One Night With the Billionaire (Men of the Zodiac)

by Sarah Ballance

  “Get to work!” Ryder called when he neared the dock where Hector was offloading a supply of alcohol into the back of a pickup truck.

  Hector glanced up, then gave a pointed look toward the sizable pile of cases he’d already moved. “Nice of you to show, boss-man.”

  “Hey, your paycheck clears. I’m just here to take pictures for the brochure.”

  Hector snatched a water bottle from the cooler at his feet and hurled it toward Ryder, who managed to simultaneously duck and snag it from mid-air. He cracked it open and took a long draw.

  “So what’s the deal with that woman who showed up here today?” Hector asked. “She sure got the VIP treatment.”

  Ryder measured his words. And lied. “No different from anyone else. It’s our policy, after all.”

  “You plan on shacking up with all your guests? I didn’t realize it was that kind of establishment.”

  “Separate bedrooms,” Ryder said, ignoring the dig, although it had sent his mind straight back to the gutter. That she had gotten under his skin so quickly bothered him in a big way. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted something he couldn’t have, but it hadn’t been a woman. With his money, they were a dime a dozen. But this need…hell, he hadn’t felt this way in ten years. Not since unreachable, unattainable Zoe had looked down her nose at him and made him want all the wrong things. And just like that, here they were again. Everything had changed, but nothing had.

  Hector dropped a case of drinks on the dock. “Give me a break, man. You have rooms for the employees. Fucking luxury apartments. There’s something about this chick you’re not saying.”

  Ryder gritted his teeth, realizing too late that the muscle flexing in his jaw wouldn’t help his case. “There’s nothing.”

  Hector’s knowing grin made it clear the words were wasted. “Yeah, that’s why you’re walking with a limp.”

  “Keep it up,” Ryder warned. “I won’t be the only one.”

  “Well, as long as you’re not staking a claim on her…”

  He knew better than to take the bait, but something feral tore through him. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.”

  Hector laughed. “Whatever. You know you can’t lie worth a shit, Nash.”

  Ryder took a deep, telling breath and skirted the truth. “Look, I know her father. She knows her job. It worked out for both of us.”

  Hector smirked. “What’s her father going to think when he finds out what you’re doing to her against those pretty little walls she’s fixing up for you?”

  Ryder glared, for what good it did. Hector’s taunt hit hard and in the gut, leaving Ryder a little unsteady. “Nothing for him to find out,” he said, “and don’t you forget that. You’ll be on the next flight to Ft. Lauderdale.”

  “That’s a sorry threat, Nash. Do you know how long it’s been since I got laid?”

  Grateful for the change of subject, Ryder managed a smile. “I don’t want to know, but Aggie said to warn you she’s on the prowl.”

  Hector touched his fingers to his chin and theatrically tipped his face to the sky as if he was pondering the origin of the universe. “What’s that they say about older women in the bedroom? At this point, I don’t think I’d turn her down.”

  Ryder cringed and shut his eyes for a long moment, for what good it did. Some things couldn’t be unheard. Or unseen. “Come on, man. She’s practically a mother to me. I could have done without that piece of information.”

  Hector shrugged, though his grin didn’t suggest he was the least bit sorry. “You started it.”

  “I’m ending it.” Ryder drained the water bottle and tossed it in the back of the truck, then grabbed a case of beer off the cart on the dock. When he caught Hector staring, he shot his friend a look and grinned. “I’m opening up the bar Friday, but I don’t care if you guys break into a case tonight. Get moving, or the hot ones are yours.”

  Chapter Six

  Zoe would have expected an afternoon spent logging inventory to be boring, but she loved the resort. Every room had an amazing view, and while it was always some combination of glittering pools or shimmering seas against a varying backdrop of blue sky and white sand, each new glimpse was better than the last. She couldn’t have been any further from her drab metropolitan DC world, nor did she want for it. When she’d boarded the plane to come to Latitude 13, she had done so with the knowledge she was running. And as a rule, she didn’t run. Running didn’t accomplish anything long term, but she hadn’t cared. She wanted the reporters off her apartment lawn and the bad taste out of her mouth, and she would have gone to Alaska if need be.

  But she hadn’t. By some inexplicable twist of fate, she’d gone to Ryder.

  She stood outside the cabana she shared with him and dipped a toe in the private pool. The water was deliciously warm, driving into her the urge to strip completely naked and submerge herself in the carefree blue. If she didn’t expect Ryder to return at some point, she would have. She’d packed a bikini, but even that didn’t seem like enough where he was concerned. She needed something a bit sturdier. Armor, perhaps. And, for when he charmed his way through that, a chastity belt.

  Her cell rang, jolting the pleasure from her thoughts. She glanced at the display. Dad. He was probably livid over her disappearance, even though she’d seen to her clients before taking leave. She’d been avoiding his calls for just that reason, which had probably only made things worse. Knowing she’d regret it, she took the call. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” her father snapped.

  “On vacation.” She cringed at her own evasiveness, but if she told him where she was, he’d probably have a helicopter brought in to rescue her. He was ridiculously overprotective. Borderline controlling, considering her age, but he wanted what was best for her, and she appreciated his guidance. He’d built his law firm into the District’s best, and she was positioned to take the helm when he retired or was appointed a federal judgeship.

  “Your vacation is over,” he said in his no-nonsense I-rule-the-courtroom tone. “You need to get back to work. Now.” The connection seethed with his anger.

  Zoe gripped the phone, unsure why he was being so unreasonable but not willing to give in. “You know I’m not effective under the circumstances.”

  “And now that you’re gone, no one is. The reporters and gossip rags are swarming.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes. The man had to have said no comment a thousand times on behalf of his clients. He couldn’t now for her? “I understand that, and the more distance I have from them now, the better. Stop feeding the sharks, and they’ll lose interest. It’s only a matter of time before another scandal catches fire.”

  “I’m not worried about the next fire. I want this one put out. Damage control is you standing by your man.”

  She bit back a laugh. Stand by your man? Where had she heard that before? She kept it to herself, though, because that particular Presidential scandal seemed to have ended in marital harmony, and Zoe had no intention of going there. “I’ll deal with it when I get back” she said. “For now, if you decide to talk to the reporters, you can tell them I didn’t want my personal life to interfere with my clients’ interests.”

  “I want to know where you are,” he demanded.

  She took in the absolute bliss surrounding her. “Paradise,” she said. “Give my love to Mom.”

  “Zoe—”

  She ended the call, then powered off the phone to avoid the return call she knew would be coming. While she wanted to get back to her life, her ex was not part of that desire. She didn’t care if marrying him benefitted the family, or his money would help her father get to the Supreme Court, or her name would help her ex to the White House. She was done.

  She wanted something real.

  Just not falling-off-a-cliff real. Like it would be with Ryder.

  Even if he’d never really spoken to her, she’d have spent many a long, lonely night imagining what he could do to her, but now that he’d voiced what she’d so badly
wanted, she was lost. It didn’t make sense. She was logical. Predictable. She’d been hand-picked as potential First Lady material, for heaven’s sake. She didn’t do one-night or multi-night stands with billionaire players.

  She’d been so careful about her plan to get away.

  Step one: put DC in the rearview and keep it there until the scandal blew over.

  Step two: get distracted.

  So far, mission accomplished and then some. But two steps in, she’d hit a snag. She hadn’t counted on Ryder, who was more than a distraction. In one short day, he’d begun to fill her every thought. She felt like a star-struck teenager, only her crush wasn’t someone distant and unattainable.

  Her crush was within reach, and he wanted her. At least for a little while.

  And she throbbed from her want of him.

  Her ex-fiancé had done more than sext his way into infamy. He’d shattered her perceptions and made her question her goals. Their more-business-than-pleasure arrangement had been fine until she looked at Ryder, and feelings she thought she’d left in high school exploded in her chest. It was enough for her to realize that when she went back to her real life, she wanted passion.

  But she wouldn’t find it here. This was temporary. She had a real life to get back to.

  And Ryder would never be a part of that.

  Ryder spent the better part of the afternoon chastising himself. He knew damn well Zoe was trouble, but no amount of logic overpowered his visceral reaction to her. He’d wanted a lot of things he’d never had—a father who gave a shit, for one—but this was the first time he’d ever had a second chance at something on which he’d missed out. He’d never intentionally make a woman uncomfortable, but he had no qualms about making one hot.

  And Zoe was blistering.

  He was sorry for whatever brought her to him, but he knew the value of a good distraction. He couldn’t fix what was wrong in her world, but he could make her forget it…and he’d bet good money her daddy would never be the wiser.

  But if he made that bet, he’d be risking everything. Her father’s contract saw to that.

  The late afternoon sun was hot by the time he got back to the cabana. He’d chosen the site to be his home on the island for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the view. In summer, the sun dipped right between the two palms that framed the private pool, and with the living space providing a solid buffer between the pool and the rest of the resort, the spot was one of utter solace.

  But not tonight.

  Tonight, there was a drop-dead gorgeous woman dipping her toes in the pool, and the sight of her tight body in his private space left him anything but calm.

  After joining her on the patio, he sat on the chaise next to hers and handed her the umbrella drink he’d had Carson whip up in the resort kitchen. The support staff would be coming soon, so the days of taking it easy were growing short. He had nearly a one-to-one ratio of staff to guests, and while everyone he’d hired had been professionally trained in their intended capacity, they needed to learn their way around Latitude 13. The resort was fully booked, and the opening gala he’d been planning for weeks was just a few short days away. Everything he’d worked for since the moment he’d set foot on the island more than two years ago was about to pay off, and damned if temptation hadn’t showed up at the worst possible time.

  But in the best possible way.

  Zoe twisted the straw in her glass. “Thanks for the drink.”

  “You’re welcome, but you don’t look much like you want it.”

  “To the contrary, I’d like to savor it. This day has been surreal, to say the least.” She took a sip and swirled her toes through the water. Her legs were so damn beautiful. Long and lean and built to be thrown over his back. He’d spent more time than he’d like to admit thinking about that, and though he hadn’t done so in years, he sure as hell hadn’t forgotten how.

  But he needed to forget. Pronto. Otherwise, these would be the longest two weeks of his life. “Long flight?” he asked. Small talk. Yeah, that would fix things.

  “Long overdue.”

  He took a swig of his beer and kicked at the water. “How was the final leg?”

  “Your jet? Amazing. If you’re hiring flight attendants…”

  “That’s a tempting offer. And high praise coming from someone who’s used to living in the lap of luxury.”

  She tipped her head to look at him. “My apartment is okay, but I wouldn’t call it luxurious. But you weren’t talking about that, were you?”

  He leaned back on the chaise, propping himself on his arms. “Water under the bridge.”

  After a long silence, she said, “Why didn’t you ever talk to me back then?”

  So much for forgetting. For not going there. He glanced at the water, wishing it was colder. Less like eighty and more like ice. Anything less would do little for his growing problem. “What was there to say? I wasn’t going to apologize for annoying the hell out of you. In fact, I was kind of going for that, so to apologize would make me a liar, and that’s not something I do.”

  She looked down and toyed with her straw. “Why didn’t you ever say you were interested?”

  Mid-drink, he nearly spit out his beer. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”

  “It would have been good to know.”

  “What would you have done about it?” He tried to keep his tone light, but the subject hit him in the gut. Other than tormenting Zoe by ruining her view, the memories weren’t good ones. Ryder didn’t carry much baggage, but he’d never quite crawled out from the shadow of inferiority cast by the house next door. Maybe he could have if not for the contract, but it was really fucking sad that the rich guy in the tall house thought so little of Ryder than he’d pay him a tidy sum to stay away from his daughter. Ryder had been a pissant, for sure, with a chip on his shoulder a mile wide, but he’d stayed in school. He’d never broken the law, never gotten into any trouble beyond ignoring the occasional noise ordinance while working on that car late at night. Nothing deserving of exile, but he’d taken it anyway. He would have taken almost anything to get out of that hell.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “There was something about you…something I wanted. Maybe even something I envied.”

  He hadn’t seen that one coming. Not at all. “You saw my life. What was there to envy?”

  She shrugged. “You know how high school is.”

  Her evasion intrigued him as much as her confession. He pinned her down with a stare and didn’t relent. “I know that absolutely does not answer my question.”

  She met his gaze head on. “You had the freedom to not care about anything while the rest of us struggled to fit in. The rich girls—God, I hate that term—the rich girls date the team captains and quarterbacks, but they all secretly want the bad boys.”

  He took another swig of his drink. “You know why?”

  “Do you?” She sounded startled. And amused.

  “Rebellion,” he said, the word a bitter taste in his mouth. “You live your perfect little lives and eventually want to do something your daddy wouldn’t approve of. So you take a bad boy for a spin. Pretend he matters just long enough to rock the boat or feel good or until you start to want for those extravagant country club affairs, then you dump him for someone more socially acceptable.”

  She frowned. “That’s not what I did.”

  “Maybe not, but that’s what you wanted.” He took in her troubled expression and felt like an ass. But why? Because he was right? Nothing to be gained there, but the truth hurt. He suspected it hurt them both.

  “And you don’t do relationships, then or now, so tell me you didn’t want the same thing,” she challenged.

  They stood glaring at each other for a beat of silence. Then he took a deep breath and shook his head, like he was trying to shake off their entire uncomfortable conversation. “How’s your sense of humor?”

  She studied him, her brow knit over his apparent change of subject. “Your guess is as good as min
e. It’s been a long time since I found anything funny.”

  He set down his drink, then reached to take hers and put it on the concrete next to his. Then he stood and reached for her hand. She gave it, tentatively, and he pulled her to her feet…and promptly stepped backward into the pool, pulling her in with him. The water was warm, almost like bath water, but she sucked in a breath anyway, probably from surprise. She landed upright, and he didn’t waste any time caging her against the edge. Her eyes were wide, uncertain. But when she focused on his lips, he knew he had her.

  “I’m telling you now. I wanted you. I wanted you so motherfucking bad I didn’t have the nerve to say it, but I will now. I. Want. You. So the question remains. What are you going to do about it?” He left the words out there, half hoping she’d shoot him down. That’s all it would take…she could so easily wreck what was left of his ego—at least where she was concerned—and put an end to this incessant want. But if he expected snooty, he’d missed it by a mile.

  She tilted her head. He could have sworn she’d kiss him, but no. She pressed her lips together and stared at his mouth. “I’d say that was a loaded question.”

  He shook his head—a single, slow denial that had her trembling. He waited for her to meet his eyes before he spoke. “Actually, it’s a simple one. You’ve got your bad boy, princess. What are you going to do with me now?”

  Through the gift of peripheral vision, he caught sight of her chest heaving, wet dress plastered to her breasts in a seduction all its own. But he couldn’t tear his gaze from hers. He wouldn’t make it that easy, especially not when standing there so close to her was about all he could take. He’d tasted her once that day.

  It hadn’t been enough.

  “Is there still something you want, princess?”

  She met his gaze through her lashes, uncertainty tangling with something bold. Desire. “Y—yes.”