Stolen Kisses (The Barrington Billionaires #2)

by Ruth Cardello

  “Yes,” she said. His nostrils flared at her whispered response.

  He frowned and put a hand on her lower back to guide her out of the building to the car waiting for them. Inside the car he left a disappointingly safe distance between them. He cleared his throat. “I booked an outside table at Bayside Catch. I took a chance you like seafood.”

  “I do.” I’d eat it even if I didn’t. “I’m not a picky eater. Never have been. Put it on a plate and I’ll devour it. I should be two hundred pounds, but I burn it off with nerves I guess.” Shut up. Women probably throw themselves at him constantly. I’m sure they don’t brag about cleaning their plates when they do.

  He gave her a funny look then smiled. “A man could be tempted to test that claim.”

  How Kenzi felt when she was with Dax overshadowed the dark thoughts usually circling within her. His presence was addictive. As he continued to watch her, she thought about what she’d said and her cheeks burned with a blush. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  I’m blushing like I’m innocent because I feel innocent with him.

  I could convince myself the past never happened if it meant I could stay here, in this moment, continuing to feel this damn good.

  “What way?” he asked.

  She tried to read his expression. What does he see when he looks at me? Does he know? “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were . . .” Her voice trailed away when he took her hand in his.

  “Flirting? I was.”

  “Oh.” It was all she said because she was having trouble thinking about anything past how good her hand felt in his.

  His eyes dropped to her lips, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her, but instead he gave her hand a squeeze and turned his gaze forward. “You chose the right dress.”

  “Lexi did, actually.” Kenzi kicked herself for blurting out the truth. “What I mean is—” The lie died on her lips when her eyes met his again.

  The lines of his face were harshly set. “I have a reputation for being brutally honest. Some say it’s a flaw, but my friends value it. I have no time or patience for anything but the truth.”

  Kenzi’s hand went cold in his. People said that, but they never meant it. She thought of the times she’d tried to speak to her family honestly and how much she’d lost because of it. The years she’d spent away from her family both for high school and college had felt like a punishment at first and then a sort of reprieve. At least when she was away from them she didn’t have to lie. “Sometimes the truth is ugly.”

  His hand tightened on hers. “More often than not.”

  It was an oddly deep conversation to have with a man she knew next to nothing about. He didn’t know her, either. Was that part of what made it tempting to be herself?

  She gave herself a mental shake. Can’t I just enjoy a night out with a gorgeous man? Do I have to overthink the life out of it? He wants honesty; well, let’s see how he handles it. “I usually dress conservatively, but my friend had a dress that could do exactly what you asked for. Was she right?”

  His hand tightened on hers again and when his eyes met hers she saw desire there. “Oh, yes.”

  Forget about everything else. Find the good. Cling to it. Kenzi bit back a smile. Basking in his gaze, she felt sexy and younger than she had in a long time. “I’m glad,” she said cheekily.

  His nostrils flared. “You’re playing with fire, Kenzi.”

  She laced her fingers with his and leaned against his arm. “My life could use some heat.”

  His indrawn breath was swift and audible. “I don’t believe in relationships. This would be one night, Kenzi. I’m flying to London tomorrow, and I have no intention of returning.”

  Kenzi fought back disappointment. That was the catch. There was always a catch. He wanted one night. At least he was honest. She searched his face. He didn’t look like a player, spouting lines he hoped would get her into his bed. He was acknowledging the attraction between them and leaving no doubt as to whether or not he’d call the next day. There was something reassuring about that kind of honesty. “Did you come to Boston for me?”

  “Yes.”

  Kenzi closed her eyes for a moment and let his answer wash over her. Yes. He came for me. She couldn’t explain why, but she believed him. And she trusted him. If she asked him to end the date right then and drive her home, she believed he would.

  One night.

  No expectations of more than that.

  There was a time when the answer would have been an easy yes. But I’m not that person anymore. It didn’t make anything better; it made me hate myself more.

  She opened her eyes and saw him watching her. She wished there was a way she could pause the date and call Willa and Lexi. She wasn’t ready to say yes nor was she ready to say no. Honesty. He said he valued it. She licked her bottom lip and said, “Why don’t we have dinner and see how it goes?” He nodded and looked forward again. An awkward silence dragged out despite the fact that they were still holding hands. When Kenzi could take it no more she joked, “I can handle the idea of no relationship, as long as dinner ends with dessert.”

  Desire burned in his eyes again. “It looks as though it will.”

  “I didn’t mean—” Kenzi started to say, then she smiled wryly. “Maybe I did.”

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You’re different than I remember, Kenzi Barrington.”

  “In a good way?”

  “In a million wonderfully surprising ways.”

  A tear spilled at his words because Kenzi knew he meant it. “You’re less blurry.” Kenzi fought an impulse to throw herself into his arms and declare dinner unnecessary. She didn’t, though. No matter how their date ended, there was not a single thing she wanted to rush about this night.

  They stayed on safe topics for the remaining drive to the restaurant. They compared favorite local restaurants and found they had similar tastes. They both preferred traditional foods over trendy creative cuisine.

  “A good steak doesn’t need a pineapple or some sauce no one can pronounce,” he said with authority.

  “Nor should it be the size of a credit card,” she added, amazed at how easy he was to talk to. “Want to see me happy? Give me prime rib as big as my head and don’t judge me when I finish every last bite.”

  He laughed. “It’s a shame I chose a seafood restaurant. I’d like to see that.”

  “Shame you don’t believe in second dates or you could.” His hand tensed on hers, and Kenzi regretted letting herself banter so freely with him. I’m going to ruin this date before it has a chance to really begin. She shot him a quick look to gauge his expression and found him watching her. A quick apology was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t voice it. He said he valued honesty. I won’t apologize for who I am or what I think. I do that too much already. She held his gaze in a silent standoff. Take it or leave it. This is the real me.

  He raised his hand to caress one of her cheeks. “You make me wish I were a different kind of man.”

  “Funny, you make me want to be myself.”

  His eyes lit with pleasure at her words, and he ran his thumb lightly across her lips. “I’m not what you need.”

  “Then why does this feel so good?” Kenzi asked in a whisper. It did feel good. All she could think about was his touch and the need it created within her.

  He leaned closer, and his lips hovered above hers. His breath teased and warmed. So close. “Are you sure you’re okay with one night?”

  Maybe it was his deep, bedroom voice or the way his eyes never left hers, but Kenzi was mesmerized. There was no embarrassment. No coy flirtation. They were two people connecting on a primal, sexual level. Her chest rose and fell with the ragged breaths she was taking. “Got it. One night. No tomorrow. No promises. No prime rib.”

  He frowned at her final words and sat back, breaking the spell. Kenzi looked out the window and put her hands on her warm cheeks. He’s not happy and it’s little wonder. He’s wondering what he’s doing on a date wit
h a woman who is an emotional train wreck. And he knows it. Somehow, even though I’ve tried to conceal it, he knows.

  Kenzi glanced at him then looked away again. He didn’t look happy and a memory of the night she’d met him came flooding back. He might seem open because of his honesty, but she had the feeling he didn’t let anyone in.

  Can I sleep with a man I know feels nothing for me?

  And why isn’t the answer to that question a simple no?

  Thankfully, arriving at the restaurant gave Kenzi a reprieve from talking. A hostess led her and Dax through a dining room to a deck overlooking the ocean where there was one lone table. Heaters flanked an area where the table had been set up with a white tablecloth and candles.

  Once seated, the hostess handed them menus and said, “It’s usually so loud out here you can’t hear the waves, but you’ll be able to tonight. When my boyfriend proposes, I hope he does something like this. You must be celebrating something very special.”

  “It’s our first date,” Kenzi supplied, watching Dax’s expression for a reaction, but he gave nothing away.

  The hostess clapped her hands and beamed. “That is so romantic. I hope when I’m your age I’m still doing things like that. I’ll probably be married with a ton of kids by then, though.”

  She walked off and Kenzi and Dax burst out laughing at the same time. Kenzi said, “She just called us old.”

  “What is she, twelve?”

  “Eighteen probably. Apparently twenty-eight looks ancient to her.”

  “Then I shouldn’t tell her I’m thirty-four or she’ll offer me a walker.”

  “Thirty-four? Wow, you are old.”

  Dax threw his napkin at her. “I’ll show you old.”

  Kenzi threw the napkin back. “Easy, Tiger, don’t do anything to throw out your back. At your age, you have to be careful.”

  They shared another laugh then Dax’s expression turned serious. Kenzi wanted to ask him what he was thinking but didn’t. She wasn’t that brave yet. Instead she turned her attention to the menu, and he followed suit. After they had ordered their drinks and food, Dax said, “You didn’t want wine?”

  “I don’t normally drink.”

  He nodded. “You said that.”

  “But you weren’t sure.”

  “People often say whatever they think I want to hear. Your honesty is refreshing.”

  Kenzi met his eyes. Is this a test? “Before you hand me a trophy, I lie like a rug when I’m cornered. I’ve pretty much turned lying into a lifestyle.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “Only because you don’t know me.” This is me. Not perfect, but finally honest with someone.

  He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re quite the enigma. Most women try to impress me.”

  Kenzi rolled her eyes. “Can you hear yourself when you speak because I’m not sure you’d say half of what you do if you could.”

  He laughed. “See, that’s what I mean. You say whatever you’re thinking. I like that.”

  With you. Only with you. There was a comfort to their exchange that was as pleasurable as their attraction to each other. “I don’t have to worry what you think of me. You already said I won’t see you again after tonight.”

  He frowned. “I did.” He gave her a funny look. “A woman like you should demand better than that.”

  A memory from the past nipped at Kenzi and brought an edge to her next words. “You have no idea what kind of woman I am.”

  “So tell me,” he said softly.

  Kenzi panicked and gave him the same smile she often hid behind with her family. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “You said you didn’t have to lie to me because I don’t matter.” He lowered his arms, leaned forward, and pinned her to her chair with those intense eyes of his.

  Those beguiling eyes. “If it sounded that way, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

  “Don’t be sorry, be honest.”

  “I’m not ready to be,” she said huskily, looking anywhere but at Dax.

  “Then tell me,” he said in a tone so gentle Kenzi almost burst into tears.

  Kenzi took a deep, shaky breath and met his eyes again. “Can we rewind and forget this conversation happened? I don’t want to be me tonight, Dax. I want to be on a fun date. I want to laugh, have a great meal, and see where all this goes. And if I never hear from you again, I’ll make myself be okay with it because that’s what I do, Dax. I’m a survivor.”

  Dax took her hand in his again. She wasn’t sure if he would end the night or rush them back to her apartment before she changed her mind. She didn’t expect him to lace his fingers with hers and say, “So am I, Kenzi. So am I.” Then he cleared his throat and called the waitress over. He turned away to say something to the waitress without Kenzi being able to hear. The waitress looked surprised at first, but he handed her several bills and then she looked thrilled.

  Once they were alone again, Kenzi couldn’t help but ask, “What did you say to her?”

  He looked as if he debated telling her, then he said, “I told her to cancel your order of salmon and bring you a prime rib the size of your head.”

  Kenzi shook her head as she digested that. “Prime rib wasn’t on the menu.”

  He sat back and looked pleased with himself. “They serve it at Ranch House Grill around the corner.”

  “You sent her to get food from another restaurant? Can you do that?”

  “You know as well as I do that anything is possible if you throw enough money at it. The owner understands that I’ll compensate him well if he makes this evening perfect.”

  Kenzi searched Dax’s face for a clue of what it meant. “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either, but I want to see where this goes.” Dax was as surprised by his words as Kenzi was. He could barely recognize himself. She obviously was open to sleeping with him, and he was definitely interested in sleeping with her. The outcome should be simple, but nothing was simple when it came to Kenzi. His emotions were jumbled together, making it difficult to think clearly, and the hard-on he’d been sporting all evening wasn’t helping.

  He wanted to cancel the meal and drag her off to the nearest bed.

  He wanted to hug her until she trusted him enough to tell him whatever she felt she needed to hide. Had someone abused her? Had she done something she was ashamed of? He fought back a desire to shake her and promise her nothing would change how he felt about her.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  He’d told her to expect to never hear from him again. It was a talk he’d given women in the past, and he’d meant it when he’d said it.

  I’m angry with her for accepting that shit?

  Angry with myself because I’d never see her eat prime rib?

  He shook his head and realized how he felt had nothing to do with watching her eat her favorite meal. I don’t want this to be the last time I see her.

  Conversation became strained while he tried to unravel the clusterfuck of his thoughts. In an apparent attempt to lighten the mood, she asked him if he’d always lived in London. He didn’t normally talk much about himself, but she was interested, and soon he was describing his college days in Boston and how he’d once thought he would live there, but had ultimately chosen London because he was more comfortable there. He hadn’t realized until he said it, but London hadn’t been solely a business decision. “My mother was English so I have dual citizenship. I went to boarding school in the UK, but finished high school in the United States after my father died.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. Your father was American?”

  “Yes, as was the uncle who raised me after he passed.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t move in with your mother.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  “You don’t know your mother?” Kenzi exclaimed then lowered her voice. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”r />
  Normally that’s exactly what Dax would have said. His past was no one’s business but his. Yet, there he was, leaning forward again, and ready to tell her anything she wanted to know. “My mother left my father when I was very young. I don’t remember her. My guess is that my father paid her to stay away. I don’t really know nor have I ever cared enough to look into it. When she left me, she ceased to matter.”

  Kenzi gave his hand a tight squeeze. “If she chose money over you, Dax, she cheated herself out in the end. Does she stay in touch with any of your family?”

  “I don’t have any family. My father and uncle were it.” Dax hated the sympathy he saw in Kenzi’s eyes and how desperately he wanted to kiss her just then. He pulled his hand away from hers.

  She studied his expression for a long moment then asked, “Who are you more like—your father or your uncle?”

  He almost ended the conversation there but didn’t. He sensed she needed to see that he had his own scars. And if it made her less ashamed of her own, he would let her examine every last one of his. “I wish I could say neither, but I’m more likely the composite of the worst of both of them. My father was weak and lacked integrity and loyalty. My uncle was brutal and had no patience for weakness. I’ve made a good living on the financial misfortune of others, and I don’t regret a single take-over, not even when I knew the owners. I guess you could say I’m genetically predisposed to be an asshole.”

  “I don’t think you’re an asshole,” she said softly.

  “Give me time,” he said, half joking, half serious.

  Kenzi smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked as confused as he felt. He asked her about where she’d gone to school, and she vaguely described attending a high school and college in Canada. He wanted to ask her why she’d gone to school so far away from her family when their meals arrived.

  She toyed with her prime rib, cutting it but not taking a bite. He pushed his food around his plate without tasting it either. “Do you want to get out of here?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said then looked down at her plate apologetically. “I’m sorry. Normally I would scarf this down, but my stomach is doing nervous flips.”