Billionaire by the Sea

by Traci Hall

  The spark had kindled to a roaring flame and she stroked him, guiding him to enter her. “Hurry,” she whispered. “I’ve never felt like this before. As if--”

  With a masterful thrust of his hips, he was inside to the hilt and she tilted her head back on a cry. He took her wrist, pinning it to the wall behind them, and she arched so he could suckle her breast.

  As he thrust again and again, layers of delicious feeling built to a climax and she urged him to come with her as she reached her peak. “Michael,” she whispered, her insides quivering around him as he too found his release.

  “Maggie,” he said slowly, his eyes closed, his damp forehead resting against hers. His chest heaved as if he’d run a marathon and when he moved his hips slightly, she wanted him again.

  Maggie rocked against him, and he stayed buried inside her, watching her face as she trembled in orgasm. She made love like she did everything, free-spirited and without artifice.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” Michael brought her hand down to her side, keeping hold of her wrist. “I want you.” Not just a night, a day—but more. Her life was with her sisters, on the ocean. He lived in the mountains.

  All of his money couldn’t buy her an ocean in the middle of Utah.

  “Anymore condoms?” She leaned over the bed, baring her long spine as she opened the drawer to poke around. Pulling another out, she grinned in triumph. “We can do it at least one more time. If we run out, we sell them in the marina. I’ll let you buy a pack on credit. I have a feeling you’re good for it.”

  He loved how she teased. Her joy in life. “Let’s shower and stargaze, and then come back to bed. I’m hungry, too.” He patted his belly.

  She slipped from the bed, unmindful of her nudity. Her slender body was tall, lean, and supple. Her breasts were the perfect handful, with rosy nipples that tasted sweet. “We can walk down to the pizza place and pick up a slice or two. Grab a beer if you want. Nobody is going to recognize you with bed-head,” she kept talking as she turned on the shower which was barely big enough for one, “I thought for sure you’d been born with a silver spoon.”

  “Only spoons in our house came from the dollar store.” He didn’t mind her knowing about his humble beginnings, though he realized that he’d taken great pains to leave that part of his life behind.

  What was it about her that made him want to show her his every secret? His flaws, as well as his strengths? He knew that she wouldn’t let him down—that she would be an ally against the world. Someone to stand with. A partner.

  They didn’t make sense as a couple. Michael was used to spreadsheets and design, and understood business. What worked, what didn’t. Maggie owned an old marina with her sisters.

  He appreciated his attraction to Maggie—it had been too long since he’d physically connected with a woman that challenged him. But where could it go? It was his nature to problem solve. To run a program until he found a solution.

  She came out of the bathroom with a towel around her hair and another around her body, tucked like a toga. “Your turn. I left the water on.”

  He couldn’t stop himself from kissing her as he passed her by, stepping into the warm shower.

  Pizza and a beer sounded good, as did just being with Maggie. Here, in this small town by the sea, he could be a man he’d forgotten about. Plain old Michael Livingston, who liked a pint and a slice, and kissing his girl beneath the moon.

  No worries about mergers or concerns that someone had taken advantage of him.

  He wondered if he’d really signed, under the influence.

  He didn’t know, and his only hope at uncovering the truth was in a hypnotist named Uncle Elroy.

  Chapter Eight

  Maggie loved waking up on the boat. The light rocking of the hull against the dock, the smell of the ocean, the feel of—holy shit, Michael. She sat up in a rush and reached for him next to her on the bed, but the space was empty.

  In a panic, she pushed the covers aside and pulled a one piece swimsuit from a drawer beneath the bed, along with a sundress and sandals. She rinsed her mouth, splashed water on her face, and put her hair in a ponytail. She quickly climbed the stairs to the deck. “Michael?”

  The sun hadn’t risen yet, but was the purple gray of pre-dawn she liked to paddleboard in. Where had he gone? The marina? The place was slow this week with most of the residents gone back north to their homes.

  “Here,” he said in a lazy tone.

  Her heart slowed to a reasonable beat as she stopped and looked for him. “I thought, I don’t know what I thought.” She’d panicked to find him gone.

  He smiled, his teeth white in the shadows. He was stretched out on the lounge chairs they’d pulled out last night to watch the stars. Romantic—and informational. Michael’s knowledge of the sky was impressive, like the man. “Mindy’s just opened up. I bet she’ll have coffee made in a few minutes.”

  “Coffee is good,” he rumbled. She sat down next to him, perched on the edge of his lounger rather than take her own. Being next to him felt necessary after the evening before. “Are you nervous about this morning? Uncle Elroy is awesome, I promise.”

  “A little. Just running plans over in my head for every contingency.”

  “I like to do that.”

  “You do? I imagined you more like a butterfly, going where the wind takes you.”

  “Not really,” she protested, her hand on his knee. “I like to have an idea of where I’m going or what I’m doing.” She considered, wanting to be fair. “But if the wind takes me another direction, I usually go with it.”

  “That’s what I mean!” He leaned over and kissed her shoulder, then shifted so that he brought her back between his legs, his arms around her waist for protection against the cool air. “A butterfly.”

  “Butterflies are delicate and fragile. I am not that at all.” She felt delicate, the top of her head nestled beneath his chin. “I’m tough—like a dragonfly. That’s better.”

  He chuckled and rubbed her arms; she burrowed against his strong chest. God, the ache when he left would be a hole that might take longer to heal than she’d given credit for. How could she have fallen so fast for him, a stranger? Was it even possible?

  “You are too beautiful to be a dragonfly.”

  She smiled, taking in his compliments to store for later like a pelican pouched fish. “I will show you some pictures. You’ll see.”

  His rumbling laugh traveled through her. “I promise to keep an open mind, since you are so adamant.”

  She lifted up and away from him, turning on the edge of the lounger to sit cross-legged and face him. He was the beautiful one, dark brown hair, hazel eyes, a pronounced stubbled jaw. “You would look sexy with a beard,” she said, touching the tiny hairs. “Like a pirate.”

  He scratched at the scruff with annoyance. “It itches.”

  This could be their last day together and suddenly she didn’t want the sun to rise. If she could physically stop it, she would—just to stay here with Michael.

  “What?” he asked, his smile disappearing as quickly as it had come.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Don’t be shy.” He took her hands and interlaced their fingers between them. “I feel it, too. Whatever it is.”

  “You don’t have to say that. I have no regrets.” Last night would be a memory she’d store with his compliments. A special box in her mind marked “Michael.”

  “How do you feel about the mountains? I know you love the ocean, but the mountains are nice too.” His thumb caressed her wrist.

  “I’ve been to North Carolina. To see the waterfalls, that was pretty.”

  “Good to know that you can leave the state of Florida without turning into a pumpkin.”

  The scent of coffee wafted from the marina. The open sign winked on. Could she leave Florida to be with someone she cared about? The idea terrified her and she rejected it right away. “Java’s ready,” she said, jumping to her feet. Being with Michael had been fun, but it was
over now. He couldn’t move his business, and she wouldn’t move at all. That’s on me.

  Michael wished he would have kept his big mouth shut. Obviously, she was not going to leave her home. They’d known each other twenty-four hours, and he had zero right to even bring the concept up.

  But he knew he cared in this short amount of time—his heart was involved and the limited hours that had passed didn’t matter. He sent a message skyward to his brother, missing him always, but especially right now. Mark must have guided Michael here.

  He followed her as she practically ran across the deck to jump to the dock. Away from him? He scrubbed his forehead with his palm. 8:00 am couldn’t come fast enough. Answers.

  “Uncle Elroy is going to meet us at our house, which means Madeleine will have to chill out. I imagine that Mindy told her I’d spent the night here, so her feathers will already be ruffled.”

  “Great. I can’t even buy her flowers as an apology.” He patted his empty back pocket. “I haven’t been without money since I figured out how to mow lawns at ten.”

  “She doesn’t need flowers.” Maggie shook her head and opened the door to the marina, going directly to the coffee pot. “Morning, Mindy.”

  Mindy powered on the lights around the marina and brought out a few boxes of stock for the shelves. “Morning. Michael. Mags is always up at this god-awful hour to greet the day—I’m sorry if she dragged you up too. You could always hide your head under the pillow until she leaves. That’s what I used to do.”

  Mindy’s blonde hair was in two braids on either side of her face, Pocahontas style. A red tee and black shorts with black crocs completed her outfit. Kayla would appreciate the look. Should he call her yet?

  Wait.

  Be patient.

  “I was already up. Considering that I lost time, I have a lot on my mind. We found my pants yesterday.”

  Mindy snorted. “That sounds like a story.”

  He joined Maggie by the coffee machine and accepted a cup. She took hers over to the condiments for sugar while he shared yesterday’s events with Mindy. Then he spent an hour helping set up the marina while Maggie washed down the hulls. It felt good to be busy.

  They watched the news for any updates, but police were still looking for him—or at least his body. No reward. Maggie was at the office computer, searching for anything that hadn’t been shared via Google. “Oh, hey Michael. Your assistant is Kayla Spence, right?”

  “Yes.” His hand fisted around his third cup of joe.

  “She’s just been named manager of the new, as of yet to be named, company.”

  Michael paused. If he was Moriaki, he would want someone in there that knew the lay of the land. “Smart move. Hope they aren’t disappointed when I want my company back.”

  Maggie frowned. “Too bad.”

  “I was just kidding.” Beware. He shook his head. Maybe this hypnotist was a bad idea. He should just—what? Try calling his lawyers again? Being forced to wait felt like torture rather than a mini holiday.

  If he went to the police station there would be drama he and his software company didn’t need. Michael paced between the shelves, straightening a jar of kosher dills next to a can of tuna. He would have to borrow money just to send a letter by courier. Vacation over, Michael. Get your shit together before you lose what you’ve spent your life working toward.

  “Maggie, I hate to ask, but can I borrow your credit card?”

  “Of course.” She poked under the counter for her hobo bag in plaid fabric, withdrawing her wallet and pulling out a card.

  Mindy’s brow rose. “Mags, shouldn’t you ask what for? He’s got expensive tastes.”

  She laughed and rolled her eyes, still handing over the card as well as her phone. “Here. What do you have in mind?”

  “Since my lawyers aren’t returning the call from your number I figured I’d send a certified letter that they have to sign for, letting them know I’m alive and well and hiding by the sea.”

  Maggie smiled softly. “You are not hiding. You are assessing—totally different.”

  Mindy brought her thumbnail to her lower lip. “Rose-colored glasses, Maggie.”

  “What? I hardly think that Michael is going to jack up my credit card and not pay me back. He’s not that kind of guy.”

  He could see Mindy bite her tongue to keep the peace. The baby of the family was not against him, but she was also cautious. He didn’t blame her, or Madeleine, and promised himself that he would prove to be true to Maggie’s version of his best self.

  “Use the computer,” Maggie said.

  “I have my banking information. I can transfer the cash over to your account right now if you’d like.”

  “I’m in no rush.” She vacated the stool she’d been sitting on for him. “Once you finish, it will be time to walk over to the house and meet with Uncle Elroy.”

  He nodded and tried to log into his bank account. Access denied? What the hell? “Frozen. Son of a bitch.”

  “That was fast,” Maggie said, frowning at the screen.

  “They must really think you’re dead.” Mindy tapped her lip again, her expression worried. “Don’t they have to wait at least forty-eight hours or something?”

  Michael’s stomach flipped with nerves. He hadn’t been this vulnerable since his mom had died and he and Mark had to go live with Aunt Sugar.

  “Use my card.” Maggie put her hand on his back in a caring gesture. “It’s time to make sure that your lawyers know you are alive.”

  He made the arrangements to have the message delivered as soon as the office opened at 9:00 this morning.

  Answers. I need answers. Michael pressed his fingers into his forehead as if he could force the blackness to clear but the space remained, a mass of nothing.

  Chapter Nine

  Apprehension rose from Michael as tangible as a heat wave, and Maggie did her best to stay calm. If they couldn’t find answers from the hypnotist, she had Michael’s pants, and her own account to back up his story of being washed up on shore.

  She and her sisters lived in their family home a block behind the marina. Pale peach with aqua blue trim and a navy blue front door, the single-story rancher had three bedrooms and a den, which her dad had used as his own space. If things got too girly, he escaped to his boat.

  After their dad had passed away, they’d tidied the shop and the house. New indoor paint, area rugs, and an ivory leather couch with comfy throw pillows. It was theirs, but it wasn’t palatial, not like what Michael was used to. No special room to watch the stars from.

  “This is nice,” he said as they walked up the coquina shell path to the front door. A wreath of starfish was centered from a door hook.

  “It is home. I’ve never lived anywhere else.” Would she live her entire life here? Die here? Never see the rest of the world? Until now, she hadn’t cared about it. Mountains. Snow. Michael?

  Madeleine opened the door before Maggie touched the knob, as if she’d been peeking out the window for them. “Uncle Elroy’s already here. Took an Uber. I put him in the den.”

  Maggie felt the leap of emotion from Michael. “It’s okay, even if he finds nothing. We have an alternate plan. Relax.”

  He lifted her fingers and kissed them, his mouth tight. “I just have a bad feeling. I can’t shake it. I want you in the room with me, Maggie. Or I won’t do it.”

  “All right. Of course.”

  Madeleine kept her opinion to herself, instead asking, “Do you want coffee?”

  Michael shook his head. “No, thank you. Water, maybe.”

  “I’ll get you each a bottle.” Maggie watched her sister disappear into the kitchen. What was with the change of heart? Had Madeleine realized she was being mean for no reason?

  Maggie didn’t question it as her sister returned. Dressed in a halter-style floor-length knit dress and sandals, Madeleine led them toward the den and Uncle Elroy.

  Maggie went inside, her trepidation disappearing at the large grin on her “uncle’s�
� weathered face. “Maggie! Darlin’, come give me a hug. It has been too damn long. I was going to call, but I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “You would never be a bother. Thank you so much for coming. Madeleine’s brought you up to speed?”

  “Yes.” He held out his hand to Michael and the two shook. “I’m Elroy Finch, and you must be the missing Michael Livingston?”

  “That’s me. Thank you, for coming.” Michael shoved his hand into his borrowed shorts, a clean blue t-shirt loose over his waist. “I don’t know how this works.”

  “Let’s just sit and talk a while. Madeleine mentioned that you want to try and retrieve memories from a drug-induced black out. It’s not always possible. It depends on how much was in your system.” Elroy held out his arms. “Lots of stuff. But I’ve been hypnotizing people for thirty years. I used to be a psychologist until I retired. I won’t mess with your head, if that is what has you so uptight. You look ready to snap.”

  Maggie looked at Michael and knew Uncle Elroy spoke the truth. She put her hand on Michael’s arm. His shoulders relaxed the slightest bit as he took the chair opposite her uncle’s. She sat next to him, wishing she could do this for him. What was he so afraid of remembering?

  Michael assessed Elroy Fitch. Graying salt and pepper hair, half-frame glasses, totally white beard. A comfortable handshake, and a voice that could soothe babies to sleep.

  That had to be part of the man’s success.

  They talked about the weather, where Michael was from, his upbringing. Finally, Elroy explained the process of hypnotism. “I will ask you specific questions about the night you don’t remember. If I see you get too agitated I will bring you back. I want to help, of course, but sometimes there are no answers.”

  Michael took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m ready.” He released Maggie’s hand, which was the hardest part. Elroy suggested that he lay back on the couch. Just to stretch out, and be comfortable. No worries. No stress.