Catching the CEO (Billionaire's Second Chance)

by Victoria Davies

  Turnabout is fair play. Besides, don’t you want to know where you stand?

  She damned well did.

  Rolling back her shoulders, she knocked on the door.

  Nerves gnawed at her as she waited for it to open.

  Damien jerked the door open and froze when he realized who it was. She read the surprise in his gaze before a slow smile crept over his lips.

  “Well, well,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  She rolled her eyes as he stressed the last word.

  “Would you believe I just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

  He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorjamb. “No.”

  She shrugged. “Figured. Spencer says hi.”

  His smile widened. “Turnabout, I take it.”

  “Well, since you couldn’t come to me…”

  “You came to me instead.”

  “Going to let me in?” The words were light, but the pounding in her chest wasn’t.

  He hesitated the barest second before stepping out of the doorway.

  Taking that as permission, she stepped inside the penthouse.

  “Wow,” she said. The entrance hall opened into a massive, open floor plan with a sunken living room flowing into a bright, airy kitchen. “This is beautiful.”

  “My decorator says thank you.”

  “You didn’t pick anything out?” she asked as she wandered through the designer furniture to the breathtaking view of the city outside his windows.

  “Didn’t matter to me,” he said, moving with her. “I trusted everything would end up fine.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “My house must stress you out then,” she said. “I don’t think anything matches.”

  “It’s lived-in,” he replied. “Everything in your place has a story or a purpose. I find it relaxing.”

  “You say ‘cluttered’ differently than I do.”

  He laughed. “Want a drink?”

  “Sure,” she said, continuing her exploration of his home.

  His gaze was like a weight on her as he went to the sideboard table. She perched on the arm of the black leather sofa as he came back to her with a whiskey in his hand.

  “Thanks,” she said, accepting the drink.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

  She took a sip. “Did you want to?”

  His smile was back as he fell into the closest armchair to her, kicking a leg over one arm.

  “Yes.”

  The knot in her chest eased. “Good.”

  He arched a brow. “Good that I was thinking about you?”

  She opened her mouth to dissemble then thought twice about her words. “Yes,” she said, answering as simply as he had.

  Damien raised his own glass to his lips, watching her over the rim. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to come here. Enemy territory and all.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”

  “These days…” He stopped, looking out toward the window.

  “What?” she asked, rising to close the distance between them.

  The smile he gave her when his attention shifted back her way was soft. “These days I always want to see you.”

  Butterflies filled her stomach.

  “Me too,” she confessed, stopping before his chair.

  Unwinding himself, he held out his free hand to her, and she slipped into the chair with him.

  “There’s a couch right there,” she pointed out.

  “It’s way easier to cop a feel this way,” he replied as he arranged her over his lap.

  “I like a man who has his priorities straight.”

  He laughed before giving her a slow, toe-curling kiss. “I’m glad you arrived out of nowhere. My evening would have been dull without you.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d be busy.”

  “I’m prepared for the meeting. Just didn’t want to drive across town in the morning traffic when my building is five minutes away from here.”

  “I get that. Maybe we should sleep here more often.”

  His gray eyes flicked to hers. “Maybe we should.”

  We’re making plans. Future plans. Casual affairs don’t work this way, do they?

  It’s not like she had a lot of experience when it came to nebulous corporate affairs.

  “You promised to show me your sketchbook,” she said. “That might have been the sangria talking, but I’m going to hold you to it.”

  He groaned. “Mercy.”

  “Nope,” she replied. “Not in my vocabulary.”

  “Mine either.”

  A shiver of unease ran down her spine. No, neither of them backed down even when they should. And that might become an issue as this relationship went on.

  He reached up, running a thumb over her cheek.

  Her heart clenched.

  I want more moments like this.

  “I might need some convincing to show you a sketch.”

  “Is that so?” Shifting, she slid her hands under the hem of his T-shirt to splay over his abdomen. “Pretty please?” she asked, brushing her lips over his in a teasing touch.

  “Mmm,” he purred. “Not quite convinced.”

  She deepened the kiss as her fingers played along the edge of his jeans. “I’m a little hampered by position here.”

  “Luckily, I’m not,” he replied, cupping her breast through her shirt. She nearly moaned when he moved his attention to her neck, running his lips down the sensitive skin. The heat from his breath made her shiver in his arms.

  “You’re trying to distract me,” she complained.

  “Is it working?”

  Too well.

  “I’m not going to forget.”

  He sighed, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. “Fine. One quick sketch and then I have plans for you.”

  “Oh?” she asked, rising. “I’m sure I can agree to that.”

  “Come on,” he said as he straightened his shirt. “This way.”

  Caitlyn followed him out of the living room down a hallway with one thought in her mind.

  He doesn’t treat me like this is casual.

  Maybe that meant this strange relationship was evolving into something more than she’d ever anticipated.

  …

  When he’d gotten home tonight, he’d stepped through the door to a penthouse he hadn’t spent much time in the last few months. For the first time since he’d moved in, it felt empty.

  Damien had wandered the halls, debating how much sleep he’d have to sacrifice if he drove over to Caitlyn’s now.

  Then there’d been a knock on the door.

  Best surprise I had all day.

  He’d never thought she’d come to him. But as usual, he underestimated her. Caitlyn Brooks wasn’t a woman who’d ever settle for an unequal relationship. Not that he’d want her to.

  Did I just think “relationship”?

  His steps faltered.

  “You okay?” she asked by his side.

  “Fine. Come into my study.” Opening a door, he led her inside the room in his home he spent the most time in.

  He moved to the desk first and switched off the monitor of his computer. Gathering some work papers, he put them in the desk drawer before straightening.

  “Ah,” she said as she watched him. “Boundaries.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’d do the same.”

  He nodded as he left his desk and headed for the bookshelf, grabbing a leather-bound sketchpad from the shelves.

  “You should know,” he said as he closed the distance between them, “that I can’t remember the last time anyone but me looked at these.”

  “Do you still draw?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Occasionally. I find it calming.”

  Her eyes flicked to his. “I’m jealous. All I can draw are stick figures, and even they come out wobbly.” She held out her hand for the book.

  I never show people this.

  Spencer was probabl
y the last one who’d ever noticed this hobby. His mother had never cared when he was younger, instructing him to show the nanny his scribbles rather than her. In fact, it’d been a nanny who had first seen the talent and decided to nurture it out of the goodness of her heart. It was a decision that had cost her the job once his father found out. He refused to have a son engaging in any activity he deemed too soft for his precious heir.

  “Second thoughts?” Caitlyn teased as she waited. “I promise not to be too harsh a critic.”

  “That would be a change.”

  She stuck out her tongue.

  Smiling, he set the book in her hand and moved back to lean on the edge of his desk.

  She flipped the book open, and his shoulders tensed.

  Looking down at the first image, she blinked, the humor sliding from her face. She began thumbing through the pages before lifting her surprised gaze to his.

  “You’re good.”

  The tension eased. “I’ve just had years of practice.”

  “No, I mean it. You are really good at this. Why keep them in a book? You could have these out.”

  He snorted. “It’s just a hobby.”

  “But they’re so realistic. The attention to detail is unreal,” she said as she inspected a picture of an older man he’d seen once feeding pigeons at a park.

  “It helps me think.”

  “So this is your superpower, hmm?”

  He laughed. “One of them.”

  She drifted toward him, flipping page after page.

  A curious vulnerability filled him as he watched her. While he might have told himself her opinion didn’t matter, seeing her now, it was clear he’d been wrong.

  She sees every part of me anyways—why not this, too?

  And then Caitlyn’s movements stopped. She froze, staring down at one particular page.

  Curious, he angled his head forward to get a look and shot to his feet. Grabbing his notebook, he snapped it shut.

  “That was a picture of me,” she breathed.

  Yes, it was.

  “I’d forgotten that was in there,” he said.

  “But…” She frowned. “My hair was short. That was two years ago.”

  “It’s just a hobby. Stress release and nothing more. Don’t think much about it,” he said.

  “Don’t think about it?” she asked as he replaced the notebook on the bookshelf. “Why did you draw me? You didn’t even like me two years ago.”

  Doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you.

  He shrugged. “I needed a subject, and you were there.”

  “I was your enemy then.”

  “As opposed to now?”

  “You know what I mean. I was nothing to you back in those days.” She paused, nibbling on her bottom lip before those expressive green eyes rose to his. “Wasn’t I?”

  How far down this road do you want to go?

  “You were…”

  What? What was she to me? Is she to me?

  He shook his head. “I don’t know why I sketched you. I just couldn’t stop.”

  Her lips parted on a silent exhale. She was by his side in a heartbeat, gazing up at him with a tenderness in her eyes he’d never seen before.

  His chest squeezed at the sight.

  No one has ever looked at me like that. No one ever cared enough to try.

  Because he didn’t do this. He didn’t care about his partners any more than they did for him. If anyone tried to get as close as Caitlyn was, he’d have walked away without a backward glance.

  There’s no walking away from her.

  Even if he should for both their sakes.

  “Thank you,” she said as she gazed at him.

  “For what?”

  A small smile tipped her lips. “For getting a room across from mine at the conference.”

  It occurred to him that had he just checked in like normal and never thought to ask about her, none of the rest would have happened. They might not even have crossed paths in DC, or if they had, it would have been fleeting encounters.

  We both might have dodged a bullet that still has our names on it.

  But not one ounce of regret filled him.

  “Thank you for not murdering me when I did,” he replied.

  She grinned. “I was only homicidal for the first day or two. Promise.”

  “And now?”

  Her glance dropped to his lips.

  “Now everything is different.”

  Yes, it was. Not that he knew what to do about it.

  But when she pressed her lips to his, he realized there was one thing he could do something about.

  Spinning them, he lifted her onto the edge of his desk and stepped between her legs.

  “I’m sure you must have a bed around here somewhere,” she said as he tugged his T-shirt over his head.

  “We could go there,” he replied. “Or I could make you scream my name here.”

  “Decisions, decisions.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “How about we do both?”

  His grin was wide. “I knew you were my kind of woman.”

  Exactly, maddeningly, perfectly my kind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Caitlyn stared at her watch as she shifted from foot to foot. This date had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she wondered if her surprise would be welcome. But with Damien due to arrive any minute, it was too late to back out now.

  Admit it. I’m far too pushy for my own good.

  She paced the sidewalk outside the entrance to one of the larger city parks. Beyond the trees, the open-air art festival she’d discovered was in full swing. The sounds of music and laughter drifted from the park as people streamed by her to check it out.

  When she’d first come across the event listing online, it had seemed like such a good idea. But now as she stood here, she wondered if this was too invasive. Clearly the artistic side of his life was something Damien was very private about.

  Too much too soon? Or will this be a fun night out for us?

  She didn’t have much time to wonder, however, when hands snaked out to wrap around her waist.

  “Hello, cupcake,” he purred in her ear.

  Smiling, she spun in his arms. “Hey.”

  “You look good enough to eat,” he said before giving her a hello kiss that made her fingers curl into his suit jacket.

  “Mmm,” she said, pulling back. “Now you’ve got me wishing we were staying in tonight.” Her fingers slipped inside his jacket to run lightly down his sides.

  “After you made me stop asking questions about this sneak date of yours? Not a chance.” His smile was wide before he leaned over to brush his lips across hers. “But tonight, behind closed doors, feel free to indulge in any way you want.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  And hope you’re still talking to me by then.

  “So, what is the mysterious plan of yours?” he asked.

  “I found a festival.”

  He smiled. “Sounds fun.”

  “For artists.”

  The smile disappeared.

  She held out her hands in peace. “I thought it might be interesting to check it out. They’ve got a few live bands scheduled, and some neat food trucks are coming in. We can take a time-out from business for the evening. What do you think?”

  He glanced at the park entrance without saying anything.

  “It sounded like a fun night online, but if you want to go somewhere else, we can do that, too.”

  “No,” he said, not looking at her. “This was kind of you. Let’s go in.”

  “Do you even like checking out other people’s art?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t say as I’ve been in a gallery or museum recently.”

  Her shoulders dropped. This was a bad idea. He was touchy about his sketches, and what did she do? Dragged him to an art event.

  “Let’s go somewhere else,” she said, taking his hand. “I’m sorry. I thought this would be fun for you, but now it seems like a bad idea
.”

  He looked back at her, his eyes warming. “Come on” was all he said, using their clasped hands to pull her into the park.

  Together, they walked through the trees to get to the central clearing farther inside. The music grew louder as they got closer to the rows of little artisan booths featuring the different artists and wares to sell.

  Around them the crowd was already bustling. The festival was filled with all sorts, from families chasing little kids to elderly couples strolling hand in hand.

  A smile touched her lips as she realized as far as anyone knew, they were just like the other festival goers. Just a normal couple enjoying spending some time together. How often did they get to pretend to be like everyone else?

  She glanced at her partner and sighed at the stern set of his jaw.

  “I just love your enthusiasm,” she said drily.

  He blinked. “Sorry.”

  Shaking her head, she pulled him toward the first row of stalls. The first artist worked with wood. The second sold small blown-glass sun catchers. By the time they’d finished the first row, Damien’s shoulders had started to relax.

  “Not so bad, right?” she asked as they turned down the next row.

  He smiled down at her. “Not so bad,” he agreed.

  “Everyone is so creative here.” She glanced at the watercolors displayed in a stall as they passed by. “I used to love going to museums when I was younger. I never seem to find the time anymore.”

  “Did you go often?”

  She shrugged. “My mom liked to take me to distract me from the fact Dad was never home. We’ve probably seen every gallery in the city together.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “I’d have thought with your talent you would have lived in museums, too, as a kid. Who knows, we could have even crossed paths.”

  “Doubt it,” he relied. “We’d make an exception for the famous European galleries, but beyond that, art wasn’t respected in the Reid household.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “We had other things on our minds. Not unlike now. The business always comes first.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, but sometimes don’t you wish we had time for more in our lives than just business? You at least have a hobby. I just work and sleep.”

  He pulled her closer. “You’ve made time for me.”

  She softened against him. “I did.”

  “Ever regret it?”

  She reached up to brush the hair back from his forehead. “Not yet.”