The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy

by Kingsley, Claire

  Kids from the ages of six to fourteen sat on the bleachers, along with both paid and volunteer adults. Their voices filled the air, echoing off the concrete walls.

  Much to my relief, Jude didn’t insist on walking in first, nor did he do his customary sweep of the area. He followed just behind me, slightly to my right, keeping a comfortable distance.

  Sheri and I stepped up to the microphone and she called for quiet. The kids shifted in their seats and a hush settled over the gym. Sheri introduced me and I waved to the kids while they applauded, then thanked them for inviting me to visit.

  My talk was short and sweet, focusing on why art, science, and engineering projects are not only fun, but good for growing brains. I mentioned a few of the projects Spencer was working on, particularly the flashy ones like advanced rocket technology, earning me excited oohs and ahs from the crowd.

  When I finished, there was more applause. Then the teachers and volunteers led the kids to their respective workspaces. I chatted with Sheri about construction progress until it was time for me to make the rounds and see what the kids had been working on.

  Jude was our silent companion as we walked to the first converted classroom. Instead of desks and chairs, it had long rectangular tables where the kids could build, paint, tinker, and craft. A dozen kids stood in front of their various creations, faces beaming with excitement and pride. A few wore safety goggles and one had donned a white lab coat.

  I cast a glance at Jude. Brandy had said he seemed to have an ability to make himself appear less intimidating, and I could see what she meant. He was still enormous, but his posture was less rigid, his facial expression almost friendly.

  “Okay, everyone, Ms. Whitbury is going to come around and take a look at your projects,” Sheri said to the eager kids. “This is your chance to show off your hard work to someone new.”

  I visited Kid-Ovation every few months, and I always made sure Sheri and the teachers didn’t make a big deal out of the fact that I was the primary benefactor and main source of funding for their program. I didn’t want the kids to feel like they needed to perform for me. I simply enjoyed the chance to see what their creative minds came up with.

  “Hi there,” I said to the first child, a girl with big brown eyes and dark braids. Her nametag said Alicia. “What are you working on?”

  “It’s a catapult.” She moved the contraption, made primarily of large colored craft sticks and rubber bands. It had a plastic cup filled with mini marshmallows on the arm. “I made a different version, but it didn’t shoot anything very far.”

  “Does this design work better?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said with a grin. “Wanna see?”

  “Fire away.”

  She pressed the arm down and let go, sending three mini marshmallows flying.

  “Nice trajectory,” I said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Have you tried shooting the marshmallows into someone’s mouth?” Jude asked.

  Alicia grinned. “Not yet.”

  “You know what, I volunteer,” Jude said. He crouched down next to the table.

  Oh my god, could he be any cuter?

  “I think you just want marshmallows,” I said.

  “Hey, this is for science,” he said. “Okay, kiddo, marshmallow me.”

  Alicia laughed and the rest of the kids quieted, watching. She loaded her catapult, pressed down the arm, and let loose.

  All three marshmallows hit Jude in the face, none making it into his open mouth.

  “Aw,” the kids said in a disappointed chorus.

  Jude picked up the discarded marshmallows and tossed them in the trash, then got back into position. “That’s okay, let’s do it again.”

  Alicia’s tongue stuck out while she carefully loaded the catapult and repositioned it. When she was satisfied, she looked at Jude. He gave her a thumbs-up.

  The room quieted with a collective intake of breath. Alicia pressed down on the arm, hesitated, then let go.

  The marshmallows flew toward Jude. One bounced off his nose. Another ricocheted off his cheek. But the third sailed straight past his teeth into his open mouth.

  Alicia’s arms shot into the air and the other kids erupted with cheers. Jude stood, making a show of chewing the tiny marshmallow. He gave Alicia a high five—low enough for her to reach—then glanced at me and shrugged, his expression a little sheepish.

  It was right about then that my ovaries exploded.

  We spent the next hour getting mini demonstrations from the kids. Some had art projects—everything from paintings to clay sculptures. Others had built marble runs, rubber-band helicopters, and slingshot rockets. A fourteen-year-old in the middle school room had made a robot using mostly recycled materials.

  They had fun showing off their creations. I couldn’t decide what was more enjoyable—watching the kids demonstrate what they’d made, or watching Jude interact with them.

  When the last straw roller coaster and paper kaleidoscope had been tried, Jude and I said goodbye to the kids. Sheri walked us out where Joe was waiting in front of the building.

  We exchanged thank yous and goodbyes with Sheri, then got back in the car. I checked the time and was just about to ask Jude if he wanted to grab some dinner.

  But I closed my mouth, the words unspoken. He’d been adorable with those kids, revealing a side I wouldn’t have guessed existed. It made me want to dig deeper—get to know him better. And it was that very impulse that stilled me into silence.

  That and the fact that I had an insane urge to offer to have his babies.

  It was best if we kept things professional.

  13

  Jude

  My new morning routine involved grabbing my phone off my nightstand and checking the tracking app I’d installed on Cameron’s phone while I was still blinking sleep from my eyes. Like I couldn’t even get out of bed without checking on her first.

  I was always invested in my clients. Even when I’d been reluctant to take a job—which was most of the time—once I’d agreed, I was committed.

  My level of commitment to Cameron, however, was something else.

  I couldn’t help myself. She was the first thing I thought about when I woke up in the morning and I had to know she was safe at home. It was a compulsion that had developed all too quickly, and one I couldn’t seem to control.

  It wasn’t because she was smart and beautiful and a badass. It had nothing to do with those green eyes, sharp wit, or that ass.

  God, that ass.

  I was just jittery about her situation because my instincts were still whispering danger and I didn’t have answers. I had one of Derek’s people trying to trace the email she’d gotten, but whoever had done it had covered their tracks well. And it turned out, that wasn’t the only one she’d received. There were several more that had been relegated to her spam folder, all with similarly cryptic and vaguely threatening messages.

  Cameron seemed unconcerned, but I’d also learned that she hid her feelings well.

  I was convinced someone was fucking with her and it was driving me crazy that I didn’t know who it was. Or why.

  I had most of my Saturday to myself. Cameron had an event to attend tonight, but until then, I was free. Luckily, she was being a reasonably cooperative client. I didn’t need to worry that she’d go against my advice and leave home without protection.

  But I still checked her location at least twice an hour.

  What I needed was to get out of the house, and not be on high alert. So I went to the driving range to hit some balls. Took out a little aggression, although it was frustrating because my accuracy still sucked.

  After grabbing a late lunch, I went home to shower and change. Tonight was an outdoor art show. In cooler weather, I’d have gone for a full suit and tie, but Miami evenings were warm in the summer. I opted for a button down and lightweight jacket. Still breathable. And maneuverable.

  Cameron’s driver would take us to the event tonight, so I drove my motor
cycle to Bluewater. I parked in front of her house and glanced at my watch. I was early.

  I hadn’t meant to be. I was just being efficient. Early was better than late. It had nothing to do with her magnetic pull or an irresistible desire to see her.

  Bert was out front, a set of keys in his hand. He put his hand up in a wave. “Mr. Ellis.”

  “Evening. Heading home?”

  “Yes, the missus wants me home for dinner.”

  “The place looks beautiful, by the way,” I said, gesturing toward the lush landscaping around Cameron’s house. “You’re very talented. Have you always been a gardener?”

  He shook his head. “No. I was a construction foreman for a long time. Worked with Cameron’s grandad years ago. After I retired, it drove the missus crazy to have me around the house all day.”

  “So you took up gardening?”

  “Always had a passion for it. Never had the budget to indulge like I do here. Cameron lets me grow anything I like, as long as it won’t poison anyone’s pet.”

  “Sounds like a good way to spend your retirement.”

  “I can’t complain. Here to see Cameron?”

  I nodded. “I’m accompanying her to an art show this evening.”

  His face grew serious. “Have her back at a decent hour.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He narrowed his eyes, then nodded slowly, like he’d decided he’d let me see Cameron. “Okay, then. Have a good evening.”

  “You too.”

  I let myself in and put my helmet by the door. The house was quiet, just the trickle of the fountain in the entryway. I glanced up the stairs, but I wasn’t about to check up there. That was her personal space.

  “Cameron?”

  No answer.

  Her office was empty, as was the kitchen. I glanced into her living room and noticed a huge pile of fur. Was that a dog? I hadn’t realized she had a pet.

  I left the dog softly snoring and went back to the kitchen. She was probably getting ready, so I figured I’d check out her back terrace. I’d only seen it from the inside.

  The large accordion door whispered open and I stepped out into the heat. Bert’s handiwork was everywhere. Large planters overflowed with thick greenery, the wide leaves and bright red blooms shining in the sun. She had plush outdoor furniture shaded by large umbrellas and a sweeping view of Biscayne Bay. A path lined with plants led to the guest houses, smaller versions of her luxury beach hut mansion.

  There was a splash in the pool and when I turned to look, I froze in my tracks, my hand still on the door.

  Cameron emerged from the water. Topless.

  Her red hair was plastered against her head and her eyes were squinted shut. I could see the rippling outline of gold bikini bottoms beneath the water line, but her top was nowhere to be seen.

  “Inda, are you around?” she called. “My stupid top came off and I got sunscreen in my eyes and I can’t see. Can you bring me my towel?”

  Oh fucking hell. I was staring at her like I’d never seen a naked woman in my life. What was wrong with me? I was forty years old, it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen boobs before.

  But I hadn’t seen Cameron Whitbury’s. And holy hell, hers were gorgeous. I hadn’t been so turned on by a pair of tits at a distance since my first concert when I was sixteen.

  “Inda?”

  I glanced around the terrace. Cameron’s towel was draped over a chair near the pool. No sign of Inda. Or Nicholas. Or anyone, for that matter.

  This didn’t have to be a big deal. We were both adults. If I went back inside and pretended I hadn’t seen her, she’d be stuck out here with sunscreen stinging her eyes. She’d find her towel eventually, but it would be quicker if I just brought it to her.

  Resolving not to stare at her tits, I got her towel off the chair.

  The part about not staring at her tits was a lie. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

  “Damn it,” she said, feeling for the railing, her eyes still squeezed shut. She walked up the pool steps, water dripping down her body.

  My heart thumped in my chest and my dick was so hard it ached. She was so beautiful and whatever bullshit I’d been telling myself about not being attracted to her was a big fat lie.

  I was frustratingly, insanely, stupidly attracted to her.

  Without a word, I held out the towel.

  “Oh,” she said when her hand brushed it. She took it from my hands. “Thanks.”

  I swallowed hard while she wiped her eyes, and before I could kickstart my brain into working again, she opened them.

  “Jude! What the hell? I thought you were Inda.”

  It was right about then that I realized I really should have told her it was me. But my brain was still barely functional.

  “Sorry.”

  Still blinking her bloodshot eyes, she huffed—and did not make any move to wrap the towel around herself. “I didn’t know you were out here. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “No one was here, so I got your towel.”

  “Well that’s just great.” She kept talking, gesturing with her hands, her towel flinging around. “You really had to dig into all my secrets, didn’t you? Couldn’t leave anything to the imagination. You just walk out here while I’m swimming and of course it’s the one day my stupid bikini top falls off and the damn sunscreen gets in my eyes and now you’ve seen my boobs.”

  Fuck yes, I had. They looked round and soft with perfect pink nipples. Hard nipples. And they were bouncing a little as she ranted at me.

  “You should really put those away. Then you can finish yelling at me.”

  “Who cares? You’ve already seen them.”

  I ground out the words through my teeth. “I care, Cameron. I’m the one who cares.”

  Her expression softened, her full lips parting. A light flush crept across her cheeks. The effect was only partly ruined by the way she still squinted one eye more than the other. Her gaze traveled down, stopping at my groin for a second before snapping back to my face.

  I was a breath away from doing something very, very stupid when something big nudged my ass from behind.

  “What the hell?” I spun around to find the dog I’d seen sleeping inside—an enormous Saint Bernard. “How did I not know you have a dog the size of a pony?”

  “He’s not mine. Brutus, what are you doing?”

  “Then why is he in your house?”

  She walked over to rub Brutus’s huge head. She’d donned the towel while I’d been distracted by the dog. “He’s free-range. Goes where he wants. His parents live over on Tequila Lane, but they’ve never had any luck keeping him contained. But he’s a good boy. Aren’t you a good boy?”

  “Cameron, if a dog can just walk into your house, anyone can.”

  “Don’t start. I’m safe here in Bluewater.” She turned on her heel and headed inside. Brutus followed.

  “Are you safe here, though? When I looked at your home security, I assumed you’d have the doors locked and the security system activated. But you’re out there swimming topless while random animals, and who knows who else, wander around your property.”

  Brutus trotted away, maybe off to resume his nap.

  “You were the one being a creeper,” she said, pausing by the kitchen island. “And Bert probably let him in. He likes to nap in my living room.”

  “I wasn’t being a creeper, I came to pick you up. I know I’m early, but it’s not my fault you were flaunting your boobs.”

  “Oh my god, really? My top fell off and my eyes were stinging so bad I couldn’t see. I’m in my own home, not standing on a balcony in New Orleans flashing my tits for beads.”

  I had a momentary—but very clear—vision of Cameron wearing nothing but cheap plastic beads draped between her tits.

  “Look, I’m sorry.”

  She re-tucked the corner of the towel in the cleft of her cleavage. “There’s only one way to solve this.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need to see your dic
k.”

  Right as those words left her mouth, Nicholas opened the door from the terrace. Without missing a beat he said, “I’ll come back,” and left again.

  I decided to pretend that hadn’t happened. “I’m not showing you my dick.”

  “Come on, it’s only fair.” She crossed her arms. “Let’s see your junk.”

  I raised one eyebrow, but made no move to do what she said. I still had a raging erection. If I pulled it out now, she was going to get an eyeful.

  The back of my neck prickled, like someone had moved just out of my line of sight, disturbing the still air. I looked toward the kitchen entrance, expecting to see Brutus. But it wasn’t a dog. It was a woman with brown hair streaked with purple, a tight t-shirt with a large glittery D on the front, and a short pink skirt. She reached into a bag of popcorn and put a few kernels in her mouth.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’m just here for the dick show.”

  “Daisy?” Cameron asked. “Why do you have popcorn?”

  Daisy shrugged. “I made some before I came over. I had no idea how appropriate and mildly amusing it would be.”

  I put up my hands. “I’m not showing anyone my dick.”

  “You’re no fun,” Daisy said, popping another kernel in her mouth. “Why is he supposed to show you his baby-maker?”

  “He saw my boobs.”

  “Then she’s right, big guy. Whip it out and let the lady have a good look.”

  I ignored Cameron’s popcorn-eating friend. “Cameron, you can’t have a revolving door right now. You’ve got people and dogs and who knows what the fuck else wandering around your house.”

  “Don’t keep trying to turn this around on me,” she said. “I already told you my friends have the code.”

  “And I told you I’m sorry for looking at your boobs. I’m just trying to do my job.”

  The amusement disappeared from Cameron’s eyes. “It’s fine. What time is it? Are you insanely early, or am I late?”

  “I was only about ten minutes early. Brandy told me six.”

  She grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter and swiped the screen a few times. “I’m late. Fantastic.”