Falling For the Billionaire

by Christina Tetreault

  A moment after the dog ran out of the living room, the doorbell rang and Ryder’s bark filled the house. “You’re never wrong,” Paige said, joining the dog at the door as she checked her watch. “And he’s always on time.”

  She skipped asking who it was and opened the door to find Scott standing there, his smartphone against his ear. Immediately, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

  He smiled and entered while he listened to the person on the other end. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and we can figure out a solution.” When he spoke, she heard the annoyance and strain in his voice. He listened as someone continued, and judging by the way Scott rubbed his forehead he didn’t like what he heard. “Tomorrow, George. Good night.”

  Shoving the phone into a back pocket, he moved toward her and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. A shiver of excitement ran through her, and she leaned into him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

  “Sorry. He called as I was getting off the highway. I wouldn’t have even taken it, but I hoped he had some good news.”

  Paige watched his lips as he spoke, remembering how they felt pressed against hers. “Did he?”

  Scott shook his head and winced. “Unfortunately, no. But I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” Lowering his head, he dropped a whisper of a kiss on her mouth. “Do you have anything for a headache before we go? I’ve got one that won’t quit.”

  “Of course.” She stepped out of his embrace and took a moment to study him. His dark eyes lacked their normal brightness, and his face looked pale compared to the last time she’d seen him. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.” Actually, it looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, pain etched on his face. “Fine, just a little tired. My body’s confused. I woke up in London, so it thinks it’s about eight thirty at night.”

  No wonder the guy looked like his head hadn’t touched a pillow in a while. She thought back over their conversations. She didn’t remember him mentioning he was away on business again. “You were in England this week?” Paige got the bottle of ibuprofen she kept in the kitchen and a glass.

  “No. I flew over yesterday morning and caught one of the first flights out this morning, so I’d make it here in time.”

  Caught off guard by his answer, she paused in turning on the faucet. “We could’ve rescheduled, Scott. It would’ve been okay. You didn’t need to rush back.”

  He joined her at the sink and turned on the water himself when she didn’t do it. “I know, but I didn’t want to. The problem in London will be there tomorrow. The game won’t be.”

  Whether he wanted to or not, it would’ve been the best thing for him. Not only did he appear worn out, his facial expressions told her how much pain he was in. He needed more than a few ibuprofen and water. He needed some rest.

  “Let’s skip going out tonight and watch the game here instead. You need to relax.”

  “You told me you couldn’t wait to finally get to Fenway. I’ll be fine.”

  All week she’d looked forward to seeing her first baseball game at Fenway Park. But having Scott suffer while she watched the game would take all the enjoyment out of going. “The place opened in 1912. I don’t think it’ll close anytime soon. I’ll go some other time.”

  He’d heard the excitement in her voice when they’d decided on driving into Boston to see a game. Disappointing her now rubbed his conscience the wrong way. At the same time, his head pounded as if several drummers had spent a few hours practicing inside it. The rest of his body wasn’t doing much better. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent night’s sleep. The smart move would’ve been canceling their plans today and staying in London until he straightened out the newest setback. He’d considered it, although not for very long. Even though they’d only known each other a short time, he’d missed her and each of their conversations had only intensified his desire to see her again.

  “We don’t even have to watch the game. I’ve got plenty of movies we can pick from. Everything from sci-fi to a few classic black-and-white movies.”

  Absolute contentment, like he’d never experienced before, settled in his chest. She really was quite unlike the women he’d dated before. “We’ll stay in tonight, but I promise before the season is over I’ll take you to a game.” Regardless of the professional drummers in his head, he leaned closer. The kiss he’d given her earlier had been meant as a greeting, nothing more. What he had in mind now was something else.

  The ringing in his back pocket stopped him short. With a low growl, he yanked the device out and switched off the ringer. “I’m done for the day.” He tossed it on the kitchen island. Sherbrooke Enterprises would survive without him for one damn night.

  “Probably a good idea.” She pressed the bottle of ibuprofen into his hand and gave him a quick kiss. “The sooner you take these, the sooner you’ll feel better. Have you eaten today?”

  He’d grabbed breakfast before boarding the plane, but nothing since. Even so, he wasn’t starving now, which wasn’t uncommon. When he got a headache like this one food was often low on his priority list. “Breakfast this morning. But I’m good.”

  “It might help if you eat something. Even if it’s a small snack.”

  “Maybe later.” The fact that they’d canceled their plans because of him bothered him enough. He didn’t want her waiting on him too.

  Since the game didn’t start until five anyway, they headed outside. Like many of the other homes in the neighborhood, a fence surrounded Paige’s backyard, providing them privacy. An above-ground pool with a wooden deck attached to it took up a good portion of the yard. Across from it, there was a small vegetable garden.

  Scott picked up a small soccer ball, just one of the many dog toys on the patio, and tossed it. Ryder, who had followed them out, didn’t hesitate to bolt after it, almost catching it in the air. “He’s fast,” he said as the dog trotted back toward them, the ball in his mouth.

  “You have no idea, but once he gets the initial burst of energy out, he slows down somewhat. I used to take him running with me.”

  He remembered she’d said an injury had stopped her from running the Boston Marathon again in April. “Did he contribute to your broken ankle?” Scott’s gaze dropped to her legs. The shorts she wore tonight provided him with the best view he’d gotten of them so far.

  Paige accepted the ball Ryder brought to her. Before she threw it, she gave the dog a scratch behind the ear. “No, he wasn’t even with me. I slipped on some black ice. I’m thinking about buying a treadmill so I can run inside this winter instead. I’d rather not break anything again.”

  Reaching over, he ran his fingertips up Paige’s thigh. His exhausted body stirred to life at the combination of toned muscle and soft, warm skin. Scott gritted his teeth. Not only had he just gotten there, but she’d insisted they cancel their plans because he needed rest. Tugging her inside and pouncing on her would not be considered getting rest. For now, he’d have to suffer with both his headache and the growing erection straining against his zipper.

  “I’ve got one in my gym at home, but I prefer running outside. Not that I train for marathons or anything. Twenty-six miles sounds like torture to me. Do you really enjoy it?”

  “Yes and no. I love when I get into the zone, and knowing I was able to do it. But I don’t think I’ll be doing any more marathons. Since the surgery, my ankle isn’t the same. Most of the time I keep my runs between five and ten miles.”

  It didn’t appear as if her legs had suffered any from her shorter runs. He trailed his fingertips back down toward her knee. Goose bumps formed on her skin beneath his hand and he mentally smiled. The goose bumps on her leg had nothing to do with being cold. It wasn’t possible. Even with the shade provided by the table umbrella, it remained warm where they sat.

  “Five miles I can handle. Ten? I don’t know.”

  Paige passed a critical eye over him, starting at his face and traveling down and up his body once. When she fin
ished, she leaned closer on the bench and placed a hand on his chest. “Something tells me you get plenty of other exercise, so you’d have the stamina for it.”

  He’d love to show her just how much stamina he had. Maybe later. “I don’t know. I spend a lot of time sitting in a chair.”

  Paige rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, it looks like you spend hours doing nothing.” She moved her hand across his chest and wrapped her fingers around his biceps. She gave it a gentle squeeze. “Feels like it too.”

  Heat surged through his veins and straight to his erection despite his headache. Moving forward, he claimed her mouth, caressing her lips and transferring some of the passion racing through his body into their kiss. When she parted her lips, he didn’t hesitate to thrust forward, tangling his tongue with hers.

  Paige pressed into him, her rapid heartbeat thudding against his chest, and satisfaction surged through him.

  Leaving her mouth when he needed some air, he met her gaze. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I got here.”

  She pressed her lips together and studied him with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, I’ve wanted you to do it since you walked in too.” A smile sneaked in, erasing the serious expression she’d tried to hold on to.

  He loved her honesty. “You could’ve done something about it yourself. Nothing was stopping you.”

  Paige touched his temple. “Headache, remember? It seemed wrong to jump a man in pain.”

  “Trust me, I haven’t forgotten. The drummers are still beating away. But I get them often, so don’t let a headache ever stop you from doing what you want to me.”

  “Oh, I like the sound of that.” She rubbed her palms together. “Mmm, I can think of so many things too. Where should I start?” Paige ran her fingers through his hair. “Maybe I’ll dye your hair green and then paint your nails.”

  “Not exactly the kind of things I had in mind.”

  “Darn. I think you’d look great with green hair.” With a shrug, she stood up and held out her hand. “While we watch the game, I guess I’ll try to think of other things I can do to you.”

  ***

  She flexed the muscle in her leg the best she could without moving the entire limb. What she really wanted was to get up and walk around. In order to do that, she’d have to move Scott, who at the moment was using her thigh as a pillow. Something he’d been doing for over two hours.

  Fearing he’d fall asleep sitting up, she’d suggested he lie down while they watched the game. He hadn’t argued but had promised to stay awake. He managed to keep his eyes open for maybe thirty minutes. While he slept, Paige divided her time between watching the baseball game and watching him. When awake, an aura of intensity lingered around him. A man like him put 100 percent into everything he did. Now he appeared peaceful. Even the tightness around his eyes she’d noticed when he first fell asleep was gone. She hoped it meant his headache was gone too.

  Unable to resist, she raked her fingers through his short hair. During his last visit it had been longer, not much, but enough for her to notice the difference. How did he find the time for a haircut? Judging by their conversations, the man barely had enough time to eat. Was that always the case or only an occasional thing? For his sake, she hoped it wasn’t the norm. No one could put in the hours he seemed to forever without it affecting other areas of their lives, including their health.

  At the thought of his health, her eyes darted across his body. He might be pressed for time, but he managed to keep in shape. She’d felt the hard muscles in his chest and arms when they kissed. She doubted she’d find spare flesh anywhere on the man’s body.

  On the television the sportscaster’s voice grew louder as the last batter of the ninth inning hit a grand slam, winning the game for Boston. It’d been a close game up until the eighth inning. Then somehow New York found their stride and took a four-point lead over Boston. Evidently, it hadn’t been enough, because once again Boston managed the win. It wasn’t the first time this season they’d gone into the ninth inning down and still come out on top, either.

  If they did make it to Fenway this season, she hoped it was as good a game as tonight’s. With the game over, she switched off the sports channel and over to a music channel instead.

  Paige stretched out her legs, hoping the movement would help the dull ache, and rested her head against the couch. She still couldn’t believe he’d flown all the way from England to see her. And if the small part of the conversation she’d heard was any indication, he still had issues over there, which meant he’d be flying back soon. If he’d called and explained the situation, she would’ve understood. Things came up. Still, when he’d told her of his recent travel just to see her, a warm glow had burst inside her chest and circled her heart. Her ex-husband had been a good guy, and they still maintained a cordial relationship, yet he never would’ve done what Scott had. Not even when they were married.

  She’d already determined Scott wasn’t like other men she knew and not just because of his bank account balance. His behavior today, though, reinforced what a special man he truly was.

  Movement against her leg interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced down to find Scott looking back up at her.

  “Is the game over?” Scott asked, a hint of sleep still present in his voice.

  “Just ended.”

  He ran a hand across his face as he sat up. “Sorry. I didn’t intend on falling asleep. How long was I out for?”

  “About two hours. Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you got some rest. You look better. How’s your headache?”

  “Gone. Who won tonight?”

  “Boston, and you missed one hell of a game.”

  Scott sighed. “I’m really sorry we didn’t get there. I’ll make it up to you.”

  They’d missed a baseball game, not some life-changing event. “You must have short-term memory issues, because I made the decision to stay home, not you.” She moved to the edge of the couch. “Are you hungry? I am.”

  His stomach growled, providing her with an answer before he could.

  “Pizza okay? There’s a great place in town that delivers.” She didn’t wait for an answer; instead, she crossed into the kitchen and grabbed the takeout menu she kept in a drawer.

  “Order whatever you like. I’ll eat anything.”

  In that case she didn’t need the menu. “Really, anything? Even anchovies?” She joined him again, this time bringing her smartphone with her.

  “Don’t think I’ve ever had them. But if that’s what you want, I’ll give it a try.”

  If she was ordering just for herself, she might get an anchovy and sausage pizza. Few people shared her tastes though, not to mention what it might do to her breath. “Nah, not tonight. How about a Hawaiian pizza instead?”

  Scott stretched both arms over his head and rolled his neck from side to side. “Go for it. Do you mind if I grab a drink?”

  With a nod she punched in the restaurant’s number and watched Scott walk away, her eyes taking in the sight. Again tonight he had on faded jeans that hugged his ass and encased his long muscular legs. The outline of his shoulders strained against his dark gray T-shirt, and her mind created an image of what he’d look like without his clothes on. Judging by what she’d seen and felt, Scott’s body rivaled that of some of the hottest actors in Hollywood. Suddenly warm, she pulled at the front of her shirt while she placed an order.

  “Were you kidding about the anchovies or do you eat them on pizza?” Scott asked, joining her again with a glass of water in each hand.

  Still hot from the mental image she’d created, Paige accepted the glass and took a sip. “Nope, I like them. Everyone I know thinks I’m strange, but it’s one of the few things I have in common with my cousin Nolan and my granddad. We all like anchovies on pizza. Grosses my mom out, so if she’s around I don’t usually get them. At least not anymore. When I was a kid, it was a different story. Then I ordered it as often as possible.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you a question about your family? Yo
u don’t have to answer.”

  When it came to family, she had nothing to hide. “Ask me whatever.”

  “How did your father end up here instead of working at Foster Oil? Every Foster I’ve met has a position at the company and calls Texas home.”

  Few people knew about her wealthy relations. It wasn’t something she felt a need to share with anyone. Since not many knew, she also never bothered to share how her dad had gone from being a spoiled, rich playboy to project manager at a large construction company.

  “My dad is my granddad’s only son and he was supposed to take over for him someday. But in college, he got into gambling. I don’t know the exact amount, but he blew through most of his trust fund. Afterward, Granddad more or less disowned him. He wouldn’t give him any more money or let him work for the oil company. My granddad didn’t trust him and didn’t want anything to do with him.” Embarrassment set in and she wished she’d declined to answer.

  “They didn’t see each other or speak for years. Dad stopped going by Michael and started using his middle name, Jeremy, instead because he didn’t want to be associated with his father. Granddad didn’t even go to my parents’ wedding. Aunt Bebe refused to speak to him because of the way he reacted and treated his son. My dad stayed in contact with his two sisters, Mary and Iris, and I think they kept my granddad filled in on how he was doing. After my brother was born—Joe’s the oldest grandchild—my granddad finally reached out to my dad. They don’t have a perfect relationship, but they have one now.” Paige took another sip of water. “Granddad decided he wouldn’t make the same mistake with his grandchildren as he did with his son. So he decided his grandchildren would not be trust fund kids. He covered college for all of us. If any of us wants to work for Foster Oil, there’s a spot for us, but we all need to work. All of my cousins have taken him up on that offer. Joe and I are the only Foster grandchildren not to. Joe went into physical therapy.”