Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door

by Therese Beharrie

  ‘Clearly that isn’t all she told you,’ he said with a self-deprecating smile.

  ‘No.’

  The smile dimmed. ‘There’s a lot you seem to know about me, Jessica, and yet I haven’t even heard about you.’

  ‘Does that surprise you?’

  ‘No.’ A fleeting shadow of pain darkened his features. ‘But I’m back now.’

  ‘So you are.’

  ‘And I’d like to have my return start on the right foot.’

  Something pulsed in the air between them, but Jess refused to acknowledge it. ‘Yeah, okay. Go for it.’

  He smiled at her, and this time it wasn’t laden with emotion. It was an easy, natural smile she imagined he’d give when he saw an old friend, or during his favourite movie. But it sent an unnatural frisson through her body.

  ‘You should have lunch with me.’

  ‘No,’ she said immediately.

  ‘You have somewhere else to be?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Then have lunch with me.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ she said more firmly, hoping none of the panic she felt was evident in her voice. ‘You were...busy before I interrupted.’

  ‘After what happened, I think I’m done for the day.’

  ‘I really don’t think I should—’

  ‘Please.’ His smile widened and she almost felt faint. ‘I’d like to get to know the woman staying in my sister’s house. The woman who’s clearly a good friend of hers.’ He paused. ‘That’s what I meant by having my return start on the right foot. If you and I are on good terms when Anja gets back...’

  The seconds ticked by, and then Jess narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re schmoozing me!’

  Surprise captured his features, and then he laughed. A loud, genuine laugh that started at those fantastic abs and went all the way up to his perfect hair. It was fascinating to watch. The even angles of his face were animated with joy, those chocolate-whisky eyes she only now noticed he shared with his sister alight with appreciation.

  She’d never been much of a beard woman, but Dylan’s stubble was dissuading her of that belief. She loved that his skin reminded her of oak—not too light, not too dark. And she really loved that he still didn’t have a shirt on, so she could appreciate that colour over hard, defined muscle...

  ‘If I told you I was, would that make you want to have lunch with me any less than you already do?’ he asked, interrupting her hormone-driven thoughts.

  ‘Probably.’ She waited. ‘So, are you?’

  Now he chuckled. ‘No.’

  She tilted her head. Watched him. ‘You’re the CEO of an international engineering company. I’d imagine that requires some measure of intelligence.’

  ‘You’re saying I’m not intelligent?’

  ‘Only if you expect me to believe that you’re not trying to...charm me into having lunch with you.’

  ‘Well, I am taking some time off from work. Perhaps that’s why I’m off my game. Why I’ve made such an unforgivable mistake.’

  ‘You’re still doing it!’

  He smiled. ‘I can’t help it.’

  ‘Great. It’ll make my refusal so much easier then.’

  ‘No, wait,’ he said, grabbing her wrist when she turned. He let go when she turned back. Her skin prickled. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just...easier to schmooze than to...earnestly ask you to have lunch with me.’

  ‘Why do you want to have lunch with me so badly?’

  ‘You’re Anja’s friend and...and I’d like to show her that I’m serious about coming back to fix things. That’s why I’m here,’ he told her softly. ‘I want to fix what I broke when I left, and if you and I are on good terms...’ He shrugged. ‘I wasn’t lying about that, Jess.’

  As Jess studied him she felt herself soften. She hated that she did, but she couldn’t ignore the emotion behind his words. The hope. She also couldn’t ignore how much it spoke to her own desire. The deep, dark one that she would never have admitted aloud to anyone.

  That some day her parents would show up for her, just like it seemed Dylan had for Anja. That some day they’d want to fix things with her just as badly as Dylan clearly wanted to with his sister.

  It was a stupid hope, one her experiences growing up had taught her not to entertain. But still, it made her want to say yes to Dylan. That, and the desire to prevent the child she carried from growing up in the tension, the brokenness that currently existed in Anja’s family. The same kind of tension and brokenness that Jess had grown up with.

  Jess knew Anja was stubborn, and she wouldn’t let the brother who’d left her after their father had died just come strolling back into her life. Not when that brother had broken her heart by leaving. Not when he’d broken his promise to always be there for her.

  ‘I don’t know why you left, Dylan,’ Jess said softly, ‘or why you didn’t come home for two years. That’s probably none of my business...though what I’m about to ask you falls under that category, too. But...why haven’t you come over to speak with Anja since you got back?’

  It was such a long time before he answered that Jess was sure he wouldn’t answer her at all. ‘I didn’t know whether she’d want to see me, and staying away, keeping my mind and body busy with menial tasks...they were all excuses to postpone the inevitably difficult conversation I would have to have with her.’

  Surprised by his candour—and more than a little touched—Jess nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ she repeated. She waited a beat before she said, ‘You better have enough food to feed a pregnant woman, Dylan.’

  * * *

  It took Dylan a moment to realise what he’d done. Another to process what he’d said. And even then he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Inviting a woman he barely knew into his home? Offering to make her lunch? Sharing his intention of fixing things with Anja? Hoping that she’d be able to give him some insight into his sister?

  It was crazy, but his craziness was dipped in desperation. Desperation because his sister hadn’t spoken to him—not properly—in almost two years. Desperation because his plan to speak with her when he got home wasn’t working.

  Because every time he’d wanted to go over to her house to talk with her he’d remembered her face when he’d left. He’d remembered how broken she’d looked, how her voice had cracked when she’d said goodbye.

  How he’d left anyway.

  And now, when he’d finally told himself he would go to see her that night, it turned out she wasn’t even there.

  He was disappointed, and perhaps that had been another reason for his invitation to Jess. But then the desperation, the craziness, the disappointment had landed him a meal with a beautiful woman, so was it really that bad?

  Yes, an inner voice answered him. Of course it was. Because though the beautiful woman knew things about his sister that he didn’t know—that he wanted to know—she was also pregnant. Pregnant. Which meant someone had got her pregnant. His eyes searched her hand for a ring, but they didn’t find one.

  It sent an absurd surge of hope through him, and he rolled his eyes as he led the way into his house. He bent down when he heard the scurry of paws against the wooden floor and fussed over his Labrador, Daisy, when she came bounding around the corner.

  But she quickly lost interest in him and made her way to the woman he’d invited for lunch. Dylan watched as Jess’s face lit up and she lowered—carefully, he saw—before rubbing his dog vigorously. It sent another surge through him, but this time it was warmth. A bubble of warmth that floated from his heart and settled in his belly.

  A bubble that abruptly popped when he remembered that no wedding ring didn’t mean that she was available.

  And that a baby meant she definitely wasn’t available.

  ‘Daisy, back,’ he snapped, the words coming out harsher than he’d inte
nded because of his thoughts. The dog gave him a beseeching look but stepped back and sat, and Dylan offered a hand to help Jess up.

  ‘Sorry about that. She gets a little excited around people.’

  He sucked in his breath at the sizzle he felt coming from her hand. Held his breath when the vanilla scent she wore settled in his nose. As soon as she was steady, he broke the contact.

  ‘Don’t worry. I love dogs.’

  ‘Do you have any?’

  Sadness dulled her eyes. ‘No, my parents weren’t really fans of pets when I was younger. Or children.’ She laughed breathlessly, but he could tell that it was meant to cover up her mistake. She hadn’t meant to tell him that.

  Well, that makes two of us, he thought, remembering what he’d told her about coming home. And because of it he didn’t address her slip. Instead, he approached it from a different angle.

  ‘Why don’t you have any now? Doesn’t your husband want pets either?’

  ‘No husband.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m just your typical unwed pregnant woman, I guess.’

  She didn’t look too bothered by it, which forced him to ignore the hope that stirred inside him again. ‘Somehow I doubt that.’

  ‘That I’m unwed and pregnant?’

  ‘That you’re typical.’

  ‘You barely know me, Dylan.’

  Her eyes met his and it felt as if lightning flashed between them. The seconds ticked by, the current of energy between them grew more intense, but neither of them looked away. Eventually, he said, ‘What are you in the mood to eat?’

  A moment passed, and then he could see her force herself to relax. ‘Do you have peanut butter?’

  It was such a strange request that it broke the tension he still felt inside him. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You want peanut butter? I’m pretty sure there’s something more substantial in the fridge.’

  ‘Peanut butter is plenty substantial,’ she replied defensively. ‘Especially if you serve it with those bananas over there.’

  She nodded to the fruit bowl on his kitchen table, and he felt the smile on his face almost before he even knew it was there. ‘Peanut butter and banana?’

  ‘Peanut butter and banana,’ she confirmed, and smiled. ‘I tried to warn you about what you were getting into by inviting a pregnant woman for lunch.’

  ‘Yeah, you did,’ he answered, though he struggled for the words because her smile was so...distracting. As was her face—the smooth curves of its oval shape, the high cheekbones, those cinnamon eyes, the glossy olive of her skin, those generous lips...

  Even her hair was distracting. The dark brown strands were clipped back into a messy style that he couldn’t decide whether he liked. Mostly because it made him want to tidy it up. No, he corrected his thoughts immediately. Because it made him want to muss it up even more.

  Her clothing was loose, hiding the curve of her stomach. That was why he hadn’t noticed she was pregnant at first—though he’d discovered it pretty quickly, so he couldn’t blame ignorance for the fact that he’d flirted with her.

  But he didn’t want to think about what he could blame flirting with her on, so he was glad when she spoke.

  ‘Who looked after Daisy while you were away?’

  ‘Actually, I got her in London and then brought her back with me.’

  Daisy wagged her tail when he looked over at her and love filled his heart. She’d saved him from depression, from the loneliness of his grief and anger. From his guilt. And she’d needed him in a way that was more simple than he could ever remember being needed.

  His experience of being needed by his mother and sister had always—always—been complicated. And he blamed himself. He’d been the one who’d chosen to look after their family when his father had abandoned them. When his father had decided that gambling was more important than the woman he’d married. Than his children...

  Dylan had been the one to take care of the household when his father’s abandonment had meant that they couldn’t rely on their mother any more either. So yes, maybe after they’d found out the man had died, Dylan had wanted to leave it all behind. And yes, maybe finding out a few days before his father’s funeral that his mother hadn’t been the victim she’d pretended to be all those years ago had given him even more incentive to leave.

  But he was back now. Because his sister hadn’t lied to him, hadn’t betrayed him. And it was time that he stopped acting as though she had.

  ‘Daisy’s English?’ Jess asked, interrupting his thoughts. She snapped a finger and Daisy was at her side in an instant. ‘I’ve never met an English dog before,’ she said, cooing at his pet.

  ‘I don’t really think they have nationalities.’

  ‘Really? Because Daisy gives off a distinct English vibe. Like she’d invite me for tea and scones every afternoon at three.’

  He laughed. ‘The English actually have their tea—’ He broke off at her smirk, and the laugh turned into a smile. ‘You don’t care, do you?’

  ‘Not unless I’m going to the UK, which is obviously not happening any time soon.’

  ‘How far along are you?’ he asked, and began to prepare their lunch. Since peanut butter and banana didn’t seem quite as appealing to him, he decided on a chicken mayo sandwich for himself.

  ‘Just over five months. Um, Dylan?’ He glanced at her. ‘I know the naked chef is a thing in the UK, but you not having a shirt on... Well, it’s really distracting. Do you mind?’

  CHAPTER TWO

  HIS EYEBROWS ROSE, and then a grin curved his lips. ‘I’m distracting you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jess said, and tilted her chin. ‘Wouldn’t you be distracted if I made your food half-naked? No, don’t answer that,’ she added quickly, when his grin turned naughty. ‘It wasn’t the right comparison.’

  ‘Probably not, but I liked it.’ He winked, and something flipped in her belly. She was fairly certain it wasn’t the baby. ‘I’ll grab a T-shirt.’

  He left the kitchen and finally air flowed easily through her lungs again. She hadn’t noticed how hard it had been to breathe around him. But she knew it was a sure sign that she was digging a hole that she might not be able to get out of.

  And it wasn’t only because of how he made her feel. It was because Jess knew what Anja and Dylan’s relationship was like. And because she knew how much he’d hurt her friend by leaving.

  Anja hadn’t even told Dylan that he was going to be an uncle. Or that his niece or nephew would be brought into the world by a surrogate. She hadn’t told him about her miscarriage after years of fertility struggles, or how those struggles and that miscarriage had been the reason she’d decided to use a surrogate.

  Or, Jess thought, about the fact that she was that surrogate.

  Jess couldn’t say she agreed with her friend’s silence. But then, Jess didn’t understand the dynamic between siblings since she didn’t have any. Nor did she understand what it was like to be part of a real family unit, where hurt and betrayal resulted from a member of that unit doing something the others didn’t approve of.

  She could barely call her family a family, for heaven’s sake, let alone a unit.

  Anja was the closest thing Jess had to family, which was why she’d offered to be Anja and Chet’s surrogate. It was also why she should have been calling Anja, telling her about Dylan’s return instead of waiting for him to put a shirt on so that he could make her lunch.

  Jess distracted herself by looking around. The open-plan living room and kitchen were filled with light from windows and doors that made up most of the rooms’ external structure. From where she stood, she could see a sunroom where she would kill to spend a few hours in the afternoon sun, furnished in muted colours that told her Dylan had incredible style, or had hired someone who did.

  The living room was just as stylish, though she wasn’t a big fan of the darker finishes h
e’d chosen. She couldn’t deny that it was striking against the cream-coloured walls and solid brick fireplace, but she preferred the warmth of the kitchen. With its light waterfall counter and space around the island, it was the type of room she’d always felt more comfortable in. Understated and tasteful. Despite the fact that she’d grown up in opulence. But more likely because of it.

  Before she could go down that path, Dylan walked in wearing a blue T-shirt that did nothing to detract from his sexiness. She almost sighed when her heart did a quick tumble in her chest, and a voice in her head asked her to rethink agreeing to have lunch with him.

  ‘Still hungry?’ he asked and, despite the warning, Jess heard herself say, ‘Yes, I am.’

  She watched him go through the rhythms of making their lunch. Watched as he didn’t so much as give her an indulgent smile as he chopped the bananas and plopped them in a bowl, adding a generous dollop of peanut butter as though he’d made the meal countless times before. He finished his sandwich almost as quickly and then offered her something to drink. Before she knew it, she was following him into the sunroom she’d admired earlier.

  ‘You didn’t have to go to all this effort,’ she said when they sat.

  ‘It wasn’t really an effort.’ He shrugged and took a big bite of his sandwich.

  She followed by spooning banana and peanut butter together, and then lifted it to her mouth. When she’d swallowed, she looked up to see him watching her, a strange expression on his face. She wasn’t sure why it made her feel flushed and, though she wanted to, she didn’t think she’d be able to blame it on pregnancy hormones. It had her blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

  ‘I quite liked the trees in your backyard before you cut them down.’

  ‘I did, too. But their leaves were clogging the gutters and, with winter coming, I thought I’d do something about it. You know, make sure the gutters work when the rain comes and have wood for the fireplace.’

  Dutifully, she said, ‘The fireplace is wonderful. Your whole house is.’

  His eyes scanned her face and she felt another flush of heat. ‘Why don’t I believe you, Jess?’