Her Billionaire Single Dad (Her Billionaire CEO, #8)

by Allen, Jewel

  Their gazes met and held. Could she...did this mean...?

  Before he could ask, Helen and the children returned from the pool. Michael was glad to see them, but he wished he could get Lara to himself so they could have a heart-to-heart.

  Lara shooed the kids into their shared room to give them baths, leaving Michael with Helen outside. He smiled to himself.

  “What?” Helen asked.

  Michael shook his head. “It feels good to sit here and not have to worry about anyone’s safety.”

  Helen smiled, her eyes filling with tears. “Amen. I can’t believe you let those guys go scot-free, though. They could kidnap another tourist.”

  “They might. But we struck a deal. And hopefully, he will remember that there are good people out in the world still. They need to have this new president work.”

  “I hope they do.”

  Michael drummed his fingers on the porch table, his movements making a soft thudding noise. “Hey, Helen?”

  “Yes?”

  “I hate to ask this of you since you just got here, but do you think you can help watch the children tonight?”

  “Of course. Why, where are you going?”

  “Nowhere. I was just hoping I could take Lara on a dinner date.”

  Helen’s eyes danced. “Ah. Of course! I’d be happy to.” She leaned forward. “Are you proposing?”

  “Did she talk to you about...us?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I haven’t told you anything about our relationship. Why would you assume we’re more than friends?”

  “It’s obvious to anyone with 20/20 vision. You look at her like that good ol’ Great Dane we had growing up. Puppy love. And she...she’s a bit harder to read, but she looks at you a lot and blushes.”

  He raked his hand through his hair. “Maybe there’s still hope for us, huh?”

  Helen looked puzzled. “Why would you say that? You and she seem to get along.”

  “It’s not always been that way. I guess it took us that trauma—and other events— to bring us together.”

  “I hated that it happened to you, but if it knocked sense into that hard noggin of yours, I’m glad, then.”

  “So you’re good to watch them?”

  “Tonight, tomorrow, another time. Sure!”

  “Thanks.” Michael smiled. “You’re the best. I’m going to make arrangements. Could you please tell Lara I’ll be right back? But nothing else. It’s a surprise.”

  “Don’t worry. I will assure her you haven’t run off.”

  Michael laughed, his eyes darting toward Lara’s door.

  “Hurry,” Helen said.

  Chapter 46

  Lara giggled as Michael led her blindfolded through the resort. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  “That sounds like a nice promise from an eye doctor.”

  His husky laugh made her insides melt. His touch on her arms and the small of her back as he guided her felt good. Right.

  She’d not told him anything about leaving. There had been no time for a private conversation.

  And now, Michael said he had a surprise before dinner. Helen had already whisked the children away to get ready for their dinner at the restaurant.

  Michael stopped and undid Lara’s blindfold. It was already dark, and the staff had put up solar jars around the property. They looked like fireflies in the darkness.

  On Michael’s porch, a table was set with cloth for an elegant meal, with napkins and proper silverware. A single candle glowed in the middle, illuminating the gleaming white china.

  Lara put her hand to her mouth. “Wow, what’s the occasion?”

  “You tell me,” he said, pulling the chair out.

  “What?” she retorted, sitting down. “You invite me here, and I have to read your mind?”

  Michael pulled up a chair, sat beside her, and held her hand.

  “You hold my heart in your hands,” he said, his gaze earnest.

  She knew what he was saying. But she needed to stall for time, to organize her thoughts. Her feelings. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Since you haven’t told me goodbye or asked me to take you to the airport, I assumed you’re staying for a bit.”

  She bit her lip. “I couldn’t leave the children. Not another time.”

  He searched her eyes. “Only the children?”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t leave you.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad, because I don’t think I’d be able to bear seeing you go again.”

  He switched hands and sat closer so that he was touching her back. Through her sundress, she rejoiced in the warmth of his caress.

  “What made you stay this time?” he said.

  She smiled. “You know.”

  “I need to hear it from your beautiful lips.”

  A hunger built inside her as he gazed at her mouth. She tried to focus on his question, glancing away at a jar light. Such a small flame, and yet it guided someone to safety.

  “Seeing you in that situation with Angel’s group made me realize that you were everything I could ever want in a man. You have an innate goodness within you, a moral compass, if you will, that I can count on. That’s such a comfort.”

  She gazed into his eyes. “When I was a child, I had no such security. My parents raised me and my siblings, but they were emotionally detached. I had to raise myself and my sisters. I didn’t think I’d ever find anyone who could convince me that the world isn’t full of narcissists.”

  Bowing her head, she added, “I didn’t expect to find love on this safari, and yet you offered it to me. Helping you in that operating room, I pictured myself being able to work alongside you, serving in the world...”

  He leaned his forehead against hers and nuzzled her cheek. “I think it’s the answer not just to yours, but to my prayers.”

  She was fast losing track of her thought, distracted by his caress, so she finished with, “I think God was preparing me to meet you.”

  “No more hard-nosed legal cases?” he teased.

  Her skin tingled where his lips grazed her cheek. “I hope not. I hope to keep working with children, though.”

  “I’m sure we can make that work.” He stood, leaving her bereft as he let her hand go. But her heart beat fast when he got down on one knee and produced a little velvet box.

  He opened it to a perfect diamond solitaire gleaming in the candlelight.

  “Michael,” she breathed out.

  “Lara Cannon, will you marry me?”

  She looked from the ring to his dear face. Those kind, gentle eyes and his rugged features. That awkwardness that endeared him to her.

  “You said I hold your heart in my hands,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then...I want to keep your heart safe in my hands forever.”

  His eyes gleamed. “You mean...”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  Their lips couldn’t meet soon enough. She poured her heart and soul into their kiss. Its rhythm mirrored the valleys and mountains of the past two weeks. The ebb and flow of love and its spikes of joy and sadness, back to joy.

  It was as though she had moored at a distant shore, and she had found refuge in this man’s capable arms.

  “What are they doing?” Mick’s voice interrupted the moment.

  Lara and Michael broke off their kiss, turning toward the little boy’s voice. Mick and Lizzie were staring at them while Helen was coaxing them along.

  “I think something exciting,” Helen said. “Come along kids.” She winked at the couple.

  Lara and Michael laughed.

  “I love you,” Michael told Lara once they were alone again.

  “And I love you.”

  Michael returned to his seat, pulled it up to hers as close as he could get it, and kissed her for a long, long time.

  ***

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  Her Billionaire Sheikh

  Morocco, North Africa

  Reese Morgan waited to make her entrance into Michael Monroe’s engagement party at midnight.

  She paused at the top of the marble stairs until she was sure everyone was watching before she slowly made her way down. Her heels clicked on the steps as she gracefully moved in her fitted blue dress. She’d checked and double-checked her appearance in the hall mirror before coming out.

  Her dress, dark as midnight. Her platinum blonde hair, cut in a bob to her chin, sleek and perfect. Her nails, red as her lips.

  She acted as if she owned the place, like she came to these international soirees all the time. When in fact, her knees quaked, and she was reduced to being the little pickpocket her brother Quinn had trained her to be when they were younger.

  Over the years, she’d graduated from pickpocketing to more complex con jobs.

  This was the last job, Quinn promised. She wanted to believe him. Because the alternative was too hard to bear. If she failed, Quinn’s safety was at stake. Her future was linked to his.

  Now to find her mark.

  Sheikh Samir Al-Hana. North Africa’s most sought-after billionaire bachelor. The one who owned this place.

  Her marks were always bachelors. They fell hard for her, she fleeced them for whatever it was that Quinn and his fencers needed her to fleece, and then she moved on.

  It shouldn’t be too hard to find the sheikh. He was the host of this billionaire bash on the occasion of his eye doctor’s engagement.

  There they were, the happy couple, dancing in a circle of friends. Michael Monroe towered over his gorgeous blonde fiancée. They looked strikingly handsome together.

  Reese studied her surroundings.

  The sheikh’s mansion was everything she’d imagined and more. The sleek, modernist house towering three-stories high. The Olympic-size pool accented with floating candles. The breathtaking view of the Moroccan desert lit mysteriously by a nearly full moon. Beautiful guests in glittering dresses and black tuxes.

  She stepped out onto the balcony, taking a lemon water from a tray offered by a server. The Moroccan air made her throat clench with thirst, and it felt good to have something soothe her throat. She was still adjusting from Italy, where she’d left Quinn.

  “Reese Morgan?”

  She recognized the woman’s voice. Esther Mastroni. Broker for one of the biggest auction houses in the world. Always on the look-out for fabulous jewelry and art.

  Reese wanted to flee the other way, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to without attracting suspicion.

  “Darling,” Reese said, turning toward Esther with a big grin. “How have you been?”

  The two women kissed the air by their cheeks and surveyed each other.

  Reese knew Esther’s kind—calculating and flashy. She’d just returned from a safari in Africa—she’s been telling everyone—where she’d helped establish a charity service program for the sheikh’s special guest, Dr. Monroe.

  “You look terrific,” Esther said. “Looking younger every time. Are you sure you don’t get a few tucks here and there?”

  “The only tucking in I get is in bed when I’m sick,” Reese retorted.

  Esther laughed a practiced brittle one. “Oh, you are funny.”

  “My dear, twenty-six isn’t old.”

  “Enjoy your youth while it lasts,” Esther said.

  Reese nodded. “I intend to.”

  Esther lowered her voice. “How is that brother of yours?”

  Oh, the one whose heart she’d taken and spit out? “He’s fine,” Reese said, sipping her water again. “Neck-deep in all his ventures. You know.”

  Esther’s eyes glittered. She obviously hadn’t forgotten, nor had she moved on. “Oh, I know. I had hoped he would retire.” Esther looked her over. “And you, are you still up to your old tricks?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Reese moved away.

  Or tried to. Esther’s hand detained her. “I would be careful, Reese.” Esther looked around like a cat seeking its prey. “This isn’t the place to flaunt your charms. Someone just might find you out.”

  With that, Esther walked on.

  Reese should probably be more upset, but she wasn’t. Not with Esther. Quinn was more careful than that. Esther had her suspicions but nothing for a detective to hang his hat on. No crime could ever be traced to them, not with the system they’d built up over the years.

  She moved on in search of her prey, when someone jostled her drink.

  “Oh, pardon me,” she said as some of her water spilled on his sleeve.

  The man turned fully, training dark eyes on her. Her breath caught in her throat as his gaze became more intent. Intrigued. He was an Arab. A beautiful one, with a chiseled jaw and a perfectly clipped beard.

  “I saw you earlier,” he said in a cultured voice, a slight exotic accent on his words. “I wanted to meet you. So mysterious in the night. I was getting tired of all this.” He gestured to the crowd. “I was ready to leave until I saw you.” He paused. “And here you are.”

  “Like magic,” she said, taking a sip and watching him over her glass.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “Like magic.”

  “Poof!” she whispered.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “You aren’t planning to disappear on me now, are you? Just when I’ve found you.”

  She wished she could linger, but she had a job to do. “I wish I didn’t have to, but I’m looking for someone. Perhaps you can help me find him?”

  His eyes roamed the room briefly and then returned to hers. “Perhaps. Who is this lucky gentleman?”

  “Sheikh Samir Al-Hana.” The syllables rolled off her tongue like sand.

  That hypnotic gaze bore deep into hers. Curiosity lurked in their depths. He pursed his lips and smiled.

  “Why,” she asked. “What’s so funny?”

  “I am Sheikh Samir Al-Hana.” His eyes danced.

  Her eyes widened in feigned surprise.

  ***

  Well, it must be his lucky night.

  Samir studied his guest with pleasure. Up close, she didn’t seem as standoffish as she seemed on the stairs. When she had first appeared, like a model, he was intrigued.

  But here, just an arm’s length away, she had a vulnerable quality in her eyes, quickly masked. She had short blonde hair, cut with precision to the chin. The blue of her shape-flattering long-sleeved dress made her eyes sparkle. They were huge, staring at him directly. Not hiding her fascination.

  The fascination was mutual.

  He lifted her hand and kissed it. Her palm was soft, the back of her hand smooth. “And who do I have a pleasure of looking for me?”

  She gave him a level glance. “My name’s Reese. Reese Morgan.”

  “Miss Morgan—”

  There was a commotion at the stairwell. Event security streamed in conspicuously, angering Samir. He had given specific instructions that his guests weren’t to be ruffled, even by emergencies. He would have to speak with his security detail head, Axel.

  And wouldn’t you know it, Axel himself was making his way over, making a beeline for Reese.

  “Your Highness," Axel said, before flicking his eyes toward Reese.

  “Must you make a scene?” Samir said, his tone clipped.

  “Pardon me, Prince Samir,” Axel said in a low voice meant only for Samir’s ears, “but this lady is not on your guest list.”

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  Next in Her Billionaire CEO

  When Moroccan billionaire prince Samir Al-Hana discovers his fiancée is a con artist who trapped him into an e
ngagement to get the royal jewels, he insists on going forward with their marriage. Just three platonic months to keep his kingdom stable and then she’s free to go. He plans to simply ignore her, but ignoring a woman like Reese Morgan is near impossible.

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