The Billionaire's Con

by Mackenzie Crowne

  He sat up to strip the offending garment over his head, and the sight of all that dusky, sculpted skin had her scrambling up onto her knees.

  “What’s good for the goose...” Greedily, she pressed her palms to the muscled planes of his chest. Like a blind woman, she learned his form, palms savoring, brushing at the light dusting of springy hair here, fingers testing, pressing into pads of muscle there. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

  She spread her hands over the wide expanse of warm skin and couldn’t stop herself from leaning in to press a kiss to the skin over his heart. Her questing fingers found one tiny nipple in the dark spray of hair, and she licked at it like a kitten, humming her pleasure. His low groan of response thrilled and delighted her.

  With a grin, she straightened. She sat back on her heels and met his heated gaze. “I’m still wearing my boots.”

  “You have entirely too much on.” A big hand to her chest sent her sprawling onto her back. Her laughter pealed through the quiet apartment as he went about addressing the situation. Stripping her of her boots and jeans, he fingered her lacy panties. “I approve of your choice of underwear, baby.” He pressed a kiss to the lacy green material covering her. “But these need to go.”

  Dizzy with anticipation, she fingered the button of his jeans. “They go when these go.”

  With an urgency that had her laughter returning, he jackknifed until he was flat on his back. He shed himself of his own boots and jeans with more motion than grace, and then rolled to his side to look down at her once more. Sliding his fingers down her flat belly, he slipped the lacy panties down her legs until she lay naked under his hot gaze. “So much in such a little package.” His eyes were the color of a turbulent winter storm when they met hers. “You’re beautiful, Meggy.”

  “When you look at me like that, I feel beautiful,” she admitted artlessly.

  His mouth covered hers in a searing kiss, and she lost herself to the feel of her lover’s hands on her. He explored her textures with gentle strokes, touching her everywhere until she was writhing with need beneath his talented exploration.

  When a long finger plunged inside her, his groan was low and ragged, and she felt herself slipping toward explosion. Frantic, her fingers clawed at his briefs, shoving them down his hips to be kicked aside.

  “Inside you, Meggy.” His voice was a guttural growl. “I need to be inside you.”

  Heartily agreeing, she could only nod. She watched him cover himself with a condom from a packet waiting on the bedside table.

  Then he mounted her, seating himself between her thighs.

  Molten silver smoldered down at her from his darkened eyes.

  “Watch me while I make you mine, fairy girl.” And with an utterly male smile, he slid inside her.

  The feeling of coming home left her shattered and wholly unable to control the frantic race toward paradise. His stormy gaze held her captive, and she eagerly followed him when he began to move into unspeakable pleasure.

  She tried to hold back the looming completion, wanting to savor this first time, joined completely with him, but it was hopeless. Her muscles tensed, and she called out to him blindly as she imploded, shattering into a million flaming pieces to swirl aimlessly on the winds of ecstasy. She was nearly deaf to his triumphant cry as he joined her there.

  Chapter Nine

  Moments passed, or perhaps it was hours. She wasn’t sure. He was heavy. Not that it mattered. There was no way she could move, even if she’d wanted to.

  “Sorry. I must be crushing you.”

  The only sound she could manage was a purr.

  Male satisfaction vibrated through her with his chuckle. “Meggy?” She opened her eyes, and though he wore a sated smile, concern softened his eyes. “Am I too heavy for you?”

  “Not too heavy.” She gave a contented sigh. “You make a nice blanket.”

  His eyes sparkled with humor, and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She felt a twinge of regret when he disengaged their still-joined bodies. He grabbed the corner of the quilt to flick it over her nude body. For the first time, she was aware of the chilliness of the air, and she shivered. Neither of them had noticed the coolness of the apartment when they’d arrived. Need had its own temperature, and it was hot.

  Naked, he rose and disappeared inside the tiny bathroom. When he emerged several moments later, she watched him move to the fireplace to flip a switch. Warm and cozy flames leapt to life in the grate, and she decided right then and there the expense of converting the traditional old hearth to gas had been money well spent. Then he turned.

  Holy cow! With a gulp, she nearly shouted the words. And who would blame her if she had? What woman could keep her head when treated to the full impact of a very large, and very naked, Trevor Bryce?

  She’d been right that first day. Trevor Bryce looked like a Greek god. The swarthy tone of his skin gleamed like teakwood in the flickering light of the fire. His shoulders were broad, and those ripped biceps she’d noted days ago weren’t the only proof he kept himself in shape. Six-pack abs and sculpted thighs, nearly as thick as her waist, were a pretty good indication he didn’t spend all his time at the computer writing, or following the stock market.

  Just looking at him set her heart to racing, as though she hadn’t been flattened by that unprecedented orgasm only moments earlier. Her hungry gaze dropped to that most male part of him and widened to see that her admiring contemplation had had a tangible effect on his body. Her guilty gaze flew to his. Simmering interest lay beneath the humor she found there. She blushed at having been caught staring.

  “Hold that thought.” With a soft chuckle, he winked. “I promised you wine.”

  Naked, he padded barefoot into the kitchen and rummaged.

  She watched, amused, as he glanced around, his arms full. He pulled a decorative basket from the counter. The dried flowers it held were dumped on the table, to be replaced with the items he’d gathered for their late night snack.

  He should have looked ridiculous, this big, naked, Wall Street pirate, striding across the apartment with a basket full of edible odds and ends in one hand, and a bottle of wine and two glasses in the other. But the sight didn’t make her laugh. It made her mouth water.

  He placed the basket on the bed and settled himself beside her.

  Propped against the headboard with the quilt tucked modestly beneath her arms, she peered into the basket. “A picnic?” She plucked out a bunch of fat, green grapes.

  He leaned over to kiss her, then settled back to pull the cork from the bottle. He poured a glass of wine and handed it to her. “A naked picnic.” He spared her a wicked grin.

  Her hands full of wine and grapes, she was helpless to prevent him from crooking a finger under the edge of the quilt.

  With a tug, he exposed her breasts to his fervent gaze. “A new favorite pastime of mine.”

  She met his grin with one of her own. Sipping at the glass of chilled, sweet wine, she considered him. “Any pastime involving food seems to be a favorite of yours.”

  “Pretty much.” He pulled items from the basket. “But in this case, it’s not just my naturally quick metabolism at work.” He looked up from the basket and winked. “A man needs to keep up his strength when he has a sexy fairy in his bed.”

  She plucked a fat grape from the bunch and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Aw, poor baby. Do you need me to whip up a virility potion?”

  He glanced down at his lap. “Nope. Doesn’t look like that will be necessary.” The heat of a blush spread across her cheekbones, and he laughed. “Dig in, fairy girl. I’m not the only one who will need to keep up their strength tonight.”

  Grinning despite the blush, she reached in the basket and pulled out a yellow box. Her brows snapped together. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  He looked confused. “What? You don’t like cheese?”

  “That”—she set the box aside to dig in the basket again—”is not cheese. That’s a processed, orange lum
p of...something. But it’s not cheese.”

  He grabbed the box and plucked off the top, peeling back the inner foil to squeeze off a chunk of orange lump. It and the cracker in his hand went into his mouth, and he spoke around the bite. “Leave it to a chef to be a food snob.”

  Insulted, she paused in the act of opening a jar of pickles to stare at him. “I’m not a food snob. I just don’t consider that food.”

  He snagged a pickle out of the jar in her hands, using it to point at the offending box. “That shit makes the best grilled-cheese sandwiches. In my college years, I lived on that, bread, and beer.”

  “In my college years, I lived on perfectly prepared French cuisine.” Nose in the air, she grinned smugly.

  He shoved the rest of his pickle into her mouth. “Like I said, food snob.”

  They shared the wine, nibbling on the food he’d gathered, and each other, until the combined result of the many caresses and kisses had him shoving aside the basket and its contents for more tempting fare. When she slipped into sleep sometime later, surrounded by his warmth, her last thought was that she’d never look at a picnic the same way again.

  ****

  Trevor smiled at her murmured sigh as her breathing slowed and evened out. He tucked her more tightly to his side. Though he was tired, his muscles pleasantly wrecked and completely sated from his recent orgasms, his mind was too troubled to allow him to sleep.

  He wasn’t a man who suffered from indecision. Blessed with the drive to take on the problems of life without hesitation and the intelligence to solve them, he hadn’t had a lot of experience with the phenomenon. But the entire situation surrounding Meggy had demolished his usual instincts.

  He couldn’t have made a bigger mess of things if he’d tried. Whatever Meggy had been doing at the farm, he was ninety-nine percent sure it hadn’t been illicit in nature. Not that it mattered now. Whether it turned out she was Rachel’s daughter, or simply an innocent woman with a remarkable resemblance to Anne, she was going to be royally pissed when she discovered the truth behind his arrival in Palmerton.

  And if it turns out she’s the con artist you thought her to be after all? The annoyingly suspicious voice in his head chose that moment to be heard from again. He sighed. It no longer mattered which of those possibilities ended up being the truth. He was in trouble regardless.

  Staring into the stunned glaze of Meggy’s blue eyes as she’d flown apart beneath him, his mind had been full of a single, stark truth; Meggy Calhoun, whoever, whatever you might be, you’re mine.

  It was a hell of a shock when a man realized that, after years of avoiding the emotion, he had finally fallen in love with a woman. When the woman was one he’d been trying to destroy the result was disaster. And that was exactly the position in which he now found himself.

  His usually fertile mind cast frantically about for a solution. At thirty-three, he’d had his share of relationships with women, but he’d never loved any of them. He’d be dammed if he’d lose Meggy now that he’d finally found her.

  If they’d met under different circumstances, he would have gone after her with every weapon in his arsenal, and he’d have gotten her, too, by God. He’d have gotten her because he wouldn’t have let off the pressure until she waved the white flag. He could do no less now.

  She had feelings for him. Oh, she may not love him, yet, but she had feelings. She cared. The question was did she care enough to understand and give him the chance to explain the situation when she finally learned the truth? She would if she loved him, his heart insisted.

  The key was to make sure her feelings had grown from caring to love before the truth came to light. His odds of soothing her hurt and anger would be much better if she’d already admitted to him, and to herself, that she was his.

  With her warm body tucked close to his in the dark, he grinned as several ideas formed on how to expedite his courtship of Meggy Calhoun. He had less than a week to do damage control before Elizabeth demanded a meeting. He’d see Meggy wave that flag first.

  Chapter Ten

  Meggy emerged from her shower to find all three of the O’Shea sisters sipping coffee at her tiny kitchen table. Without a word, she pulled a mug from the cabinet and poured herself a cup. She sat at the table, sighing in appreciation of her first sip of the strong brew.

  “Well?” Erin broke the silence.

  “Well, what?”

  “What happened on your date?” One of Erin’s finely plucked eyebrows quirked.

  “Oh, that.” She yawned. “We had manicotti at Giordanos, and then we went to the game. Awesome seats, by the way. But if I were you, I’d keep an eye on Ryan. Trevor may try to steal him away.”

  Erin gaped at her. “He’s gay?”

  “No, but for those seats he may consider a lifestyle change.” She kept a straight face.

  “Ha ha,” Erin growled as Cara and Shan snickered. “Very funny.”

  She laughed. “I’m only half kidding. He flipped when he saw where we were sitting. I think he’s an even bigger Celts nut than I am.”

  “That’s nice,” Shan interrupted, her curiosity no less than Erin's. “Now tell us why I saw you crossing the lawn from the carriage house at six-thirty this morning.”

  “Oh,” Erin squealed, “I knew it! But it’s completely understandable. God, he’s so hot, and just a little bit dangerous, don’t you think?”

  He was dangerous, all right—dangerously sexy.

  Cara, who had remained silent up until now, leaned her elbows on the table. “Are you okay?”

  Meggy met her worried gaze. “I spent an incredible night with a gorgeous, charming guy. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  Cara sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. She gave her a level look. “You may be the dating queen of Palmerton, but you don’t sleep around. And you’ve never slept with a man you’ve only known for a week.”

  Despite the three attentive green gazes boring into hers, she remained stubbornly silent for a full ten seconds. Finally, she caved, as they’d known she would. Her cheeks puffed out, and she blew a mystified breath. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

  Shan and Cara snorted with laughter, and Erin stared wide-eyed.

  “Well, it’s true. I have no willpower where Trevor Bryce is concerned.” Contentment was heavy in her sigh. “But, I’m more than okay.”

  “Details,” Erin demanded from across the table. “We want details.”

  “I don’t kiss and tell.” She sipped at her coffee.

  “Since when?”

  Meggy narrowed her eyes at Cara, but then sighed. “Since Trevor, I guess.” A glance around the table had her shrugging. “It’s different when you realize the guy could be the one.”

  “Told you.” Erin wore a smug expression as she jabbed Shan with an elbow.

  “I didn’t say he was the one, just that he could be.”

  Erin lifted a brow.

  “You’re pretty calm about this.” Cara studied her face.

  She leaned her elbows on the table, cradling the mug in her hands. “I know. It’s weird, isn’t it?” She shook her head in wonder. “I always figured when I finally found a guy I could love, I’d be so freaked out, I’d be off and running in the opposite direction. I should be running. I have plans for my life, and falling in love will just screw them up...even if he does look incredible naked.”

  “Especially if he looks incredible naked.” Shan slowly nodded, her eyes twinkling.

  “Exactly. But I don’t feel like running. Just the opposite.” She sighed. “I’ve been steaming along through life for twenty six years without any real wrinkles. Now all of a sudden, I’m dealing with Palmer House opening, the Elizabeth Ashford issue looming, and what do I do? I go and throw myself into a relationship that could change my life. I should be half-crazy with panic, but instead, I feel happy, and excited, and peaceful all at once, you know?”

  “Oh, you’ve got it bad.” Erin sprawled back in her chair with a wide smile.

  “I do, do
n’t I?” Her lips curled in a serene smile, remembering the hours she’d spent in Trevor's bed. All long-muscled perfection and heat, he’d surprised her with his teasing gentleness.

  “What about him?” Cara stilled the movement with a hand to her arm as she brought the coffee mug to her lips again. “How does he feel?”

  “I have no idea,” she confessed, and then she laughed. “He’s taking me sailing this morning.”

  “Sailing?” Shan and Erin exclaimed together.

  “Sailing. He’s got his own boat, though I don’t think we’ll be sailing on it today. I’m not sure where he keeps it.” Her brow wrinkled in thought. “Come to think of it, I’m not exactly sure where he lives.”

  “See,” Cara sat back in her chair, “that’s the trouble with guys with cute butts. You forget to ask the pertinent questions, like do you live in this hemisphere?”

  She smirked at Cara’s innocent look, ignoring Shan’s and Erin’s chuckles. “Who was it that took one look at Finn’s ass and couldn’t dredge up the slightest interest in another male from then on?”

  “Touché.” Cara grinned.

  “Anyway, I may not know exactly where he lives, but I did ask. He works up and down the east coast. He said he has a place in Virginia, but he spends a lot of time in Boston and Atlanta. He’s got money that his father left him when he died, and he apparently invested it well. So, he’s not some deadbeat after me for my money. Which is a good thing, since I’m technically broke.”

  “We could always hire an investigator,” Cara offered. “Have him checked out.”

  The suggestion horrified her. “No, I don’t want to do that. I would hate it if someone was sneaking around behind my back like that. Besides, he just signed a six-month lease, so we’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another. All I know is he makes me feel all soft and mushy inside, and I don’t seem to be able to do a damn thing about that. The only option I see is convincing him he feels the same way.”