Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door

by Therese Beharrie

  ‘No, you don’t have to.’

  She stepped onto the towel in front of her to pick up the one just beyond it, but it slipped under her feet and she felt herself falling before she fully realised what was happening. A strong arm went around her waist and drew her up, and then Jess found herself staring into Dylan’s eyes.

  There was concern there, but she could also see the faint light of anger at her refusal. But seconds passed and neither of them looked away, and soon his eyes changed. The concern, the anger, faded and was slowly replaced by interest.

  By attraction.

  That was the word for it, she thought. And it was a dangerous thought since something instantly sprang inside her chest at the prospect, at the recognition of what had caused her fantasy about Dylan earlier. She swallowed as the attraction changed to desire, and more seconds passed as she realised that that change was because of whatever he saw in her eyes.

  Because being reminded about the fantasy she’d had about him earlier had made her body go hot. Had made her tingle, ache. Now she was pressed against the chest she’d spent days admiring, her hands braced against it, and she could feel his heart thudding against her hand. She should move, she told herself.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to put distance between them. The only movement she wanted to act on was to press herself even closer against him. To feel his muscular body tight against her, and have him feel the softness of her body. Her belly would get in the way, but she could—

  The thought stopped her imagination abruptly, and shame took the place of desire. How could she be thinking these things when she was pregnant? When she was carrying a member of Dylan’s family?

  There was no way she could entertain these fantasies. She couldn’t think about Dylan in any way other than as Anja’s brother, the uncle to the child she carried. Getting involved with him had no benefits. It would probably hurt her best friend. It might even hurt the baby.

  And though she wasn’t the biological mother, while she carried him or her, she was responsible for the baby. The baby was her most important priority, and she couldn’t ignore that just because Dylan made her feel things she’d forgotten she could feel.

  Her relationship with Anja was important to her. More important than anything else. She would not screw it up. ‘Thanks,’ she murmured, thoroughly doused of the heat of attraction. ‘Why don’t you get this cleared up and I’ll make the calls? I have the information on my laptop.’

  ‘It’s not damaged?’ he asked her quietly, taking a step away from her.

  ‘It’s in the lounge. The water didn’t get there.’

  ‘Okay then.’

  With careful steps, Jess made her way to the lounge. There would be no repeat performance of the last ten minutes.

  Not now, not ever.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BY THE TIME Dylan was done clearing up, the plumber had arrived and confirmed his suspicions: the geyser had burst. While they liaised with the insurance company and arranged for it to be replaced and informed them of the other damage, Dylan watched Jess. She’d been acting strangely from the moment he’d answered the door that morning, and he couldn’t quite figure out why.

  Was it because of the way things had ended between them the day before? Maybe, he thought. But then he remembered the way things had crackled between them when he’d saved her from falling. The way his body had reacted to her body’s proximity, and the shame he’d felt when she’d pulled away.

  She was pregnant, for crying out loud. There was no circumstance in which that didn’t make her off-limits. He needed to remember that, he thought, when his heart stuttered as his eyes rested on her.

  But, damn it, there was just something about her that pulled him in. That made rational thought not matter, and made hope flair when it shouldn’t. And it had nothing to do with her relationship with his sister.

  He told himself to pull back, to control himself, and went over to talk with her.

  ‘The insurance is sending out their own evaluators this afternoon,’ she said, and he saw the fatigue in her eyes.

  ‘Figured as much when we realised the plumber we called wasn’t on their list of approved service providers.’

  ‘I’ve told them what the plumber identified the problem as, and gave them the details of the geyser. I doubt they’ll arrive with it—wouldn’t want to waste their money in case it wasn’t what we said—but it should be replaced by the end of the day.’

  ‘And the ceiling?’

  ‘They’re sending someone out for that and the rest of the damage today, too.’

  He nodded. ‘I don’t think the ceiling will be too much of an effort. Might just be a paint job. The rest will have to dry.’

  ‘It’ll probably take a good solid two days,’ she replied. ‘And the water will probably be off for today. The painting should be done tomorrow, but the fumes might keep me out for at least another day.’ She bit her lip. ‘It might end up being more than two days.’ She rested a hand on her stomach, and the action did something strange to his insides.

  ‘Do you have somewhere to go?’ he asked, his thoughts making his words gruff.

  ‘No,’ she said softly.

  ‘Where do you live when you’re not living here?’

  ‘I just bought a place that isn’t ready for me to move in yet. And the lease of the one I rented before is up.’ She sighed. ‘Anja and Chet are letting me stay here until my flat’s ready.’

  He processed the information. ‘What about the father of the baby?’

  She hesitated. ‘He isn’t an option right now.’

  ‘So he doesn’t care where the mother of his child is?’

  ‘That’s not—’ She broke off. ‘He isn’t an option. But this isn’t your problem, so don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.’

  ‘I will worry. You have nowhere to go.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Jess—’

  ‘Why are you pushing me?’

  ‘Why won’t you accept my help?’

  ‘I have accepted your help. With all of this.’ She waved her hand around them at the house. ‘You’ve done enough.’

  ‘Not if I leave you to figure things out by yourself,’ he argued. ‘Letting someone help you isn’t going to rob you of anything, you know.’

  ‘Not in my experience.’

  He paused. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said immediately, shaking her head. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

  He studied her. Couldn’t bring himself to look away from her. Not when her expression was so captivating. She’d been hurt before, he saw. And realised that hurt had made her lose something of herself.

  Though he barely knew her, Dylan found his fists curling and his mind fantasising about being alone with whoever had hurt her. And since she was pregnant and didn’t want to turn to the father of her child for help, Dylan was willing to bet he knew who he’d like to hurt.

  He forced himself to relax. ‘Okay, how about you get some of your clothes and come over to my place for breakfast? You can figure it out there,’ he added over the protest he could sense would come from her.

  But, instead of protesting, she said, ‘That would be great, thanks,’ surprising him. He watched as she got up—resisting the urge to help her when her movements looked the slightest bit sluggish—and waited in the passage leading to the front door while she packed.

  He used the time to look at his sister’s house. Just as he’d told Jess the day before, he preferred the décor here to that of his own house. Though the architecture was much the same, the bright colours made Anja’s house look more homely than his own. When he’d told Anja as much, she’d told him that if he’d been there, maybe he could have made sure his was homely, too.

  It had been the first sign of the crack in their relationship, but of course, he’d ignored
it. It had been easier to do than facing the fact that he should have been home...

  Jess came out then, just in time to stop those thoughts from spiralling. He wordlessly took the small suitcase she had, and turned towards his place. He was almost surprised to see how sullen the sky had become, though he shouldn’t have been. It was autumn, and the warmth of the past few days had been more of a fluke than the grey sky.

  He opened the door of his house to an excited dog, who became even more excited when she saw Jess behind him. Though he could still see the fatigue in Jess’s eyes, she dutifully gave Daisy the attention the dog wanted and then followed him into the kitchen.

  It was strange having her in his house again. Which itself was strange, considering that he’d only been living in that house for eight days himself after being away from it for two years. And since the décor had changed while he’d been away, it was almost like living in a new place.

  ‘You can have the guest room,’ he told her, leading the way. ‘My housekeeper comes in every second day, so the room should be okay to stay in. There’s an en suite bathroom, too, so it has everything you need.’

  ‘Thanks. I think I’ll take a shower and change.’

  ‘And I’ll get breakfast ready.’

  ‘Oh, you really don’t have to—’

  ‘I know,’ he interrupted her. ‘But I’m hungry, too, so it won’t be that much of an effort.’

  He left before she could argue with him, and started making their breakfast. Cooking was one of the habits he’d picked up growing up that didn’t annoy him. At first it had been for survival. After it had become clear his father wasn’t going to come home, his mother had given up on most tasks, including feeding them.

  So Dylan had used the money he’d found in his father’s safe to buy food, but he’d quickly realised that the money wouldn’t last if he didn’t learn how to buy sustainable items. And that the items that had been sustainable required effort on his behalf. So he’d spent a lot of time watching cooking shows, had flipped through the faded cookbooks in his mother’s bookshelf and had taught himself to cook. He’d soon realised that it calmed him, and had roped Anja in, hoping she’d feel the same way.

  ‘You look better,’ he said when he saw Jess walk into the kitchen. He plated the muffins his housekeeper had made.

  ‘You mean better than the horror show I was this morning?’

  ‘Not at all. I just meant—’ He broke off when he saw her smile, and felt his stomach flip. He ignored it.

  ‘Do you want something to drink?’

  ‘Tea, please.’ She settled onto the bar stool at the counter.

  ‘I have more comfortable chairs in the living room.’

  ‘I know. But I won’t let this baby rob me of the opportunity to eat while I watch you cook.’

  She gave him a cheeky grin, and he laughed. She did look better than before. Not only because now she wore a long-sleeved black dress that stretched down to her feet with a belt tied under her breasts accentuating her bump, but because she didn’t look quite as tired, as restless, as she had when she’d first got there.

  He wondered if that meant he could convince her to stay with him while the work on Anja’s house was being done. The thought was as surprising as it was sudden, but when he thought about it he realised it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

  Unless he thought about how things sparked between them. And how badly he wanted to kiss her lips, to taste her mouth and feel the fullness of her body against his again...

  Which, of course, he wouldn’t think about.

  He told himself to wait until breakfast was over before he mentioned it, and slid the tea and muffins in front of her. ‘Your wish is my command.’

  ‘You’re such a good man,’ she breathed as she picked up a chocolate muffin.

  He bit back a grin. ‘Those are the first ones I go for, too.’

  ‘They’re delicious. Where did you get them?’

  ‘My housekeeper made them for me.’

  ‘They’re homemade? You need to ask her for the recipe.’

  ‘You cook?’ he asked, and started cutting fruit. He didn’t know what was in a pregnant woman’s diet, but he figured he’d cover all his bases.

  ‘That’s baking, Dylan.’

  ‘You bake?’

  ‘No.’

  His lips curved. ‘So you cook, then?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Then why did you correct me?’

  ‘It seemed like a fun thing to do,’ she said with a smile, and then sobered. ‘I’ve been learning how to do both over the last few years. I’m not quite at the level of being able to say that I can cook or bake well, but I can feed myself. And these—’ she lifted the muffin ‘—are definitely the kind of food I’d like to learn how to make.’

  ‘What happened a few years ago? That made you want to learn how to cook and bake, I mean.’ He set the fruit he’d been cutting up to the side, and began preparing the bacon and eggs.

  ‘I... I moved out of my parents’ house.’

  He frowned. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Old enough to have been out of my parents’ house by then,’ she said with a laugh, but it sounded forced. ‘We used to have a cook, so there was never really a need for me to learn how to feed myself.’

  ‘You had a cook?’

  ‘Yes.’ He glanced over to see the hesitation in her eyes. ‘Extravagant, isn’t it?’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did.’

  He turned to her and watched as she avoided his eyes. And suddenly he thought that perhaps he’d attributed the hurt he saw in her to someone who hadn’t deserved it.

  ‘So you had an...extravagant childhood?’

  ‘I guess you could say that.’

  ‘What would you say?’

  ‘I...was always well provided for.’ He could hear the care she’d taken with those words.

  ‘Your parents are wealthy?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So why—’ He broke off, knowing that his question would veer into territory she might not be comfortable with. But she finished his sentence for him.

  ‘Why am I working as a PA?’ He nodded. ‘Well, I wasn’t...well cared for. Or cared for at all,’ she added softly, and Dylan felt his heart throb. ‘So, when I moved out, I stopped talking to them. Which meant I had to take care of myself, hence this job.’

  Seconds passed as he digested this new information. ‘When you didn’t want my help this morning, were you...thinking about them?’

  ‘Only about how they used to throw it in my face whenever I asked them for help.’ She paused. ‘I remember when I was younger, I started saving for a new laptop. I didn’t want to use my dad’s old one any more, so I got a job and put away every cent of it so I could buy myself a new one. But my dad’s laptop broke before I had enough money to replace it, so I asked them to help me buy a new one.’ She lifted a hand, brushed at something on her cheek that he couldn’t see. ‘I thought that having half of the money for it—that working for it—would make them proud, but—’ she cleared her throat ‘—but it didn’t. They helped me buy the laptop, and reminded me of it whenever I acted in a way they didn’t approve of.’

  He blew out a breath, his heart aching when he saw the fear on Jess’s face. Fear he realised came from telling him something so intimate. ‘I’m sorry, Jess.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ she said, avoiding his eyes. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  But still, silence stretched long and awkwardly between them.

  Dylan wished he could find something to say to make her feel better. Clearly, she’d had a tough time growing up just like he’d had. So, in fact, he should have known exactly what to say to her.

  But, instead of helping him to find words of comfort, that fact kept him silent. Because he did know ho
w awful it was, and that meant that nothing he could say would make her feel any better. And though he’d only met Jess the day before, something told him she wasn’t the kind of person who wanted fake consolation.

  He appreciated that. Respected it.

  And yet, when he looked at her again, he heard himself saying, ‘I guess you and I have more in common than I thought.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘SEEMS LIKE IT,’ Jess replied, and wondered why that suddenly mattered. Wondered why she wasn’t alarmed by the fact that it did.

  Perhaps it was because she couldn’t deny how much...better she felt immediately after he said it. It made her feel like less of a fool for bringing up the subject of her parents when she knew she shouldn’t have. When she knew that doing so would bring out that side of her that was bitter and resentful.

  That hurt.

  It left a terrible taste in her throat, and Jess drank desperately from her tea to try to take it away. Even though her mind told her the response was irrational. Even though she knew that that taste was imaginary.

  Damn her parents for doing this to her, she thought. She squeezed her eyes shut, and then forced herself to open them again. When she did, she saw that Dylan was watching her. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and the air in her lungs grew terribly heavy.

  ‘I’m sorry that they hurt you,’ he said.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘But they did.’

  ‘And yours hurt you,’ she replied primly. ‘We survive.’

  ‘Do we?’ he asked with a half-smile. ‘Do you think we’re surviving?’

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘I...don’t just want to survive if this is surviving,’ he admitted quietly. ‘If constantly worrying that I’m repeating the mistakes of my parents—that I’m disappointing the people I love—is surviving.’

  ‘I...feel the same,’ she said in surprise. ‘About surviving.’

  He didn’t reply for a moment. ‘When I was on the second floor of Anja’s house earlier I noticed something strange.’ He turned back to the stove and flipped an egg.

  Confusion spread through her, but the change in topic and the fact that he wasn’t looking at her any more had the breath in her lungs moving easily again. ‘Yeah?’ she replied, grateful that her voice wasn’t nearly as shaky as she’d thought it would be.