Second Chance with the Billionaire

by Janice Maynard

  Conor had never understood the point of putting a rail-thin woman in a bikini. To him, curves were far more appealing. Ellie had an hourglass figure that did full justice to her swimsuit.

  He tried to hide his reaction, though if she peered too closely at the front of his trunks, she wouldn’t have any doubts. After putting their things beneath the shade tree, he held out his hand. “Ready?”

  Ellie gazed at him with a half smile. “Tell me the truth. Are we really trespassing?”

  He put a hand over his heart. “I wouldn’t lie to you. We’re being wild and bad and totally irresponsible.”

  Her grin widened. “Exactly what the doctor ordered.”

  They waded hand in hand out into the deep. Ellie squealed and tried to turn back when the water felt cold against her hot skin. But Conor made her go the distance. When they were in up to their necks, he leaned into a backstroke and turned lazy circles around her. “Is that all you’re going to do? Just stand there?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m getting acclimated,” she said primly.

  “Or you’re being chicken.” He splashed water in her face. “Are you chicken, Ellie?”

  The flash of her eyes could have boiled the pond. “I am not chicken,” she declared. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Were they still talking about swimming, or was their subconscious meandering around the subject of why Ellie trusted him with her body but not her secrets? “Yes,” he said huskily. “You are. Come here, Ellie. Lean on me.”

  He tugged her by the hands out into the center of the pond. It was too deep to touch bottom, but he was a good swimmer. He moved his arms back and forth and kicked his legs strongly, keeping them afloat.

  Ellie linked her wrists behind his neck. She was so close, he could see shades of amber in her irises. And the tiny white scar on her chin from where she wrecked her bike in fifth grade.

  She destroyed him completely when she rested her head on his shoulder. “This was a wonderful idea. There’s something about water that washes away everything bad.”

  “Are things still bad for you?” he asked quietly.

  “No. Not especially. But life is complicated.”

  “Not like when we were kids.”

  “No.”

  He hesitated, belatedly realizing that he had wanted Ellie to share her darkest secrets with him, when he certainly hadn’t been forthcoming about his. “I have a confession to make,” he said. Beneath the water, their legs tangled, separated and tangled again.

  With her breasts pressed up against him, it was difficult to focus, but this was important.

  Ellie nuzzled his neck. “So serious. Is there a body buried up here somewhere?”

  “You have a ghoulish imagination. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  She chuckled. “Maybe.”

  “No bodies,” he said. The sun beat down on his head, making him dizzy. Or maybe it was the way Ellie clung to him as if she never wanted to let him go. He needed to hold her, but if he quit moving his arms, they would sink.

  “You’re being awfully mysterious,” she said.

  “It’s no big secret, really. But when you asked me to help Kirby, I felt like a fraud.”

  She lifted her head, their lips almost touching. “I don’t understand.”

  “You said I handled my disappointment about my ski career very well. But I didn’t. I was angry as hell. And I spent a long time feeling sorry for myself.”

  “That’s not what your family says.”

  “I’m a good actor. I was too proud to let anyone see how messed up I was.”

  “Oh, Conor. I didn’t know.”

  “All I wanted to do was ski. I was such a cocky kid. I knew I was going to be the best in the world.” Even now, the subject caught him in the throat. “I couldn’t believe it when the doctor told me I couldn’t compete anymore. Flying downhill was all I knew how to do. All I wanted to do.”

  “And then Kirby and I left.” Her eyes were stricken.

  “Yeah.” He closed his eyes for a moment, afraid she would see how much he had suffered. A man didn’t share those kinds of things. “So it hit me hard. I finished school and went on to college, but I was drifting. Taking over the ski lodge here at home was supposed to be a stopgap until I decided what I wanted to do with my life.”

  “And has it worked?”

  When she looked into his eyes, it was as if she could see his sorry soul. Briefly, he regretted his revelation. But he wanted her to know that she was not the only one who had faced a loss of identity.

  His arms were starting to tire, but his legs kept them afloat. “Turns out, I liked it. And being a part of Silver Glen, a part of the Kavanagh clan, has taught me what’s important.”

  “But you still need to climb mountains to feel alive?”

  He hadn’t expected an outright attack. Then again, he of all people should know never to underestimate Ellie. She’d never let Kirby and Conor ride roughshod over her. And clearly, no one had ever told her that females were supposed to be the weaker sex.

  “Low blow, Ell.”

  She nodded. “Yes. It was. But I’m trying to understand. You. My brother. You’re smart men. It makes no sense.”

  “Life doesn’t always make sense.”

  “Did you read that on a coffee mug somewhere?”

  Conor was too relaxed to let her prod him. “Are we fighting?” he asked.

  Her cute nose scrunched up in a suspicious frown. “Why do you want to know?”

  “If we’re fighting, it means we get to have makeup sex under that tree over there.”

  “Ah.” Keeping one hand on his shoulder, she took the other one, slid it underwater and placed it smack on his goods. “Seems like we’re on pretty good terms right now.”

  Conor choked and nearly drowned them both. “Um...”

  “Um, what?” Her fingers were up to mischief.

  “There’s one big problem,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  Less than sixty seconds of her brand of trouble and already she had him up and running. “I can’t touch you,” he complained. “Hardly seems fair.”

  She moved closer, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing his chin and his neck. “I could do all the work.”

  He was tempted. Really tempted. But although he had spent three years on his high school swim team, he’d bet his last dime there wasn’t a man alive who could keep his woman afloat while she was attacking him.

  “How about a compromise?”

  Fifteen

  Ellie loved teasing Conor. Especially when he wanted the same thing she wanted. “I’m listening,” she said.

  “What if we move closer to shore so I can touch bottom?”

  The buoyancy of the water made her feel light and free, but she was willing to be persuaded. “I like the idea of Conor Kavanagh being in over his head, but sure,” she said.

  He held her with one arm and swam with the other...only five or six strokes. When his feet found purchase, he kissed her. “Better. Much better,” he said.

  Beneath her fingertips, his skin was hot and smooth. The sun shone down on them mercilessly. Feelings swamped her. So many feelings. Nostalgia hardly even made the list, though this was a spot she and Kirby and Conor had visited many times.

  But it was more than that. Here, she felt closer to the essence of life. In some ways, this secluded miniature lake reminded her of the jungle. Not the specific features, but the scent of hot earth and the sensation of being one with nature.

  She cried out when Conor slid a hand underneath her swimsuit bottom and touched her. Intimately. Where her body recognized him as a lover. “You said under the tree,” she panted as he played with her devilishly.

  Resting his forehead against hers, he muttered, “Decided
it was too far. Can’t wait. This works.”

  They were standing out in the pond in full view of anyone who happened to walk by. “But, Conor...”

  He brushed her clitoris with his thumb as he read her mind. “No one’s anywhere around. We’d hear a car driving down the lane. And worst-case scenario, if someone shows up out of the woods, he or she wouldn’t really be able to see a thing.”

  Self-indulgence won out over prudishness. Barely.

  Conor bit her earlobe. “Trust me, Ellie. I won’t let you go.”

  “But how are we going to...”

  He did some kind of contortion that allowed him to free his shaft. Taking her hand, he guided it to where he pulsed hard and ready. “I need you, Ell.”

  The fact that he didn’t dress it up—that, and the raw urgency in his plea—destroyed her. “I’m here,” she whispered.

  When she played with him gently, his eyes squeezed shut and his face flushed. He made a noise. The guttural sound went straight to her sex, leaving her swollen and ready.

  Conor didn’t even remove her bikini bottom. Instead, he shoved aside the strip of fabric between her legs and pushed inside her. He seemed beyond speech, and that was okay with her, because mere words couldn’t really capture the elemental joining.

  Standing, and with the water as a buoyant cushion, he filled her completely, almost to the point of discomfort. His big hands cupped her bottom, lifting her into his thrusts.

  She clung to him, dazed and crazed. Suddenly, it didn’t matter if an entire brigade of onlookers appeared. The only thing that was real was Conor and his forceful possession.

  They were wet and half-naked. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. Arching her back, she moved with him, feeling his strength, his power, his utter focus on her and their joining.

  She wanted to say I love you. To tell him how special he was. And how much he had healed the broken places in her heart. But instead, she buried her face in his neck and cried out when he sent her over the edge. The orgasm lasted for peak after peak. The pleasure was sharp and vicious, stripping away pretense.

  Even as Conor found release in her body, she knew he had carved out a place in her heart and in her life. But in her future? The unlikelihood of that made her cling to him all the more. One more chance for bliss. One more day when she could pretend that their sexual chemistry was enough to erase everything else.

  At last, when they were both breathing heavily and their muscles quivered, he staggered toward shore. At the last instant, he remembered to adjust their swimwear to a more modest orientation.

  While Ellie stood, stunned and dripping in her sodden tennis shoes, Conor flipped out both of the big towels in a patch of grass and took her by the hand. “Five minutes,” he begged. “And then we’ll eat.”

  They napped like children. Conor spooned her, his strong arms wrapped around her. It was the safest and most secure she had felt in a long, long time.

  Eventually, hunger won out. They ate their picnic ravenously, laughing and talking and exchanging barbs. Beneath it all, sexual tension lurked. After another swim—a real swim this time—they made love on dry land. Ellie ended up on top. When she leaned forward to kiss him, Conor grabbed a handful of her damp hair, hair that was already drying in the hot sun.

  He played with it, brushing it over her breasts, over his eyes. Inside her, he was big and hard. Physically, they were a perfect match, each intensely attuned to the other’s wants and desires.

  “Conor,” she said impulsively. “I need to tell you something.”

  His eyes darkened. “Not now, Ellie. Please. Today is about existing in the moment. No past. No future. Let’s give ourselves a pass on real life. For once. You need a break. So do I.”

  With her hands on his taut shoulders, she nodded. “I’m going to be okay, Conor. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  He grinned, lightening the mood. “You’re way beyond okay, Ellie Porter. I give you a 9.7.”

  “How in the heck did I lose three tenths of a point?” She frowned.

  Conor rolled them onto their sides, lifting her leg over his thigh as he thrust lazily. “One-tenth for stubbornness.” He panted as time ran out for their spectacular finish. “One-tenth for being uptight.”

  She never did hear the last deduction. Conor groaned and came, taking her with him as he used his finger where their bodies joined to drive her wild.

  In the aftermath, the afternoon was broken only by the sounds of their breathing and nature’s chorus. Bird calls. The wind in the trees overhead. Bullfrogs. Even the quick, distinctive visit of hummingbird wings.

  It was one of those perfect moments when you want to distill time in a bottle and keep it forever. She stroked Conor’s arm. “This has been a wonderful day. But I’m feeling the need to get home and see Emory.”

  “I understand.”

  They dressed in their original clothes, both of them damp and messy and definitely rumpled. Ellie grimaced. “I should have brought dry underwear. This swimsuit feels nasty.”

  Conor pulled a piece of grass from her hair. “Maybe we can snag a quick shower before we retrieve your son.”

  She punched his arm. “I know what you’re thinking. And the answer is no. Separate showers. Short ones.”

  “Spoilsport.” When he bent to gather up the towels he was smiling.

  She finally remembered that Maeve would have to return Ellie’s car. They couldn’t pick up the baby in Conor’s. So he sent his mother a text asking her to bring Emory home in a couple of hours and stay for dinner. Another quick text to the housekeeper, and the plans were set.

  Ellie rested her head against the seat back as they drove home. “It was a magical afternoon. I’ll have to send your mother some flowers as a thank-you.”

  “When you get to know her better, you’ll see that she’s the one to thank you. My brothers have begun producing offspring, but slowly...too slowly for Mom. She probably won’t be happy until each one of us has three or four.”

  “And do you want a lot of kids?”

  “Hard to say. I was one of seven, but that’s a tall order for the twenty-first century.”

  “It must have been fun...growing up in the Kavanagh family.”

  “Yeah. But it would have been even better if my dad had pulled his weight. And then when he disappeared...”

  “Your mom had to do it all.”

  “I’ve never heard her complain.”

  “Because she’s your mother. I’d love to have a big family, but not as a single mom. I don’t know how she did it.”

  At Conor’s house, they parked and unloaded things from the trunk. As they walked up the front steps, he put an arm around her waist. “I had fun today, Ellie.”

  Her feelings were close to the surface, but she managed a smile. “Me, too.” Happiness was a beautiful thing.

  Kirby was waiting for them in the living room. He must have parked on the other side of the house.

  “Hey, there,” she said. She went to hug him but stopped. Not because of her wet clothes, but because of the look on his face. “What’s wrong, Kirby?”

  He didn’t rise when they walked into the room. That in itself alarmed her. Kirby had been a different man since Conor came back into their lives. Calmer. Happier. Now, her brother was white-faced, his hair unkempt, his hand fisted on the arm of the sofa.

  She sat beside him and touched his knee. “Talk to me, Kirby. You’re scaring me.”

  “It’s Grandpa,” he said. “He’s dead.”

  Ellie’s vision grayed around the edges and she heard a buzzing in her ears. Dead. Dead. Dead. “I just spoke to him this morning. He was fine.” Her lips were numb. She had trouble forming the words.

  Kirby scrubbed his hands over his face. “He was watching TV in the recliner. We were chatting back and forth while I
fixed his lunch. When I went into the den to tell him the meal was ready, he was gone.”

  “Oh, Kirby.”

  * * *

  Conor watched, grim and incredulous as the twin siblings hugged each other. He wanted to go to Ellie and hold her, but now was not the time. She and Kirby were sharing their grief.

  At last they separated. Conor handed Ellie a tissue but didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. How was it fair for one woman to lose so much?

  Kirby sat back, his head resting on the sofa. “They’ve taken his body to the funeral home. When they have him ready we’ll go down there for you to say goodbye.”

  “And Mom and Dad?”

  “They were both stunned. Dad got choked up on the phone. He’s kicking himself for not coming home when we did. Now it’s too late.”

  “Poor Daddy. What about the funeral? Will they fly home?”

  “They’re still discussing it, but my guess is no. The logistics are phenomenally time-consuming, and as Dad said, it doesn’t make sense to tackle those hurdles now when Grandpa is dead. I imagine they’ll stay in Bolivia and when they finally move back next spring, we can have a brief private memorial service at the graveside.”

  Conor sat down across from them. “I am so very sorry. I liked Mr. Porter.”

  Kirby seemed more shaken than the situation warranted. “I’m a doctor, damn it. I keep asking myself if I missed something...if I should have taken him to the hospital this morning.”

  Conor stared at his two friends, hurting for them, feeling as if he were on shaky ground. “He died in his chair, Kirby. It sounds like a heart attack or a stroke. I know it’s hard for you and your family, but if you think about it, we should all be so lucky to go that peacefully.”

  Neither sibling said much after that. He wondered if he had been too blunt with them. Conor stepped out of the room briefly to check in with his mom. She said Emory was waking from his nap and they would be on their way soon. Conor told Maeve what had happened and asked her to keep Emory a little longer.

  When Conor returned to the dining room, Kirby was holding Ellie in his arms and they were both crying. Hell.