Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door

by Therese Beharrie

  But she was worried about the things she couldn’t anticipate. Like the emotion of childbirth. And the hormones that would overcome her once she saw the child who had grown inside her for nine months.

  So perhaps making use of that finance degree would be a good move after she gave birth. She’d be able to give herself time to deal with the unanticipated without the emotional stress of seeing the baby every day.

  But she wouldn’t tell Dylan that. And she couldn’t tell Anja that. But she would think about it.

  ‘I appreciate your concern, Dylan. I really do.’ And she meant it, she thought. ‘But I know what I signed up for, and I know what it might mean for me.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ll figure it out.’

  He nodded, but his expression told her that he wanted to argue. She wouldn’t let him.

  ‘I’m going to take another look at what’s happening next door.’

  ‘No, I’ll go. You were working before I got here.’

  He was gone before she could protest.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DYLAN STAYED OUT of Jess’s way for the rest of the day.

  Her answers had irked him almost as much as the pull he felt towards her and was desperately trying to ignore. By the time it hit six o’clock, he was fed up with it, and decided they needed to get out of the house. Fortunately, the rain had subsided early that morning, so he made a few calls and went to find Jess.

  ‘Hey,’ he said when he found her in the sunroom. ‘Not much sun to see any more.’

  ‘You’re about fifteen minutes too late. The sun’s just set, and you have the perfect view of it from here.’

  ‘I’ll have to make time to see it then.’

  ‘You never have?’

  He smiled at the surprise in her voice. ‘Not recently. But then, I haven’t been home long. There’ll be plenty of opportunities.’

  ‘I suppose.’ She paused. ‘Have you come to find me because of my amazing culinary skills?’

  ‘No,’ he said, his lips slanting into a smile. ‘I think we can both use a break from that tonight.’

  ‘From my cooking? I’ll try not to take offence to that.’

  ‘From any cooking, actually,’ he said, the smile turning into a grin. It was easier than he thought it would be, covering up the way his heart thudded in his chest. ‘I thought we could go out.’

  ‘Go out?’ she repeated, straightening.

  ‘Just for supper,’ he added quickly. Less easy now, covering up the nerves. ‘It wouldn’t be a date or anything.’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said so stoically he swore she was teasing him. ‘Because we’re just—’ She broke off with a frown. ‘I was going to say friends, but I’m not sure that’s what we are.’

  ‘It’s what we can be. What I’d like to be.’

  But that was a lie, he thought, almost as soon as he’d said it. He didn’t want to be just friends with her.

  The realisation dislodged something in his chest he’d been ignoring since he’d met her. Since the night before, when he’d told himself he had to ignore it.

  ‘Then we should seal our new friendship with a dinner out, I guess.’ She smiled at him, but there was something behind the smile that told him she knew it wouldn’t be that simple. ‘I’m going to take a shower and then we can go. I’ll see you in thirty minutes?’

  ‘Great,’ he said, and she nodded and left. A few minutes later he followed her lead, hoping that the pounding of the water against his body in the shower would give him back his ability to think logically.

  Because he hadn’t been. If he had, he wouldn’t be taking her out to a restaurant. He wouldn’t be entertaining their friendship knowing that there was something between them that could easily—easily—demand more.

  And he couldn’t have more. He’d told himself that just the day before. Had thought of all the reasons why he couldn’t have more. He knew that he needed to focus on fixing things with Anja. On learning to forgive his mother.

  Besides, there were too many complications with Jess. Too many reasons not to get attached, and risk being hurt. Too many reasons not to pursue any relationship—even a friendship—with her.

  So why was he so excited to spend an evening with her?

  He dressed quickly, and tried not to think about it. And then he went downstairs to wait for Jess.

  His breath was swept away as soon as he saw her.

  She wore a pretty blue dress that was printed with pink, yellow and green flowers over tights and boots. She’d twisted her hair up into that plaited crown again—so intricate-looking and yet so simple. He supposed the description could work for her, too. There was something so intoxicatingly intricate about her beauty, about her demeanour, and yet she wore it so casually, so easily that it seemed simple.

  But he knew it wasn’t. Nothing about her was.

  ‘You look lovely.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said with a shy smile, revealing yet another layer that wasn’t simple. He’d never seen her shy before. Even when she’d been running her hands over his naked chest the first day they’d met. ‘So do you, by the way.’ She tilted her head. ‘Maybe lovely isn’t the right word.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know if your manly ego would accept it so easily,’ she teased. ‘So, I’m going to go with—you look very handsome tonight, Dylan.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he replied with a smile. He offered her his arm and she slid her own through it, the scent of her flowery perfume following them. He led her into the garage and opened the car door for her before sliding into his own seat and pulling out onto the driveway.

  Then he took the road that would take them to the restaurant he’d only been to once before. Ironically, it had been on a date, and he remembered being so uninterested in the woman who’d accompanied him—he’d made mistakes in the past, too—that he’d spent a decent amount of time noting the details of the restaurant décor.

  But he’d so been impressed that he’d thought that one day he’d take someone he actually liked there to enjoy it with him.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Jess asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  ‘It’s a place not too far from here, actually.’ He took a right, and drove the winding road up the hills that were so abundant in Cape Town.

  ‘Are you going to tell me the name?’ she asked, amusement clear in her voice.

  ‘Buon Cibo. It’s Italian for good food.’

  ‘You’re taking me to an Italian restaurant?’

  ‘Yes.’ His eyes slid over to her. ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘No. In fact, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that it establishes our friendship on a pretty great foundation.’

  He chuckled. ‘You like Italian food?’

  ‘Love it. When I was younger...’ She trailed off, and then cleared her throat and continued. ‘When I was younger, my nanny was actually Italian. I’m not a hundred per cent sure where my parents found her, but I was glad they did.’

  ‘Because of the food she made?’ he asked, hoping to make her laugh. Felt warmth spread through him when she did.

  ‘Yes. And because she was warm and kind. Things that hadn’t really been a part of my parents’ MO. Anyway,’ she continued after a moment, ‘she used to make delicious carbonara pasta. And a delicious lasagne. And—You know what? All of her pastas were delicious.’

  He smirked. ‘And this was before the baby?’

  She stuck her tongue out at him. ‘I guess we’ll see if Buon Cibo delivers on their promise.’

  She stopped speaking just as he pulled in front of the restaurant, and he enjoyed the way her eyes widened. The exterior of Buon Cibo was designed to look exactly like the little cafés in Italy, except it had two large trees on either side of the door that had been decorated with small lanterns. He helped Jess out of the car, and enjoyment turned to pleasure whe
n she saw the interior. When her reaction told him she shared his opinion of the place.

  Small round tables were spread throughout the room, suited for two or four people, making it clear the place was meant for intimate dinners. Chandeliers hung from the wooden ceilings, offering light throughout the dim room, accentuated by the flickering of candles on each table.

  The wall opposite the entrance was glass, and revealed that the restaurant was directly next to the ocean. Water plunged against the rocks, against the glass, in a stormy and enthralling rhythm that spoke of a passion patrons could be tempted into repeating at the end of their date.

  Not that this was a date, his inner voice told him. Nor was he interested in exploring passion with Jess when he knew they would never come back from it.

  He was grateful for the distraction when the maître d’ showed them to their table, though he didn’t know how he felt about the fact that it was right next to the thrashing waves.

  ‘This was not what I pictured when you said we’d be going out for dinner,’ Jess said as they waited for the waiter.

  ‘You don’t like it?’

  ‘No, I love it. I just wish I’d known how...intimate it was.’ Her cheeks went a riveting shade of pink. ‘I would have put on something a bit more appropriate.’

  ‘How would you dress in an...intimate setting like this, Jess?’ His voice had gone husky at her unintentional implication.

  ‘I...no, I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘I know. But it’s more interesting for me to think it, anyway.’ He grinned, hoping that teasing would cool the fire in his body.

  ‘That’s not how you’re supposed to treat friends, Dylan.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. My friends have never quite looked like you.’

  ‘Stop,’ she said softly. A warning, he thought, and instantly pulled back.

  ‘We should ask about their specials, but I’d recommend the lasagne, if you’re in the mood for pasta.’

  ‘How could I not be?’ she asked brightly. Gratefully, too, he knew, and mentally kicked himself for taking things too far.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me about what your life was like in the UK?’ she asked once the waiter had taken their drinks order.

  So he did.

  He told her that the first thing he’d been struck by when he’d arrived was the cosmopolitan nature of London. It had reminded him a lot of Cape Town, and it had made him more homesick than he’d imagined he would be. He told her about the work he’d done. How he’d introduced himself to clients he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to meet since taking over from Ridge.

  And—though he didn’t quite phrase it that way—about his obsession to bid for engineering jobs with clients who would enhance his company’s reputation and portfolio. His success with those bids. How it had made him feel as if he was honouring his grandfather, the man who’d looked out for him and Anja even after his death.

  How the success had made Dylan feel as if he was making up for his father’s failures.

  He told her how much he’d missed the warm South African weather. How he’d never quite managed to warm up even when they’d told him it was a summer’s day. And, after the briefest moment of hesitation, Dylan told Jess about how much he’d missed home. And how often he’d wanted to come back.

  ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘It didn’t feel like the right time,’ he answered. ‘I...wasn’t ready.’

  ‘And you are now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Maybe I just didn’t care about the right or wrong time when I decided to come home.’

  ‘You should tell them that. When you see them, I mean.’

  ‘When I see Anja,’ Dylan corrected automatically.

  ‘No.’ She frowned. ‘When you see Anja and your mother.’

  He opened his mouth to reply, but the waiter returned with their drinks just then and asked to take their order. Jess ordered bruschetta for her starter and went with the lasagne for her main. He ordered carpaccio and decided to have the carbonara for his main, telling her that she could have some of it if she wanted to taste.

  She lifted her eyebrows. ‘That’s awfully kind of you, Dylan.’

  ‘You sound surprised,’ he said with a quirk of his lip.

  ‘I’m not. Just...touched.’

  He smiled at her now, and when she smiled back his heart flipped.

  Get it together, Dylan.

  ‘What were you doing before you started working for Anja?’ he asked, desperate for a change of topic. One that wouldn’t veer into the territory of his complicated emotions about his mother.

  ‘Studying. I have a degree in finance.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ she replied, amused.

  ‘I just...wouldn’t have suspected that someone with that kind of degree would be working as a PA.’

  ‘That’s part of the reason I did it.’ She fiddled with the salt shaker on the table. ‘It was so different to the path I’d chosen to study, and I needed...different.’

  ‘Why?’

  The fiddling became faster. ‘I studied finance because my father has an investment company. One of the largest in Cape Town.’ Her fingers moved to the pepper. ‘He inherited it from his father, and I thought he might want to share it with me some day.’

  ‘But he didn’t?’

  ‘Nope.’ She gave him a brave smile, but he could see the hurt. ‘Apparently—’ she blew out a shaky breath ‘—he’d been mentoring someone else at work.’ Now she cleared her throat. ‘To take over from him.’

  ‘Someone who wasn’t family?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When did you find out?’

  Her eyes met his. ‘Just over two years ago.’

  And, just like that, he got the answer to what had happened two years ago that had led her to move out. ‘Did he make you believe that you’d be able to join the company some day?’

  She laughed hoarsely. ‘Not once.’

  ‘Then why...’ His words faded when he realised how terrible his question would sound. But she finished it for him.

  ‘Why did I still want to? Why did I study a degree that would give me the necessary qualifications to be able to?’ She dropped her hands to her lap. ‘Because I wanted—’ She broke off on a sigh. ‘I don’t know, Dylan.’

  ‘What were you going to say?’ he prodded gently. When she shook her head, he said, ‘Jess, you don’t have to pretend with me. Just tell me the truth.’

  He held his breath during the pause after his words, and only released it when she answered him.

  ‘I wanted to be a part of the family.’ Anguish was clear in her voice, on her face. ‘I thought that if I turned myself into someone that could be a part of the family—if I was a part of the business, if I stopped telling them where and why they were going wrong—they’d include me in their unit. It might not have been a conventional family,’ she added, ‘but my parents were a team. A—’

  ‘A family that didn’t include you,’ he finished for her. ‘Jess, I’m so—’

  ‘Don’t you dare apologise—’ she interrupted him with a small smile ‘—I’ve moved on.’ She paused, and Dylan thought she wasn’t nearly as convincing as he suspected she wanted to be. ‘And it wasn’t that they wanted to exclude me entirely. My father did tell me I could marry the man he’d been grooming to take over.’

  Dylan nearly choked on the wine he’d taken a sip of. ‘He wanted you to marry the man? He actually said that?’

  ‘Yeah, very seriously, too.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘He took my refusal just as seriously. It was clear then that what I’d wanted with my parents—what I’d hoped for—wasn’t going to happen. So I moved out.’

  ‘And you realised that what your parents did—how they acted—had nothing to do with you?’ He had no ide
a why he’d said it, but when she looked up he knew she needed to hear it.

  ‘It had something to do with me.’

  ‘No,’ he told her. ‘If you believe that, then I need to believe that my father’s addiction had something to do with me. That the fact that he didn’t fight harder to overcome it—that he left us—had something to do with us. That my mother choosing to have us despite knowing my father had a—’

  He broke off, realising what he’d said. Realising that he’d just told Jess something Anja didn’t know.

  Silence followed his words and, just before he could start panicking, Dylan met Jess’s eyes and something passed between them that had him feeling...calmer. As if they’d reached some unspoken agreement that told him Jess wouldn’t tell Anja what he’d just told her.

  It was a disconcerting feeling, and he cleared his throat. ‘It’s not you, Jess. It’s not us.’

  ‘Do you believe that?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied honestly. ‘Coming to terms with it, on the other hand...’

  Her lips curved into a half-smile and she nodded. Again, something passed between them. But this time Dylan could identify it as a kind of understanding he’d never experienced before. Not even with Anja.

  He felt it draw him in, though he told himself to fight it. Reminded himself that he wasn’t interested in a relationship, in a future—that thinking of either was dangerous.

  He struggled with it as the waiter arrived with their starters. They were about halfway through them when he tried to distract himself. ‘Do you miss them?’

  ‘My parents?’ He nodded, and she lifted her shoulders. ‘I had reasons for leaving them. I have reasons for not keeping in touch with them. Those reasons are more important than what missing them feels like,’ she said quietly. ‘But I guess I do miss them.’ She paused, tilted her head. ‘Or maybe I just miss the parents I wish they were.’