Randolph made sure he and Jules attended all the best schools, showed up at all the right social functions, volunteered in politically correct projects and only befriended those individuals whose families could stand up under a withering investigation into their suitability to be associated with the Barrett family.
His grandfather’s right hand man was an unctuous troll named Adam Sproul who’d been at the old man’s side long enough to not only know where the skeletons were buried but also to have buried a few of them himself. Sproul the Troll, as he and his sister had named him, made sure everyone stood at attention for the his grandfather’s wishes and didn’t so much as move a toe outside the carefully constructed lines of Randolph Barrett’s control. The man had interfered non-stop into his life, Jules’ life and even worse, his mother’s. As if losing her loving husband at the age of thirty-six hadn’t been enough, she’d been forced into lock-step with whatever her father-in-law demanded in order to do what was best for her children who were the sole heirs to Barrett’s wealth and riches.
Sproul and his cadre of minions were hangers on and wanna' be’s of the lowest order. Sometimes being near to power is enough. Sproul used his connections and authority to make their lives a living hell. Randolph not only allowed this he encouraged it for nothing seemed to bring the old buzzard more delight than setting people in his control against each other. He took sick enjoyment in the unsettling of others.
After graduate school, instead of sticking to the plan which his grandfathered had laid out once he’d had total control of his deceased son’s family, Nick had managed to get himself to Africa and deeply involved in the objectives of the PVI before anyone but Jules and his mother knew what had happened.
He’d hated the lot of them, the business heads and empty suits who managed too much money and ruthlessly wielded more power than anyone had a right to. Randolph had been furious at Nick’s defection but had begrudgingly accepted his involvement with the initiative after he’d allowed the argument that it would look good from a PR standpoint.
The out-of-place suit sent to fetch him from his anonymous sojourn was undoubtedly one of Sproul’s fuglies – a pithy and irreverent combination of words which so aptly described the army of gutter rats who were at the man’s malevolent beck and call.
Upon hearing the news that he’d been called back to the states post haste to take control of business, per Randolph’s wishes and the intent of the board, Nick went numb. He’d been handed a life sentence for a crime that hadn’t committed.
It wasn’t until he’d been alone, in the quiet of his tiny Quonset hut, packing his belongings, when thoughts of Shannon crowded his mind and calmed his rapidly crumbling sense of control over his own life.
His beautiful, amazing Shannon. All around him in the confines of the sparse room Nick saw and felt reminders of her. As soon as those thoughts surfaced came the crushing realization that his Shannon could be no more.
What messed up twist of fate found the two, inseparable for months as lovers and friends, apart at this critical moment? Shannon was away on a three day pick up mission to another of the initiative’s village projects. Leaving without seeing her, explaining why he must go, and maybe even desperately clinging to some fashion of hope that they could escape his fate, was ripping him apart inside.
He’d been hiding from his life and in doing so had not been exactly forthcoming. That he loved her without reservation was read but even so, his withholding of the truth was going to complicate matters. Some part of him gloried in the fact that this fascinating blonde haired whirling dervish of a female saw nothing but a shining hero when she looked at him. Looked at him, not his money, not his family connections, not the future he could give her.
She thought him just another struggling grad student dedicated to doing good works in a forgotten corner of the world. Had she known that he was cut from a different cloth, one that included private jets, fancy homes and unlimited wealth he doubted she would have allowed him to get close to her. Shannon was one of those bright eyed innocents who had no time for the labels and categories our modern world ascribed to those without influence or money.
Hindsight being 20/20, Nick could see how the collision of the two realities had left him at loose ends. The ridiculous hand written note he’d left for her had been a coward’s way out. You’re very special; I’ll always remember the time we spent together. Ugh.
Recalling the empty vapid words he’d numbly scribbled on a scrap piece of paper made him cringe. He hadn’t even explained why he never told her his real name or why he’d been running away the whole time she’d known him.
He knew the gossip train would pull out of the station as soon as his departure became common knowledge and knew too that Shannon was going to be stunned by what would be said. Allowing the situation to unfold the way it did had been just the first of many mistakes he would make. Telling himself he was distraught when everything came crashing down, and that giving Shannon a gilded opportunity to hate his guts, seemed to him at the time like the best thing he could do for her. A clean break. She would have her hatred of him and how he’d more or less conned everybody into thinking he was some white knight to wipe away any lingering happy thoughts of their relationship.
He hadn’t expected however that she would surface six weeks later in a phone call and even now couldn’t face the cruel way he had turned his back on her that day. He’d just discovered the wretched terms of Randolph’s monstrous last will and testament and was reeling from the full and incontrovertible ramifications of being thrust by destiny into his hereditary role as head of Barrett Holdings.
He’d been pathetically happy to hear her voice on the phone but the walls had been closing in on him, literally, and he had behaved like an ass. He’d thought of it at the time rather like pulling off a bandage. Just do it quick and efficiently – it was going to hurt no matter what, and then move on. So he did just that with ruthless precision and then regretted it every second of every minute of every hour of every day since then. Talk about a train wreck, his life had been that in spades.
The painful decisions he would make in the weeks which followed were casualties of that collision. It would be years before the dust settled enough for him to grasp that perhaps there might have been another path he could have taken. But here, now, or at least until he’d been stunned by a cowboy hatted virago slamming into him on a hay bale stacked path, those options were only fanciful wishes cloaked in regret for something which could have been but which was no more. It’s funny how all that changed in the blink of an eye.
Turning away from the sunlit window where he’d been in deep reverie, Nick took his now cold mug of java and headed to the kitchen; not without first glancing at the closed bedroom door at the other side of the open great room.
Beyond that door lay all the hopes, dreams and quite a few fantasies his lonely heart had ever wished for; his beautiful, funny and unconventional Shannon. She was older and quite a bit wiser but she was also the only woman he’d ever allowed into his heart. The startling turquoise eyes he remembered, which had looked at him with such unabashed caring and belief, were now shadowed with anger and a good dose of mistrust.
Hell, he couldn’t blame her. He’d acted like a jerk. Told himself he did so to protect her from the ugly trolls and soul-crushing reality of life amongst Randolph Barrett’s minions but that didn’t assuage the guilt and remorse he felt. It also didn’t do anything for the conspicuous hard-on he’d been sporting from the moment he’d realized just who had plowed in to him. As soon as awareness had lit up his mind, the kick-starting of his heart had followed along with a tightness in his groin as his body awakened from an eight year sleep with a testosterone fueled charge of pure male awareness.
With a heavy, audible sigh he moved slowly to the kitchen sink to deal with the empty mug. Just as his hand reached out to turn the water on he heard it.
His name. Just his name. Like a whisper, only with an intensity that let him know it wasn’t hap
pening just in his mind. She was calling out to him. Before he knew it he was at her door. What had he done with the mug? He didn’t know and didn’t care. All that mattered was how his heart felt when he heard her voice whisper his name.
Although it was she who had called out for him, Shannon wasn’t prepared when the bedroom door pushed open and Nick was standing there. Yep, he was still drop dead sexy and gorgeous even with the days old day stubble and the fact that he was clearly wearing the same clothes he’d had on yesterday. He filled the doorway with his presence and not just physically. Everything about him was overwhelming; his size, the way his gaze swept over her, how he moved and the primal call her body responded to despite the way she tried to distance herself from that powerful awareness. She shouldn’t be so damn glad to see that he was still there. But she was.
Once he had confirmed that she had indeed called out to him and had found her sitting on the edge of the bed, mangled foot dangling down towards the floor, Nick tread carefully into her bedroom to be of whatever assistance he could.
Watching his approach Shannon was unsettled by the way his presence reached out to her. He was like a magnet and she could no more look away or ignore him than she could stand up and run from the room.
Like a moth to the flame she thought. Try as she might to appear nonchalant and blasé about the whole thing, the way her insides fluttered and the unsettling heat and arousal swirling in her lap disquieted her enormously.
Feeling uncharacteristically tongue tied after a long emotionally draining night full of tears, Shannon could do no more than utter a feeble “Hi.” as Nick approached.
When he stopped and jammed his hands into the pockets of his black jeans muttering his own less than eloquent “Hi.”, Shannon tried not to notice how the jeans stretched snugly over what appeared to be a healthy bulge when his hands disappeared into the pockets.
Why had she called out to him? She forgot in that moment as her need to use the bathroom was momentarily forgotten and replaced by a sensual pulse of desire that robbed her of the ability to move much less speak.
She wanted him. No, it was a thousand shades deeper than merely want. She needed him. Needed to experience his possession, to drown in the waves of pleasure only his body had given her. It had only ever been him, would always ever be only him.
That single, unavoidable flash point of truth lasered through the walls she’d built against him. Not just around her heart, but her mind as well. She inhaled sharply sucking in air which was suddenly drenched with Shannon’s explosive desire to have that rock hard body of his to come to her; cover her with his overwhelming male form and press her down into the mattress as he feasted on her helpless response in that wickedly alpha male way he had of controlling everything around him. Lowering her eyes carefully and hoping that he hadn’t noticed her hungry gaze, Shannon went very still in order to regroup her emotions before she made matters worse.
It was Nick who spoke, pushing back the veil of silence laced with a triple dose of intoxicating emotions that followed their every interaction.
“How are you this morning Shannon?” he asked with real, worried concern. “Were you able to sleep?”
He hadn’t needed to ask because the remnants of a restless overnight were clearly evident on her face as he considered the obvious strain bracketing the lines of her mouth and her pale, almost luminescent skin marred by slight smudges under normally vividly hued eyes.
Right now what he was seeing was someone who had not yet found her footing. Good, he thought. Any hesitation on her part was an opening for him, signaling loud and clear that though she was clearly trying, she hadn’t completely closed off her heart to him. At least not yet.
This was windfall time. The mother of all bonus rounds dropped in his lap by a forgiving universe that was offering up a challenge like no other. Something he hadn’t prepared for. Hadn’t even hoped against hope could ever happen. And yet here it was. The opportunity of his lifetime. Rare is it for anyone to find themselves in a situation wherein they could completely re-envision their life but that’s what he held so cautiously in his hands. A chance to right a terrible wrong, an opportunity to dream a different future than the one they’d both been heading in to; a future filled with hope and faith and love for they could have all of that and so much more. The burden of that lay squarely on him. It was his wrong to right and he’d better not blow it.
Sleep? Had she slept? Shannon wasn’t entirely sure. The night had been crowded by images from the past mingled with the circumstances of the present. If she had slept it was fitfully and the way her tongue seemed fused to the top of her mouth and the fuzzy way her reflexes were responding told more about a long night spent tossing, turning and sighing rather than sleeping like a baby.
To make matters worse, with Nick being his ever-watchful self, she was pretty sure he had totally caught her ogling his body and was also relatively certain that she looked like holy hell this morning and did not in any way resemble someone who woke up on the right side of the bed.
No, she hadn’t slept but he didn’t need to hear her acknowledge that fearing such a statement might make him wonder if he was causing her sleeplessness. After forcing her eyes away from their traitorous appraisal of his masculine charm Shannon remembered why she had called for him
“I, um…,” she choked out while she squirmed in embarrassment, “well, I really have to use the bathroom.” she blurted out baldly following up the declaration with a nervous cough followed by some furious lip biting.
“I feel kind of icky and need to clean up.” she rambled, speared on by nervous energy. Pointing at her foot she murmured, “And this ankle feels like it isn’t part of my body so clearly I could use some assistance.”
With that both of them fixed their separate attentions on the injured foot hanging off the bed. It didn’t look as swollen as it did yesterday but ghastly discoloration from the deep bruising was beginning to appear. Each considered what was before them with Shannon sighing in resignation because it would be foolish not to accept his help, and Nick thoughtfully assessing the best way to meet her needs and see to her comfort.
Ah well then, that was simple, he thought as once again he simply marched toward her and with no effort whatsoever plucked her up from the bed hoisting her into his large, solid arms. The squeak of surprise she emitted changed to alarm when she realized instantly that, barely covered as she was in her ridiculously short baby doll nightie, from this position not only was she crushed against his chest but one of his hands was gripping her torso at a spot which caused one of her breasts to pillow against his fingers.
To make matters a thousand times worse, in the short flimsy nightie which only came to the tops of her legs, the supporting arm under her bottom was separated from her heat by a rather sensible pair of simple white panties with a bit of lace and nothing else. Shannon’s undignified state of undress was not helping her remain in control of the predicament she found herself in.
Nick was aware of several things all at once as he settled Shannon in his arms. First of course, was a sense of contentment for this was where she belonged. Even though she wasn’t ready to admit it yet he was certain after some of what had transpired yesterday that she was not completely shut off to him.
Next was a tactical awareness of what he was doing as he looked for and marked the presence of the en suite bath while he ticked off in his head what he’d need to do in order to make this easy for her.
Those first two thought patterns started chugging to a stuttering mental halt as whatever awareness and presence of mind he possessed suddenly focused entirely on the physical sensation of holding her so close in his arms. With his senses assaulted by the subtleties of her intoxicating nearness, his mind was infused with a testosterone fueled rush as he became aware of a plump, round breast resting on one of his hands and the incredible softness and warmth of her thighs where they fell across his arms. Her pert little bottom was against a forearm and that mind melting scent which was hers
alone mixed with her signature fragrance made him strengthen his hold on her as a good case of lust gripped him, hard.
Was it possible to keep functioning he wondered when all of the blood in one’s body heads south? His form fitting jeans, which already left little to the imagination, were about to burst at the seams from the serious case of wood he was experiencing.
Trying to keep his mind on the task at hand instead of in her panties, Nick headed for the bathroom as Shannon tried desperately to tug down her tiny nightie while trying to retain some sense of composure in this odd situation.
Navigating unsuccessfully through waves of sensual awareness it didn’t register right away where they were headed, but the second Shannon understood that he was taking her to the en suite bath she all but leapt out of his arms in panic.
Oh no, no no! This can’t be happening; this can NOT be happening her mind screamed. Even if she had to start crying hysterically Shannon knew she had to stop him before he took her into that room. There was no way she was prepared to deal with the fall-out of what the two of them in the addition she had built to her unique specifications would mean once he got a good look at the magnificent wet room where he was heading. While entirely her vision, it was also a picture perfect re-creation of another space, one they would both have distinct memories of.
Letting go of the nightgown she had been clutching in a lame attempt at modesty, Shannon reached out and grabbed his bicep as if trying to jerk him to a stop saying as calmly as her near hysterical brain would allow, “Um, Nick…don’t you think it better to take me to the small bathroom like we did last night?” Her suddenly over-bright eyes darted in the direction of the en suite. He kept walking while her alarm rapidly increased the closer they got to the open doors leading to the bath.
The Billionaire's Second Chance Page 11
