One Night With the Billionaire (Men of the Zodiac)

by Sarah Ballance

  Ryder’s brow lifted.

  Great. She should have kept her mouth shut. The list of people who weren’t privy to the details of her ex’s privates was woefully short, and while she doubted Ryder wanted a VIP seat, she could really go for the anonymity. Actually, that was precisely why she had left the city. And while she certainly wouldn’t count him among her allies, it was nice to have a conversation with someone who didn’t look at her with sympathy.

  He looked at her instead with hunger.

  The dark lashes framing those impossibly light eyes only highlighted their intensity. Her body responded even when she knew she couldn’t—at least not in the way she wanted.

  “I don’t think it’s something we should talk about in light of our arrangement.”

  The easy-going smile disappeared. He blinked, clearly taken aback. “By all means. I apologize for the intrusion.”

  He may have sounded coolly detached, but the undercurrent in his tone was an emotional riptide. After the turmoil her life had become, Ryder felt safe. He felt like home. He brought back a time when she’d felt in control—a time before she’d let her big-shot attorney father crow so persistently about the man that became her fiancé so that she, too, began to believe theirs was a sufficient match. Before scandal and tabloids took over and pushed her out of her own life—a life she, ironically, no longer recognized as her own. There was no going back from that kind of thing. She’d accepted as much, and yet here she was, face to face with the road she hadn’t taken. A road that suddenly felt wide open and free.

  And terrifying.

  “It’s just…I came here looking for an escape from scandal and a broken engagement. I don’t think jumping into bed with another man is really the answer. If it’s a problem, perhaps I can seek other arrangements.”

  His eyes darkened, but not in the heated way they had before. “Can the formality, Zoe. If I’m making you uncomfortable, say so.”

  Oh, he was, all right. But not like he must have thought. She wanted him, but admitting it could only lead to disaster. Her life had been so carefully constructed, every move a step toward gaining her father’s approval. Toward earning his trust to take over his prestigious law firm—one of the most prestigious in a district teeming with power players. Hers had been a regimented, well-organized path down which she’d planned to walk for as long as she could remember. And Ryder represented the antithesis of that—a departure from which she might never recover. She thought of the heat she’d seen in his eyes and the repercussions of adding fuel to that fire. Explosive. The thought of those rough hands covering her bare flesh made her want to beg.

  And Zoe Davenport didn’t beg. What she was going to do was enjoy the sunshine and the ocean, get a grip on herself, and go back to DC and the high-powered career path that awaited her sensible-shoe-clad feet to step on it once more. She opened her mouth to tell him just that…

  But she didn’t have a chance.

  His phone rang, freeing her from her from a confession that could have only ended in disaster.

  He pulled the device from his pocket without taking his eyes off her, only glancing quickly at the display before meeting her gaze again. “I’m going to take this outside.”

  Ryder ended the phone call but didn’t rush back to Zoe. He’d be better off avoiding her altogether, not that it was possible. The thought of her standing there, nipples tight and thighs clenched, just a few feet from his king-size bed, put him in dangerous territory. He could already see her spread eagle, tied to the corner posts, and at his complete mercy. Hungry. The vision made him want to forget all about that damned contract he’d signed, but that wouldn’t happen. The best opportunity he’d ever been given had just come back to bite him in the ass. Big time.

  He scrubbed a hand down his face, wondering what the hell had possessed him when he’d started talking to her about sex and sin and all the possibilities therein. He couldn’t sleep with Zoe Davenport—not once, not twice, not daily for the entire two weeks she would be sharing a suite with him. Because doing so would ruin him.

  Ten years ago, on graduation day, Zoe’s father had approached Ryder with a fat check, a notary public, and an offer: stay away from Zoe until the end of time, and the money was his, free and clear. The old man had clearly noticed Ryder’s eye on his daughter—and hers on him—but Ryder was no fool. He thought Zoe was hot, but women were a dime a dozen, and tickets out of that hellhole generally didn’t exist. He hadn’t cared then that the penalty for breaking the deal was his entire net worth or ten times the face value of the check, whichever was greater. He’d signed, he’d gotten the hell out of dodge, and he hadn’t looked back.

  Not until now.

  Now, he wondered if such a ridiculous penalty could be upheld. But what did it matter? The damage breaking the contract would do to his reputation—to his resort—would ruin him even if the document itself did not. His was a niche market, and its patrons weren’t those to flock to scandal or disgrace. Associations like that could be brutal. To be ground zero, professionally speaking, would be the end. Even as he wrestled with whether he should produce the contract for his team of lawyers, he knew Zoe Davenport wasn’t a chance he could take.

  Not even if it fucking killed him.

  He ignored the nagging voice that insisted he could screw her silly on his own private beach, and her father would never be the wiser. He’d grown up enough in the past decade to know a woman deserved better, but his hormones hadn’t gotten the memo. He’d never been much for relationships, which was just as well, because once he’d started working personal security, he couldn’t focus on his clients’ safety if he was preoccupied with a woman sitting alone at home waiting for him. He’d seen other men misstep and nearly get themselves or their clients killed, and that was enough to ensure he never got involved. He’d settled for the kind of one-night fling where neither names nor phone numbers were exchanged, but the novelty had long worn off.

  He wanted more.

  He wanted Zoe.

  She represented everything he’d never had. The white picket fence, the two kids, and the family mutt, dutifully adopted from the local animal shelter. Big holiday meals and laughter that rang through open doors, falling flat at the property line that had once divided their lives. That Ryder could grow up next door to her had been a fluke at best. His house had once been the servants’ quarters to her family’s much larger home. The parcel had been sold off at one point when they were kids, and just like that, fate put him in the venerable shadow of perfection. That feeling was so deeply ingrained in him that money hadn’t changed a thing. Seeing her again took him right back to that place, where she was the princess next door, and he the piece of crap under her shoe. And the fact that his money hadn’t won her over now made him want her all the more.

  Damn it all.

  Maybe he’d misread her attraction. She had to have been shocked to find the tables turned as they were, she on the run from her life and he living in the lap of good fortune.

  Motion through the expansive glass caught his attention. She had changed into a dress that flirted with her thighs and showed off bombshell curves that had been lost to her stuffy pants suit. For the briefest moment, he pondered a change of scenery for the duration of her visit. A ski resort would be nice. Somewhere with year-round snow—somewhere he didn’t have to worry about his former neighbor baring mile-long legs and a body built for sin.

  Sighing, he jammed his phone in his back pocket and strode back into the cabana. The air conditioning hit him with force, but it wasn’t enough to eradicate the heat between them. His flirting had backfired in a big way. He’d riled her up, no doubt, but he’d gotten way too close, putting himself in a corner wanting what he couldn’t have. He didn’t believe for a minute she didn’t want him, but he wasn’t going to risk everything for a woman who found him so damned resistible.

  Or maybe not. She averted her eyes, pegging her attention in the vicinity of his chest, though that changed quickly, as he cleared his throat
and reached for the shirt he’d left slung over the back of the leather sofa. He tugged the garment over his head.

  “If you’re ready,” he said, “we’ll get to work.”

  “Work?” She stared at him in confusion.

  “Yeah, that thing you’ll do while you’re here.”

  “I thought that was just…I thought you were aware I’m not actually a designer.”

  “You are now.” He almost laughed. She looked positively bewildered. He didn’t see much need in her going through the motions—the Latitude 13 skeleton crew was tight, and he trusted them, so she could, too—but he enjoyed having her all out of sorts.

  He’d love having her that way in his bed. He ached with the thought, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was the right kind of ache. Sex? Hell yes. But the consequences of going there were staggering. The risk wasn’t worth it.

  She was still looking at him. Still wore that expression. He wondered what would happen if he kissed her. Would she be pissed?

  Or would she be his?

  Only for a night, and it would be the costliest of his life.

  He pulled out his phone and pretended he had a reason to look at it. Anything to break his focus on her and that tight little body and how much he wanted it twisting up his sheets. Interior design. She might think herself unqualified, but she’d sure as fuck redesigned the way his dick fit in his pants. “If you don’t play the part as a designer,” he asked, “how do you expect your cover to stand?”

  “Not with me coordinating fabrics, that’s for sure.”

  He cast an unwitting eye over her dress. “Isn’t that a thing women do?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s a thing people do, but not all of them. Consider me among the least qualified.”

  “In that case, consider yourself lucky. I already had a professional coordinate everything. I just need you to go through the rooms and tell me they look good.” To her raised brow, he added, “Make sure everything is in place. Right number of curtains and that kind of thing. Think you can handle that?”

  “I can count, yes.”

  He relished the tiny smile that punctuated her words. It was the first hint of normalcy since she’d walked back into his life. Maybe they could be friends after all. Right.

  “I have some time now,” he said. “Let me show you around.” He tugged his shirt into place, noticing with amusement that her gaze followed his hands.

  “You don’t have a person for that?” she asked, her attention still on his abdomen.

  “Not a chance.” He actually did have someone who could have given her the tour, but he wasn’t letting her go that easily. Especially in the vicinity of his buddy Hector, the resort’s outdoor adventure guru, whom no woman had ever turned down. Or so Hector said, but Ryder hadn’t seen much evidence to the contrary.

  She fell into step beside him, setting fire to his blood. Every palm they strolled past, he fought the urge to pin her against the trunk, wrists over her head, body lithe and slick against his. The woman was a distraction and then some, and if he wasn’t doing a sorry job of hiding it now, he would be when his buddies started asking questions. They’d see past his denial in a heartbeat, and that would only bring more questions. Ryder had no qualms about taking what he wanted, but he couldn’t take her.

  Not even if she begged.

  “So who were those guys with you when I came up?” she asked. “Do they work here?”

  “Yep,” he said, grateful for the change in topic. “Hector is a pilot, and he’s into adventure sports, so he’ll be the one terrorizing guests. Neil is a charter boat captain in charge of fishing expeditions. Carson is a bartender from back in his college days, but he doubles as my right hand. He more recently acted as a CFO for a Fortune 500 company, so he knows his way around the numbers, and for the last month has had his head glued to a spreadsheet making sure everything is in place for the opening. He’s run most of his reports now, but old habits die hard. I had to drag him away from a computer to get him to help with the construction.”

  She gave a short, nervous laugh. “It’s not everywhere a person walks up on a billionaire and a Fortune 500 CFO swinging hammers.”

  Ryder grinned. “Probably not, but I decided I wanted a gazebo there, so we put one together with some excess lumber we had hanging around.”

  “So they just jump when you say jump, huh?”

  “Yep, but I’d do the same for them, and they know it.”

  She smiled warmly, and it lit fire to something inside him. Made him feel human.

  Vulnerable. Like her approval still mattered.

  He cleared his throat. “The resort consists of thirteen cabana suites like ours,” he explained, “each with a private pool. They’re isolated for privacy, though not as spread out as you might think. I wanted to grant each one solitude while keeping close to amenities.” They turned a corner, and the main building came into view. He nodded in its direction. “There are twenty-one suites in the tower.”

  “Tower? You use the term loosely.”

  He laughed. “Yes, only five floors, but with sprawl. Enough for a view from the top, but not so much that it ruins the view from everywhere else. Anyway, you’re basically double-checking the list I have, and it’s all on the computer, so I’ll give you a tablet, and it’ll be cake. I know you don’t need to be deep undercover here, but having something of a story should keep your visit from snagging too much attention. The guys wouldn’t pry, but this way, you won’t have to answer any questions—even the casual ones. I know they can be uncomfortable.”

  “I appreciate your trouble,” she said quickly. Dismissively. “What’s that one?” She pointed to a two-story building that meandered through the palms, an architectural design that allowed each of the 500-square-foot studio apartments to have a private terrace.

  “That’s the staff quarters.”

  “They won’t think it’s odd I’m not staying there? I’m staff.”

  “More of a consultant. Besides, putting you in there would be the equivalent of throwing you to the wolves.”

  She threw him a wry look. “Surely the doors lock.”

  He bit back a grin at how readily she tossed his words back at him. Very few people saw fit to give him a hard time since he’d made his fortune, and not one of the intrepid few had been of the young female persuasion. “Indeed they do have locking doors,” he said, “but I wouldn’t subject a woman to such close quarters with what is currently a building full of guys. Not without backup.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So what you’re saying is, you have a bunch of Neanderthals working for you.”

  He nearly choked on her assessment. It probably wasn’t too far off, although he knew they were good guys who respected women. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be anywhere near his resort. “They’re not blind,” he said mildly.

  “That’s no excuse,” she shot back. A playful smirk softened her admonition.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Haven’t we already had this conversation? Besides, I didn’t say it was an excuse.”

  “But?”

  “But I took personal responsibility for you and intend to see that through.”

  She pressed her lips together, seemingly irritated. What had he said to offend her? After the way she’d reacted to his tale from the backseat, he got the feeling she preferred dirty talk to business, so perhaps being reminded—or realizing for the first time—that she fell into the latter category hadn’t gone over well. He filed away the assumption with a hint of amusement.

  He led the way into the main building, with its oasis of stark white and sea blue décor. Beige accents softened a number of windowed nooks with views of the beach or pool. Barrel ceilings, their arches richly detailed, added a dimension of luxury, while the oversized pillows and plush seating promised comfort. Columns offered subtle distinctions between spaces without closing off the open floor plan, which remained brilliantly lit by sun-drenched windows from sunup to sundown.

  Behind him, Zoe’s breath ca
ught. “It’s beautiful.”

  He smiled to himself. “I’m glad you approve.” And he was.

  “The designer did a great job in here.”

  He smiled, stupidly pleased that she liked what she saw. “The guest suites are right this way.”

  She trailed a step behind him, and he let her. Safer that way. “Are they all laid out the same?” she asked.

  “Most aren’t, actually. I wanted to avoid the cookie-cutter habit of most resorts in favor of a truly personal experience, so no two rooms are alike, but they’re all maxed out with amenities.” He swiped a key card through the nearest lock and opened the door for her. “Right this way.”

  Despite a number of differences, the two-bedroom suite wasn’t unlike the cabana he and Zoe shared. Once the final coat of paint was on, one bedroom would offer a king-sized bed, the other a pair of doubles. The same colors remained a theme throughout the resort, though the exact assortment in each room varied. Every suite boasted a generously appointed kitchen, a stocked wet bar, two and a half baths, and theater-quality media, though he hoped his guests would find their surroundings more interesting than the electronics.

  She walked a small circle around the suite, her wonderment causing him to see it anew. He couldn’t imagine he’d ever grow tired of the white sand and turquoise waters of the Caribbean, but they’d never looked more beautiful than they did with Zoe in the forefront.

  He was on his way to the window to detail the view when she turned, the sudden movement clashing with his own. She landed flat against his chest, and he steadied her without forethought. And just like that, she was in his arms.

  Nonsensical objections spun through his head, but his only focus was on the curve of her lips. Their eyes met through the thickness of her lashes, and she denied him his only chance of salvation by not fleeing. If anything, when her gaze dropped to his mouth, she reeled him in. Her fingertips traced his biceps with the gentleness of a lover, and any chance he held for resistance hit the floor. But dammit, he was not going to go there.