The Teacher's Billionaire

by Christina Tetreault

  ***

  Bellevue Avenue in Newport was perhaps one of the most well-known spots in New England. Along both sides of the road stood breathtaking mansions, which at one time had been the summer cottages of America’s most elite families. Families like the Vanderbilts and Astors had built their homes overlooking the Atlantic Ocean with only one thing in mind, outdoing their neighbors. Today, most of the mansions were owned by various historical societies and open to the public for tours. Some could be rented for special events. A few had even been used in movies.

  She’d always loved the area and had toured some of the mansions. Though each one was unique, she’d been equally awed by the beauty and extravagance each displayed. She found it difficult to imagine anyone actually living in them. Yet people had. Some still did. Her own father sat in one right now waiting for her.

  In her rearview mirror, she could see the security gate closing behind her. “This is it. There is no turning back now.” Even as she sat there, security personnel were probably alerting Warren of her arrival.

  Callie took a deep breath and then squeezed the steering wheel tightly as she started up the gravel driveway. Manicured lawns stretched out all around her, and in the distance, she could hear the crash of waves. When the driveway curved, Cliff House came into view for the first time. Unlike many of the other mansions in the area, Cliff House was situated so that it couldn’t be seen from the road, and since it was still used as a part-time residence, the public couldn’t tour it like many of its counterparts. As a result, few people had ever seen the mansion. Naturally, photos appeared in magazines from time to time, but none did the building justice.

  After turning off her car, Callie sat gazing at the palatial structure before her. Built in 1895 out of light colored granite, the mansion had been designed to resemble Alexander Palace in Russia, or that was what the website had told her. No matter what place the mansion was supposed to resemble, the building was magnificent.

  What would someone who lived in a place like this want with her? Callie closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of the mansion and all it represented. All the way down, she’d tried not to think about the differences separating her from her father and his family. Now, though, seated outside Cliff House in her four-year-old Ford Focus, it was impossible not to think about them. He was a billionaire. A United States Senator. Perhaps even the next President of the United States. She was an elementary school teacher. What could they have in common? Other than some shared DNA, what could she have in common with her half-brother and sister? If they were anything like Dylan Talbot, Callie’s half-siblings and she were worlds apart.

  Callie hadn’t seen or heard from Dylan since his last visit to her apartment when she’d finally agreed to this meeting. Not that she’d expected to. He’d passed along her father’s message. With that job complete, he had no other reason to seek her out. Still, part of her had hoped to hear from him again, even if only to confirm her visit for the weekend. Unfortunately, no such call ever came. Instead, she’d received a phone call from his executive assistant confirming what time she should arrive.

  Would Dylan be here this weekend? It wasn’t like he had a reason to be around. They weren’t related in anyway. She didn’t even think Warren’s other children would be here this weekend. The way the executive assistant spoke, only Warren and Elizabeth Sherbrooke would be there to meet her.

  Did Jake and Sara Sherbrooke even know she existed? Her father might have decided not to tell them yet. If he had, how had they responded to the news? Dylan never once mentioned Warren’s children or his wife, Elizabeth. If the tables were reversed, how would she feel about her father having a child appear out of nowhere? How did his wife feel about the situation? Many women wouldn’t appreciate their husband’s bastard child showing up on their front doorstep, even if that child had been born before they’d met.

  The unasked questions brought Callie to a halt as she followed the walkway up toward the main entrance. She’d been so overwhelmed by her own emotions toward her mother and the situation that she hadn’t once stopped to consider the other people involved. At the very least, she should have asked Dylan how the others felt. No matter how caring and understanding a person was, it had to be difficult to learn your husband had another child floating around.

  Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Callie forced her feet to move again. The closer she got to the front entrance, the more apparent it became that she’d made a mistake agreeing to this visit.

  Too late, I’m here now.

  Before she could even search for a doorbell, the massive front door swung open. A rail-thin man dressed in a black suit, who didn’t look strong enough to even open the door, took several steps toward her.

  “Miss Taylor, please come in.” Much like his appearance, the older man’s voice was professional and devoid of any character.

  Uncertain how to respond, Callie searched her brain for something to say. “I’m a little late. Traffic was horrible through Providence.”

  Brilliant, just brilliant. Too bad she couldn’t take back the words. He must think I’m an idiot.

  The man, who she guessed was a butler, merely nodded. “If you will please follow me.”

  Not much of a conversationalist, are you? Then again, maybe butlers weren’t supposed to be. She didn’t exactly run into them every day. Maybe people like her father expected his employees to be seen and not heard.

  Like an obedient child, Callie followed the older gentleman deeper into the opulent mansion, and with each step, her heart beat faster. Desperate for a distraction, she focused on the beautiful surroundings rather than the jumble of nerves in her stomach. Framed portraits that looked as if they belonged in a museum lined the walls, and beautiful antique furniture filled the rooms she passed. Despite her best efforts, the distraction wasn’t helping.

  She’d never experienced an anxiety attack before, but she knew without a doubt she was having one now. Her heart raced. Her breathing was rapid, and she felt ready to jump out of her skin.

  Relax. He’s only a man, not some super human being.

  The knocking sound penetrated the ringing in Callie’s ears. As if from a great distance, she heard a male voice respond and the butler pushed open the door to an extremely masculine study, complete with dark wood and leather furniture.

  “Miss Taylor has arrived,” the butler said to the room’s occupant.

  Without consciously thinking, she ran her sweaty palms down the sides of her skirt and took a tentative step forward. She assumed Warren Sherbrooke would be waiting for her on the other side of the door. Her father wasn’t the man Callie now found greeting her.

  Dylan knew she was disappointed. He could sense it with every fiber of his being. He also knew he was the cause of her disappointment, and that displeased him. Though he had no idea why. It didn’t matter how this woman felt about him. Today, he had to act as host in Warren’s absences, plain and simple. He hadn’t even planned on being here this weekend. He was supposed to be in Chicago on business. However, when his mother had called very late the night before asking him to meet Callie today, he’d sent his Vice President of Operations to Chicago in his place and had come straight here instead.

  “Callie, it’s nice to see you again. Please have a seat.” Dylan smiled and gestured toward the leather sofa, but remained standing until she sat down.

  As she settled herself on the sofa, he pretended not to notice how her skirt rose up, exposing her thigh as she crossed her legs. Like the skin on her face and arms, her legs were tan, and Dylan instantly wondered if they felt as smooth as they looked. Uncomfortable with the path his brain was taking, he pushed the irrational thought from his mind. He needed to stay focused.

  Linking his fingers together, he leaned forward and set about explaining Warren’s absence. “Warren planned on arriving early this morning, but he didn’t feel well enough to fly today. He spent last night in the ER with a severe case of food poisoning. He and my mum hope to leave sometime tomor
row. It’ll depend on how he’s feeling though.”

  Personally, he didn’t think they’d be able to leave Florida until Sunday at the earliest. For his stepfather to go to the hospital, he must have been feeling downright awful. Warren hated going to the doctor, and he never let illness stop him unless he was literally too sick to get out of bed.

  “He’s very disappointed—” Dylan stopped mid-sentence when the door to the study opened.

  “Have you heard from Mom and. . .”

  This wasn’t what he needed now. Dylan watched his half-sister, Sara, enter the room. She’d already made her opinion known about Callie’s visit, and he didn’t need a repeat performance of their earlier argument. He especially didn’t need it in front of their guest. It was already apparent that Callie felt uncomfortable. Dylan didn’t want to make the situation any more awkward. The last thing he wanted was for her to leave before Warren arrived. He’d promised his stepfather Callie would be there, and Dylan didn’t take his promises lightly.

  “I talked to them early this morning when they got back to their hotel room.” Dylan paused before continuing. His manners dictated that he make formal introductions, even though he knew they weren’t necessary. The look on Callie’s face told him she knew exactly who Sara was. Still, it was the polite thing to do.

  Don’t say anything stupid, Sara.

  Clearing his throat, he prepared himself. “Sara, I’d like you to meet––”

  “You don’t have to tell me who she is,” Sara snapped. Her voice dripped with contempt. “Or why she’s here.”

  Dylan knew what his sister was implying. Unfortunately, he couldn’t control what she said. Once again, he wished she’d taken his earlier suggestion and gone back to New York where she spent much of her time.

  Despite the less than polite greeting from Sara, Callie appeared to remain relatively unaffected by it. “Senator Sherbrooke invited me here. I didn’t ask to come.”

  One for the new girl on the block. Dylan suppressed a smile. While he loved his half-sister, he often didn’t approve of the way she treated people these days. Unfortunately, more times than not, people just accepted her behavior because of who she was, which only reinforced her actions. Apparently, Callie didn’t plan on taking any crap from her though.

  Sara stared at Callie, momentarily at a loss for words, something that didn’t happen often. “Well. . .You still waited till the election was just around the corner to contact him. You can’t deny that.”

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the sisters’ first meeting wasn’t going well. So before either could escalate the situation, Dylan stood and moved toward Sara.

  “She didn’t contact him, Sara, but now isn’t the time to discuss any of this.” Taking her by the arm, he led her toward the door. When she started to protest, he gripped her upper arm tighter. Narrowing his eyes, he added, “We can talk again later.”

  He heard her huff and mumble something that sounded suspiciously like ‘she won’t be around for long.’

  “What was that?” Dylan asked, leaning closer so Callie wouldn’t overhear him.

  “I said she won’t be around for long. Once the media gets wind of this, they’re going to hound her till she climbs back into whatever hole she climbed out of.” After her final comment, Sara yanked her arm free and left without another glance in Callie’s direction.

  Closing the door behind Sara, Dylan returned to his seat across from Callie. “Don’t pay too much attention to what Sara said.” He needed to smooth things over. “She’s used to being Daddy’s Little Princess and isn’t happy that she might have to share him. It’s nothing personal.”

  Callie met and held his steady gaze. “Please don’t make excuses for her. Things don’t get more personal. I don’t blame her for being upset though. This whole situation is strange.” She paused and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

  Every time he’d seen her, she had her long hair tied back in a ponytail, except today. Now she had it tied back in a loose bun. As he watched her move the strands of mahogany colored hair which had escaped, he found himself wondering what she looked like with her hair loose. His gut told him the sight would be breathtaking, and his hands itched to free her hair to find out if he was right.

  “I’d probably be angry too, if I was her.”

  Once again, he found himself admiring Callie Taylor. Most people wouldn’t be so understanding. In fact, he couldn’t imagine any of the women he knew acting like her. Instead, they would most likely be acting much more like Sara.

  “If you talk to Senator Sherbrooke, please tell him I hope he’s feeling better. Since he isn’t here right now, I’m going to head out. It was an unusually long drive, and I still need to check in to my motel.” Without waiting for a reply, she stood.

  Dylan immediately came to his feet, his manners too ingrained not to. “Please stay here. A room has already been prepared for you.” He moved toward her.

  He didn’t want her to leave yet. If she left now, he feared she wouldn’t return when Warren arrived. That was the only reason he’d made the request. Or so he told himself.

  Deep down though, he knew there was more to it. Dylan wanted her to stay because he wanted to get to know her better. He still wasn’t one hundred percent certain he trusted her intentions regarding Warren, although he now leaned strongly in that direction. Her resistance to meeting Warren when he’d first approached her appeared too real to be an act. If she was after something, why refuse to meet him? Plus, she seemed so unlike the people he dealt with on a daily basis. He found her to be a refreshing change.

  Callie shook her head and a brief look of sadness passed over her features. “No, thank you. That probably isn’t a good idea. I’ll give you my cell phone number in case Senator Sherbrooke gets back tomorrow.”

  Searching through her purse, she pulled out a small notepad and a pen. After jotting down her number, she handed him the slip of paper and moved toward the door. She’d only taken a few steps when Dylan reached out to touch her arm. The second his hand came in contact with her skin, an unexpected surge of desire swept through him.

  “At least have dinner with me tonight.” It was the least he could do. She drove all the way down here after all. It wasn’t right for her to spend the whole night sitting in some motel room alone. Not when he could do something about that.

  He was barely touching her, yet bolts of energy zigzagged up her arm and through her body. She’d never experienced a sensation quite like it before.

  “Thank you, but no.” Callie didn’t want him to think she expected anything from him. “I don’t want to disrupt your plans.” Surely he had something planned, maybe a date with some gorgeous model or wealthy socialite. He was, after all, more handsome than anyone should be. Not to mention rich. Either attribute would easily attract women, but when they were wrapped together in such a nice package, they made a man irresistible.

  Dylan stepped closer and moved his hand from her forearm to her shoulder. “You wouldn’t be disrupting anything. Actually, you’d be saving me from eating alone.”

  Callie choked back a laugh. She doubted he needed saving from anything. Ever. The man oozed competence.

  Go for it, a tiny part of her brain encouraged. What do you have to lose? Besides, what else would she do all night? Get takeout and read a book? Watch television?

  “Okay, but I want to check in first and drop off my things.”

  Dylan didn’t object. “Does five o’clock work for you?”

  That should give her more than enough time to check in and take a shower. “Sure. I can meet you here.”

  “It doesn’t make sense for you to drive back here. I’ll pick you up. Where are you staying?”

  He might be right, but she hesitated anyway. “The Wharf Motel, but I don’t mind driving back here or meeting you at the restaurant.”

  “I’ll be there at five.”

  Dylan struck her as the stubborn type who wouldn’t budge on this one. Rath
er than waste her energy, she nodded and walked alongside Dylan as he escorted her to the door.