Second Chance with the Billionaire

by Janice Maynard

  As Kirby played a game of peek-a-boo with Emory, Ellie elbowed her brother gently. “How’s Grandpa?” she asked. “Is he wondering where I am?”

  “I thought he might ask, but he’s been pretty fuzzy the last couple of days. The neighbor, Mrs. Perry, offered to check on him a couple of times while I’m up here.”

  “I should come home,” Ellie said, the words impulsive. “You both need me.”

  Kirby took her hand in his. “I love you, sis. But you’re not indispensable. I’m doing better every day. And you need to take it easy. Has Conor been looking after you?”

  She felt her face turning red, but Kirby didn’t seem to notice. “Of course. He fed Emory and me breakfast, and his housekeeper dropped by earlier to put a pot of chili on the stove. I know it’s summer, but Conor and I agreed that it was a chili kind of day.”

  Kirby’s face lit up. “Count me in.” He glanced at Conor. “Ellie and I grew to appreciate all manner of South American cuisine, but there’s nothing like home-cooked comfort food.”

  Ellie kissed her brother on the cheek and stood. “If you gentleman have the situation under control, I’d love to take a shower.”

  Kirby looked up at her. “You feeling okay this morning? You look good. You’ve got some color in your cheeks.”

  “I’m doing very well. Thank you for asking. Now can we quit referencing my unfortunate meltdown?”

  “Did you ever talk to Mom and Dad?”

  She nodded. In the hospital she had refused to call them, not wanting to interrupt their work, but once she was about to be released, she had phoned them, playing down the severity of her episode. It still made her uncomfortable to admit that she had been temporarily addled.

  In her luxurious bathroom, she locked the door and stepped into the shower. The water was hot and strong and reviving. She hadn’t gotten quite as much sleep as she would have liked.

  Standing beneath the pelting spray, it was easy to remember why. There wasn’t an inch of her skin Conor hadn’t touched. He had made love to her as if they were the last two people on the earth. Out of control. Desperate. As if they might never have another chance.

  And she had been equally urgent.

  The whole tenor of their coming together really made no sense. Unless both of them, deep down, thought the relationship had an expiration date. She ran a washcloth over her breasts. They were sensitive, the swollen tips almost painful.

  For months she had tried to pretend she was a mother first and a woman second. But sooner or later, her body was going to betray her. In fact, it already had...when she’d hit her head on a rock and imagined for a few hours that she was sixteen again.

  Is that what she really wanted? To go back in time and be Conor Kavanagh’s girlfriend? Or did she want something real? Something lasting? Something that meant growing and changing and allowing another person into her life?

  She was chastened and thoughtful when she rejoined the men. All three males were on the living room floor, Conor and Kirby letting Emory ride them like horses. The baby was ecstatic, chortling and laughing. He grabbed a handful of Conor’s hair and pulled.

  “Ow!” Conor howled. His pretend indignation made the toddler do it again. Kirby tugged Emory’s foot. “Be careful, love. The monster man is gonna get you.”

  Hovering in the doorway, Ellie watched them play. To see Kirby so happy and engaged was more than she ever could have wished for. Much of the thanks and credit for that transformation went to the man beside him.

  Conor had brought such healing to their little circle of three. He’d made Kirby feel whole again. He’d given Ellie the certainty that her future was brighter than her past. He’d proved to Emory that he was an adult to be trusted.

  Conor had moved seamlessly into their lives and worked his magic without fanfare. Was it any wonder that she was falling in love with him? She put a hand to her chest, feeling an odd little twinge. Love wasn’t in the cards for her. She thought she had it once, and she lost it. So why try again? Why risk more pain?

  Forcing herself to join the playgroup, she dropped onto her knees and tickled Emory’s belly. “How’s my sweetheart?”

  Conor and Kirby exchanged droll looks. “We’re fine,” Kirby said.

  She plucked Emory from Conor’s back. “Very funny. There’s only one man who has my heart.” She kissed her son’s head. “How about lunch, munchkin?”

  “Yes, please.” Conor touched arm lightly. “You stay here. Kirby and I will set everything out.”

  His fingers lingered, caressing the inside of her elbow. Kirby was already headed toward the kitchen, so the little byplay was private.

  “I’m not an invalid,” she muttered.

  “Let me pamper you, Ellie. It makes me happy.” He kissed her quickly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they were alone.

  Though the caress of his lips was brief, the light touch packed a punch. Or maybe she was already reeling from this morning. “By all means,” she said. “Anything to make you happy.”

  “Anything?” His grin was devilish.

  “Go find my brother. Before he eats our share.”

  * * *

  To Conor’s relief, lunch was fun and happy and blessedly normal. Emory was in a good mood. Kirby’s appetite was almost back to normal. Ellie smiled and relaxed. Conor played the clown until he had them all laughing and squabbling like they had as kids and teenagers.

  After they finished eating, Kirby grabbed an envelope he’d brought with him handed it to Ellie. “Here are the pictures you wanted me to get printed for Mom and Dad.”

  “Printed?” In this digital age, Conor was surprised.

  Ellie opened the flap of the large brown mailer and flipped through the images. “Mom and Dad don’t always have internet service, especially now that they’re even deeper in the jungle to open this new clinic. So they like me to send photos they can hang up.” She shook her head. “These are only four weeks old, but Emory changes every day.”

  While Conor took a look, she glanced at Kirby. “If I address this and put a note in, would you have time to mail it on your way back home?”

  “Sure. Not a problem.”

  “Do you have packing tape and scissors, Conor?”

  “Yep. My office is just past my bedroom on the same side of the hall. I’ve got a big rolltop desk. Try the left side, top drawer.”

  When Ellie disappeared, Kirby sighed. “She looks happy.”

  “I think you’re right. At least I hope so. How long do you think we can keep her here?”

  “As long as you and I can convince her it’s for the best. My sister is stubborn.”

  “As are you and I.”

  Kirby grinned in agreement and opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was went unsaid. Ellie stormed into the kitchen, her face white...two spots of color high on her cheekbones.

  She kicked the leg of Conor’s chair, fury in every hair follicle. “You’re going to climb Aconcagua?”

  Belatedly, he realized that she held a familiar turquoise-and-yellow travel folder. One that he should have hidden far, far away. “Yes.” What else could he say? He wasn’t going to lie.

  “When?”

  “Next winter.”

  She whirled to face her brother. “You put him up to this.”

  Slowly, Kirby stood, a look of consternation on his face. “No.”

  Conor spoke softly, gauging her reaction with alarm. “I made those arrangements six months ago. Kirby had nothing to do with it.”

  She wilted suddenly, her anger morphing into perplexed pain as she gazed from one man to the other. “But Kirby must have egged you on, because you haven’t cancelled.”

  Kirby spoke up, shooting Conor a warning look. “This kind of trip costs thousands of dollars. Prepayments that Conor wouldn’t get back.
Aconcagua is a fabulous adventure. Dozens of people climb it successfully year after year. What happened to Kevin and me was a freak accident. Conor will be fine.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Conor remained silent, feeling unaccountably guilty. He’d done nothing wrong, but damn it to hell...this wasn’t how he wanted Ellie to find out. He’d planned to tell her himself. When the time was right.

  Kirby put his arms around Ellie, hugging her close. “Conor is an experienced climber. He’s done Kilimanjaro already. He knows what he’s doing.”

  She looked over Kirby’s shoulder at Conor, her eyes damp with emotion. “Is this true?”

  Conor nodded grimly.

  Ellie jerked away from her brother and backed up against the kitchen wall. “It’s both of you,” she said dully. “You don’t feel alive unless you’re risking your lives. But why don’t you think about what it does to the people who love you?”

  Kirby scowled. “That’s not fair, Ell. I was a single man with all my affairs in order.”

  “What about me? You had me.”

  This time it was Kirby who paled. The standoff between siblings lasted for what seemed like hours. Ellie clutched the damning folder to her chest as if it were Pandora’s box that couldn’t be opened.

  Kirby ran both hands through his hair. “I understand what you’re feeling. I really do. But driving a car is dangerous. As is climbing into a plane. Life includes risk, Ellie. Just because you lost Kevin doesn’t mean that Conor is doomed.”

  Now she was gray...haunted. “I don’t want to talk about Kevin.” Her jaw was so tight it must be giving her a headache. Her gaze was stony.

  Kirby shook his head, his expression weary. “No. You never do. And that’s the problem. That’s why you snapped this week, Ell. If you don’t deal with what happened, you’ll never get past this.”

  For a moment, Conor thought she might bolt. She reminded him of a doe caught in the woods, not sure which way to run to avoid disaster.

  He went to her instinctively, putting himself physically between the twins. The situation had escalated rapidly, and he was afraid one of them might say something that he or she would regret. He’d never forgive himself if his trip caused a permanent rift between his two best friends.

  “That’s enough, Kirby,” he said. “Ellie has had a rough week.” Gently, he pried the folder from Ellie’s death grip and tossed it on top of the fridge. Taking her hands in his, he chafed them carefully. “Why don’t you go put Emory down for his nap? He’s falling asleep in his high chair. And you need to rest, too.”

  She shook her head, evading his grasp. “I’m leaving.” Her voice was a low monotone. “As soon as I pack our things.”

  Kirby bristled, flushing with anger. “You sure as hell are not. My professional reputation is on the line here. The only reason you were released from the hospital is because I’m a doctor and because Conor promised to keep an eye on you.”

  “You can’t keep me prisoner.”

  He brother was adamant. “I can for the next six days. After your checkup next week, as long as they clear you, you’ll be free to do whatever you want. But until then, you’re staying here in this house. End of story.”

  Conor suspected that if Ellie had been a hundred percent she would have gone head-to-head with her brother in a defiant showdown. But, given her current emotions, she couldn’t manage it.

  “I hate both of you,” she said, her voice breaking.

  Twelve

  “That went well.”

  Kirby’s moody scowl reflected Conor’s feelings exactly. “She must have loved him very much.”

  “Yeah. I guess she did. But she can’t grieve forever. It isn’t healthy.”

  “Everyone faces loss differently. When my father disappeared, the end wasn’t clean. First there were the months of not knowing. Then finally, a court order declaring him dead. My mother held it together because she had seven children. I’m sure I was too young to fully appreciate what she went through. But all I remember is the way she smiled and hugged us and swore that everything would be okay.”

  “I failed Ellie,” Kirby said. “I should have been able to help her through Kevin’s death.”

  “You were fighting a battle of your own. It’s my turn to help her.”

  * * *

  Kirby left soon afterward. Conor found himself alone and angry. A cloud settled over the house...as if someone had died. And in fact, that was pretty much the situation at hand. Even if it had been a long time ago. In the grand scheme of things, eighteen months could seem like the blink of an eye.

  For Ellie, the pain of losing Kevin must be as raw and fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Finding Conor’s travel plans would have brought it all back. She was suffering. And he wanted to comfort her. But, ironically, he was the person least qualified to do that.

  The day was a thousand hours long. He felt honor-bound to stay close. Perhaps to help with the baby. Perhaps to look after Ellie if today’s confrontation caused her to relapse.

  He was no shrink, but he wondered if the fact that Kirby was finally on the road to recovery, both physically and mentally, had somehow given Ellie’s subconscious permission to drop her heavy load. For months and months she’d had to be strong for her brother while at the same time undergoing unbelievable stress of her own.

  Now that Kirby was better, Ellie had frayed a bit at the seams. And, unwittingly, Conor had weakened the very fabric of her existence.

  What was his next move? He wasn’t a fan of the sit-and-wait approach. He liked to plan a course of action and go with it.

  But Ellie made that hard. She literally hid out in her suite with the baby. Though Conor felt foolish for doing so, he listened at the door every half hour to make sure he could hear her voice. That was a great plan in theory. But with the baby napping—Conor peeked in the nursery to make sure—there was no need for Ellie to converse.

  When his overactive imagination got the better of him, Conor cracked her bedroom door, as well, and spied to see if she was okay. The sight that met his gaze wrenched his heart. Ellie was curled up in a ball on top of the covers, her hand pressed against her mouth.

  He thought she was asleep, but he couldn’t be sure. Quietly, he eased the door shut and walked away.

  * * *

  Ellie knew the exact moment that Conor looked in on her. And she knew when he closed the door and retreated. Though it was stupid, she couldn’t bring herself to get into the bed properly. She and Conor had made love on those sheets. The experience had been wonderful. Poignant. Utterly satisfying.

  And then he had betrayed her.

  If you surveyed a hundred people and told them the tale, ninety-nine of them would probably say she had overreacted. But the hundredth one would understand. She had trusted Conor with her body and with her heart, though he didn’t know that. To hear that he planned to climb the very mountain that had taken so much from her and from Kirby was unfathomable.

  She wanted to rail at him and beat her fists on his chest. But Conor owed her no explanations. He was a free agent. One who knew that Ellie and Kirby were only passing through Silver Glen.

  Why should Ellie’s opinions or feelings bring any weight to bear on his actions?

  Nevertheless, she felt the rip in her heart and filed it away with all the other pain. Pretty soon she was going to suck it up and admit that life in general was like playing the roulette wheel. The house always won.

  She could beg Conor not to go, but she had tried that approach half a lifetime ago and failed. Even if she told him how she felt, there was still the matter of her guilty secret. The truth ate away at her, eroding her confidence.

  Giving a man the silent treatment was a lot more effective when you weren’t living in his house. By five o’clock, the walls of the suite, lovely though they were,
began to close in on her. Emory was fractious and not to be consoled. They were both hungry.

  With a mental white flag of surrender, Ellie put on a clean outfit, changed the baby and his clothes, and went in search of her host. She found him sitting on the front porch, his boot-shod feet propped on the railing, hands tucked behind his head.

  She propped the baby on her hip. “I’m sorry I got so upset. Your life is your life. I don’t have any right to criticize or pass judgment.”

  His feet dropped to the floor and he sat up straight. “And last night?”

  “What about last night?” She kept her expression impassive, but it was an effort.

  “When a man and a woman do what we did, it gives each of them implied rights.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think so. We were curious. We wanted to see if there was more than a spark.”

  “And was there?”

  His eyes were dark and turbulent. Despite his seemingly relaxed pose when she stepped outside, his big frame vibrated with a combative edge.

  She chose her words carefully. “Of course there was. We’ve shared a friendship that made us almost family.”

  “You’re Kirby’s sister, not mine. I wanted you, Ellie. I still do. Even knowing there’s a good chance you’re in love with another man. But if all you’re doing is killing time until you jet off to some exotic city to start a new life with your brother and your kid, then I’d just as soon pass.”

  “That’s not what you said this morning.”

  “As I recall, we didn’t do a lot of talking.”

  “What do you want from me?” she cried, her chest tight and her eyes gritty.

  Conor shook his head wearily. “Something you aren’t willing or able to give, Ellie. Let’s chalk last night up to an impulsive mistake. You’ve got your own demons to battle. I have a few of my own. We’d just make each other miserable. And life’s too short for that.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked as he strode down the steps and around the side of the house.

  The rustle of leaves in the summer breeze was her only answer.