Tempting the Billionaire (Love in the Balance)

by Lemmon, Jessica

  After making love again, Shane cradled her against him. She wound her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck before lifting up on one elbow to taste his perfect lips. The taste went from sweet to fiery in the span of a few seconds.

  He untangled their limbs, stood, and extended his hand. “Come on.” Helping her to her feet, he led her to her room and crawled under the comforter next to her.

  And she didn’t give putting on a shirt a second thought.

  Chapter 25

  Crickitt didn’t want to open her eyes. If she did, it would mark the end of the most amazing night of her life. And she didn’t want it to end. Ignoring the sun streaming through the window over her bed, she squeezed her eyes shut and snuggled into the sheets, letting the memories of Shane’s hands on her skin wash over her.

  Light seeped in, interrupting her daydream. She flung out an arm in search of a pillow when her hand encountered nothing but cool, empty sheets on the other side.

  She sat up. And frowned. Even though she’d prepared herself to wake up alone, to not feel slighted if Shane wandered off sometime in the middle of the night, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of loss.

  Then again, why should she feel slighted? It wasn’t as if he was gone gone. She could hear him clattering around in the kitchen on the other side of the wall. And he was…humming?

  A satisfied smile curved her lips. She couldn’t blame him. She felt a little like humming herself. She tossed the blankets aside and climbed out of bed. She suspected spending the night with him would be nothing less than mind-blowing. Shane didn’t disappoint. Muscles she hadn’t used in a long while flinched as she tiptoed across the room, sore in all the right places.

  You had sex with your boss.

  “Yes, I did,” she murmured to herself. Her ridiculously hot, kind, funny, more-money-than-God boss. She refused to feel even an ounce of regret. She hadn’t made any promises or proclamations. She had no reason to feel upset just because she didn’t wake up next to him. Probably better to avoid that whole morning-breath thing anyway.

  Crickitt hustled into the bathroom to shower. She scrunched her hair with a towel, leaving her curls to air-dry, and dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top. She bypassed her shoes, padding into the kitchen with an extra zip in her step.

  But when she encountered Shane’s broad back, she froze, her self-confidence falling away like autumn leaves. He stood at the counter buttering a stack of toast, the soft scratch of the knife bringing goose bumps to her skin. Just seeing him there, so real and solid, reminded her of every pulse-skittering thing she’d done with him last night. Sans clothing.

  Her arms ached to encircle his waist, and her fingers curled recalling knotting them into his thick, dark hair as he peppered her belly with kisses. She didn’t have any casual sex history to draw on, but she was pretty sure mornings after didn’t include cuddling. Cuddling seemed so…personal.

  More personal than what you did last night?

  No, but that wasn’t the point, was it? Last night was last night and this morning was…confusing.

  “Good morning,” Shane greeted her. “I let you sleep.”

  “Thanks.” She drew a curl behind her ear and reminded herself this didn’t have to be awkward. Even if all she could do was picture what was beneath his cargo shorts.

  He brushed by without touching her, resting the plate of warm toast on the table next to an open jelly jar. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks.” Was his smile genuine or practiced? It irked her that she couldn’t tell. Shaking off the thought, she sat and reached for a slice of toast, nibbling on one corner.

  Unanswered questions gnawed at her. Questions like, Would they talk about last night? Or pretend it never happened? Would he want to do it again? Three times last night suggested he wasn’t dissatisfied with her…didn’t it?

  Insecure and edgy, Crickitt rose to pour herself a cup of coffee she didn’t need. At least it would keep her hands busy. “So, what’s the plan for today?” The question was supposed to sound bright and cheery, but it came out a little loud and desperate.

  “Stop by Gusty’s, check on Angel and Richie’s progress. I want to make sure they don’t need anything more from me,” Shane answered as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

  Crickitt stirred soy milk into her mug, wondering if Shane requested it with her in mind or if it was part of his usual delivered foodstuffs. The idea that he bought it for her made her smile.

  Moved by a container of non-dairy milk, really?

  “We’ll head back tonight, then?” She returned the container to the fridge and spotted a can of whipped cream in the door. Frowning at it, she closed the door without adding it to her coffee.

  “Or sooner. There’s no reason to stay.”

  No reason to stay.

  The inoffensive comment shouldn’t have stung, but it did. Soon they’d be on their way back to Osborn, back to work, back to whatever they were before they were lovers. Crickitt felt her shoulders curl forward, her stomach knot. She didn’t want to go back. She wanted to stay here, cocooned within the walls of his cabin, where clothing was optional and Shane made bone-melting love to her.

  A clap of thunder shook the house and she jumped, slopping coffee onto the countertop. The sky split open, sheets of heavy rain spilling from the rip in the clouds. She mopped at the puddle of coffee, alternating her attention from the lightning-silhouetted trees against the black daytime sky to the incandescent lights overhead dimming and then brightening.

  “Don’t worry,” Shane said. “There’s a generator.”

  A phone on the wall rang and he rose to get it. She listened as his tone went from casual to tight.

  Cordless phone to his ear, he walked a few steps closer to Crickitt and stared down at her, his eyebrows pinching.

  She recognized the voice on the phone as Thomas’s and made out two words that had her pressing a palm to her chest. “Flash flood.”

  Crickitt turned back to the window, the darkened sky looking more ominous than before.

  Shane hung up the phone as he crossed into the living room, dropped onto the sofa, and flicked on the television. A weather map dotted with angry red and orange blotches filled the screen.

  “Where are we on that map?” She still held the cloth she’d used to wipe up her coffee as he studied the screen. She wrung it between her hands.

  “The middle.” In the center of the map, a small circle of magenta highlighted the worst of the weather. Crickitt felt the blood drain from her cheeks as she sank onto the couch next to him.

  Shane reached over and took one of her hands to reassure her, the gesture so genuine it made her heart squeeze. “Guess we’re staying.”

  He stood, flicking off the television, and walked to the kitchen. She couldn’t read his body language. Was he disappointed?

  Shane rinsed his mug in the sink and tipped it upside down in the dish drainer. “The road to the cabin is flooded,” he said in the same indistinguishable tone.

  “Is Thomas okay?”

  “He’s fine.” Shane leaned on the counter, facing her. “The guesthouse is well stocked and runs on the same generator as the cabin.”

  “Oh,” she said vacantly, striding over to the front windows. Being stuck in a cabin with Shane should be akin to a lottery win. But he’d been distant this morning, hard to read. Doubt riddled her like buckshot. Hugging herself with her arms, she watched the rain beat the ground outside, unsure how to react to him.

  Shane surprised her by coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “You okay?” he breathed into her ear, nearly buckling her knees. “Tell me you’re not regretting last night.”

  She rested her head on his solid chest, eyes on their reflections in the pane. They looked good together, him bent around her, nuzzling her neck. She brought her hands over his at her waist, tempted to offer a half-truth.

  “I don’t know how to act,” she confessed. “But no, I don’t regret it.”

  Shane
turned her in his arms until she was facing him. “What do you mean, you don’t know how to act?”

  Not wanting to unload the pile of questions that had busily stacked themselves into one corner of her mind, she summarized. “I wasn’t sure what kind of…arrangement you had in mind.”

  “Arrangement…I see.” He stared down at her, considering. “I guess we didn’t go into details before we”—he gestured between them—“you know.”

  Crickitt blushed. She’d bet even the tips of her toes glowed pink.

  “And you’d like to establish some ground rules?” he asked.

  She resisted squirming and stared at her feet.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. We could write it up if that would make you feel better. Like a contract? One we could both sign after agreeing on the particulars. Let’s start with frequency…”

  Crickitt snapped her head up. Shane was grinning. She dropped her shoulders. “You’re teasing me.”

  “Yes,” he said, “and frankly, I’m insulted you didn’t pick up on that sooner.”

  She groaned, pressed her hands to her face. Stepping past him into the living room, she said, “I promised myself I’d be cool.” She dropped her hands, tucked them into her pockets. “Unaffected. Like you.”

  Shane winced. “You think I’m unaffected?”

  “Maybe that’s not the right word. But you probably know how to handle this.” She shrugged. “Since you’ve done it before.”

  He moved to her, his face serious now. “I’ve never spent the night with you before.” His fingers wrapped around hers. “You are new to me, Crickitt.”

  Tears of relief, or maybe joy, heated behind her eyes, and she blinked furiously, testing the weight of his hand in hers. Dangerous emotions, ones she refused to name and shouldn’t be having so soon for this man, tore at her chest. She repressed them.

  She’d deal with them later.

  “Since we’re rained in,” Shane said, “what would you like to do today?”

  She knew what she wanted to do today. Mustering the courage to say it aloud proved impossible, so instead she said, “I—uh, what do you want?”

  “I’m not sure if I’m lucky enough to get what I want,” he said with a self-effacing grin. He tipped her chin and kissed her as thunder rumbled long and low in the distance. His breath tickling her lips, he whispered, “Tell me, Crickitt. What do you want?”

  * * *

  Shane watched the emotions play across Crickitt’s face for several seconds. He held his casual smile and her hand in his, but inside, his mind raced to piece together the last twelve hours.

  He wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was new to him. She was so far outside of what he knew how to handle he didn’t quite know how to behave. When he was with her, his professional barriers disintegrated into a blurry, hazy fog that left him exposed. Now, that was scary. And when he’d climbed out from under the covers it wasn’t to return to his own room. He’d been awake, but reluctant to leave, staying until just before the sun lit the sky.

  He made himself a cup of coffee and sat on the front porch watching the clouds descend and a light drizzle blow in from the distant mountaintops. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to “the morning after.” Though, admittedly, he never stayed somewhere he couldn’t make a quick exit from before sunrise. With Crickitt, he’d made an exception. Where she was concerned, he’d made lots of exceptions. Around her he felt like a kite in the wind, helplessly tethered to her, following wherever she led.

  The moment he laid eyes on her this morning, his three-part plan to act normal, focus on business, and keep his distance went the way of the dodo bird. Rather than go about his routine, which is what he should have done, he recited the numerable reasons why he shouldn’t ask her about last night. And then what had he done?

  Tell me you don’t regret last night.

  Could he be more insecure? And now, here he stood, unable to unsay the neediest words he’d ever spoken as he waited for her answer, his breath caught in his lungs. He cared about what she wanted. And, worse, he knew he’d give it to her, whatever it was.

  Breakfast, a game of Scrabble, a foot rub…But no matter what happened between them, he wasn’t a man who could offer more than a little fun. Okay, a lot of fun.

  This morning, she’d ducked into the shower without so much as poking her head out to say good morning. He told himself he should be relieved. Not so long ago, a past version of himself would have been relieved. Would have encouraged her in the general direction of “cool and unaffected.”

  But he wasn’t relieved.

  Ever since he spotted her rounded butt in those short shorts this morning, he’d been hit with a blast of longing like none he’d ever felt. And yes, part of it was physical. He wanted her again, wanted the promise her body held, the searing heat of her mouth on his. But he also wanted to make sure she knew that he, for one, was far from unaffected. Because she mattered, and not just in a general sense. She mattered to him. And last night, he’d watched her eyes soften as they’d bored into his, feeling the power of her emotions in the pit of his stomach. And he couldn’t have been more helpless than if she’d shot him with a stun gun.

  The terrifying truth was he’d found solace in her. And found himself wishing he had more to offer.

  Which was why he stood, palm dampening in hers, his throat constricting and cutting off his air supply. Had she seen the truth written across his face? Was she about to call him on it?

  “Okay,” Crickitt said, yanking him out of his thoughts. “But only because you asked.”

  Shane licked his suddenly parched lips, involuntarily squeezing her fingers as her blue, blue eyes rose to meet his.

  “I’d like to do what we did last night,” she said, her voice low. “All of it. Right now.”

  A laugh burst from Shane’s lips. “Oh, honey”—he blew out a breath of relief—“so would I.”

  * * *

  Crickitt sat up in Shane’s bed and ran a hand through her unruly curls. She grumbled about how rolling around on her damp hair made it a tangled mess, but Shane thought she looked ravishing. And since he’d ravished her, he supposed it was an accurate description.

  They’d made love twice today already, stopping for sandwiches he insisted on eating in bed. The term “made love” made him twitchy, but he couldn’t label what happened between them as mere sex. It was more than that. An idea that should have him running screaming into the hills. Instead, he stayed at her side and forced himself to relax. Just because Crickitt was different didn’t mean they were slip-sliding into relationship territory.

  He could enjoy spending time with her without crossing the line into neediness. And how could he not respond to her when she was so transparent? So genuinely open. He touched her and her eyes grew dark and wide, he kissed her and she kissed him back, he complimented her many glorious assets and she swatted him playfully.

  Then again, who was he kidding? He’d have to be superhuman to keep from reacting to this woman. And he’d been happy to return the favor. Over and over. Remembering the cry he’d wrung from her moments ago, his chest puffed with pride.

  “You’re looking awfully smug.” Crickitt clutched the sheets to her body and scrambled for her shirt. Shane wrenched a hand around it.

  “It’s not every day a beautiful woman appreciates my smooth moves.”

  “Only every other?” she asked drily.

  “What is with you and getting dressed?” he asked, ignoring her comment.

  She tugged on the shirt, but he held tight. Realizing the standoff could last a while, she let go and moved the sheet to cover herself again. “Ronald didn’t like us to be naked, after.”

  Shane frowned. He’d already relegated Ronald to the role of village idiot. This new information slid him down the scale several notches. What sane man wouldn’t want Crickitt’s supple, nude body pressed into his?

  That thought had him frowning deeper. He didn’t want to think about Crickitt with anyone other than him. Yet she’
d hinted she was mentally calculating his past lovers, hadn’t she? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to save a little face. “There haven’t been as many women in my life as you might think,” he told her.

  Crickitt held up a hand like a stop sign. “I don’t want to know.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you”—he shrugged—“unless you asked.”

  Keeping the sheet over her breasts, she put her fingers in her ears and hummed. When she stopped, he said, “It’s not like I do this all the time. The last time I had a girlfriend was—”

  She hummed louder. Shane pulled her hands away. “You are doing a striking imitation of your Hear No Evil monkey.” She smirked at him. Now that he had her attention, he said, “For the record, I don’t care how many sexual partners you’ve had.”

  “Ha! Now there’s a short subject.”

  He waited.

  “No, no,” she said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Come on.” He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know. He’d never asked anyone that question before. But it was too late. His curiosity was piqued. Especially since she didn’t want to tell him. “Come on.”

  “You think that two-word command gets you whatever you want, don’t you?” She was trying to reprimand him, but her mouth broadened into a smile of defeat.

  Yeah, she was going to tell him.

  “Ronald.”

  Shane rolled his eyes. “Duh. You were married for nine years, I figured. And?”

  “You,” she said.

  “Again, duh.” He gestured to his naked body.

  She looked at him.

  “Just tell me,” he said.

  “I just did.”

  Shane lifted his eyebrows. “You mean until last night the only person you ever slept with was your husband?” Primal, and maybe even downright prehistoric, possessiveness made him want to beat his chest. Mine.

  Crickitt made a face, mistaking his pride for surprise. Before she could hide under the sheets and stay there, he laid her flat on her back beneath him. A startled yelp followed by a throaty laugh escaped her beautiful mouth.

  “I’m a lucky guy.”