Second Chance with the Billionaire

by Janice Maynard

  It was a damned shame.

  “I’m sorry, Kirby.”

  Kirby shrugged. “Adrenaline junkies have short life spans.”

  “Is that what you think we are?”

  “It’s who we used to be. I doubt either one of us has changed all that much.” He paused. “So what’s next?”

  Conor leaned a hip against the industrial stainless steel counter. “I have plans to do Aconcagua this winter.”

  Kirby stared at him, jaw dropped. “Well, hell.”

  “Exactly.”

  “For God’s sake, don’t tell Ellie.”

  “I won’t. But is this where you try to talk me out of going?”

  Conor had been half expecting this moment ever since he heard Kirby’s accident had happened on the very mountain in Argentina that Conor was slated to climb next.

  Kirby shook his head slowly. “I wouldn’t do that. Aconcagua is a phenomenal experience. I’m happy for you.”

  Conor felt a slither of unease. “You’d still call it phenomenal? After everything that happened?” In Kirby’s position, how would Conor feel? The mountain had nearly killed Ellie’s beloved twin. And it had killed his brother-in-law.

  “It was a great trip,” Kirby said, his jaw outthrust stubbornly.

  “Right up until the part where Aconcagua kicked your ass.”

  “A freak accident. Could have happened to anyone.”

  “Mountain climbing is a dangerous venture. You knew the risks.”

  “And I did it, anyway.”

  “I get the feeling you’re conflicted about that choice.”

  Kirby flexed his foot, the prosthetic one, his face grim and drawn. “I chose to go. It was my decision.”

  “And now you’re paying. Is that it? You have to give up your career because you did this to yourself?”

  “Damn it, Conor...”

  Conor sighed, shaking his head. “You’re wearing a hair shirt, Kirby. For no reason at all. The only thing that’s changed is the way your shoe fits. Nothing’s gonna hold you back but you.”

  After a taut, lengthy silence, Kirby sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t decide if you’re my therapist or my cheerleader, but it’s creeping me out. Can we call a moratorium on talking about my situation?”

  “Only if you promise to quit acting like a pathetic loser.”

  Kirby grinned, ending the verbal standoff. “Did I mention that I’m glad to see you again?”

  Conor cuffed him on the shoulder, careful not to make him stumble. “Don’t get all mushy on me.”

  “Moron.”

  “Half-wit.”

  “I can do this all day.”

  Conor chuckled. “Let’s go find your sister. My work here is done.”

  Five

  Ellie stood at the kitchen window, drying the same pot she’d been holding for the past ten minutes, and watched her brother and Conor play a restrained game of catch in the backyard. Conor had been back in their lives for a little over a week, and already she noticed a difference in Kirby’s outlook. While she was delighted to see her sibling out of the house and showing interest in something other than television, she regarded Conor’s intervention with mixed emotions.

  With Kirby finally showing signs of moving forward, he would no longer need Ellie as much. At some level it hurt that she hadn’t been able to coax him out of his funk. Kirby was her twin, the other half of her heart. She would do anything for him. Even if that meant taking a backseat while once again Kirby and Conor bonded as they had as kids and inadvertently left her out.

  Kirby wasn’t the only one whose future was a big, daunting blank. Ellie was equally adrift, though perhaps not so visibly. Once Kirby got settled in a hospital where he chose to do his work, and once Ellie’s parents returned from the jungle to look after Grandpa, Ellie would no longer be needed.

  Except by Emory.

  She and her toddler would have to build a new life together. Without Kevin. Where would she start? She couldn’t imagine going back to South America with all of her family now in the States, or soon to be. DC had the greatest possibilities for jobs. And she could certainly get good references. But did she want to raise her child inside the Beltway?

  Her own childhood had been idyllic here in Silver Glen. A small town with an international flavor thanks to the high-end tourism trade. But the nearest embassy was far, far away. As far as employment went, her skill set was not exactly marketable in the mountains of North Carolina.

  As she pondered the murky future, her sunny-natured son sat in his high chair, enthralled with a set of aluminum measuring spoons. She couldn’t believe how quickly he was growing. Soon she would have to shop for eighteen-month-sized clothes. Though his birthday was still a ways off, he was big for his age...and tall.

  A sudden knock at the back door startled her. Conor poked his head in. “Can you grab us a couple of water bottles, Ellie?”

  “Of course.” When she handed them over, her fingers brushed his. Conor smelled of hot cotton and male sweat and lime-based aftershave. It was a surprisingly alluring scent.

  Conor didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Thanks.”

  Before he could retreat, she put her hand on his arm. “How is he doing, Conor? Really. He tells me he’s fine, but clearly he’s not.”

  Conor moved casually, enough that her hand fell away. “He’s going to be okay. His head’s still messed up. He blames himself for what happened. And he’s still conflicted about the job thing. But give him time.”

  Though Conor was clearly impatient to leave, Ellie powered on, struck by the inescapable notion that she was about to miss something very important in her life if she didn’t act.

  “Conor...” She trailed off, at a loss for words, feeling the urgency of emotions tangled in her chest.

  “Yes?” His body language was one huge rejection. But she was no longer a girl easily swayed.

  “I’m glad you’re here for Kirby, but I’ve missed you, too. I’m looking forward to the dance at the hotel next week.”

  He froze, his big frame taut, like an animal sensing danger. “My family will enjoy seeing you again.”

  “And what about you, Conor?” She put it on the line. No pride. No games. Just the need to feel something again other than worry and pain and distress.

  He clenched one of the bottles so hard the plastic cracked. Water shot all over the kitchen. “Sorry,” he muttered. He grabbed for a roll of paper towels, but she took it out of his hands.

  “Leave it,” she said. “I’ll mop it up in a minute.” Again she put a hand on his arm. “Can’t we be friends again, too?” she whispered. The muscles in his forearm were hard and warm beneath her fingertips. He was a grown man, utterly masculine, breathtakingly sexy. She looked up at him, letting him see her confused searching, her yearning to feel like a woman again.

  For long seconds, their gazes tangled, hers beseeching, his stormy.

  At last, he spoke. “I am your friend, Ellie. But that’s all it can be. I’m the same guy I was a decade ago. You told me way back then I had to choose, and you were right. Now you’re grieving and maybe lonely, but those are bad reasons to play with fire.”

  Before she could respond, he cupped her cheek with his free hand. His fingers were hot against her skin, lightly callused. Firm. Tender. She could swear the air in the small kitchen was charged with electricity. Though several window units cooled the house, her skin was damp.

  “I assumed you were also the kind of man who lived for the moment. Has that changed?”

  He shrugged, his thumb stroking her cheekbone, perhaps unconsciously. “No. Not really. But even I know better than to get involved with a woman who’s lost so much and is still dealing with grief. I’ll be here for you, Ellie. For talking and advice and even the occasional platonic outing. But
nothing more. You’ll thank me later.”

  “God, you’re a patronizing ass,” she said, feeling the burn of unshed tears in her throat and her eyes. “I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions.”

  He nodded. “I know that. But maybe I’m going to be the strong one this time. You’ve spent the last eighteen months taking care of everyone but yourself. You lost your husband. You nearly lost your twin. Your parents live a continent away. Your grandfather is fading before your eyes. You can count on me, Ellie.”

  “But only as a brother.”

  “Yeah...”

  “I have a brother,” she said, turning her lips against his palm and kissing him there. “I don’t need another.” The fact that his pompous speech held elements of truth was something she didn’t want to admit.

  His groan sounded like a man being tortured. “Don’t do this, Ell. Please.”

  Though it took all she had, she pulled away. Conor represented an escape from the humdrum difficulties of her everyday life. He was alive and exciting and wonderfully familiar. She wanted to nuzzle into his embrace and never come up for air.

  But there was too much history between them. And too much guilt on her part. “Fine,” she said, the word as snippy as she could make it. “We’re friends. I get it.” She bent and began sopping up water.

  Conor squatted beside her, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Please don’t be mad, Ellie. I couldn’t bear it. You and Kirby are very special to me. I’m damned glad you’ve come home.”

  He meant it. She could see it in his eyes. “I’m not mad,” she said, concealing the depth of her disappointment. She stood and fished another water bottle out of the fridge. “Go play ball. I’ve got this.”

  * * *

  Eight days later she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and second-guessed her wardrobe choice. She had lost most of her baby weight, but her breasts were definitely bigger. The red dress had seemed like a good idea for the holiday-themed soiree, but the just-above-the-knee frock exposed an awful lot of skin. Then again, it was August.

  The silk fabric clung to her body like a second skin. Not slutty, but in the posh neighborhood next door. A plunging neckline and rhinestone spaghetti straps flattered her shoulders.

  She had taken two thick strands of hair at her temples, braided them and twisted them around her crown. The rest of her hair fell straight to her shoulders. It had occurred to her to put all of it up in deference to the heat, but she remembered Conor teasing her about it when they were younger. Always touching her head or tugging a lock.

  She wanted him to remember how close they had been. She craved a return to normalcy. Those years and days with Conor were some of the best of her life. A simpler time. An uncomplicated time.

  As she walked into the living room, Kirby whistled long and low. “Wow, sis. You look hot.”

  She blushed. “Thank you. Are you positive you can—”

  He interrupted her with an outstretched hand. “Stop right there. I’m a fully trained medical professional. Surely you trust me to take care of one old man and one little baby for one single evening.”

  “Of course I do, but you’ve been...”

  “I’ve been dragging you down.”

  “Don’t say that, Kirby. It’s not true.”

  He came over and hugged her, resting his chin on her head. “I love you, Ellie. And I owe you more than I can ever say. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back on my feet.”

  “Oh, gosh, Kirby. That’s a terrible pun.”

  He laughed along with her. “Sorry. It just came out that way.” He held her at arm’s length, his gaze locking on hers. “If you ever want to talk about Kevin, I want you to know I’ll listen. God knows you’ve spent enough hours dealing with my tragedies. I’ll never forgive myself for being so lost and unavailable when you needed me most.”

  “Stop,” she said, almost in tears. “You nearly died, Kirby. Where else was I going to be than with you?”

  “And have you let yourself deal with Kevin’s death?”

  His blunt question caught her off guard. She sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “You never do, hon. That’s the problem. A branch can only bend so far before it breaks. You’ve held everything in for far too long.”

  “And now that you’re feeling better, you think you have the right to dig around inside my head?” She was angry with him for ruining her anticipation of the evening.

  Kirby’s warm, troubled gaze made her feel far too vulnerable. “If not me, then somebody. We can find a therapist here in Silver Glen. This is important, Ellie. I talked to Mom and Dad recently. They’re worried about you, too. I thought you’d shared things with them, and they thought you were talking to me. But turns out, you haven’t said a damn thing to anyone.”

  “Back off, Kirby. I mean it. I’m a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself. If I need help, I’ll ask for it.”

  He stared at her for long seconds, making her want to fidget in her high heels. But she held her ground. His shoulders rose and fell. “Okay. It’s your call.”

  “Yes, it is.” The subject demanded to be changed. “Do you have any questions about Emory’s routine?”

  “I live with you, Ellie. I think I’m pretty familiar with what goes on.”

  “And dinner?”

  “I’ve already ordered delivery pizza for Grandpa and me. And I’ll feed Emory exactly what you want him to have. Have fun, Ellie. Please. And if you don’t come home until morning, it will be fine.”

  Her eyes widened. Hot color flooded from her throat to her hairline. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  Kirby eyed her with a gaze that saw straight through to her jumbled emotions. “I’d have to be blind not to see the attraction between you two. I guess it was there way back in high school, but I was too stupid to see it.”

  “Conor and I are just friends.”

  “You could do worse when it comes to relationships. He’s a good man, Ellie. The best.”

  She nearly blurted out that she had made her availability perfectly clear and Conor had shut her down. But she didn’t want to do anything to cause discord between the two men. Kirby was very protective of his twin sister. If he thought Conor had hurt her, there would be hell to pay.

  “Yes, he is,” she said quietly. “But I’m only going to be here in Silver Glen until Mom and Dad return to the States. I’m glad Conor is back in our lives. That’s as far as it goes.”

  The ring of the doorbell saved her from further uncomfortable conversation with her meddling brother. In all fairness, she had meddled in his life on a large scale. But that didn’t mean she needed or wanted the tables to be turned.

  When Kirby walked toward the door, she watched him, happy to see that he was more and more comfortable with his new foot. He had ongoing pain...that, she understood. But what she hoped was that he would get so accustomed to the prosthesis he would forget that his life had been compromised.

  Conor entered the room and stopped dead when he saw Ellie. “Wow. You look amazing.”

  “Thank you,” she said primly, wishing Kirby were anywhere else at the moment. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

  That was the understatement of the year. Conor Kavanagh in a tuxedo made the angel choirs sing. His formal attire had clearly been tailored to fit his tall, lanky body. Broad shoulders, trim hips and long legs added up to one fine-looking specimen of manhood.

  Thinking about his manhood was a really bad idea. For a woman who hadn’t had sex in a year and a half, Conor was the equivalent of a steak dinner with all the trimmings. He was, quite simply, delicious.

  She picked up her clutch purse and the cobwebby shawl that was supposed to protect her from any air-conditioned-induced chills. “I’m ready.” She turned to her brother. “Promise you’ll
text me if anything goes wrong.”

  “It won’t, but I will. Have fun, you two.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I love you, Kirby.”

  Conor took her elbow as they walked down the front walk toward his fancy European sports car. She knew less than nothing about automobiles, but the sleek, black roadster looked expensive.

  When he held the door for her and she slipped into the passenger seat, she was greeted with the smell of warm leather. Oh, Lordy. She was trying not to think naughty thoughts, but this car was sex on four wheels.

  She paused a moment to consider how many different women Conor might have slept with over the years, but she didn’t really want to know. As far as she was concerned, her escort tonight was a grown-up version of the teenage boy she had once known and loved.

  “Nice wheels,” she quipped when he slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Thanks. Cars are my weakness. If I hadn’t been a skier, I might have ended up being a race car driver.”

  “The need for speed.”

  “Something like that...”

  She watched him out of the corner of her eye as they drove up the winding mountain road. His hands were confident on the steering wheel, his body relaxed, though he took the curves a little too enthusiastically for her taste.

  Conor’s assurance stood in direct contrast to her own mixed-up emotions. She was almost a hundred percent sure that tonight’s outing had been Kirby’s idea. Conor had made it very clear that he and Ellie were not supposed to be anything more than friends. But Kirby was worried about her, so he had probably badgered Conor into extending this invitation.

  Even under those circumstances, she was glad to be here.

  The trip was far too short for her taste. In no time at all, they arrived at their destination.

  The Silver Beeches Lodge was a magnificent building set into the side of the mountain near the very top. It looked out over the valley below with a commanding presence.

  When Conor pulled onto the large flagstone apron in front of the hotel, an employee appeared instantly to take the keys and park the car. Conor came around to open Ellie’s door and helped her out, one hand on her elbow.