The Reclusive Billionaire (Destination Billionaire Romance)

by Lucy McConnell

  Lucas pressed the button to shut off the grating voice and put his hat back over his face. William was charismatic, he’d give him that, and he was off-the-chart intelligent; but he wasn’t Lucas, Tyler, or their assistant David’s equal in the lab. Most, if not all, of BluePharma’s success came because of the people William hired and managed who slaved away while he took the credit for their work on national radio.

  Lucas must have dozed off, because he was awakened by a bullhorn loudly announcing, “This is the Coast Guard. Identify yourself.”

  Lurching to a sitting position, Lucas stared at the large sailboat less than a mile away on a direct course to meet up with the Coast Guard in their speed boat. Overhead, a helicopter hovered, Channel 5 News as bold as brass on its side and a cameraman hanging out the open door to get a good view of the scene unfolding in front of him.

  Desperate to remain off camera, Lucas shoved his hat on his head to hide his face and kept his chin down as he brought up the anchor and started the motor. Not daring to take stock of the situation over his shoulder in case someone with a zoom lens happened to care about a local fisherman, he headed back to the marina. The last thing he needed was someone recognizing him and smearing his image across the internet. All it would take was one person knowing his real identity.

  Becca knew.

  Becca knew who he was—she’d said as much last night. Yet Lucas didn’t panic, hadn’t panicked, in the face of recognition. Not from Becca. Becca was all sorts of somethings that Lucas had a hard time putting his finger on. She was kind to those who needed it most. Maybe that’s why he didn’t fear her knowing his true identity. He needed a large dose of charity. Not the monetary kind, but the person-to-person kind.

  Staring out at the water, watching the horizon dip with the tide, Lucas recalled Bri’s love of the scriptures, although why that would come to mind now puzzled him. Perhaps it was the way the ocean made him feel insignificant. Or maybe it was because he could watch the shore and see the people and not want to hate them all. Or maybe it was his sister’s spirit nudging him to contemplate more than integers and powers—she had always said there was more to life than a calculator. Whatever the reason, Lucas remembered her explaining that charity was love—pure love.

  Becca’s charity towards animals was exemplary, and Lucas had seen enough to know that she extended a limited amount of that to the people around her. What had she said? It’s easier to trust a dog than it is to trust a person. He could see that. Dogs didn’t stab you in the back or try and pull you down. They were excited every time they saw you. And they were loyal—something Lucas found severely lacking in the human population.

  Except for Becca.

  Lucas pressed the throttle down, and the boat shot forward. He was suddenly very excited to get back inside the harbor.

  10

  The cat, Daisy, had suffered a broken leg. Becca was able to reset it and secure a cast, much to the relief of her owner, Laura Livingston. Laura, as it turns out, had recently moved to Santa Barbara to escape her new daughter-in-law who had a severe cat allergy. “Moving away was the only reasonable thing to do—otherwise we would have killed each other,” she confessed.

  Becca chuckled. Ginger pranced out of the office and wrapped herself around Laura’s legs in a show of affection Becca had yet to see from the rescued stray.

  “Who is this?” asked Laura as she picked up the fur ball. Ginger’s coat had come in shiny and thick with a couple weeks of good food and attention. She spent most of her time on top of the filing cabinets but seemed to be brave after hours—which Becca couldn’t blame Ginger for since the majority of her patients were dogs.

  “This is Ginger,” Becca introduced them.

  “You’re a pretty kitty, aren’t you?” Laura tucked Ginger under one arm and stroked her head. “I had a cat just like her when I was a girl. I used to dress her in my Cabbage Patch dolls’ clothes,” she twittered.

  Becca considered the pair. “She’s up for adoption, if you’re interested.”

  “Really?” Laura’s face lit up.

  “Really. Her owners had to move unexpectedly.” Becca bit her cheek. Forgive me, Lord, for stretching the truth.

  “You know, I might just take her home right now.” Laura rubbed her cheek against Ginger’s head. Becca’s heart warmed knowing she’d found a home for the cat.

  “I have her files already, and it would be no trouble. Daisy will have to stay here tonight, so that would give Ginger a chance to settle in.”

  Ginger purred. “Let’s do it.” Laura grinned.

  After making sure Ginger was happy with Laura—which she was, if purring like a boat motor was any indication—Becca locked the front door and cleaned up the exam room.

  Daisy was under sedation and should wake up around ten that night. Becca called Carson; he offered to check on the patient since he was going to a nearby bar for the evening. Becca would check on her again in the morning. If her vitals were strong, Daisy could go home tomorrow afternoon.

  Becca’s stomach growled as she started her car. She wasn’t in the mood for any of her usual haunts and instead opted to grab some essentials from the local market. The parking lot for the organic market was crowded, but that was to be expected for a Saturday afternoon. She found a spot and, sighing over her cat pajama bottoms and Levi jacket, made her way into the store.

  There was a bright green paper taped to the door, and in big, bold letters it proclaimed:

  WE ARE CURRENTLY OUT OF ALL FLU PREVENTION PRODUCTS INCLUDING SAMBUCUS IMMUNE LOZENGES, COLD-EEZE, HALO ORAL ANTISEPTIC, AND VITAMIN C CAPSULES. OUR NEXT SHIPMENT IS DUE TUESDAY.

  Becca shook her head. From what she’d read that morning, preventing the butterfly flu would take a lot more than a few herbs. Just inside the front doors was a display of surgical masks and air filters. Anything to make a buck. Becca filled her shopping cart and waited in line.

  The magazines at the checkout had images of vampiric butterflies and hordes of people crowding medical clinics in India and China, their cheeks aflame with the pink-and-purple splotches that gave the flu its name. The flu had spread past India’s borders and had the potential to cover the earth in the matter of a year.

  The line was long and the cashier new, so Becca opened one of her bags of mint cookies and set about making them disappear. Funny, once the bag was open, time just flew right by, and soon she was on her way home.

  The first thing Becca did when she pulled into the parking lot was to check for Lucas’s day-trip boat. She grinned when she found Fishing Buddy secured to the side-tie. He was back. She wondered if he would stop by or if she’d scared him away with her feline wardrobe. She’d had a good day, done a good thing to help an animal in need and her owner. Good things were out there on the horizon just waiting to wash ashore.

  As she unloaded groceries and put the top up on her convertible, Becca relived their few moments together the night before. The meeting under the stars with the gentle lapping of the water against her boat had seemed intimate and led her to say more than she’d planned. She’d planned on keeping her mouth shut and never revealing what she’d read. Instead, she’d been lured into unfamiliar territory where she trusted a person enough to let her guard down. The sense of connection between her and Luke was enough to set her on edge and have her humming happily at the same time. She hardly knew what she wanted or what to expect from their next encounter, yet the uncertainty was thrilling.

  She met Jessica, her old neighbor, coming out as she was going in, saving Becca from having to find her key fob. Jessica’s blond hair, streaked with gray, was parted in the middle and hung halfway down her back. She’d been a good friend to Grandpa, often sharing meals and stories, and had extended that friendship to Becca. “Hey, you want to go to the Breakwater tonight for supper?” Jessica grinned. “My nephew is in town. I’ve told him all about you.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  Becca grimaced, and then quickly schooled her features so as not to hurt Jessica’s feelings. Her
nephew was a dedicated surfer who followed the circuit. He did odd jobs around the harbor when he was in town—just enough to tide him over until the next competition. Becca didn’t see a long-term commitment in his immediate future, and she wasn’t looking for a one-night stand or a fly-by-night romance. She wanted something tangible, lasting, and filled with the same kind of love Grandpa had shown for Grandma even after she passed away. “Maybe some other time.”

  Jessica tipped her head to the side, disappointed. However, she didn’t insist, and Becca loved her all the more for it. “Okay. See ya around.”

  Happily dodging another blind date had Becca thinking about Big Red dodging animal control. Juggling bags, she managed to get her phone out of her purse and click on the bookmark for the animal shelter where they posted pictures of the dogs and cats they brought in each day. Today there were also two snakes and a hamster.

  Not finding her new friend on the page, Becca didn’t see the dingy orange life jacket until she’d tripped over it. One of her bags went flying as she threw her arms out to the side to find her balance. Canned goods scattered. She could only watch as one headed for the edge of the dock. Of course, the run-away would be the can of chili she had planned for dinner.

  At the last second someone scooped it up, rescuing Becca from a night of chicken noodle soup. Becca followed the muscular arm up to the broad shoulder and finally arrived at the newly trimmed and shaped beard of none other than Luke himself. Letting out a lusty sigh she’d never heard leave her mouth before, Becca blushed. Luke’s eyes shone with a confidence she had yet to see. His slow approach drew out her anticipation like a long violin note right before the symphony crashes in harmonious rapture. Her skin tingled and air came in large gulps.

  Luke broke eye contact first, seemingly unaware of what his appearance had done to Becca’s state of mind. He bounced the can of chili in his hand. “Is this any good?” He reached for the two bags on her right shoulder.

  Becca let him take them. She hurriedly threw the scattered cans into the other bag, taking the time to compose herself. Standing, she smiled. “It’s hearty.”

  His brow crinkled. “It’s turkey chili. That is not hearty.”

  “Says the man with no food in his galley.” Becca swiped the can from his hands with a smile.

  “I have a better idea.” He reached for her last bag and easily slung it over his arm.

  Did he iron his shirt?

  “How about dinner at Moby Dick’s?”

  Becca quickly moved her gaze to the long wharf with its sturdy support beams silhouetted in the evening sunlight and the restaurant at the end visible from the marina. So much safer to take in the surf than it was to take in the tight muscles in Luke’s arms as he swung the grocery bags over one shoulder, the straps hooked to his finger. Her heart thrummed. “Like a date?” she blurted. She’d spent the last month avoiding setups and blind dates. She hadn’t considered the idea that a man might just come right out and ask her. Did they even do that anymore?

  “I think that’s what it’s called.” Luke winked.

  Becca’s heart did a double flip. “I don’t—I mean, I haven’t—” She looked down at her kitty attire in disbelief.

  Luke kicked at the life preserver. “It doesn’t have to be a date. We could just do dinner. I mean, I gotta eat, and whatever they’re serving has to better than this.” He held up the chili.

  Becca ran her hands through her unwashed and unbrushed hair. Who knew what version of the crazy cat lady she presented at the moment? She was in no shape to go to Moby Dick’s or even play in the seaweed. She needed a shower.

  The longer she debated, the more flustered Luke appeared. He ran his hand through his hair, twice, and then patted it to make sure it wasn’t sticking up.

  “Sure. Dinner’s good. Dates are good. Just …” She took two side steps, wishing her brain was running as fast as her mouth. “Just let me get changed. I had a cat throw up on me and—” Oh, kill me now.

  “Sounds . . . interesting. I’ll meet you back here in an hour?” Luke grinned like he was really happy she’d said yes—cat story and all. Two points for the guy with the sexy beard.

  “Sounds great.” Becca turned and took three light steps before she realized she was missing her groceries. Luke hadn’t seemed to notice the error either as he went the other direction swinging one of the bags and whistling.

  Becca waited to see if he’d notice. He did a side step around the life preserver she’d tripped on, nodded to someone she couldn’t see, and dodged an empty garbage can. When he got to the gate, he stopped and stared at his hands as if he didn’t remember they were attached to his body. Shrugging, he turned to find her laughing. Joining in, his timbre deep enough to send waves of awareness through Becca’s body, he held up the bags with a shrug.

  He jogged back. “Maybe you should take these.” He passed her the bags.

  “You sure? There’s more than just chili in there.”

  “Any cookies?”

  She grinned and hugged a bag close. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  He eyed her up and down, his eyes giving off that spark she found so alluring. “I’ll bet you’re a Mint Oreo girl.”

  Becca felt her cheeks color. There was not one but two bags of Mint Oreos in there, and she’d put away enough cookies to spoil her dinner for a week. “You peeked!” she accused.

  “Nope.” Luke reached out and brushed at her cheek. Becca felt something crumbly fall away.

  No! Her hand flew to her cheek, and she brushed furiously feeling minty goodness smear under her hand. Oh, the horror!

  “I’ll see you in a bit.” Luke winked again, and if Becca hadn’t been holding the bags of canned goods she would have floated away.

  Hurling herself onto the Salty Dog, Becca tossed her groceries on the bunk and grabbed her shower caddy. Tripping over life preservers, dropping groceries, getting covered in cookie crumbs, and saying things she’d never mention again was not the impression Becca wanted to give Luke. No sir. She was on a mission. Tonight, she was pulling out all the stops.

  She checked the skies on the way to the showers. Huge, fluffy clouds bunched together just offshore, white as cotton balls. The evening should be nice, but once those clouds were pushed through, the big storm would rage.

  11

  Luke paced the dock between his home and Becca’s slip. He’d opted to go with a pair of khaki pants and button-up shirt. Nothing too fancy—he didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard—but he wanted to wear something different than the wrinkled shorts he’d been living in.

  Becca had noticed his trimmed hair when she ran into him on the dock; he’d caught the appreciation in her gaze. While it pleased him to no end to see a spark between them, he was just as excited about the opportunity to really talk with her as he was to be with her.

  He ran his hand through his hair, then raked his fingers through his sculpted beard. He’d kept the longer hair and had it shaped to hang over his brow with a little rock and roll. The time he’d spent on the Incognito had changed him. He didn’t feel like the lab junkie who spent more time with microscopes than people. When all that was stripped away, he’d been left bare and unsure of his place. He was evolving into something—no, someone—new and he wanted it to show on the outside as much as he felt it on the inside.

  The barber had offered to shave the beard but Lucas liked having facial hair—it was a shield against recognition. Besides, he’d wondered what it would be like to hold a woman close and tickle her neck. Not that he was planning to take things in that direction with Becca. Not tonight, anyway.

  Shoot, he was definitely trying too hard.

  Becca’s back door slid open and she glided out as graceful as a sailboat with a favorable wind. Looking stunning in a lightweight salmon-colored sundress with a cream wrap draped about her delicate shoulders, she offered a tentative smile.

  Lucas held out his hand to help her over the small gap between her boat and the walkway. She accepted slidi
ng her soft fingers into his with a zing. “You look beautiful,” he breathed. Sucking in a lungful of salty air, he cleared his throat.

  Becca’s eyes lit up. “Thank you.” She tipped her head. “You look like a new man.”

  He puffed up his chest. “Do you think so? Am I respectable now?”

  She brushed past him, the scent of spearmint and eucalyptus lingering behind. “I doubt you’re ever respectable, Luke.” She said his name like a tease which did funny things to Lucas’s circulatory system.

  “I thought we could walk, if that’s okay?” He offered her his arm, worried that taking her hand would be too forward. Great, now I’m trying too hard and overanalyzing.

  “Sounds wonderful.” Becca took his arm and they strolled at a leisurely pace. There was a slight breeze that hinted at chilly, which was a nice contrast to the heat of the evening sun on their backs. The beach was calm and the sidewalk clear. The families and volley ball players with their radios, shouting, and laughter, were gone leaving the peace to Luke and Becca.

  Most of the evening weekend action happened on State Street, which was one reason Luke had picked Moby Dick’s. The atmosphere was quiet, a little on the romantic side, and allowed them to take in the beautiful view.

  At the wharf there was a mad rush of sound where the waves crashed against the sand. Once they were beyond the noise, they put the outside world behind them. Becca breathed in, and Lucas could feel her muscles relax.

  “I haven’t been to Moby Dick’s in years,” Becca said softly. The golden light kissed her cheekbones, giving them a rosy glow. Lucas reminded himself not to stare at her.

  “Really?”