Beauty and the Brooding Billionaire

by Donna Alward

  But reality was hours away, and he wanted to absorb every moment he could. So he closed his eyes and imprinted the moment on his memory, until she woke up.

  * * *

  He didn’t mean to fall back asleep, but when he opened his eyes again, Jess was facing him with a soft smile on her face.

  “Good morning.”

  “Hi,” he answered. Her foot slid along his calf, just a light caress, but it instantly brought his body to attention. “Sleep well?”

  “Too well,” she laughed. “I think I got more than a full eight hours. I don’t remember the last time that happened.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows, and she laughed again. Maybe keeping it light was the way to go.

  “I think we wore each other out.”

  She blushed, and he loved it.

  A piece of hair had fallen over her cheek, and he reached out and tucked it back behind her ear. “So, what do you think? Room service?”

  “Why not?”

  “What do you like?”

  This time she wiggled her eyebrows, and he laughed. Lord, she was such a ray of sunshine. “Everything,” she answered.

  His brain took a direct trip back to last night, and his body wasn’t far behind. But while they’d been a bit crazed and frantic, he didn’t want to assume this morning would be a continuation. As much as he would like it to be. He pushed the thoughts aside as best he could and rolled to the night table, where he grabbed the folder containing the in-room dining guide. A few minutes later he’d ordered a veritable feast, due to be delivered in thirty minutes.

  She sat up, the sheets tucked under her arms, covering her breasts. “So...uh...want to shower before breakfast?”

  He swallowed tightly. “Together?”

  There was that blush again. The air of innocence around her was enchanting. She didn’t need to ask again; they made their way to the luxurious bathroom and spent five minutes cleaning up and fifteen finding mind-blowing pleasure. After they’d caught their breath and dried with the fluffy towels, they dressed in the hotel-provided robes and waited for their meal.

  When it came, he watched as she loaded her plate with French toast and fruit and bacon, then drizzled on enough maple syrup that it puddled under everything. He liked her so much. Liked just about everything about her. But as they shared a laugh over her love of the syrup, he realized something important.

  He didn’t love her. Or at least, he wasn’t in love with her. It came as a huge relief. He didn’t want to love again. And they were having fun, weren’t they? A summer fling.

  He bit into his omelet and frowned. Jeremy and Tori had a summer fling and look at them now. But that wouldn’t happen to him. Jess was on the pill, and so there wouldn’t be a surprise baby popping up. Even so, perhaps he’d be wise to stop at a pharmacy and grab some condoms just in case. There was no harm in doubling up, was there?

  “You okay, Bran?” Jess’s light voice interrupted his thoughts. “You look like you disappeared for a moment.”

  “I’m perfect,” he replied, feeling on surer ground now. “This is delicious. And so are you.”

  She blushed and he grinned. “What?” she asked, tilting her head a bit in that adorable way she had.

  “You blush a lot, and I like it.”

  The pink color deepened. “I blush at everything, so there.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He stood and leaned over the table to get a taste of her maple-sweet lips. “I still like it.”

  After breakfast they dressed in their clothes from the day before, and Bran dropped the key at the desk before they made their way to the parking garage. In no time, they were back on the highway and headed home. Bran’s heart felt lighter than it had in years, and he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music playing through the speakers. Jess told him about her agent wanting to set up a showing in the fall, and how much she was enjoying painting again. Truthfully, Bran couldn’t wait to get home and open his laptop. He wasn’t going to push, but he felt the urge to write, and he wanted to strike while the iron was hot. He’d always been a disciplined writer, working consistently but also riding a wave of inspiration when it hit.

  It seemed no time at all that they arrived at Jeremy’s, and he parked behind her car at the boathouse. He helped her take in her packages from the art store, and then hesitated on the threshold. “So, I’ll see you soon?”

  She nodded. “You know where I am.” Her smile was sweet. “I’ll be here, painting.”

  “Good.” He reached out and pulled her close again, kissing her lightly. “I had a really great time,” he murmured against her mouth.

  “Me, too.”

  He left her standing there on the porch, and found himself whistling as he slid behind the wheel of his car and backed out of the lane, heading home once more.

  * * *

  Jess changed out of her dress and into more comfortable clothes—denim capris and a T-shirt—then organized her new supplies and studied the painting she had been working on for a week. She was happy with how it was progressing, and she spent an hour and a half working on it, trying to focus. But something wasn’t quite right.

  She stepped back and thought for a moment, and then, to her surprise, she rushed forward and removed the canvas from the easel and replaced it with a fresh one.

  Something else was calling to her right now. She pulled out the photo of the first day, and then the sketch she’d done, and knew she had to paint it. The one with Bran looking out to sea.

  For a moment she rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. Two nights with a man and suddenly he was her subject? And yet, she’d been drawn to that moment time and again over the last few weeks. The loneliness telegraphed in his body language, in the gray sea beyond him and the weary lighthouse. A thread of excitement wound through her as she started the process of turning canvas to art. She forgot the time, forgot to eat, forgot everything but the work until there was a knock on her door.

  She checked her watch, shocked to discover it was almost four in the afternoon. She removed her apron as she made her way to the door, and opened it to find Tori on the other side, a frown immediately replaced by a relieved smile as she saw Jess in the doorway.

  “Oh, good, you’re all right!” Tori slipped into the boathouse, leaving Jess feeling off balance. She’d been so swept up in work that the interruption had her head trying to catch up.

  “All right?” she parroted, following Tori into the main room.

  “I stopped by yesterday and you didn’t answer.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Jess laughed a little. “I went into Halifax for supplies.”

  Tori’s brow wrinkled. “You did? But your car was here. And I texted, too. Gosh, I hope I got the right number.”

  Jess felt the heat creep up her neck. She hadn’t even checked her phone since yesterday afternoon. She’d been utterly preoccupied—first with Bran and then with work.

  “How did you get to Halifax?” Tori asked, and the heat reached Jess’s ears.

  “Oh, um, Branson had some things to do so we went together. No biggie.” She smiled widely. “And it saved me from having to navigate the city. Bran’s much more familiar.”

  Tori’s face sobered. “You and Bran, huh?”

  Oh, Lordy. She had such a horrible poker face. “Yeah, well, we get along okay now.” A memory slid into her brain, of his face in the shower this morning, and she struggled to breathe. “At least he doesn’t hate me anymore.”

  “Oh,” Tori said, “no danger of that. He walked you home the other night.”

  “It’s no big deal,” Jess replied. And hoped beyond hope that Tori hadn’t seen his car yesterday morning.

  “Well, I’m hoping Jeremy and I didn’t make a mistake.” She rested her hand on the countertop. “We kind of pushed you two together, you know? Bran needed someone to shake him up a bit. But...” She peered into Jess
’s face. “It’s more than shaking up, isn’t it?”

  Jess had to make light of this. She really didn’t want Tori to butt in, or start asking more detailed questions. For one, she didn’t know how she’d answer. The last two nights had been amazing, but they’d also shaken her more than she wanted to admit.

  “I promise you have nothing to feel badly about. I like Bran, he likes me, and sometimes we spend time together without fighting.” Indeed. “Really, Tori, it’s no big deal.”

  “So you’re just enjoying each other’s company?”

  Jess let out a relieved breath. “Yes, that’s exactly it.”

  Tori tapped her finger on her lips. “Hmm. Okay. I’m going to shut up now because I don’t want to pry too deeply. I just...well, we love Bran, and I like you a lot, Jess. Jeremy and I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”

  The words were heartfelt, so Jess relaxed a little and motioned toward the tiny table and chairs. “Listen, sit down for a bit and let me get you a drink.”

  Tori did sit, and as Jess went to the fridge, she called out, “So where’s Rose this afternoon?”

  “Sleeping. Jeremy’s home and working in his office, with the baby monitor next to him.” Jess turned around and saw Tori smiling. “I love her to bits, but going somewhere, even for thirty minutes, without a baby and the requisite gear is so nice.”

  “You didn’t venture far,” Jess teased. “Soda water okay? I have some flavored stuff. Lemon lime or grapefruit.”

  “Ooh, grapefruit, please,” Tori replied. Jess retrieved two cans, opened them and poured them over ice before returning to the table. She sat across from Tori and tried to relax, though she was still feeling odd about the whole thing. She wasn’t accountable to anyone, but the night away was still more of a secret than anything, for the simple reason that she wanted to avoid questions.

  “You started a new painting,” Tori said, staring at the white canvas. “What’s this one?”

  “Actually, it’s from a photo I took the first day. Bran was looking out over the point, and he seemed so lost and lonely. The image hasn’t left me alone, so I figure it’s time to get started on it.”

  Tori’s voice was soft. “You really care for him, don’t you? Oh, Jess. I’m afraid we really did goof. I don’t want to see you fall for him, only to get hurt.”

  The consideration was genuine, and Jess patted Tori’s hand. “It’s fine. We like each other but neither of us is after anything serious. We’ve talked about it, Tori, so truly, don’t worry. I’m going to paint to my heart’s content, and at the end of the summer I’m going to head back home to my life. Besides, Bran is not in a relationship place. He’s still too hung up on his wife.”

  “I never knew her. Jeremy says she was lovely, though, and that they were very happy.”

  “Hard to compete with that.” She took a sip of her soda water. “Not that I want to. Still, we enjoy spending time together. That’s all there is.”

  And the sex, she thought, but didn’t say. She and Tori had become friends but weren’t quite close enough to be confidants of that sort.

  “So you aren’t falling in love with him?”

  “Of course not.”

  Jess said the words with confidence, but she knew deep down it wasn’t strictly true. No matter how often she repeated the words to herself—summer romance, short-term fling—she couldn’t erase the sight of Bran while they were making love, the intense expression on his face as he gazed into her eyes as if no one else existed. He was an extraordinary man, smart and sexy and deep, sometimes grouchy and other times sweet, and a man who knew how to love a woman with all his heart. Of course she was falling for him. Her head was in the clouds, and there was going to be an awful thud at the end. The difference was this time she wasn’t going to be blindsided. She saw it coming and could prepare.

  And yet, she looked at Tori and said, “Men like Bran don’t come along often. I’d be a fool not to spend whatever time I can with him. Even knowing the outcome.”

  Tori nodded and looked down in her glass, and looked up again, her eyes bright as if she might cry. “I felt the same way about Jeremy.” Her voice was soft and dreamy. “And I was fine after he left, mostly. Until he came back. You’re right, though. Bran isn’t ready for anything serious. As long as you know that, and you’re having fun...more power to you.”

  “I appreciate you caring, Tori, I do. But I’ve got this.”

  “Of course you do. You’re a strong woman. I think that’s why Bran likes you. None of those men are the kind who like pushovers.”

  “I think that’s a compliment.”

  Tori laughed. “The best kind. Now, I’d better get back up to the house. I truly am glad you’re okay. I was worried you’d got sick or something.”

  “I’m absolutely fine,” she replied. “But thank you for caring.” At least Tori hadn’t realized that Jess hadn’t returned home until this morning. The conversation had been personal enough without that information being out in the open.

  After Tori left, Jess made an early dinner since she’d missed lunch. She checked her email on her phone; no texts from Bran. That was okay. After the past forty-eight hours, maybe he needed time to process everything. She certainly did.

  Because she was falling for him, no question. But he didn’t need to know that. And neither did Tori.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BRAN LOOKED UP from his laptop and squinted. Ever since his return from Halifax, he’d either been embroiled in research, or working on the opening chapters of the new book. It had felt wonderful working again. The words weren’t quite flowing, but they were there, ready for him to pluck out of his brain and put them on the page. Now the story had a basic outline, he had pages full of notes and his master document had the better part of two full chapters written.

  Not long now, and he’d call his agent and tell him the good news. Maybe send him some pages. But right now, the light was dimming and he’d been working the better part of sixteen hours.

  He checked the date on the bottom right corner of the screen. Was that correct? Had he been back from Halifax for three days already? And he hadn’t heard from Jess. Not once. Nor had he texted.

  He hit the save button and slumped back in his chair. He wasn’t sure what to do about Jess, really. To say he wanted her was an understatement. Having sex again had been amazing...she was a good lover, sweet and generous and passionate. Their nights together had been wonderful, but he’d stayed quiet for two reasons. One, he’d gotten the bug to write and he wanted to catch the words while they were there, no longer out of reach. And two, it would be very easy to get wrapped up in her. Spending a few days regaining his equilibrium seemed like a good idea, especially after their dash to the hotel. That wasn’t his usual style. There was a “can’t keep my hands off her” edge to his feelings, and it was strange.

  She was different from Jennie, and he was so glad. He still hadn’t forgotten the way she’d asked if he’d been thinking of his wife when he’d kissed her. He wasn’t into looking for a substitute. That wouldn’t be fair to Jess, or to him.

  But she hadn’t called him, either. And that made him wonder if she was having second thoughts.

  It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about over the phone, so he closed his laptop, changed his shirt and drove over to the boathouse.

  The porch light was off, but light poured from the windows onto the stone path leading to her door. It was nine at night; was she up working this late? Perhaps she’d been painting just as much as he’d been writing.

  Then the sound of laughter filtered out through the open window, and he hesitated. She had company?

  Maybe he should do this another time.

  He hesitated for a full ten seconds, then he heard Tori’s laugh and Jeremy’s low voice, and then another round of laughter. Something unfamiliar swept over him, and he realized it was loneliness. Not the
welcome, self-imposed kind he’d reveled in for the last few years, but the kind that longed to be a part of something warm and fun. Before he could change his mind, he stepped up onto the porch and knocked on the door.

  Jess answered, her face alight with laughter as she stood with the door open. “Well, hello, stranger.”

  “Hi,” he said quietly, a little off balance by how happy he was to see her face. It had been what, three days? And he’d missed her terribly.

  “Come in. Jer and Tori are here. And little Rose is asleep.”

  In that much noise? He wasn’t sure how it was possible. Owen had always awakened at anything over normal speaking level.

  He stepped inside and took off his sandals, padding to the kitchen in his bare feet. Jeremy and Tori were sitting at the round table, with cards in their hands.

  “We’re playing cribbage,” Jess explained. “Tori taught us how. Jeremy is about to get skunked.”

  He had never played the game in his life, and stared at the oddly shaped board with different colored pegs in various spots. “Oh.”

  “We’re almost done this game,” Tori said, taking a sip of what appeared to be sparkling water. “Come on in and watch the carnage.”

  “There’s sparkling water and ginger ale in the fridge. Help yourself, Bran. And chips on the counter.”

  The small gathering was very different from social occasions he’d gone to as a member of the Black family. No one ever helped themselves, or sat as an odd man out during a game of cards while munching on chips straight from the bag. Instead, it reminded him of days spent at Merrick, playing poker with the guys, drinking contraband beer and pooling snacks.

  He’d loved those days. Missed them.

  So he helped himself to a ginger ale and grabbed the bag of chips and pulled up a fourth chair to watch. Tori deftly dealt five cards to each player and put one on the table, though he wasn’t sure what it was for. Then each of them studied their cards and removed one from their hand, adding it to one on the table.