Tempting the Billionaire (Love in the Balance)

by Lemmon, Jessica

  “There’s a box in the living room,” he said, pulling away from her lips. “I need you to tell me where it goes.”

  She sighed. She’d no idea how much stuff she had until she’d packed it all into boxes. Even after a generous donation to her neighborhood Goodwill, she’d still filled a moving truck. Shane assured her there was plenty of room for all of it, but she’d insisted on paring down. Even so, it hadn’t made the task of unpacking any less dreadful.

  “One more box,” she said. “Then I’m taking a nap.”

  Arms still around her waist, he slid his hands beneath her shirt as he tagged behind her down the hall. “Me, too.”

  She pressed his hot palms against her rib cage, stopping what was sure to be a slow, distracting exploration she’d be helpless to stop. “Your idea of a nap and mine are two entirely different concepts,” she teased.

  He laughed lightly in agreement and slipped his hands away. In the living room, boxes lined each wall, stacked two or three high.

  “Which one?” she asked, her shoulders sagging.

  “This one,” Shane said from behind her.

  She turned to find him on the floor. Knee bent, a black velvet box in his hand.

  “Oh, my gosh,” she breathed through her fingers.

  “I thought you might say that.” He grinned. “It’s not a monkey this time.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t. Tears streaked her face as she blinked them away and focused on the man she loved. The man who loved her.

  “From partners in business,” he said, opening the lid, “to partners in life.” He pulled the ring from the box, but she didn’t take her eyes off his. “Have I won you back yet, Crickitt?”

  She saw the slightest hint of doubt flicker in his eyes.

  Still battling his fears.

  For her.

  “If I have more work to do,” he continued, licking his lips in a nervous gesture, “I’m willing to—”

  She flung herself at him, knocking his breath from his lungs and nearly toppling him onto the carpet in the process, mashing her lips against his. Then she covered every inch of his face with kisses…wet ones, since her eyes were leaking uncontrollably.

  Shane caught her against him and lay on the floor beneath her. He reached up and wiped the tears and damp curls from her cheeks, the engagement ring, her engagement ring, resting on the tip of his index finger.

  He cradled her face in his hands, and her body pressed against his. “Is that a yes?”

  She nodded, blinking back another barrage of emotion.

  He leaned up and kissed her softly. “I love you, Crickitt,” he said, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’ll never let you down again.”

  “Shh.” She pressed fingers to his lips and smiled down at him. “Speak no evil.”

  About the Author

  Jessica Lemmon has always been a dreamer. At some point, she decided head-in-the-clouds thinking was childish, went out, and got herself a job…and then she got another one because that one was lousy. And when that one stopped being fulfilling, she went out and got another…and another. Soon it became apparent she’d be truly happy doing only what she loved. And since eating potato chips isn’t a viable career, she opted to become a writer. With fire in her heart, she dusted off a book she’d started years prior, finished it, and submitted it. It may have been the worst book ever, but it didn’t stop her from writing another one. Now she has several books finished, several more started, and even more marinating in her brain (which currently resides in the clouds, thank you very much), and she couldn’t be happier. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want. (While eating potato chips.)

  Jessica is an ex–meat-eater, writer, artist, dreamer, wife, and den mother to two dogs.

  You can learn more at:

  JessicaLemmon.com

  Twitter @lemmony

  Jessica Lemmon’s hot billionaire series continues…

  See the next page for a preview of

  Hard to Handle

  Chapter 1

  Aiden spun the beer bottle by its neck, the now warm contents sloshing against the sides of the bottle. He’d been watching Sadie from his chair at the back of the reception tent for the better part of thirty minutes, unable to shake the guilt swamping him.

  Shane and Crickitt, God bless them, had been so careful when they asked Aiden and Sadie to be the only two members of the wedding party. But if there was one thing he and Sadie could agree on, it was to do right by their friends. They’d put aside their differences for the big day and had managed to be cordial, though not sociable, until the start of the reception.

  That’s when Aiden had bumbled his way through a long overdue apology. While he’d never apologize for prioritizing his mother during her fight with cancer, he realized too late it was a mistake to allow his ex-wife back into his life. He and his father meant well when they’d decided to keep the divorce quiet, but Aiden should have told his mother before she died. Now, she’d never know the truth. And that was something he’d have to live with.

  Sadie’s buoyant giggle, a fake one if Aiden had to guess, lifted onto the air. He turned to see her toss her blond head back, curls cascading down her bare back, as she gripped Crickitt’s younger brother’s arm. Garrett, who’d been Crazy-glued to Sadie’s side the entire reception, grinned down at her, clearly smitten. Aiden dragged his gaze from her mane of soft waves to her dress, a pink confection hugging her every amazing, petite curve, and couldn’t blame the kid. Sadie was beautiful.

  “Rough,” he heard Shane say as he pulled out the chair next to him and sat, beer bottle in hand.

  His cousin looked relaxed with his white shirt unbuttoned and sleeves cuffed at the elbows. He’d taken off the tie he’d worn earlier, a sight that almost made Aiden laugh. Before Shane met Crickitt, Aiden would’ve bet he slept wearing one. Crickitt may have shaken Shane’s inner workaholic from his tree, but Aiden couldn’t give her all the credit. Shane had stepped up to become the man she needed.

  Aiden had a similar opportunity with Sadie. It was a test he’d failed spectacularly. “She has a right to be mad,” he said, tilting his beer bottle again.

  “You were in a difficult situation,” Shane said magnanimously.

  Maybe so, but after his mother succumbed to the cancer riddling her body, after he’d grieved and helped his father plan the funeral, Aiden had seen things more clearly.

  “If I could go back, I’d tell Mom the truth.” He swallowed thickly. “She deserved the truth.”

  “Don’t do that, man.” Shane clapped him on the shoulder. “You and Mike did what you believed was best. It was never going to be an easy situation.”

  True, but he’d taken an already hard situation and complicated the hell out of it. At her diagnosis, Aiden went into Responsibility Mode. With his sister in Tennessee, a brother in Chicago, and his other brother in Columbus, it’d all fallen on him. Later, his siblings would argue with him about how they would have helped if they’d known about any of it. But Aiden knew in his gut there wasn’t enough time to pull everyone together for a powwow. When his mother said she wanted to move to Oregon to seek alternative treatments, Aiden rearranged his entire life and did just that.

  “I appreciate you being here,” Shane said.

  Aiden snapped out of his reverie. “Oh, man, I’m sorry. I’m being a jerk on your big day.” He straightened in his chair, ashamed to have let melancholy overshadow his happiness for Shane and Crickitt.

  Speaking of, here she came, poured into a slim, white wedding dress, fabric flowers sewn into the flowing train. She grinned at Shane, her face full of love, her blue eyes shining. When she flicked a look over to Aiden, he promptly slapped a smile onto his face.

  “You look amazing, C,” he told her.

  Crickitt’s grin widened. “Thank you.”

  “And this reception.” He blew out a breath for effect. “The lights”—he gestured to the hundreds of st
rands draped inside the tent—“the flowers, the band.” The three-piece band included a formerly famous singer a decade past his heyday, but the guy still had it.

  Crickitt rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Shane insisted on all this. I wanted something simple. When he suggested getting married in a tent in Tennessee…I didn’t expect this.” She waved a hand around the interior of the tent: the shining wooden dance floor, the thick swaths of mosquito netting covering every entrance, the tall, narrow air conditioners positioned at each corner to keep the guests cool and comfortable during the warm June evening.

  She smiled down at Shane. “But it is pretty great.”

  “You’re pretty great,” Shane said, tugging her into his lap and kissing her bare shoulder. The wedding photographer swooped in, capturing a picture for all of posterity, a good one by the looks of it, then asked for a few poses.

  Aiden picked the moment to excuse himself for a refill.

  Or maybe two.

  * * *

  Sadie caught movement out of the corner of her eye and swept her attention away from Crickitt’s attentive brother to see Aiden tracking his way across the tent in that easygoing lope of his.

  She’d never seen him in a suit until today. He didn’t wear the tie he wore earlier, pale pink with an intricate design, picked to match her dress. She knew the design by heart. It was the only safe place to rest her eyes when he’d come to her earlier and tried to apologize for last summer. Hearing the regret in his voice, feeling the emotions well up inside of her again, had almost been too much. She’d cut the conversation short, recalling the promise she’d made not to show her vulnerability to this man ever again, and stalked away from him as fast as her sparkly pink heels would carry her.

  Garrett had since turned his attention to someone else standing in their little circle, and Sadie took the opportunity to watch Aiden. His tailored black pants hugged his impressive thighs and led up to a tucked white shirt open at the collar and showing enough of his tanned neck to be distracting.

  I made a mistake last summer, Sadie. One I’ll regret always.

  Sadie felt the pang of guilt stab her. She’d planned to tell him she was sorry he lost his mother. And she was. Losing a parent was one of the worst things in the world, she knew. What she hadn’t expected was the flood of emotion that crashed into her when she saw him for the first time in nearly a year. From the moment she’d rested her hand on his forearm and smiled as they walked down the aisle, she’d been tamping down one emotion after the other. Thank goodness girls were supposed to cry at weddings.

  Then when he’d approached her at the reception, she’d been angry. Since then, she hadn’t been able to feel much else. Which is why she’d been avoiding him. Aiden had a knack for seeing right through her.

  And being called out by Aiden Downey was at the tippy top of her to-don’t list.

  Aiden pulled a hand through his course hair, the length of it landing between his shoulder blades. Sadie recalled the texture of it as if she’d run her fingers through it yesterday. She hated that.

  Damn muscle memory.

  Crickitt’s mother, Chandra, approached him at the bar, sidling up to him and giving him a plump hug. Aiden smiled down at her but Sadie saw the sadness behind it, and for a split second, it made her heart hurt.

  She kept up with Aiden’s mother’s illness via updates from Crickitt. The decision not to go to the funeral went without saying, but Sadie hadn’t been able to stop herself from sending an anonymous bouquet to the funeral home.

  As hurt as she was over Aiden, she’d empathized with the pain he must have gone through. Kathy Downey had refused chemo this time around, insisting on alternative treatment instead. Aiden and his father moved her across the country to the best alternative medicine facility in the United States. She died not two months later.

  Whether it was the cord of awareness strung between them or coincidence, Sadie wasn’t sure, but Aiden chose that moment to look in her direction. His smile faltered, the dimple on his left cheek fading before he flicked his eyes away.

  Sadie used to love the way he shook her up. From across a room. With a look. But now her heart raced for a far different reason. One she refused to name. She frowned down at her empty champagne flute. She was going to need more alcohol if she hoped to toughen her hide. This exposed, vulnerable feeling simply wouldn’t cut it.

  “Refill?” Garrett asked, gesturing to her empty glass.

  “Yes,” she said, grateful for his doting. She handed it over. “Keep ’em coming.”

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  Dear Reader,

  My boy Stone has always been the quiet one in the family, but now he’s got the whole town talking. He and his long-time sweetheart Sharon are crazy about each other, but suddenly they can’t see eye-to-eye on their future. Sharon thought they were going to go to college, then get married. But Stone had other plans—plans he didn’t share with anyone.

  So it looks like our resident matchmaker Miriam is going to be wrong for the first time ever. She swears Sharon and Stone are true soul mates. Well, I think between the broken promises and Sharon’s meddling mother, these two kids are going to need a miracle to make it down the aisle…

  There’s Arlene—I just need to finish her trim and then I can head over to the Watermelon Festival. Be sure to stop back by the Cut ’n’ Curl for hot rollers, free coffee—and the best gossip in town.

  See you real soon,

  Ruby Rhodes

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Welcome Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

 
Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  An Excerpt from Hard to Handle

  You Might Also Like…

  Newsletters

  Copyright Page

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Jessica Lemmon

  Excerpt from Hard to Handle copyright © 2013 by Jessica Lemmon

  Cover design by Oceana Gottlieb, cover photo by George Mayer/istockphoto. Cover copyright © 2013 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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