Second Chance with the Billionaire

by Janice Maynard

  What she wanted from Conor was far less cerebral. He had never been in love. The closest he had ever come was his adolescent crush on Ellie. But even he knew that such a juvenile emotion was only a pale imitation of what Ellie and Kevin must have shared.

  The song ended, and part of the crowd began to drift toward the exits. Four hours had flown by though Conor had scarcely noticed. He glanced at his watch. “I should get you home,” he said gruffly.

  Ellie took his hand in hers, the simple gesture making his resolve crumble. “Yours first,” she said.

  He halted in the midst of the exodus, the throng of guests parting on either side of him to continue on their way. “What do you mean?”

  “Take me home, Conor. To your house. I’ve never seen it. Wouldn’t you like to give me a tour?”

  Seven

  Ellie had never thrown herself at a man so blatantly. If Conor didn’t crack this time, she was going to back off. A girl had to have some pride, after all. “Come on,” she said. “People are staring at us.”

  They said their goodbyes to Maeve, but the moment was brief, because Conor’s mother was mobbed by well-wishers encouraging her to keep up the Christmas in August tradition every year. By the time Conor and Ellie made it outside, it was dark, the moonless night stuffy and warm.

  Perhaps because Conor was the owner’s son, a valet brought the car around to the side of the hotel so they wouldn’t have to wait forever. There were definitely perks to being a Kavanagh. Even so, the line of traffic to exit the hotel driveway was slow moving.

  Once they were in the car, Ellie felt totally alone. A silent Conor drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his face in shadowy profile beneath the exterior lights of the hotel. He looked anything but happy.

  “Take me home,” she said abruptly. “It’s late. I’m exhausted.” And she was tired of battling Conor’s scruples and misgivings.

  Clearly he wasn’t as interested in her as she thought. Or else he wouldn’t be clinging so vehemently to his notion that the two of them shouldn’t end up naked together.

  “Make up your mind, Ellie.” His grumpy response infuriated her.

  Suddenly, she lost it. For months she had told herself life would get back to normal. She’d forced herself to believe it, even if the pleasant fiction was only a ruse to get from one day to the next. Seeing Conor again had been the first hint of happiness she had experienced since Kevin died.

  But Conor didn’t want her. Heartsick and humiliated, she threw open the door of the car, stepped out and slammed the fancy piece of metal. “I’ll get a ride with someone else,” she said, her tone as snarky as she could make it. She heard him yell at her, but she didn’t stop.

  She walked quickly into the dark night, circling around the hotel and disappearing into the gardens on the far side. Pausing only long enough to slip off her high heels, she moved forward blindly and quickly, trying to outrun the pain. Tiny pieces of gravel lacerated her feet.

  She kept on. The neatly manicured gardens eventually gave way to a familiar rough path that led to a waterfall. The going was more difficult here. Roots and stones were silent adversaries in the inky gloom. Her lungs burned. Her chest heaved. Her throat was raw.

  Sweat rolled down her back. Her beautiful dress was going to be ruined. She knew it and she didn’t care. Nothing mattered. Nothing made sense. Behind her she thought she caught the sound of Conor’s voice. Yelling. Demanding.

  She ignored him. In some dim corner of her brain she remembered that the trail ended at the waterfall. What would she do then? Throw herself in? She had a son. That wasn’t an option. Pain rose up inside her like a writhing beast.

  Without warning, an unseen obstacle caught her toe and sent her crashing to the ground. All the wind left her lungs and the world went black as searing pain spread from her temple into nothingness...

  * * *

  Conor should have been able to catch Ellie easily. His long legs could far outstrip her stride. But he’d had to waste precious seconds easing the car out of the way so he wouldn’t block the hotel drive.

  By the time he bounded after her, she had disappeared.

  He knew she wouldn’t go inside the hotel...not in her condition. The only other viable option was the hotel garden. There he found her shoes. Tucking them in his jacket pockets, he loped after her, sure now that she was headed down the trail she and Conor and Kirby had traversed often as kids.

  His heart jerked erratically in his chest as he ran. It was dark. The path was rough and dangerous in these conditions.

  When he heard her cry out sharply, his blood congealed. Dear God. What had she done to herself?

  He found her crumpled and still in the middle of the trail. In fact, he almost tripped over her. For several sick, stunned moments, he thought she was dead. But when he took her limp wrist in his hand, he found a steady pulse.

  Should he move her? Had she broken anything? Breathing harshly, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and activated the flashlight app. Carefully easing her head to one side, he looked for damage. And found it. Blood oozed from a deep gash on her forehead.

  Hell... His first-aid training kicked in and he began moving his hands over her limbs methodically. Everything seemed okay, but it was impossible to be sure.

  He shook her gently. “Ellie. Ellie. Wake up, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

  The next minute and a half stretched into a lifetime, but finally she stirred. “Conor?” The word was slurred.

  “Yes, love. I’m here.” He pointed the beam of light away from her face so it wouldn’t blind her.

  She struggled to sit up. He helped her, though fear lingered that she might be badly hurt. “Where’s Kirby?” she asked.

  The odd question caught him off guard. “Um...at home.”

  “Oh.” She put a hand to her head. “Why is my face wet?”

  “You cut yourself when you fell. And you were crying.”

  Her chin wobbled. “I know. Because Kirby and I have to leave.”

  “You do?”

  “We tried, Conor, I swear. But Mom and Dad won’t budge. They’re making us go with them to South America.” She burst into tears.

  Conor crouched beside her, stunned and more scared than he had been in a very long time. Something had happened. Something bad. And he had to get help. Fast.

  Taking off his jacket, he wrapped it around Ellie. Her skin was ice-cold, she might be going into shock. Even though she had spoken to him, now she seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness.

  Taking a few steps away from her, he made two hurried phone calls...one to his brother Gavin and one to Kirby. Gavin and Cassidy agreed to head straight to the Porters’ house to look after the baby and Mr. Porter. As soon as they arrived, Kirby would leave to meet Conor at the hospital.

  Even though Conor was speaking in a low voice, Ellie should have been able to hear what he was saying. She should have demanded to know why he was calling her brother. Or why he was contacting Gavin. But she did neither.

  With the plan set into motion, Conor knelt and scooped her into his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder.

  “Ellie,” he said urgently as he stood and began rapidly retracing their steps. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t risk dropping her or falling himself. She seemed so small suddenly...and fragile. God, what was wrong with her? A concussion?

  The trail was not more than half a mile in length, but it seemed endless. He didn’t waste time calling for an ambulance. He could get Ellie to the hospital more quickly, especially since the traffic from the party had now dissipated.

  At his car, he set her gently in the passenger seat, reclined it and belted her in. “Ellie, honey. Can you open your eyes?”

  She did as he asked, but though she smiled weakly, her gaze was unfocused and her eyelids fluttered shut again.
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  He knew in detail how to ski downhill at breakneck speeds, making the most of every curve and straight stretch. He’d been known to do the same in a car heading up and down this mountain. But now he was torn between speed and caution.

  The trip became a blur. He drove automatically, his gaze flitting every five seconds to his passenger. Second-guessing himself again and again, he cursed beneath his breath. Maybe he should have waited for the ambulance.

  Fortunately, Kirby had been cleared for driving since his right foot was intact. He sent half-a-dozen texts that Conor was not able to read until he hit a traffic light in town. Kirby was frantic. And he would be at least twenty minutes behind Conor.

  The hospital emergency room was top-notch. The Kavanagh family had made numerous large gifts over the years. Plus, Conor and his brothers had kept them in business with various injuries. Broken arms. Sprained ankles. And, of course, Conor’s torn-up knee.

  When the admitting nurse passed them off to a physician, Conor spoke rapidly as the man assessed Ellie’s condition. “I’d like to call in Dr. Milledge for a consult, if you don’t mind. He’s a family friend.”

  The ER doctor nodded. “No problem. I wouldn’t mind a second opinion about this head injury. Tell me again what she said?”

  “When I found her, she had tripped and fallen. There was a rock with blood on it, so that explains the cut. But when she opened her eyes and spoke to me, she didn’t seem to be in the present.”

  “Got it.” The doctor tucked a chart under his arm. “We’ll call Dr. Milledge, but in the meantime, we’ll see what we can find out. Are you her next of kin?”

  “No. That would be her brother, Kirby Porter. But he’ll be here shortly.”

  Conor watched helplessly as Ellie was rolled away down the hall on a gurney. Guilt choked him. He’d known she was in trouble...he’d known it in his gut. And yet still he had let her down.

  The waiting room was like all hospital waiting rooms. Filled with fear and stale body odor and people with anxious faces. Only in this case, the furnishings and the reading material were upscale. Silver Glen catered not only to locals, but also to well-heeled visitors who often showed their appreciation of top-notch medical care by leaving large donations. Only last fall, an extremely famous pop sensation came down with the flu while spending a few weeks on hiatus. She was so happy with how she was treated that she had her accountant electronically transfer a six-figure gift to the hospital before she left town.

  Conor was sitting, head bowed, elbows on his knees, when Kirby appeared at his side. The other man sat down and ran a hand over his face. “Give me an update.”

  “I’ve requested they call in Dr. Milledge. He’s an expert on neurological stuff. I don’t want them to miss anything.”

  “What in the hell happened?”

  Conor swallowed. No matter how he told this story, he would cast himself in a bad light. But Kirby deserved the truth. “We argued,” he said, his throat tight with regret.

  Kirby’s gaze sharpened. “About what?”

  Conor stared at him, wondering how he could explain this delicately. “Well, I—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Conor. You’re scaring the crap out of me. What the hell happened?”

  Conor shrugged helplessly as the weight of his own fear and panic engulfed him. “Ellie wanted intimacy. Physical intimacy. I put her off, thinking she needed to deal with her husband’s death before we acted on the attraction we both felt. Ellie got mad and ran away from me.”

  “Where?”

  “The trail to the waterfall. It was dark. She tripped and fell and hit her head on a rock. But honest to God, Kirby, the cut doesn’t look all that bad. She may need a few stitches.”

  “Who knows what else she might have damaged...” Kirby paused, his gaze locked on the far wall as if his physician’s brain were assessing all the scenarios. “Tell me more about what she said.”

  “I roused her. Asked her to speak to me. She wanted to know why her face was wet. When I told her she had been crying, she nodded and said she was upset because your parents were making both of you go to South America.”

  Kirby paled. “Holy hell.”

  “Yeah.” Conor was still hoping he had misunderstood her.

  “As much as I don’t want to say this, Ellie might have finally snapped. Not permanently. But maybe in a very bad way. Damn, Conor.”

  “I blame myself.” The words felt like glass in his throat. “She told me she needed to feel that physical connection again. To be held and touched as a woman. God, Kirby, she opened herself up to me and I told her it was a bad idea.”

  The hole in his chest grew larger by the minute. What had he done?

  He dug the heels of his hands into his gritty eyes and waited for Kirby to lambast him. But when he finally looked at his friend, all he could see in Kirby’s eyes was pain mixed with sympathy.

  Kirby took a deep breath and let it out, absently massaging the leg that was missing a foot. “You were trying to do the right thing, Conor. Most men would have taken advantage of her vulnerability. But you care about her. Of all the people in her life, you’re the first person she’s reached out to...the first person she’s been comfortable enough with to admit she’s hurting.”

  “And I bobbled it.” He jumped to his feet, feeling as if the walls were closing in on him. “I assume Gavin and Cassidy got to your house okay?”

  “Yes. Grandpa and Emory are already asleep, so they shouldn’t have any trouble.”

  “And Gavin and Cassidy’s twins?”

  “Mia and Dylan are keeping them at their house overnight.

  Conor made a circuit of the small room, pausing to stare out into the darkness. A few hours ago he’d been dancing with Ellie, holding her close, feeling the pulsing current of need that made him hungry to taste her, to find release inside her beautiful body.

  Ellie was everything he wanted in a woman. But he would forgo any chance of ever seeing her again if the Fates would let her be okay. Ellie didn’t deserve anything that had happened to her. She had a big heart and a generous spirit. She was a steadfast sister, a dutiful daughter and granddaughter, a devoted mom.

  He leaned his forehead against the glass...praying. After his accident in high school, he had prayed a lot. But those had been the selfish prayers of a teenage boy. He’d asked God to let him be whole again. To have the chance to be the best in the world at what he did.

  How shallow he’d been in his tunnel vision. How little he had known of real life...of the things that mattered deeply. He had a lot to learn from Kirby and Ellie about dealing with tragedy.

  Ellie had wanted Conor to help Kirby...to prove to him that there would be a good life after his amputation. But from where Conor was standing, the lessons were all coming his way. Ellie’s selflessness. Kirby’s bravery. The Porter twins had taught him a lot in a very short time.

  At last, Dr. Milledge appeared and escorted Kirby and Conor to a nearby family room set up for private conversations.

  Conor’s heart was beating so fast he felt sick. One quick glance at Kirby’s face told him his buddy felt the same.

  Dr. Milledge took the lead, his expression composed as he addressed his comments to Kirby. “Your sister is going to be fine. But she’s momentarily confused. Not uncommon under these circumstances. Can you fill me in on what might have triggered this?”

  Kirby blinked, his jaw working as he fought to absorb the information. “She lost her husband eighteen months ago in the same accident that nearly killed me. Ellie and I are twins. At the time I was fighting for my life, she found out she was pregnant. She’s spent every waking hour caring for me and worrying about me, even as her child was being born.”

  Dr. Milledge nodded. “Certainly enough trauma to trigger an episode, particularly if she has never processed the grief.”

 
“She hasn’t,” Conor said. “We had an argument about that very topic tonight. She became very angry with me. Ran away into the woods. And, well...you know the rest.”

  Kirby interrupted. “And the head wound?”

  “She does have a significant concussion. Which likely was catalyst for this episode. We’ll do X-rays and CT scans to make sure we aren’t overlooking a skull fracture. But I don’t think she’s in any danger. We’d like to keep her overnight for observation.”

  “I’ll take her to my house when the time comes,” Conor said, his protective instincts in high gear.

  Kirby frowned. “I’m a doctor. Why wouldn’t she simply go home?”

  Conor shook his head. “You’ll have your hands full caring for your grandfather. Ellie knows me and trusts me. The ski resort is closed. There’s no reason I can’t give her my full attention.”

  Eight

  The next afternoon, Conor and Kirby stood outside the hospital waiting for Ellie to be brought outside in a wheelchair.

  “Standard operating procedure,” Kirby muttered as a uniformed attendant came in sight with precious cargo.

  Conor took a step forward, but Ellie never looked at him. Her eyes were glued on Emory, who wriggled in Kirby’s arms.

  Her face lit up, but her eyes brimmed with tears. “My sweetheart,” she cried. “I’m so sorry. Mommy has missed you.”

  As Ellie stood, Kirby handed over the baby. Ellie cuddled Emory and smothered his head with kisses.

  Ellie had responded well to rest and medication. She understood that she had sustained a head injury and that she had been concussed and temporarily confused.

  Now was the tricky part. Kirby put his arm around her. “The doctors say you need to take it easy, sis. I have my hands full taking care of Grandpa, but Conor has arranged for you and Emory to spend a few weeks with him.”

  A hushed moment of silence fell. Kirby and Conor held their collective breaths. At last, Ellie acknowledged Conor with a small smile. “That would be nice. Thank you, Conor.”