Billionaire's Second Chance

by Claire Adams

  “Don’t you think so?” Dax asked as the elevator swiftly moved upward.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I said shaking my head to clear my indecent thoughts.

  “It’s a shame that teams don’t expand their staff to include a more diverse group,” he said, giving me a funny look.

  “Indeed,” I nodded. “But football is a boy’s club and getting a foot in the door might be a start.”

  “I’ve always thought the best way to get through a door was to break it down,” Dax said as the elevator doors silently slid open in the center of his living room. I gasped as I stepped out and saw that the entire east wall of the place was made up of floor to ceiling windows that looked out over Lake Michigan.

  “Oh my God, what a view!” I whispered as I walked forward into the room. “This is incredible.”

  “I’m pretty fond of it,” he said, following my gaze and nodding in agreement.

  Having grown up with wealth, there wasn’t much that surprised me in the way of living quarters, but Dax’s home was something altogether different. The room stretched from one end of the building to the other without a break. Done in shades of chocolate, tan, and olive green, the furniture had a kind of casual, cozy feel to it rather than the usual modern sterility. Normally these types of formal rooms were done in white or taupe and served as the place where all the entertaining was done, but Dax’s living room actually looked lived in. There was a freestanding bookcase behind the large, leather couch and when I went over to examine the titles on the shelf, I saw that a good number of the books had colored tabs sticking up out of their pages.

  “You like to read?” I asked as I ran my fingers over titles that I recognized.

  “Surprised?” he asked as he stood off to one side watching me explore his home.

  “No, not really,” I smiled as I turned my head sideways to read a title I didn’t recognize. “The sticky notes are kind of a cute touch, though.”

  “They’re color coded so I know how many times I’ve read the book,” he said as he moved toward a second bookcase, pulled open a door, and revealed a hidden bar inside. “Whiskey?”

  “That sounds lovely,” I said as I slowly walked around the room admiring the rugged art that was positioned at points throughout the room. I stopped at a table that looked like it had been carved out of a log and asked, “Did you make this yourself?”

  “I wish,” he laughed as he walked over holding out a glass containing an amber liquid. “No, my Pop made that table after he retired. Gram said it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen, so he made her one, too. She ended up putting it in the living room because he teased her about how she’d urged him to take up a hobby once he’d retired.”

  “I’ll bet they’re quite a pair,” I laughed as Dax motioned toward the couch.

  “They were,” he said, looking down at his glass before looking back up at me. There was sadness in his eyes that I recognized.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, settling down on the couch with one leg tucked under me so I could face him. He’d taken off his jacket when we’d come in and I couldn’t help staring at his broad shoulders and muscled chest under the tight t-shirt he was wearing. “Are they both gone?”

  “No, Gram’s still alive,” he said casually resting his arm on the back of the couch and making me want to scoot closer. I resisted.

  “Does she live in the city?” I asked as I sipped the smooth, rich whiskey and silently reminded myself to take it slow.

  “Yeah, she’s still living in the house they bought right after they got married,” he said smiling over the rim of his glass. “I grew up there, so it’s full of good memories. I tried to bring some here when I moved in.”

  “It looks like you succeeded,” I said, scanning the room and noticing that there weren’t a lot of photos of people in it. “It doesn’t look so professionally done.”

  “Gosh, thanks, I think,” he said.

  “No, I mean that as a compliment!” I said, reaching out to touch his hand as I spoke. “Most people who have the kind of money you do can’t be bothered to decorate, so they hire someone to make it look like home or whatever they’re after. It’s never very convincing because it always looks like a showroom rather than someplace that people actually live. Your place looks like you live here.”

  “I see,” he said as he glanced at my hand and then ignored it by taking another drink before continuing. “Gram always said that a home is someplace you store the things that matter most. So, when I got this place, I brought her here to help me figure out what belonged and what didn’t. She picked out this couch because she said I needed something that looked masculine, but felt feminine.”

  I nodded, but didn’t withdraw my hand. The conversation continued as we both pointedly ignored the fact that we were touching.

  “It’s a nice couch,” I said moving my hand a fraction of an inch down his arm. I wanted to stroke his hand; to touch his long, strong fingers and see if that might clue him in to how I was feeling. I could feel my pulse racing as the anticipation built. I wanted to kiss Dax Connor, but this time I wanted him to initiate it.

  “If you like this, you should see the rest of the place,” he said, pulling away so he could stand up. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

  I stood on shaky legs and pretended to admire the view as I steadied myself. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Why wasn’t he making a move? I’d given him all the right signs, hadn’t I?

  “On this end is the kitchen and dining room,” he said, leading me toward the opposite end of the penthouse. “I don’t like all the fussiness of a formal dining room, so I had the living room extended and simply bought a big table for the eat-in kitchen.”

  The kitchen was a mix of modern and contemporary with deep-grey marble countertops and lighter-grey tiles on the floor. The appliances were a mix of silver and red, giving the otherwise dark room a cheerful pop of color. The dining table was made of what looked like reclaimed wood with chairs on either end and benches on either side. It looked like the perfect place to host a party for friends and play board games or cards.

  “Do you throw a lot of parties here?” I asked as I walked around the table, running my hand over the wood and marveling at the solid construction.

  “Huh? Oh, no, not really,” he said, ducking his head and excitedly leading me back toward the living room. “Come see this!”

  There was something almost innocent about the way he showed off his home. It was as if he hadn’t done it very often, but that made no sense to me. A man of his stature and wealth had to have a wide range of people who moved in and out of his life. I could imagine the big names in sports spending time hanging out in the living room or gathering around the table to smoke cigars and play poker like my father had done.

  “This is the office,” he said, sliding open a door that I would have never even known was there had he not opened it. We stepped into a room that looked like it had been pulled from a Hepburn-Tracey film. The entire room was lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves. At one edge of the room was an old-fashioned librarian’s ladder attached to an iron bar that ran around the center of the room, allowing the ladder to be moved wherever it was needed to access the books on the higher shelves. I breathed deeply as I looked up and turned around, taking in the sheer number of volumes.

  “It’s amazing,” I exhaled as I looked toward the far side of the room and saw a three-sided oak desk that looked like the control panel for the Starship Enterprise. It had numerous computer monitors sitting on top of it, but there wasn’t a keyboard or mouse to be seen. “What kind of office is this?”

  “It’s my dream desk,” he said proudly gesturing towards the desk. “I had a carpenter build the desk especially for me so that I could monitor everything I was working on all at the same time. It was more helpful when I was running the online betting sites, but now it works well to keep track of the team and all of the different part of running it.”

  “That’s amazing,” I said again, imagini
ng what I’d do with a set up like that if I ran a team. “You can keep your eye on everything all at once!”

  Dax smiled as I admired the set up, but as soon as I looked up, he turned and headed toward the door, gesturing for me to follow him. I went back into the hallway and followed him to the end of it where he slid open another door, revealing a wide set of circular stairs that led to the top floor and another set of doors.

  He ushered me up the stairs, and we emerged in the master suite. I gasped as I saw that the view encompassed both the lake and the city as the outer walls were all made of glass. The room itself was fairly sparse and decorated in earth tones that enhanced rather than competed with the majestic scenery. As I looked to the left, I saw a large bed with an enormous headboard covered in taupe fabric centered on the inside wall. On either side were light, wood nightstands topped with square lamps. On the far side of the room, centered in front of the windows were several overstuffed chairs with ottomans facing outward around a low, glass coffee table. Other than that, the room was devoid of furniture.

  “This is breathtaking!” I said, only rotating enough to take in the entire view. On the left, the lake was dark and mysterious with the moon shining off of it and as I shifted my gaze to the right, the lights of the city shimmered and blinked, giving of the sense that the city was alive and breathing.

  “Pretty cool, isn’t it?” he murmured from behind me. I could feel the heat from his body and knew he was close enough to touch me, and when he didn’t, I turned to face him.

  “This room is amazing, too,” I said as I looked up at him. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his lips. The soft, sensual curve of his mouth begged me to kiss it, but I reminded myself of my promise and held back. “You’ve really created a warm, welcoming home to live in.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he said, looking away toward the city. “It’s just that…”

  “Just what,” I whispered as I stepped closer hoping that he’d take the hint and give us both what we so obviously wanted. “Tell me.”

  “Payton,” he said with a look that I read as him wanting me as much as I wanted him, and I immediately forgot my promise. I placed my palms on either side of his face and drew him down toward me so that I could kiss him the way I’d been fantasizing about since I’d first done it.

  The feel of his lips on mine sent a jolt through me and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and kissing him harder. His hands moved up the sides of my body and I moaned softly into his lips.

  “Payton…Payton…” he gasped as he firmly grasped my hips and pulled back from the kiss.

  “Mmm hmm,” I murmured as I looked up and saw my own wild desire reflected in his dark eyes. “It’s okay, I’m not drunk.”

  “It’s not that,” he said pushing me back a bit. He stammered, “It’s just that…I just don’t…I can’t.”

  “Why not?” I said, startled by the rejection. “Wait, you asked me out on a date, invited me back to your place for drinks, and gave me a tour that ended in your bedroom, and now you’re telling me you didn’t bring me here for this?”

  “Well, yeah,” he said sheepishly, looking down at the floor as I stepped away from him and straightened my dress.

  “I mean, not that I’m not all about consent,” I said, quickly backtracking as I wondered what I’d done wrong. Suddenly it hit me. I looked up at him and whispered, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…”

  “Realize what?” he asked obviously confused by my apology.

  “I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

  “Payton, what are you sorry about?”

  “Are you gay?” I whispered. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it. I just feel really stupid that I might have misinterpreted you asking me out on a date for—”

  “Nope, not gay,” he interjected. And then grinned as he added, “Not that there’s anything wrong with it.”

  That shut me up. I stood staring up into his dark eyes as I tried to figure out what was going on. Finally, I took a deep breath and blurted, “Then are you going to tell me why in the hell you did bring me here?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dax

  Payton stood staring at me expectantly and it made me nervous. I knew that I shouldn’t have let it get this far, but there was no denying that I was attracted to her, and that given the opportunity, I would take things a lot further than kissing, but right now, I had one aim in mind and I needed to figure out if she was going to stick around.

  “Well?” she said impatiently, tapping her foot on the thick carpeting. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or what?”

  “Okay, look, I didn’t mean for things to get this far this fast,” I said, trying to figure out how to explain my way out of this situation. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to present a deal; it was that Payton Halas Lasky unnerved me in a way that no one else ever had. I chalked it up to my nerves and the fact that I was aiming to make her my girlfriend. I’d never dated a woman on a bet before, and if she rejected me, Finn would never let me live it down.

  “Oh, so you didn’t intend to kiss me or is it that you don’t actually find me that attractive?” she asked. There was an edge of anger in her voice and I knew I had only seconds to stop it from rising to a level that would result in her answer being no.

  “No, it’s not that at all,” I said backpedaling. “I think you’re gorgeous and I definitely enjoy kissing you, but…”

  “Jesus, Connor, spit it out!” she said.

  “Look, I like you,” I began. Throwing caution to the wind, I said, “But I don’t know you very well, and I just don’t want to rush into anything before either one of us is ready.”

  “What the,” she said obviously caught off guard. “This is insane. What the hell are you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Look, there’s something about you that I really like, and I want to get to know you better before we move to the next level and get intimate.”

  “You want to do what?” she repeated. Her blue eyes were wide with surprise and I wasn’t entirely sure she’d even blinked since I’d started talking. “What planet are you from?”

  “I want to date you,” I said spelling it out clearly. “There, I said it. I don’t want to have sex with you until I know if we actually like each other.”

  Payton stared at me for a moment and then her knees buckled and she sunk onto the edge of the bed.

  “Aw shit,” I muttered as I sat down next to her and asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Am I okay?” she said. “You just said you don’t want to screw me before you know me, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

  “Well, yeah,” I said, wondering what she was thinking. I didn’t know her well enough to be able to discern those small signs that Pop used to tell me Gram gave him in order to let him know how she felt. He’d tell me to look out for the little things; the furrowed brow, the corners of her mouth pulling down a bit, or the worst, the raised eyebrow. I’d learned a lot from Papa, but he’d also warned me that every woman had different signs and not to try and assign one set of signs to every woman. The older I’d gotten, the more sense this had made.

  “Holy shit,” Payton said as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Are you for real, Connor?”

  “Pretty sure, I am,” I said looking around the room. “Look, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it, or if you’d think I was weirdly old-fashioned. And, well, I wanted it to go a little more smoothly than this, but what do you think?”

  “I think you’re full of shit,” she said as she stared at me.

  “What the hell?” I said surprised by her bluntness. “I try to be a gentleman and you tell me I’m full of shit?”

  “Because you are,” she said as she stood up and walked across the room. She spun on her heel and gave me a pointed look as she continued, “Look, I’m not a rocket scientist, but I sure as hell know that a guy like you isn’t a choir
boy and doesn’t turn down sex on a regular basis.”

  “That’s pretty presumptuous of you,” I said defensively, gripping the duvet cover as my brain quickly spun to find an explanation. “You have no idea what my sex life is like.”

  “Oh please, don’t try and play Pollyanna with me, Connor,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest and rolling her eyes. “You’re a South Side guy, you play fast and loose, and you play to win. I know your type, unfortunately.”

  “Oh, do you, now?” I shot back angrily. It was one thing to call me a man whore, but it was an entirely different fight she was picking by stereotyping me this way. I opened my mouth to say something nasty about Uptown girls, but in the back of my brain, I heard Finn’s voice reminding me that we had a goal. If I insulted Payton and drove her off, I’d screw everything up, so I backpedaled. “Look, I’m not a Casanova, if that’s what you think. I’m a guy who wants to actually date you, not just screw and run. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Yeah, actually it is,” she nodded. “I’m just trying absorb this. I’ve never met a guy who put the brakes on things because he wanted to get to know me better. It’s usually me stopping things.”

  “Oh, really?” I replied, feigning surprise as I reached out and took her hand. Inside, I felt a small spark of satisfaction. I was turning the tables on this beautiful woman. She was beautiful, smart, rich, and obviously used to getting her way. Being with her wouldn’t be painful, but I had to keep in mind that she was a means to an end, not the end itself.

  “You know, sex would have been a hell of a lot easier,” she said with a wry grin as she walked back toward me, eyeing me suspiciously. “That was pretty much a sure thing,”

  I nodded and tried to match her grin as I hoped she didn’t notice the distinct bulge in my jeans that would give me away. I wanted her. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her as I ran my hands up under that bright-blue dress, but I wanted to win my bet with Finn and more than that, I craved the new challenge of creating something out of nothing. Lusting after her was fine, but falling for her was not on the agenda.