Second Chance with the Billionaire

by Janice Maynard

  Conor stared at her and then looked back at Emory. “I suppose so.”

  Without knowing it, she had been holding her breath, because when Conor walked out of the room, she exhaled, all the oxygen in her lungs escaping in one whoosh.

  Emory was unconcerned. He squirmed in her arms, wanting to get down. He was already close to walking and proved it yet again by cruising around the edges of the coffee table with confidence. When Conor returned, Emory gave him a big, slobbery grin.

  As Conor set down a tray with lemonade and shortbread, Ellie lifted an eyebrow. “Somebody’s domesticated,” she said teasingly.

  Conor shuddered theatrically. “Not me. I have a housekeeper who looks after my place and the chalet. She apparently thinks I’m in danger of starving to death, because every time she comes to clean, I find baked goods on the kitchen counter.”

  “She must like you very much.”

  Conor shook his head ruefully. “It’s not like that. She’s seventy-two years old. She likes the fat paycheck I give her because it supplements her income.”

  “If you say so.” She had a hunch that the unnamed housekeeper had a soft spot for her generous boss.

  Conor sat down beside Ellie on the sofa and chuckled when Emory let go of the edge of the coffee table and sat down hard on his bottom. The baby’s look of indignation was comical. “He’s going to lead you a merry chase as soon as he realizes he can go anywhere and everywhere.”

  “Don’t I know it. I’ve already been baby proofing my grandfather’s house.”

  “How is Mr. Porter doing?”

  “He has his good days and bad. Sometimes he puts his reading glasses in the freezer and forgets to wear pants, but with Kirby and I around, he seems happy. I think he was afraid he would have to go into a rest home, so he’s being extra sweet and cooperative.”

  “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “That goes both ways.”

  Conor leaned forward, scooping up Emory and putting him back on his feet. “There you go, little man. The world is yours.”

  “Or at least this table.” Ellie chuckled. She was torn between being excited about her son’s prowess and worried that he would hurt himself. “He has no fear. Which scares me to death.”

  Conor nodded, his eyes on Emory’s progress. “I don’t know how my mom did it. Seven boys.”

  “That should qualify her for sainthood.”

  They both laughed and, for a moment, their eyes met. Ellie looked away first, her cheeks heating.

  Conor leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his gaze trained on the floor. “Are you going to tell me about Emory’s dad?”

  Ellie inhaled sharply, stunned that he would ask so bluntly. But then again, Conor had never shied away from difficult conversations. “No,” she said. “I don’t believe I am. I came here to talk about Kirby.”

  She saw Conor flinch. “You’ve developed a hard edge, Ellie.”

  “I’m not a child anymore, if that’s what you mean.”

  He shot her a look over his shoulder, his warm, masculine gaze taking in her navy tank top and khaki skirt. “I’m well aware of that, believe me.” Conor must have noticed that she didn’t wear a wedding ring. Was that why he felt the freedom to say such things to her?

  “I believe you offered me a snack,” she said calmly, though her heart was beating overtime.

  Conor sat back, his wry smile rueful. “I suppose that means I’m pouring.”

  She corralled Emory when he seemed ready to try his luck climbing onto the sofa. “No, sweetheart. No lemonade for you. I have your sippy cup of milk right here.”

  Conor shook his head. “Poor kid. I’ll bet you won’t let him have a cookie, either.”

  “Of course not.”

  Conor laughed as he handed her a glass. “I was only kidding. Even I know a little kid isn’t supposed to have sugar. How old is he? I’m guessing his first birthday is not far off.”

  “Ten months. He’s big for his age.”

  “I’ll bet Uncle Kirby loves him.”

  “He does. The two of them are sweet together.”

  “So tell me about Kirby. Why do you think he needs to talk to me?”

  Ellie took a long drink and set down her glass, still half-full. “The last year and a half has been really hard for him. Not only losing the foot, but being a patient instead of a physician. He’s used to being the one in charge, the one caring for other people. So not only has he been dealing with the changes in his physical capabilities, he’s gotten it in his head that he won’t be a good doctor now. He has offers waiting from at least four prestigious medical centers across the country, but he refuses to deal with them.”

  “I’m not a counselor, Ellie.”

  “I know that,” she said. “But you have some inkling of what it’s like to have your whole life turned upside down. You’ve moved on. You’ve made new goals. You’ve accepted your limitations.”

  Three

  But had he? Had he really? Conor didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he still grieved the loss of his adolescent dreams. He’d put on a brave face for his family...pretended that he was okay with no longer competing. But deep down, a tiny kernel of futile anger remained that he’d been robbed of doing the one thing that gave him such an incredible rush of exhilaration.

  “I didn’t get there overnight, Ellie. Acceptance takes time. And Kirby has lost far more than I ever did.”

  “That’s not really true, if you think about it. You had to give up competing completely. But Kirby can still be a doctor.”

  Her words sent shock reverberating through Conor’s gut. Had all his pretending been wrong? Would it have made life easier if he’d been up-front about his grief?

  He cleared his throat, stunned that a woman he hadn’t seen in a decade and a half could analyze the situation so succinctly. “I’ll talk to him. If you think he wants to see me. But I can’t promise miracles.”

  “I appreciate it, Conor.”

  Ellie’s grateful smile made him uncomfortable. She glowed this morning, no other word for it. Motherhood suited her. If Conor started hanging out at the Porter household, he would see her regularly. That was probably not a good idea given his fascination with her.

  Because there was still the mystery of Emory’s father.

  Even so, he was drawn to her warmth and caring. Or maybe it was simply the fact that he was sexually attracted to her. She had a body that was lush and ripe. He ached to touch her, much as he had as a teenager. Only now, he knew the kind of pleasure a man and a woman could share.

  Imagining Ellie in his bed was definitely not smart. Tormenting himself was pointless. Conor hadn’t changed. He still courted danger. He still relished the exhilaration of pitting himself against the elements. Which meant that Ellie would be as disapproving as ever when she found out the truth about him.

  He picked up Emory and blew raspberries on his tummy, anything to distract himself from the image of Ellie’s naked body. “When do you want me to see Kirby?” he asked, wincing as Emory grabbed handfuls of his hair.

  “Whenever it’s convenient for you. I know you have a business to run.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s the off-season. I’m not exactly tied to a desk. What if I order lunch from the deli and we pick it up on the way to your grandfather’s house?”

  “That would be perfect. I’d already made some sandwiches for Kirby and Grandpa and left them in the fridge, but they’ll keep until tomorrow.”

  “You want to ride with me?”

  “I can’t. The car seat, you know.”

  “Ah. Yes. Does your grandfather still live in the same house?”

  “Yes.” She scooped up Emory.

  “Well, in that case, I’ll see you over there in half an hour.”

&nbs
p; He helped Ellie load up the car and watched as she drove away. Already he felt a connection that was stronger than it should have been given their long separation.

  It occurred to him suddenly that he had asked questions about Kirby, but he still had no idea what Ellie did for a living. Though she downplayed her intelligence in comparison to her twin, he knew she had done well in school, also. The teachers had loved her.

  Conor had wanted her. But her refusal to accept him as he was had kept his adolescent urges in check. Nothing had changed. He’d be smart to ignore this inconvenient attraction. Ellie wasn’t the woman for him.

  * * *

  The deli was accustomed to him placing to-go orders, but they were surprised by the size of this one. The cute teenager behind the counter smiled teasingly. “Having a party, Mr. Kavanagh?” she asked.

  Mr. Kavanagh? Hell, did he seem that old to this kid? “Lunch with some friends.”

  “We have fresh strawberry cake in the back. One that’s not even sliced yet. You want a few pieces?”

  “I’ll buy the whole thing.” Conor would take any help he could get in the way of a welcome offering. He wasn’t at all sure his invitation from Ellie was going to get Kirby’s stamp of approval. Men liked to hide out and lick their wounds. Kirby might not appreciate having Conor show up out of the blue.

  At Mr. Porter’s place, Conor parked on the street and unloaded the bags from the deli. With the cake box balanced in one arm, he made his way up the walk. The property was not in great shape. Not too surprising for an older person who didn’t have the strength to handle fix-it jobs.

  The paint on the house was peeling in places. He saw a section of rotting wood on a soffit. Several dead plants needed to be replaced. Even the driveway needed to be resurfaced.

  Ellie and Kirby no doubt had plenty of financial resources to take care of things, but maybe Conor could offer to do a few odd jobs. It would give him an excuse to hang around, and maybe he could coax Kirby into holding the ladder or drinking a beer while he kept Conor company.

  Ellie waited at the door, the baby on her hip. She looked anxious but incredibly beautiful. “I told him you’re coming,” she said. Her eyes were darker than usual. In their depths he saw worry.

  “Point me toward the kitchen,” he said. “And I’ll dump all this stuff. What did he say when you told him?”

  “Not much.”

  “Great,” Conor muttered. “Does the term busybody mean anything to you?” He put the cold items away and leaned back against the counter. The kitchen was small and dated, but cozy and welcoming in a retro way. He and Kirby and Ellie had visited here on occasion as kids.

  “That’s not fair,” she said, her gaze mulish as Emory yanked on a strand of her hair. “Kirby needs company. Even if he doesn’t realize it.”

  “So I’m your token guinea pig?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve done all I can do. If there’s going to be a change in the status quo, I’m betting on you.”

  “No pressure.” He was stalling, honestly scared that his longtime friend was going to kick him out after an obligatory five-minute visit. “Let’s get this over with. But if he doesn’t want me here, I’m leaving.”

  “We may have to ease him into it, but I know this will be a good thing.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.” What did Conor possibly have to say to a man who had lost part of a limb? Yet even amid his doubts, Conor knew he would do anything to put a smile on Ellie’s face.

  Mr. Porter was napping, so Kirby was the only one in the living room when Ellie and Conor walked in. In a flash, Conor saw that Kirby had changed. More than Conor could have imagined. The teenage boy Conor remembered was a man with lines at the corners of his eyes and a tight jaw that spoke of pain suffered and battles fought.

  Conor crossed the room, holding out his hand. “Hey, Kirby. It’s great to have you back in town. Don’t get up, man.”

  But Kirby had already risen awkwardly to his feet, his arms outstretched. “What took you so long?”

  Conor hugged him hard, feeling a reciprocal level of emotion in his friend’s embrace. “I had to pick up the food.”

  After a moment, they separated. Kirby settled back in his recliner. Conor took a seat close by. Kirby shook his head. “I’ve missed you, buddy. More than you know.” The tone in his voice said a whole lot more than his prosaic words.

  Conor had only a split second to ponder his next move. He tapped Kirby’s knee. “So let me see this fake foot.”

  “Conor!” Ellie’s shocked exclamation fell into a pit of silence.

  Kirby blinked in shock. His jaw worked. And then he burst out laughing. A gut-deep, hearty, belly laugh that went on and on until Conor and Ellie joined in.

  Kirby wiped his eyes, his grin a shadow of his former self but a grin, nevertheless. “God, it’s good to see you.” He lifted his pants and extended his leg. “Carbon. Latest issue. The best money can buy.”

  “Comfortable?”

  “Hurts like hell most of the time, but I’m getting there.”

  Conor stood and gave Ellie his most reassuring look. “Why don’t you give us some guy time? I’ll keep little Emory if you don’t mind. We have to train him up right.”

  “God forbid,” Ellie said. But she handed over her son without protest. “I’ll have lunch ready in half an hour.”

  Kirby nodded. “Thanks, sis.”

  When Ellie left the room, Conor juggled the baby. He’d assumed, and rightly so, that Emory’s presence would fill any awkward silences. “So how are you really doing?”

  Kirby grimaced. “Honest to God, I don’t know, Conor. Most mornings when I wake up, it still seems like a dream, until I try to stand up and forget I don’t have the damned prosthesis on. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve nearly fallen on my face.”

  “Ellie worries about you.”

  “I know. She and my parents have been great through all of this. But sometimes I feel a little bit...”

  “Smothered?”

  Kirby glanced at the doorway and lowered his voice. “Yes. But she’s been so good to me, Conor. I don’t think I would have made it without her. So how can I tell her I need some space?”

  “Maybe you won’t have to. You and I have years to catch up on. If we’re hanging out doing stuff, Ellie will be delighted, and it will give you a chance to venture out of the nest.”

  “So now I’m a baby bird?”

  Kirby’s disgruntled expression made Conor chuckle. “Bad analogy. But seriously...what do you think of the idea?”

  “I’m on board. These walls have been closing in on me.”

  “Good.” Conor paused, feeling vaguely guilty for what he was about to do. “Ellie told me a lot about you and her parents, but she’s been reticent about herself. What does she do for a living? I assume she’s on maternity leave?”

  “Not exactly. She has degrees in political science and international affairs. Speaks several languages. A number of years ago she began working as a cultural attaché at one of the embassies in Buenos Aires. She’s brilliant, Conor. But when I had my accident, she resigned to take care of me. And then, of course, the baby came along...”

  “I see.” Conor did see. Ellie was devoted to her twin. Generous and compassionate. But one more question loomed. He lowered his voice, not wanting Ellie to know he was snooping. “What about her husband? Are they divorced?”

  “No.”

  The negative sent Conor’s stomach into a free fall. “Oh.” Disappointment knotted his chest.

  Kirby shook his head, his gaze troubled. “She didn’t tell you?”

  Conor frowned. “Tell me what?”

  “Ellie’s husband Kevin was climbing with me when I had my accident. He fell also. Died of a broken neck. Didn’t even know he was going to be a father.”

&nbs
p; * * *

  Ellie set the large kitchen table for four and pulled the high chair to one end. She unwrapped all the food with a raised eyebrow. Conor had spared no expense. But the Kavanaghs were extremely wealthy, so it was no surprise. Their ancestors had discovered silver in these mountains several generations ago and thus solidified the family fortunes.

  The town of Silver Glen was a popular destination for celebrities and public figures who wanted to get away from it all. The charming shops and wonderful restaurants, combined with year-round recreational opportunities, appealed to a well-heeled crowd.

  The advisory council had taken careful measures to limit overbuilding and to keep the Alpine flavor of the community intact. Their care paid off. The Silver Beeches Lodge and the multitude of bed-and-breakfasts in town rarely had openings unless a patron booked months in advance.

  Ellie checked her watch. She had given Kirby and Conor plenty of time. Taking a moment to summon her grandfather, she then returned to the living room. “Lunch is ready,” she said, glancing from her brother to his best friend. The two men appeared to be enjoying themselves. Emory was curled against Conor’s chest playing with a teething ring.

  The meal turned out to be an awkward affair. Ellie’s grandfather floated in and out, one minute coherent, the next saying bizarre things that made Ellie sad and discouraged. It was hard to see a loved one deteriorate.

  At one point, Grandpa Porter sat straight up in his ladder-back chair and pointed an accusing finger at Conor. “I remember you,” he said. “You used to have a soft spot for my little granddaughter, Ellie.”

  Though Ellie flushed with mortification, Conor took it all in stride. “Yes sir, I did. But that was a long time ago.”

  Kirby intervened. “Do you want some cake, Grandpa? It’s homemade.”

  The ruse distracted the old man, fortunately. Ellie couldn’t decide what was going on with Conor. He and Kirby laughed and joked together as if they had never been apart, but Conor scarcely looked at Ellie. Fortunately, Emory demanded much of her attention.