Billionaire Romance Series: Dreams Fulfilled (1-3)

by Scarlett King

  Mom, dad, older son, and tiny daughter—all with dark, thick hair, and enormous, liquid brown eyes. Definitely up down the coast: their coats are brand new and too light for this weather. They look stunned by the cold they just stepped out of, like cats doused in icy water.

  Andi’s still on track, talking about the locals. “It’s Upstate New York. Even when it’s ten degrees out and the snow is up to your thighs, you still have to dig the car out and get to work. Same as when you’re neck deep in tourists, I guess.” She turns back to me, her shoulders set less stiffly.

  Things are relaxing again. I’m actually glad. I’ll be happier when we reach some hypothesis about the mistletoe, so then we can finally go back home.

  Home: where it’s ten degrees warmer on average, with clear streets and my nice, warm penthouse apartment and an underground garage giving me very little need to slog through snow; where I’ll have a little breathing room from Andi—which I’m starting to need, if I’m not allowed to touch her—and best of all, no Jack.

  I really don’t like that guy. I don’t think I should be jealous of him, but I still wouldn’t have a drink with him willingly. And it’s not just because Andi likes him. Really.

  She sits back, her chair creaking slightly. “Okay, so. Let’s check out that window and then try and get Jack’s help in pinning down his dad.” She sounds a little steadier and the sadness from her earlier daydreaming is out of her eyes, at least.

  I’ll take it—though the mention of having to deal with Jack again doesn’t excite me.

  I get up somewhat abruptly, once our plates and mugs are both empty. “Let’s get moving then. I don’t know how long your Lothario there is gonna be on the street.”

  Chapter 5

  Andi

  * * *

  I’m pretty relieved when David gets up. It was getting awkward, sitting there at the table. I can feel the strain between us, and it exhausts me. Breakfast started out so nice…and then he brought up Jack.

  Knock it off. Don’t play blame games. We’re just stressed from being in close contact for too long. It’s messing with his head. Mine, too.

  One of the ways that he and I have kept our friendship and partnership together for so many years, even after our marriage collapsed, is to not spend too much time together in one stretch. Between the awkwardness, the sexual tension, and the regrets, it can be tough to deal with. Here in Phoenicia though, we’ve had no choice but to be close, and it has gotten a little uncomfortable here and there.

  I’m still slightly distracted by my thoughts of David and my problematic attraction to Jack when we make our way out into the small lobby. Jack is outside calmly bending over the window glass drawing something in the frost with his finger. I turn my head to look at him, and the doorbell jingles as it’s pushed open just as we reach it.

  It’s Gabby, looking entirely too cute and perky in her matching pink snowsuit, boots, and mittens, like a single scoop of strawberry ice cream rolling out of a freezer. She stops in the doorway as David pauses to step aside for her, and gifts him with a dazzling smile. I fold my arms across my chest, feeling a stab of jealousy that digs deeper every time I see him with her.

  Some of that goddamned mistletoe is hanging over them—over all three of us, pretty much. I freeze, indecision mixed with jealousy and my stubborn reluctance to be pushed into anything all roiling around inside of me.

  “Hey, good morning, Dave!” Gabby leans up and kisses him on the cheek before he can react.

  And then he does—by turning toward her and trying to steal a real kiss. Right in fucking front of me.

  My eyes widen and my fists clench. Oh, you did not just start playing games like that, I think furiously, even as Gabby slips away from him before he can get what he wants. There’s a coy smile on her face as she shakes her head at him and moves back to her post.

  Neither one of them so much as looks in my direction. In fact, I may as well not even be there. He just follows her with his gaze. Me, I stifle the urge to elbow him in his side—or maybe his obvious boner—and push my way outside.

  The icy day digs a million tiny teeth into my exposed skin, and I’m almost glad to feel it cool me, because on the inside, I feel like I might just burn a hole in the snow with every step.

  I barely even look at Jack, and he gets jealous as hell. But then he goes and pulls this right in front of me? How is that fair?

  This feels like the world’s most passive-aggressive lover’s tiff, and that pisses me off even more, because we’re not lovers. We probably should never have been lovers at all. But this level of escalation by Dave is just plain rude, even if we were just friends who didn’t have any emotional sore spots.

  It’s been years, and he’s never done anything like this before, I think feverishly, worried. How in the world can he be this callous? And how in the world can I still be this vulnerable to anything he does?

  I’m blinking back tears as I step out onto the icy sidewalk, the tiny droplets feeling like they might freeze on my lashes. I’m just turning to walk down the street when a firm hand reaches out to grasp my forearm.

  My heart lifts slightly with relief. It must be David realizing he is being an idiot and catching up to apologize. Okay. Maybe I won’t throw a snowball at his face just yet.

  I stop and turn—and it’s Jack, smiling slyly. He smells like a ski slope—frosty pines and wood smoke. “That was rather rude of your partner,” he purrs. Without giving me even a moment to respond, his smile widens and his eyes narrow in invitation as he points a long finger straight up.

  I look up slowly…and see an enormous wad of mistletoe dangling from a lamppost over our heads. Oh shit.

  My cheeks burn as I look back at him—just in time for his lips to come in contact with mine for a kiss I was barely expecting. I freeze, absolutely stunned.

  It’s not unlike any of the other mistletoe kisses between strangers and acquaintances that I’ve witnessed regularly since being here. He hasn’t even wrapped an arm around me; it’s really not very dramatic as far as kisses go. Externally, anyway.

  Inside, however, the simple brush of Jack Whitman’s lips against mine sends a hard jolt of pleasure through me and leaves me as wobbly as a teen with her first crush. Oh my God.

  He ends the kiss and moves on as if nothing happened. Meanwhile, I’m standing there as still as a statue just staring after him. His gentle chuckle drifts back toward me over his shoulder, and I simply can’t move. My heart is thundering in my ears so hard that when David catches up to me and says something, I can’t even hear it.

  I turn my head to look at him and see him scowling at me. “What?” I mumble with irritation, in no mood for anymore of whatever soap opera he’s trying to turn this into.

  “You looked like you were enjoying that kiss,” he repeats loudly and slowly, eyebrows drawn down with anger.

  I just…stare at him, incredulously. “Actually the whole thing caught me by surprise, thanks. And you were the one trying to turn a peck on the cheek into full on face-sucking with Gabby not two minutes ago!”

  His belligerent look crumbles and he backs off slightly. I glare at him and then turn to see where Jack wandered off to. He’s strolling down the street, getting further away from us with every second.

  “I’m going to catch up with our subject. You stay here and sulk if you want.” Without a second look at David, I turn and hurry after Jack, going as fast as I can trust my boots to take me on the ice-coated sidewalk. With all the extra money coming in, you’d think they would spend a bit on extra bags of salt!

  “Wait!” I call after Jack. He comes to a stop and looks back over his shoulder, a look of bemusement on his face.

  He turns to face me as I wobble up. “If you’re wanting another kiss, you should at least buy me a drink first,” he advises. I draw up short, blinking at him, so at a loss that he bursts out laughing and shakes his head. “I’m kidding! What can I do for you?”

  “I need your help,” I say simply, worried that I'll
start stammering if I even try to discuss that kiss. Although…it was still very, very noteworthy. I haven’t had very many kisses that have left me trembling and breathless, like I'd just swept down a slope in a toboggan.

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Me? Oh, well then. What are the details, Miss Andromeda?”

  “It's just Andi. I need your help nailing down an interview with your father within the next two days. Three tops? We have to move on after that, and our investigation just won’t be complete without a word from him.”

  He winces slightly. “I can't make any promises, unfortunately. I wish I could. Your work really does fascinate me. But my father, as you have no doubt learned, is notoriously hard to pin down.”

  “Jack, please.” I draw a bit closer to him. He must have a very well-insulated coat; I couldn't feel much warmth coming off of him when he leaned against me to kiss me. And I feel nothing coming off him now. “I hate being pushy, but we’re in a tight spot here.”

  He strokes his slightly pointed chin. I can hear David belatedly puffing up behind me, and I ignore him. Jack's brilliant blue eyes flick over to David and then back to my face. “How so?”

  “Everything points to your father’s involvement. And yours, for that matter.” I stare back at him as he smirks at me. “Say what you want, but you know it’s true. You and your dad are the two biggest Christmas enthusiasts that either of us has ever seen.”

  “Winter enthusiast, in my case, not just Christmas. Really, holidays are far more his bag, especially this one. But go on.” His eyes are twinkling at me like he thinks this is all a very funny joke.

  “In the end, I don’t want to do anything either of you isn’t comfortable with. But you cannot pull an event—or prank, or whatever you want to call it—this big, so big that it makes national news, and expect people not to be curious about how you pulled it off.” I can’t keep the plea out of my voice.

  He stares at me almost neutrally, just a gleam of humor in his eyes, neither confirming nor denying his involvement. Again. “Regardless of who is behind this and what method was used, I still don’t understand. How will knowing the specifics of Phoenicia’s little miracle help anyone?” he asks cryptically.

  I blink up at him, wrapping my coat more closely around me. The cold seems to be cutting through it more sharply with every gust of wind. This exact coat saw me through a Canadian winter. Why can’t it handle this? “What do you mean?”

  “Some things are fueled by belief, not by facts, my dear. Many of the best experiences in life have little to do with logic.” He looks past me again at David. “Take romance, for example.”

  “What about it?” David grits out through clenched teeth. I feel my blood pressure rise, but I don't confront him. Getting the interview is too important.

  “Well,” Jack says mildly, as I struggle to keep warm and find myself failing. “People do not fall in love because they present each other with a list of logical arguments why they are a good and compatible choice, though they might try to come up with one to justify their choice.

  “But that,” he continues with a widening smile, “is something humans come up with entirely after the fact. Our hearts make the decision before our brains can kick in—or sometimes, in spite of what our brains think. And we must simply trust that the one we love is worthy of our devotion.

  “Love is irrational, my friends, and though it must make sense to us, we base much of it on faith. And it is the same with miracles—even silly little ones like this.” He winks.

  I'm so cold. I need to duck back inside and get some more coffee into me before we take one single step further down the street. “We’re paranormal investigators, Jack. We’re here to try to make sense of things. I understand that you think removing the mystery will remove the magic from the situation—”

  “Yes, I absolutely do,” he replies mildly. “Take out too much of the mystery and you remove the wonder.” He seems to notice my shivering, and a concerned line appears between his brows, but he doesn’t comment on it yet.

  “What makes you think that our investigation has that kind of power? Jack, look. We will probably write a book and also present to a convention or two on this, which will mean even more tourists and more positive attention for your town. Unless we end up with conclusive proof either way, all that David and I can do in the end is present the evidence, and let people draw their own conclusions.” Talking so much seems suddenly exhausting. I’m shivering harder and harder.

  David steps up beside me finally, giving me a glance that actually looks concerned. “I think what Andi’s trying to say is, no matter what evidence is presented, some people will always believe, and even those who don’t will probably enjoy it anyway. And their kids will believe, because it’s a great little story. If we ever have kids, I’ll tell them this one myself.”

  We? Hold the fucking phone! Everything goes screeching to a halt inside of me, and I start shivering harder.

  That was a Freudian slip, I tell myself firmly. And of course, it was—but I still stand there with my heart pounding, wondering if David is aware of what he just said. He doesn’t seem to be. He just stays focused on the conversation.

  “That’s interesting,” Jack murmurs. “So, what you are saying is, no matter whether you actually reveal what happened, or lead people in entirely the wrong direction, you think people will simply take the details you’ve provided and draw their own conclusions?”

  Jack sounds incredulous—like it never occurred to him that we wouldn’t actually be out here trying to dissect a Christmas miracle and to change everyone’s minds. We’re not here to take the magic out of Christmas. Just determine whether there is any.

  “That’s it exactly,” I say in a tiny, shivery voice, and both men turn to me with almost identical frowns of concern. “Informing people is not the same as telling them what to think. I’m sorry if I made you think we were here to…debunk Phoenicia’s miracle.

  That was never the aim. We’re chasing wonder up here. David kicks the tires on everything we do, but in the end, that’s only so that we can have something that stands up to real debunkers.”

  I shift my weight, feeling a little wobbly, and am completely surprised when David grabs my arm to steady me. Catching Jack’s eye, I repeat, “Please. Just an interview, so we have something to wrap this investigation up.”

  “I’ll ask my father directly and then call you,” he replies, suddenly looking very troubled. “I’m very sorry about this. Perhaps you should go back inside and warm up.”

  “Sorry for what?” I manage to ask a moment before my knees buckle.

  “Whoa!” David catches me and steadies me with surprising ease. “Okay, yeah, let’s get you back inside.” He bends down and tosses me effortlessly over his shoulder. “Give us a call later,” he yells over my body and starts heading back to the bed and breakfast.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” The edge in his voice is gone, replaced only with concern. He moves me down his torso, so he’s cradling me like a baby instead of marching me around like a sack of potatoes.

  I drag my head up, barely able to meet his gaze. I’m numb, inside and out. The wind feels like it’s found a way through my clothes, skin, flesh…right through to my bones, coating them in a layer of ice.

  “I’m so cold,” I mumble softly and then look up at him, astonished by how scared that suddenly makes me. I’ve only been outside maybe ten minutes. But I feel like I’ve been wandering around a mountainside without my coat. “Help.”

  “Okay, sweetheart, okay,” he mutters as we turn up the walk. “Let’s get you inside and get a hot drink into you. Did your feet get wet or something?”

  “I don’t know. I was just standing there…” My words are going away again. I feel a fluffy haze closing in over my vision like frost over a window. “I just got so cold.”

  The blast of warm air as we step into the inn stings my skin, and I let out a little sob of relief. He leads me in through the lobby and sits me on the bench. “Hey, can
we get a cup of coffee over here?” he calls out to Gabby.

  She jumps up off her stool, staring at me worriedly. “She get a chill?”

  “Yeah, it came on pretty suddenly. I figured we’d try a hot drink.” He gives her a tight business-smile, all hint of flirtation gone.

  “Okay, yeah. Hang on.” She hurries into the breakfast room and comes back with a steaming cup for both of us. “You think you’re going to need help getting her up the stairs?”

  I’m a little shocked. Did I misread Gabby? “I can get up the stairs,” I insist. And I damn well will. “Just give me a few minutes.”

  I swallow down the coffee greedily, feeling a faint burn on my tongue but not caring. I need the warmth. But a few moments after taking the last gulp, I blink my eyes open and look around in confusion.

  The warmth spreads inside of me…and then gutters out like a match struck in an Arctic wind. Fuck. What is this? Am I going to end up in the damn hospital like that biker?

  “Let’s…just go upstairs,” I say through chattering teeth.

  Chapter 6

  David

  * * *

  I try to keep my cool as I help Andi up the stairs. She’s shivering so hard that it’s actually freaking me out. I don’t want her to end up in the hospital because the wind chill factor left her hypothermic.

  But if I can’t get her stable and warmed up in the next hour, the hospital is exactly where we’re going. I tell her this, quietly but firmly, on the way up the stairs. “And then we’re going home, sweetheart. We can do a phone interview with Whitman from my penthouse, damn it, with the heat cranked up to eighty.”

  “We can’t give up now,” she protests quietly. I scoff.

  “We damn well can and will, if it comes down to it. There’s no way I’m letting you end up hurt for the sake of another book. You’re too important. Now come on, let’s get you up the rest of these stairs.” I help her up the last few steps and then down the hall, where Gabby has unlocked the door and is busily bringing carafes of coffee, cocoa, and hot water with a basket of teas.