeness between us. While I do that I can pretend this is more than the one night we both know it is. No matter how comfortable I feel with him, I’m still awkward. I don’t make a habit of going home with men. Not ever.
I catch the upmarket brand as we approach the entrance and a doorman appears, holding it open as we pass. “Good evening Mr Porter,” he says, and my eyes widen. I look at Everett, but he just smiles as though this is normal for him. Who knows? Maybe he is used to this kind of treatment.
The elevator is almost as beautiful as a hotel room, with sparkling mirrors and an understated chime to alert us we’ve reached our floor. Everett leads the way, expertly inserting the key, and stepping back to let me enter. Inside it’s like a palace. “This is way too nice to be a hotel room.” I smile as he leaves the lights dimmed and crosses the room to close the curtains.
“I think you can buy a floor, or something, here.”
“Wow. Living in a hotel seems like a bit of overkill. Imagine the expense every time you needed to do laundry.”
Everett laughs and turns back to me, his finger beckoning. “Come here, green snack-eating woman.”
I walk toward him, admiring his features in the half light. How did I get so lucky to be here with him tonight? “Okay, mystery man, spill. How is it you’re in the army yet the doorman of this very fine establishment just called you by name?” I slide my hands around his neck and press myself against him. “I think you might be more well off than you think. Or at least than you’ve let on.”
I’ve hit a nerve. Where he was relaxed, now his back is stiff. Where he was smiling, now his lips are pressed into a line. His carefree stance has been replaced with closed features and I worry he’s changed his mind. “Hey,” I say, caressing his cheek. “Ignore me. I was joking.”
“Sorry.” He takes a breath and I watch him make himself relax. It’s fascinating and if I wasn’t intent on getting him into bed I’d love to examine just what happened here. That’s a job for another day, and, lucky for me, his actions say he agrees. Before I can say anything else, his warm lips press against mine and all the feelings that overwhelmed me on the dance floor are back. His hands go to the buttons of my shirt and he sighs.
I snicker and let a tiny giggle escape. I can’t help it!
He grins. “I’m afraid you’ll have to undress yourself,” he murmurs into my ear. “Possibly you’ll have to undress me, too.” There’s humour in his voice as it glides over me in the dark. I step away and slowly undo my buttons, one by one, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. He licks his lips as he watches. I drop my shirt to the floor, then slide my skirt down, stepping out of it so I’m standing before him in my underwear and high heels. “They didn’t lie when they said I was lucky this week. My luck just keeps getting better.”
Our laughter fills the room as he takes my hand and leads me to an open doorway. A king size bed awaits, and I waste no time pushing him backward. We continue our leisurely kiss as I undo his pants and let them drop.
I’m so relaxed I could melt onto the floor with them.
Finally, he wraps his hands around me and deepens the kiss. My insides twist and the excitement running through me encourages me to be bold. My hands slide over his cheeks, holding him to me, our tongues making contact, pulling away, then reconnecting.
Kissing Everett Porter is everything I remember, and more.
Chapter Ten - Jillian
Everett pulls away and the loss of contact is like a bucket of cold water thrown over me. “Sorry, umm,” he mumbles and slides off the bed. He paces to the door and back as I sit up. I’m naked, and I’m not having sex, so I’m immediately self-conscious. I yank the sheet up to cover my breasts.
What the hell is going on?
‘I just want to be clear about something.” There’s not much light in the bedroom but I can see his eyes. They’re wide and filled with anguish. They keep my attention away from his body since he’s naked too. “I’m sorry. This will make me sound like a complete dick.”
“No, by all means, tell me. You have my full attention, and I can hardly stand not to know what was so important it couldn’t wait two minutes.” Sarcasm drips from every word and to his credit he doesn’t miss my dig.
“Ooh, mean. I deserved that.” He drops to his knees in front of me and I can’t help but raise my eyebrows. I can imagine how unimpressed I look. He better spit out whatever is wrong or I’ll abandon this attempt at being intimate. I let down my guard for the first time in more than a year and now it’s biting me big time. I thought tonight would end in bliss, but it looks like we’re going to have an argument, instead. “Look, I just want to make sure that this is a casual thing. I don’t want to lead you on.”
The incredulous laugh that escapes my lips has him looking shamefaced, as he should. I grit my teeth before I answer. “You want me to confirm this is a late night hook-up and nothing more?” My back is stiff as I answer. I’m annoyed, even though this was just a hook-up for me, too. “
“This is entirely my fault. I never get involved. I don’t play house. I never commit.” He sighs and runs his bandaged hand through his hair. A grimace follows and he holds his hand in front of him like he forgot he had an injury. “I never sleep with anyone I know, but I’ve gotten to know you these last few days. Worse than that, I like you.”
“You like me, and that’s a bad thing?” I edge toward the end of the bed, my eyes cruising over the carpet, searching for my clothes. I can see my bra, but there’s no sign of the rest. I know my shoes are in the other room, kicked off as we headed in here with our mouths fused together. My clothes are out there somewhere by the sofa.
“Yes, it’s a bad thing.” He groans and bends to get my underwear. “I can see you want to escape. Here.”
The pile of material lands beside me on the bed and I gaze at it for a moment. If I get dressed, that’s the end of tonight. No release for me. Well, not with this military man, anyway. I can still make a joke and play this situation off as a mistake, and probably talk him into continuing. It’s an option but I think I might hate myself in the morning. From the look on his face, there’s a third choice in front of me. It’s not the smoothest of the three, but the nurse inside me won’t let me push it aside. With huge effort, I yank the sheet free of the bed and wrap it around me, pulling it across the floor as I get up and walk toward him.
“Do you want this to continue?”
“Yes, of course. I wasn’t trying to get rid of you. I just had an attack of conscience.”
“Does that happen often?” I stand before him, not touching him.
He shakes his head. “No. Never. We should not have spent time togethe
r the last couple of days.”
“What’s the absolute basis for your freak out? Your ground zero if you like?”
He stares at me and I decide he’s not going to answer. I open my mouth to rephrase my question when four words blurt from his mouth. “You have a child.”
I take a step back, shock making my back stiffen again. “Sorry?” My tone is icy.
“Don’t take that the wrong way. You have the most gorgeous curves I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s not that I don’t find you attractive. Even now I wish I’d just shut up and kept going.” He raises a hand, his palm upturned, but I take a step back. “A child complicates things. You have obligations. Priorities. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t stepping into something neither of us was prepared for.” He flops on the bed, the energy drained from him. “I don’t want to cause you any angst when you have enough on your plate.”
I shake my head, sympathy smothering my annoyance at what I initially perceived to be him saying I was fat. “Jesus. You sure are one twisted-up-in-knots guy.” I drop to the bed beside him. “I thought I made it clear I wasn’t looking for anything permanent.”
“Ugg.” His guttural sound of frustration makes me smile. We should have x-rayed him while he was in the hospital. He’s practically a pretzel inside. “You did make it clear. I’m an idiot.” He leans on one elbow and looks at me. “I’m sorry. I just really like you. Hence, me cocking this up so spectacularly.”
“Well, you have made a cock up of things, but I’ll give you one more chance. We ate all that green food and drank all that green beer. The least that can happen is you get to win the bet with your friend.”
He grins at me, and his eyes relax, the little lines at the corners smoothing slightly. He reaches out, his fingers slipping behind my neck and pulling me toward him. Our lips meet, again, and I immediately want more. I let my eyes close and part my lips, letting his tongue take up the exploration he managed to ruin a few minutes earlier. I smile on the inside as I realize his kiss will always be familiar. His warm lips move against mine with just the right amount of pressure. His fingers move on the back of my head, keeping me close as we enjoy taking a moment to reconnect.
The Billionaire's Luck (Secret Billionaire's Club Book 2) Page 4