The Billioniare's Bought Bride (Contemporary Romance)

by Michele Dunaway

  She’d rejected him again.

  Not that this time he was surprised. Dylan made his way into the café and settled himself at a table. He was texting his second in command when the waitress came by, and he ordered a roast beef sandwich and iced tea.

  Maddy had changed since that summer when she’d been sweet sixteen. So had he. In hindsight, he realized now that both of them had been far too young for such a serious relationship.

  He scoffed. He’d been a foolish boy, thinking he’d loved her. Hell, he’d had many women since. They’d been easy come, easy go, not worth the expensive baubles from Tiffany’s he’d bestowed as insignificant parting gifts.

  He sent the text and then picked up as the phone rang. “Blackwater,” he said crisply, taking the call he’d been expecting.

  “The bank turned her down.”

  For a brief moment, Dylan’s gut clenched, just a slight, almost unnoticeable twinge. He’d learned long ago to squash any emotions, for physical reactions revealed weakness to the enemy. Never again would he be called weak or insignificant, as Maddy’s brother had taunted that long ago summer. Dylan calmed taut nerves, reschooled any change in his expression to passive disinterest. “Of course it did. Thanks for the report.”

  He ended the call and glanced around the restaurant. Because of his private investigator’s extensive reports, Dylan had known the scope of Maddy’s financial situation long before she had. Months, in fact.

  He glanced at his platinum Rolex, a present to himself when he’d made his first million. Just last month he’d made ten million more, a nice profit achieved from selling the flailing Internet company he’d discovered. He’d purchased the company for a steal, turned it around, and sold it high.

  The Internet could make any man a modern day Carnegie if he knew how to use it, and Dylan Blackwater had mastered the web, venture capital, and the art of property development. He’d earned more money than he’d ever dreamed. He’d become rich through shrewd and discriminatory decisions, which had seen him skate through the recent real estate fiasco and banking bailouts. He’d learned that being cold and ruthless was the way to get exactly what he wanted. Maddy’s brother Ted had taught him that.

  Dylan had one last thing to do to settle the score, to finalize a plan he’d put into motion the day he’d left Knollwood Lake with bruised ribs, bloody nose and a black eye.

  Ten years ago he’d sworn revenge on Ted. He’d also vowed that Maddy would be the only woman for him, whether he deserved her or not. Back then he hadn’t had two nickels to rub together. Now he was worth billions…

  The waitress set his food down and he barely glanced at it. Maddy remained the only woman he’d desired whose body he’d never possessed. That fact bothered him. He’d achieved everything else and seeing her today had driven his libido into overdrive.

  But he wanted her now, not because he loved her—for that feeling had died that fateful day—he wanted her because frankly, he’d vowed to have her and he was a man who never broke a promise or reneged a pledge.

  They’d played pretend that long ago summer—one of those dumb things you do when you’re teenagers in love, as if he were Heathcliff and she Cathy. He’d even read the damn book because she’d asked him to, claiming it her favorite. Well, like Cathy, she’d fallen far from her pedestal. He’d built his own dynasty. Childish love of bygone days didn’t factor into his emotions or decisions anymore. He was older, wiser, much more jaded.

  Timing was everything, and Maddy’s and Ted’s time was up. If he knew Maddy, and he knew he did, she’d sell her soul to the devil himself before she’d lose her precious land to the county coffers. He grinned and reached for his sandwich. Indeed, it was a fact he was counting on.

  Chapter Two

  Hours later, with no immediate resolution to her monetary problems in sight, Madison slapped at a mosquito that landed on her arm the moment she exited the lodge. She killed the offensive parasite, but not before it left the beginnings of a welt and a bloody mess. She brushed off the remains and rubbed her hands on the front of her jeans. Just lovely.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the ramshackle brown wood house. A former hunting lodge, the large building with its oversized white trimmed windows sprawled at the top of a gentle sloping hill that led to the water’s edge. Behind the house, deer had come out to graze in the five-acre meadow.

  Her feet crunched over compacted gravel as she headed into the woods and down the slightly overgrown eighth-mile drive that led to her great-aunt Gail’s cottage. Not part of Maddy’s grandfather’s holdings, Stephen’s younger sister’s property was located between the former Lawless acres and Summerhaven. As Gail had her own entrance from the county road, and as few people went this way anymore, weeds grew in abundance.

  Upon hearing Aunt Gail’s “enter,” Madison stepped inside. Her eighty-two year old great aunt sat in a wooden rocker in a corner overlooking the lake. The last vestiges of sunlight streamed through the picture windows, highlighting her gray hair.

  “It didn’t go well today, did it?” Aunt Gail said, her tone sympathetic as she registered Maddy’s tired expression. “When you called me yesterday and told me you were driving up from St. Louis…”

  Maddy shook her head. “No. It’s hopeless. I have until the end of July. And that’s just to pay the taxes. If I solve that, then I have another month to deal with the mortgage Ted took out.”

  Maddy sat on the faded tweed sofa. Whereas her grandfather had been a wealthy businessman and Summerhaven had five huge bedrooms and a large great room, Aunt Gail’s cottage was essentially a one-room rectangle, with sliding dividers to hide her bedroom and bathroom area. Despite its compact size, the cottage sat on the top of the point and had a phenomenal view, but tonight even that didn’t provide its normal comfort.

  Aunt Gail wouldn’t lose her summer home, her deceased husband Larry leaving her adequately provided for. Aunt Gail rose gingerly from her rocker, moved to the sofa and cradled Maddy into her arms.

  “I know what your grandmother always said, but you’re allowed a good cry, my dear,” Gail said.

  Maddy sniffed. “Crying won’t help. No bank will lend me money because I don’t make enough money. Maybe I should sell. Teaching starts mid-August. I could use the next few weeks to finalize things before summer ends.”

  Aunt Gail stroked Maddy’s hair. “Maybe it is time to let go. Stephen wouldn’t want you to impoverish yourself and risk your future just to keep what he treasured. It’s probably better he died before he found out his faith in Ted was extremely misplaced.”

  Madison used her shirttail to wipe away tears. “The problem is I treasure this place. I might live in St. Louis, but this is home. You understand, don’t you? That’s why you kept coming here every summer, even after Uncle Larry passed.”

  Gail’s arms tightened. “Of course I understand. You were free to be kids here. Stephen might have been my brother, but he was difficult. He and Susan weren’t ready to be parents a second time. You and Ted never did have a normal childhood after your parents died.” Her voice faded for a second and then, “What about suing your brother?”

  Maddy had looked into that, as well as selling the land to various environmental groups. None could move fast enough to help her. “If a lawsuit wouldn’t drag my family name through the mud like the lawyers said, I’d sue him. Even though he’s my brother. I really would.”

  “I’d give you the money if I had it,” Gail soothed.

  Maddy knew that Aunt Gail’s yearly allowance would never be enough. “And I thank you. But you have children of your own.”

  “Grown children who are doing just fine and don’t expect much when I die. You’re my family as well, Maddy. Like the daughter I never had.”

  Darkness had settled over the lake, and together Gail and Maddy watched the bow and stern lights twinkle on a passing boat.

  “Oh, Cindy told me some juicy gossip today. Dylan Blackwater’s coming back. He had the house on North Star Island refurbished and rea
died.”

  Cindy was Aunt Gail’s housekeeper and constant source of lake news. “He’s already here. I ran into him in town,” Maddy admitted.

  “He must have come up from Chicago this morning as I haven’t seen any movement over there yet.”

  “Maybe.”

  Unlike the rest of the Johanssons, Aunt Gail always had a soft spot for Dylan. “I’ve been wondering when he’d arrive. This is his first house on this lake.”

  “You know he only bought North Star Island because Grandfather wanted the access strip. Dylan overpaid for it.”

  All lake islands were required to have some sort of shore access. The North Star Island access lot was a half-acre sliver between Summerhaven and the wildlife refuge. When North Star Island and its shoreline sliver had come onto the market, Dylan had outbid her grandfather. The access strip had been the one piece of land her grandfather had really wanted, the last piece of his property puzzle, and he’d died a week after being outbid.

  “Dylan’s company sent me a purchase proposal for Summerhaven. Not that I’d sell to him. He’s a butcher. He’s destroyed the other lakes.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that. But I’m sure he doesn’t want to see five-story condos on Summerhaven. The view from his front door would be ruined.”

  “Maybe he wants that. Who knows?”

  “You should find out. I might not have been a businesswoman, but Stephen taught me one thing. Always deal directly with the top. If you have to sell, make Dylan give you legal concessions that will preserve this place. If he wants it badly enough, he’ll give you what you want.”

  Somehow Maddy doubted she’d get any concessions from Dylan Blackwater. “He’ll probably just wait to buy it at tax auction.”

  “Too risky. He’ll be up against other bidders.”

  “But I don’t want to sell at all. There has to be another way to save Summerhaven,” Maddy insisted, although deep down, she knew her aunt was probably right. No matter how futile her efforts, she had to try. She should deal with the top. She stared out the window at the dark lake. Approaching Dylan would be walking into a minefield. Today one glance had exposed emotions best buried. He was like a flame, and she the moth. The perfect example was in front of her—drawn by the lights inside the cottage, the picture windows had already become a magnet for a host of flying nocturnal insects. It never worked out well for the moths. They beat their wings in absolute futility.

  “Well, if there’s an answer I know you’ll find it.” Aunt Gail reached for her Bible and withdrew a feather. “Guess what I found? An aerie with two eaglets. We haven’t had eagles nesting on the lake for ten years. And don’t lecture me. I know it’s illegal to possess these. But at my age, one contraband feather won’t hurt.”

  The last time Maddy had seen eagles had been during her long walks with Dylan, that summer when it seemed nothing could ever go wrong. If there were eagles nesting, well, that was another good reason for the land to remained undeveloped.

  “I saw one fishing yesterday,” Aunt Gail continued, “and tracked it back to its nest on the Lawless acres by the cove. Anyway, it’s late. Go home. Get some rest. Take one of my extra flashlights and think about my suggestion of dealing directly with the boss. Don’t let Ted or Stephen’s actions guide you. It was shameful how they treated Dylan. He was always such a nice boy. Surely he hasn’t changed that much.”

  Oh, but he had changed, Maddy thought as she readied to leave. He’d hardened around the edges, changed into a man who was worldly-wise, fully experienced. She was backwoods and sheltered compared to him. He was a man who aroused womanly feelings of passion, emotions Maddy shouldn’t be having for a man who’d caused her grandfather so much pain and grief. She concentrated on avoiding snakes as she walked home.

  The next day dawned clear and bright, a laughing mockery to the growing futility invading Maddy as another day ticked closer to the July 31 deadline. She’d tossed and turned, getting little sleep. Negotiating directly with Dylan was a step she had to take. He couldn’t humiliate her any more than anyone else had yesterday.

  Determination etched her clenched jaw as she focused the ancient binoculars across the smooth lake, angling past the twenty-by-seventy-five-foot slip of land known as Pickle Island and toward the one-acre island called North Star.

  Beyond North Star was Pershall, the biggest island in the lake. It was so large that it effectively divided Knollwood Lake in half, and contained a main house that had been built in 1915. Now the house and cabins the late Mr. Pershall had built were a popular summer resort. Summerhaven was from that lumber baron era, only it had been built later, in the mid-1920s. Her family had owned it since the early 1940s.

  Maddy swung the binoculars back around. Unlike yesterday morning, now there was a twenty-foot runabout moored at the North Star dock, which meant Dylan was still at home.

  Before she lost her nerve, she set the binoculars on the rotting wood dock and stepped gingerly into the stern of the wobbly metal canoe she’d pulled from the rundown boathouse. The motorboats once commonly found anchored at Summerhaven had long ago been sold, and this was the only remaining water transport.

  She brushed the cobwebs from the rickety steel interior. The exterior was deceptively lettered Tippecanoe, although the painted glory proclaiming it humorously such had long ago faded. A light coat of mold and mildew covered the life preserver resting at her feet, but the wooden paddle fit securely in her hand. The early morning lake reflected like glass, making the water easy to cross.

  With smooth, sure strokes, she paddled towards North Star. Occasionally a fish jumped, forming an outward ripple effect that disturbed the mirror-like surface, and a several times Madison heard the distinct call of loons. She’d traveled the entire eighteen-mile lakeshore in her youth. She’d also explored both of the two smaller connector lakes at each end of Knollwood Lake.

  Here in this dark-blue water she had learned to swim, making the required rite-of-passage crossing from Pickle Island to the Summerhaven. Here she’d grieved her parents’ deaths and much later her grandmother’s.

  Maddy glanced over her shoulder, seeing Summerhaven rising majestically from its perch atop the grassy slope. A stonewall separated a lakeshore terrace from the hill, and the boathouse to her left lumbered at the water’s edge.

  It had always been this way, a timeless reminder of the lumber barons who had, in logging’s heyday, ruled the area and summered here instead of in steamy, crowded Chicago. If Pershall Island and its magnificent lodge was the king of the lake, then Summerhaven was queen. For a moment, Maddy let the paddle drag in the tiny wake behind the canoe.

  At seven a.m. there was no sign of the eagles Aunt Gail claimed were back, but brightly colored dragonflies flitted nearby as Maddy resigned herself to her quest and made another deliberate stroke toward her destination. The closer she came to North Star, the more changes she could see. Unlike last summer, the house boasted new paint, new windows and a new roof. The lawn had been landscaped—the overgrowth pruned and tamed.

  When she arrived, she rammed the front end of the canoe up onto the muddy bank, and made her way to the bow and climbed out. She hoisted the canoe so that only the stern remained in the water, and she dried her hands on her black camp shorts after satisfied the vessel was secure. She tucked in a loose edge of her black “Believe” t-shirt, worn as if the imprinted slogan would somehow give her confidence, and turned. “Oh! You startled me!”

  Dylan reached out and, like yesterday, his hand steadied while at the same time stoked a dormant fire. “Sorry, I promise not to make sneaking up on you a habit.”

  Which insinuated future contact. Maddy inhaled a deep breath of pine-scented air and tried to slow her rapid heartbeat. She stepped away, her body immediately noticing the loss of his touch. “It’s no big deal,” she lied.

  His black eyes darkened and the lines around them crinkled as he grinned. How she’d always liked his rakish smile when she’d been impressionable and young! Today his charisma had the s
ame effect, but Maddy knew not to be foolish. Dylan Blackwater was pure danger, a man in total control of every lethal pore.

  He chuckled—his voice rich and deep. He’d dressed in navy chino shorts and an unbuttoned red polo shirt that showcased a broad muscular chest, and unlike her, he appeared utterly at ease.

  “One of the things my father taught me was walking without a sound. My mother always went to sleep very early and I wasn’t to wake her. I started coffee as soon as I realized you were headed over. Care for a cup today?”

  Why not? “Yes, that would be nice.”

  “Then follow me.”

  Although following him along the new brick walkway meant she got an eyeful of a tight tush, muscular legs, and a firm backside. Under the polo it was obvious that well-honed muscles rippled.

  An aroma of pecans greeted her as they entered the kitchen, and she sat at a new oak table. She’d never been inside the house so she had no idea the previous condition, but everything inside had been meticulously rehabbed. He filled a tin cup and the speckled blue mug warmed her hands. He placed the coffee pot on the table.

  “Would you like milk or sugar?”

  “Black is fine,” she said as she raised the cup to her lips. She sipped the soothing balm. “This is good.”

  Awareness prickled her skin, fueled by hot coffee and Dylan’s presence. His thigh brushed against hers, soft leg hairs tickling seductively as he poured himself a cup. “I would have saved you some breakfast had I known you were visiting.”

  “I decided just this morning.”

  “You could have called,” he pointed out, his tone mild and amused.

  She’d actually thought of that. “You’re unlisted.”

  He finished pouring. “I’ll give you my cell number.”

  “Some things are best handled face to face.”