Tempted by the Billionaire: A Hometown Hero Series Novel

by Connelly, Clare

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “I’m going to find it hard to resist making love to you right here and now.”

  Her cheeks flushed pink.

  “Especially if you blush like that,” he muttered.

  “I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “It’s just that I find it hard to believe anyone married to you would only want you for the money.”

  His fingers gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “There was prestige too. Invitations to the best events in Manhattan. I think Meghan liked being Mrs Mattias McCain.”

  “And yet she left you…” Willow probed gently, putting a hand out and wrapping her fingers over his.

  He nodded, but when he looked at her, his expression was nonplussed. “She’s getting a good settlement. A great settlement, actually,” he corrected, thinking of their Manhattan penthouse apartment and the trust fund he’d set up for her. “She’ll still have the prestige of having been my first wife.” He shrugged. “And I was a pain in the neck to be married to, so she’s free of that.”

  Something rolled inside Willow’s stomach; as though the car, still stationary, had crested over a hill. “Were you?” She said quietly, and jealousy flushed her system. “Why?”

  He was silent for a long time, and then he grinned. “I’m not going to tell you that.”

  “Why not?”

  “In case I scare you off.” He laced his fingers through hers, and lifted the back of her hand to his mouth. He kissed her gently, reverently, and then placed her hand back on her lap. He restarted the engine and pulled the car out into traffic effortlessly.

  As he drove them south, along the coast, he wondered what the hell he was doing. He considered himself a free agent, but did he really want to jump into another serious relationship so soon after the demise of his marriage? Was he crazy to even be thinking about a real future with Willow?

  He frowned. It might have been crazy, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The thought of returning to his life in New York and leaving her here filled him with a drowning sense of panic.

  “Why’d you move to Haymarket Bay?” He prompted, a few miles down the road, in which neither had spoken.

  Willow looked out of the windscreen, admiring the motley boats bobbing on the horizon. “It’s about as far removed from Chicago as you can get,” she pointed out truthfully. “And when Ashton and I broke up, I wanted to get away.”

  “But so far away?”

  She nodded. “It’s hard to explain. I didn’t just want to leave Chicago. I wanted to get out of my head. Away from who I was. I hated myself.” She took in a deep breath for courage. “His wife confronted me. I didn’t get to find out the truth and fade away. I saw her hurt. I saw the way she hated me. I saw her heartbreak. And, God, Matt. I hated myself.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he retorted immediately, feeling both defensive and angry. “He put you in that position.”

  She wiped at her eyes, where tears were threatening to fall. “I know. He was a selfish bastard. But, at the time, that didn’t make me feel any less guilty. So I travelled to a place with sunshine and fishing boats, and just about the friendliest people I’ve ever met.” She looked at him, examining his rugged profile until her heart clenched. “I spent the first few months just sitting in the sunshine, in a semi-catatonic state. I guess I was healing, because eventually, I woke up, and didn’t think about Ashton. And didn’t see his poor wife’s face when I closed my eyes.”

  “He had no business putting you through that.”

  “No.” She nodded jerkily. “But people like Ashton will do whatever suits them, irrespective of who gets hurt.”

  “I will never hurt you,” he promised, his voice gravelly, his eyes, when he briefly looked at her, rich with feeling. But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. How could he avoid hurting her? His stay in the Bay was temporary. He had a whole new life to move onto. But he would do anything to spare her pain. Anything except walk away from their relationship before he absolutely had to.

  * * *

  A warm breeze lifted past Willow, scattering a light spray of sand onto her face. She lifted a hand and brushed at it, then reached for another crunchy onion ring. “Was I right about this food or what?” She asked, looking sidelong at Matt. He was half way through his burger.

  “You were absolutely right,” he agreed, smiling across at her. “Almost the best burger I’ve ever had.”

  “Almost?” She queried, inserting mock offence into her tone.

  He nodded seriously. “The crab shack on the road to the Hamptons does a lobster burger that is to die for. You’ll love it.”

  Willow reached for another onion ring, to hide the way his words had made her heart flutter. He had started doing that more lately. Talking about things he wanted to show her. Things he wanted to share with her. And despite the fact that he was just in the midst of a divorce, and she’d sworn not to get too involved, she had let those little promises build into a big wall of hope inside of her.

  Matt’s burger was good. Delicious, in fact. But it had nothing to do with why he couldn’t stop smiling. Willow St Clare was doing something crazy to him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and when he wasn’t with her, he missed her like hell.

  He made no attempt to disguise the way he was studying her, as she brushed her hands together to free them of crumbs, then folded her legs to her chest. She balanced her chin on top of her knees, and stared towards the horizon.

  “I’ve always loved the beach at night,” she said after a moment.

  “That makes sense. Most people like the beach at the hottest time of the day. You, Willow, are a law unto yourself.”

  She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Don’t you think it looks like a magical gateway to another world?”

  He followed her gaze, trying to see it as she did.

  “The moonlight is like a diamond pathway, leading somewhere far away and wonderful. Look at how it glitters and shines. It makes me wish I could swim out and grab it, and follow it all the way to the secret world beyond; but its very intangibility is what makes it so special.”

  He was quiet. Not because he disagreed, but because she was, as always, weaving her web of magic tight around him. “What else do you like?” He prompted, his voice thick with admiration.

  “The sky,” she looked heavenwards. “It’s so inky black at night. Just a few brave stars winking down at us. And listen,” she turned her eyes to him, and stayed perfectly silent.

  “I don’t hear anything except the waves,” he said after a quiet moment.

  “The waves, yes, but can’t you hear the reeds? The way they whisper to each other with each breeze, telling secrets of what they’ve seen. Who knows? Maybe mermaids have come and taken their fronds to brush their hair.”

  Matt burst out laughing, but he was completely enamoured of her imagination. “Mermaids?”

  “Hey, have you got some secret knowledge of the ocean I lack?” She responded, her eyes perfectly serious as they locked with his.

  “Only that mermaids are a myth, you mean?”

  “Says you. And a bunch of sceptics. But who really knows? We’ve mapped hardly any of the sea floor. Don’t you think it’s possible that there’s a whole other world down there?”

  He shook his head. “You’re one of a kind, honey.”

  “I’m not saying I believe it, necessarily. I mean, would I stake my life on their existence? Probably not. But I don’t want to live in a world where we think we know everything. A world where we’re so completely closed off to the idea of magic. Sometimes, you just have to believe.”

  Matt nodded slowly. Magic did happen. He was sitting in the midst of it. Some might have called Matt’s meeting Willow fateful. Matt preferred to think of it as magic. She was some kind of angel, sent to him when he most needed a new path in life.

  Willow mistook his continued silence for scepticism, and she reached across, playfully punching his arm. “Didn’t your folks read you fairy
tales as a child?”

  He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I guess they did, when I was small. Truth be told, I didn’t like sitting still for long enough. I imagine I was a handful.”

  She nodded, scanning his face thoughtfully, while butterflies flapped furiously inside her stomach. “I can see that.” Her cheeks colored. “I don’t mean the handful part. I mean that I can see you as an active, outdoorsy kid.” She reached up and ran a hand through his blonde hair. “Are you like your dad?” Funny, she didn’t feel like she was intruding to ask him about his father now. After only a week of spending every spare, secret moment together, she felt totally comfortable saying anything to Matt.

  “I am. Though I wish I was more like him, sometimes,” he agreed, a wistful smile on his lips.

  “How?” She queried, wanting to know more about him. To understand him completely.

  “My dad – Hank – was proud, stubborn and smart as a whip. He had this ruthless determination to succeed. He worked like a gun, but he was a great family man, too. He wouldn’t accept defeat in any part of his life. He’d come home to play ball with me, and have dinner, then go back to his office until midnight. He just always knew who he was, and what he wanted to do.”

  Willow nodded slowly. “And you don’t?”

  He thought of the man he’d been for the last decade. Wild, free-spirited, and hugely selfish. He thought of the man he’d agreed to become: Chairperson of McCain Industries, and shook his head. “I’m a grown man. I know I shouldn’t feel like this…” His voice trailed off in a wave of self-recrimination.

  “Like what?” She insisted, leaning closer towards him.

  He expelled a harsh sigh. “When my dad died, I just felt… lost. I still do, in some ways.” His laugh was an uncomfortable sound, and his eyes didn’t meet Willow’s. “Pathetic, right?”

  “No,” she denied fiercely. “Of course it’s not pathetic. You loved him, and admired him. He sounds like he was a big part of your life. You lost him in a terrible, unpredictable, unforgivable way. I don’t think that’s remotely pathetic.”

  Matt shrugged. “I keep wondering if he’d be proud of me. Because I want him to be.”

  “I’m sure he would be, Matt. You’re a great guy. How could he not be proud of the man you’ve become?”

  Matt lifted his shoulders again. “I know he’d have liked you,” he said, a smile on his face, as he looked over at Willow. “He always liked smart, sassy girls.”

  “Sassy?” She laughed, and her whole expression changed. Her eyes creased at the corners, shimmering with pleasure. “I’m sassy, huh?”

  “Oh, yes. At least, that’s what my mom’d call it.”

  She grinned. “Would your mom like me?”

  Matt ran a hand over his stubbled chin. “My mom’s a hard nut to crack. Not particularly given to warmth. She’d likely take a while to warm up.”

  Willow put her head on Matt’s shoulder, and stared out at the moonlit sea. “What’s she like?”

  “Beautiful, glamorous, and somewhat demanding.” His lips quirked into a wry grimace. “She was the only daughter of doting parents. She grew up spoiled. Still is, to some degree.”

  “And so it’s just the two of you?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “I don’t see her as much as I should.”

  “She’s not in New York?”

  “Nah. She’s got a place in Maine. She likes the speed of life up there.”

  “Fancy,” Willow teased, snuggling her head closer to his neck. He smelled so good.

  His heart turned over. He loved that about Willow. She was so unimpressed by his wealth. So nonplussed by the fact that his family was considered corporate royalty by many. She never asked about that stuff. She treated him like everyone else – and he adored her all the more for it.

  Would she understand why he had to leave her? Why he had to go back to Manhattan, to take up the seat his father been ripped out of? “Willow,” he said quietly, his heart unusually heavy as he sought the right words to explain about his promise to his mother. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a few days.”

  She was still, her head on his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  He nodded, his mouth dry. “When my dad died, I was young. But now…”

  “You’re still young,” she interjected teasingly.

  He wasn’t willing to be side tracked. “I’m old enough now to stop fooling around.”

  “You think your time in the army was fooling around?” She asked dubiously.

  “Hell, no. But I wasn’t living up to my responsibilities. You know, I turned my back on my mom, and Meghan. I was hell bent on taking on danger. I didn’t care if I lived or died.” Willow’s heart squeezed at the idea of any harm befalling him.

  “And?” She asked, when he just stopped talking.

  Stop beating around the damned bush and say it, Matt cursed inwardly. Tell her you’re going back to Manhattan. That this has to be short and sweet. He opened his mouth. “I need to start facing my responsibilities. I want to make my dad proud. I want to be the kind of man he’d be proud to call his son.”

  Willow expelled a breath of relief. He’d sounded so serious. She’d been afraid of what he was about to say. “You are already, I told you.”

  He opened his mouth to explain better, but Willow sat bolt upright and stared out to sea. “Look, Matt!” She pointed far off in the distance, towards the glistening pathway cast by the moon’s light.

  “What am I looking for?” He asked, marvelling as ever at how her excitement changed her face dramatically.

  “Don’t you see them?” She linked her fingers through his and stood. He had little choice but to follow, as she ran towards the shore. “There.” He saw something dark and graceful in the water.

  “What are they? Dolphins?”

  She laughed. Undoubtedly, they were, though it was unusual to see them at this time of year. “Or maybe mermaids?” She teased, wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing his side.

  Matt turned slowly, bringing his body to hers. He looped his arms low behind her back, and stared into her brilliant, dark eyes. “If they were going to show themselves to anyone, I bet it would be you.”

  “Do you?” She grinned, smiling as the dolphin disappeared beneath the ocean’s surface once more.

  “Yeah. You are some kind of wonderful, Willow. Even the mermaids must see that...”

  She stood on tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his lips. “I’m so glad you came to Haymarket Bay, Matt.”

  He nodded. He’d tell her another time. No way was he going to risk ruining that moment. He kissed her properly, and every fibre of his body seemed to relax with relief. Kissing her felt right. Every damned thing about being with her felt right. Except for the certainty that he had to leave her. And soon.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Willow leaned back into the seat, feeling full of food, a little fuzzy around the edges after two beautiful glasses of French wine, and totally, resplendently happy. The sun bounced in through the windscreen, warming her legs, as Matt effortlessly drove them back towards the beach.

  “Willow,” he said quietly, and something in his tone made her realise that he was about to say something serious.

  She forced herself to look at him, though opening her eyes hurt after such a perfectly relaxing lunch. It was their third picnic lunch. Two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye, and Willow was finding it hard to keep quiet about their relationship. Every time she saw Anna, the confession bubbled on her lips.

  Because it wasn’t just sex. And it wasn’t even just dating.

  Willow was completely in love with Matt McCain, and she suspected she would be for the rest of her life. But how did he feel about her? It was obvious that he liked her a lot; and that he found her as irresistible as she did him. But what about the future?

  He never talked about that. And whenever she made oblique references to events down the track, he was conspicuously silent. Willow, fiercely independent in a post-As
hton world, had begun to hope for a future that was less lonely. For a future with Matt.

  And it was crazy! He wasn’t even divorced yet. He’d sure as hell not made any promises to her. And their best friends didn’t even know they were seeing one another.

  “What is it?” She prompted, lifting her hand and putting it over his, on the gearstick of the car.

  She was so happy. Her contentment hit him like a brick in the solar plexus, because it mirrored his own. What kind of fate had brought him together with a woman like this, at the worst time in his life? His divorce, and his commitment to McCain Industries… he’d had no business getting so tied up with another woman. Especially not someone as unique as Willow. His bright blue eyes seemed to spear through her, before he turned back to the road. “I’ve had a great few weeks with you.”

  “Two,” she corrected, thinking of the first time they’d made love. “Two weeks.” They’d been so swept up in passion that they hadn’t even used protection. An incredibly stupid thing for either to have done; something they’d both taken care of subsequently. The way she’d felt that night – she still shuddered to recall the overpowering need that had moved within her.

  “Right.”

  Something in his tone sent a whisper of unease breezing across her body. “What is it, Matt?”

  Two weeks of dinners, walks on the beach, laughing until his sides split. Teaching her to fish and not squirm at the wriggling live bait he used. Even reading her books had given him a whole new level of understanding of just what made that magnificent mind of hers tick. The idea of walking away not just from Willow, but from the whole of his life here with her in Haymarket Bay was unpalatable in the extreme. Matt thought of the situations he’d faced head on in the past. Many dangerous, many terrifying, and yet this was one of the hardest he’d had to deal with. “I have to go back to New York.”

  A small sentence with enormous consequences, it sent Willow into a state of total shock. He had to go back to New York? “What? When?”

  “Yesterday,” he admitted gruffly, thinking of his mother’s annoyance when he’d postponed the board meeting.

  “But…” She shook her head in confusion. “How long for?”