At the Billionaire's Bidding

by Trish Wylie

  Shannon shrugged off the innuendo, literally, eyeing him again from beneath long lashes.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t know what else might have changed about you lately, would I?’

  ‘Many, many things may have changed but that isn’t one of them.’ He leaned his face a little closer, watching triumphantly as her lashes flickered, her gaze on his mouth as he spoke. ‘Trust me.’

  There was a long silence while her eyes slowly rose until her gaze locked with his. The emerald-green taking on the darker shade he had planned on seeing when he danced with her.

  She wasn’t as immune to him as she’d like to think she was, was she? And that, coupled with the recent evidence of her dance moves, was more than enough encouragement. So he grinned widely, and winked at her.

  Shannon laughed. ‘No, some things obviously haven’t changed.’

  He continued grinning, even after she turned to face the bar again. And it felt good.

  Better than good. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time when the mess of his life had been put to the back of his mind long enough for him to play a little with a woman. Even briefly. And with someone who less than a few hours ago had been so obviously determined they didn’t want to play. Not with him, anyway.

  Which made her a challenge.

  Maybe persuading her to change her mind about regretting him might be exactly the kind of welcome distraction he needed after all, for a while anyway.

  His phone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans and he reached in to retrieve it, the screen lighting up as he checked the number, briefly illuminating his face while Shannon turned to watch him.

  He wasn’t grinning by the time he turned it off.

  Shannon was still watching as he pushed it back into a pocket. ‘Avoiding some poor lovelorn woman?’

  ‘Not this time. It’s just Rory.’

  The tension in his voice was obvious, causing Shannon to frown in confusion as she asked, ‘As in Rory your big brother Rory?’

  ‘That would be the one.’

  ‘How is he?’

  The beer bottle froze an inch from his mouth. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  Which only seemed to confuse Shannon all the more. ‘Well, I could be wrong. But answering the phone might help with that, don’t you think?’

  When he looked at her face his eyes were dark, his expression grim and Shannon immediately knew it was meant as a ‘butt out’.

  Even before he added the firmly voiced, ‘Leave it be, Shannon.’

  She lifted her chin in response.

  ‘So, no Senior Citizens Aerobics tonight?’

  ‘I don’t take the aerobics sessions.’ With a shake of her head, tossing her hair over one shoulder, she took the lifeline afforded with his swift change of subject. It wasn’t as if it were really any of her business anyway, so why should she care?

  ‘I run a Tumblin’ Tinies franchise for kids from eighteen months to ten years old, if you must know. And I do the reading group we have so the mothers can do their yoga classes in the mornings.’

  ‘The Yummy Mummies? I have to say there’s a certain element of fascination in the idea of good-looking women who can…flex…’

  Shannon ignored the return of that silently teasing light in his dark eyes. ‘I’ll just bet there is in a mind like yours. But, yes, that’s the ones. If they know the kids are happy they’re more likely to enjoy some time of their own. So I do story time with the kids.’

  ‘I don’t remember that from the notice-board.’

  ‘Well, that’s a shame, ’cos we run a quiz on what’s on the notice-board once a week.

  Winner gets a free yoga session.’

  ‘You just made that up, didn’t you?’

  Shannon nodded. ‘Yes, I did.’

  Silence descended between them again until Connor took a breath and dived in on a bigger issue.

  ‘You know, there was a time when we used to be able to get along without this much effort, if I recall. And I know we may possibly have gotten off to a bad start today—’

  She shrugged. ‘I liked you better when I knew you before—that’s all. But then, in fairness, you’d never tried to make me homeless back then. And, anyway, this isn’t us not getting along, not yet. You’ll know when it is.’

  Connor’s eyes were still studying her as she looked around the rapidly filling bar. She didn’t have to look up at his face to confirm it. She could feel it, as surely as she could probably have calculated to the very millimetre the distance between their two bodies. It was a senses thing, she supposed. But it was also a very basic-awareness-on-a-very-sensual-level thing, which both excited and frustrated her, in equal measure. He was temptation on legs, not a doubt about it.

  Even so, she really didn’t want to like him again if she could at all avoid it. She’d have to keep her wits about her if she was going to take him on to save her precious building…

  And liking him might lead to her getting sidetracked.

  But she hadn’t come out tonight to play games with him, or have another argument with him. She hadn’t come out with the intention of seeing him at all. She’d come out to enjoy herself with her friends, to forget about meeting the all new, not-necessarily-improved Connor.

  The best laid plans…

  ‘So, how was America?’ he asked nonchalantly.

  Her stomach flipped over and felt distinctly as if it hit the floor. Hard.

  All right, so it was a logical question. The last time Connor had known her that was where she’d been headed. There was no way on God’s green earth he could know what had happened when she was there.

  So she took a breath, forcing a calm tone into her voice. ‘It was great. I learnt a lot on the courses I did.’

  ‘How long have you been home?’

  ‘A year—after eighteen months in London—but I like Galway; we’re a good fit for each other.’

  When he went quiet she risked another sidewards glance to confirm that he wasn’t questioning her because he knew something. Even when she knew he couldn’t. Not without being psychic.

  And there he was, large as life and twice as damn sexy without even trying, lounging laconically against the bar in the more familiar jeans-and-dark-shirt ensemble that had always had her drooling from a distance when she was old enough to know what it was she appreciated about him. Still studying her with his dark eyes, which unnerved her even more than his knowing anything could have.

  ‘What?’

  Connor shook his head. ‘Nothing. I was just thinking.’

  ‘Well don’t make any effort on my behalf.’

  With a smirk he reached over to leave his empty bottle on the bar, his arm accidentally brushing briefly against the side of her breast. And it took every ounce of self-control in her possession for Shannon not to flinch as her eyes locked with his.

  He knew he had done it.

  It was as clear as day to her that he knew what he had done, from the flash of awareness that crossed his dark eyes and the lazy smile that followed. He was silently challenging her to call him on it too! Thing was, what he maybe didn’t realize was that that accidental touch had awakened a hundred memories in her mind and in her body, and allowed her to recognize that flash of awareness in his eyes for what it was: sexual awareness.

  Maybe she wasn’t the only one hearing Barry White. And that had to be something she could work with…

  Shannon had seen that look in his eyes before. She’d even played up to it. In the past the way he had touched her hadn’t been at all unintentional or accidental, it had been slow and deliberate, an awakening for Shannon—a long lesson in physical pleasure that she had never forgotten.

  She would never have wanted there to be someone else her first time. Not then. She just hadn’t known there would be consequences—if she had…

  Connor smiled for another moment, but when she refused to rise to the bait he took a different approach. ‘Tess was worried about you, you know. That time when you were ill in the States.’

  Shan
non’s stomach somersaulted again. ‘Ill?’

  ‘Yes, she said you collapsed and had to go into hospital for a while.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ She damped her tongue along her dry lips and smiled through the lie. ‘I had heatstroke. You know us blonde Irish girls and the sun.’

  ‘Still, it was a long way from home to be sick and on your own.’

  ‘I didn’t have a home any more, Connor. Not after my nan died. And, anyway, everyone has something they have to get through on their own at some time or other. That’s life.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ He turned and looked out over the crowd.

  A thought occurred to her. ‘Is that why you’re avoiding Rory? Because you have something you have to deal with alone? Or did you get in another one of those dumb ass fights with him?’

  The Fighting Flanaghans they’d all been known as growing up. Four brothers completely devoted to each other who’d nevertheless spent half their adolescence arguing with each other over the most ridiculous things. And even now the memory made her smile a small smile.

  But Connor merely shot her another warning glance in response.

  So Shannon sighed. ‘Right, I get it, you don’t want to talk about it. Well, maybe I should just go get my good friend Mario to keep you company, then. He’d love that.’

  ‘Uh-uh. I’m just fine with you to keep me company.’

  Flattering and all as that was, Shannon was rapidly running out of safe topics to talk to him about. So, she ran a quick summary through her mind: he obviously didn’t want to discuss whatever his problem was with his brother, she didn’t want to start a row with him in public about the building issue until she had all her facts, and her being ill in America was a definite no-go zone.

  Which left Shannon surrounded by choices between: a) a web of half-truths, b) dangerous topics of conversation or c) just standing still allowing the air to crackle between them while she played with the idea of using some of that sexual awareness in the here and now to her advantage.

  Decisions, decisions.

  ‘It’s been unusually warm this summer, hasn’t it?’

  Connor smiled down at her with the kind of smile that reminded her of a time when they’d been friends without so much effort. ‘And there we are—reduced to talking about the weather.’

  ‘Well, you don’t want to talk about Rory and I’m in no mood to talk about the building we’re going to go to war over, so that doesn’t leave us with much, does it?’

  ‘So, dance with me.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to dance with you?’

  ‘Tough.’

  It was too late, already he was taking control, removing the glass from her hand, setting it on the bar behind her before he tangled his long fingers with hers and tugged, hard, forcing her forwards. He then looked over his shoulder as their feet hit the wooden floor, to inform her with gleaming eyes, ‘Now that I’ve seen you have some moves it seems only fair you try them out on someone who does like women.’

  O-h-h no. The only reason she let loose with Mario was because she knew he wouldn’t read anything into it. He was ‘safe’. She didn’t go around dancing that freely with every man she met—not unless she actually planned on…

  Well—with Mario she could lose her inhibitions, could close her eyes and succumb to the sheer sexuality of a throbbing beat and a sensual rhythm. It was liberating, exhilarating, a small chance to be completely free for a few minutes.

  With Connor it would be foreplay.

  In fact the very thought of moving her pelvis in against him the way she had with Mario had her body heating up in ways and places it hadn’t done in what felt like a long, long time!

  This was a bad idea.

  She needed a game plan before she stepped in the ring with Connor Flanaghan. A damned detailed one too!

  She tried to shake her hand free. But Connor had always been stronger than her physically, and with another tug he had her hauled forwards against his body, his free hand snaking around her waist, fingers splaying against her skin to add just enough pressure so that she was held tight all along the hard length of him from thigh to chest as he began to move them in time to the music.

  Shannon almost moaned aloud. Oh, Barry White had been right all along. This was good.

  Her traitorous curves automatically fitted in against lean male muscle. And the joint movement of their bodies created friction on the most basic sexual level, pebbling her nipples harder against the lace of her bra, building a slowly widening knot of tension in her abdomen, sending a wash of moisture to her core.

  Her breathing increased.

  And then her eyes rose, slowly, moving from button to button on his shirt, lingering briefly on the column of his neck before she studied his mouth. His sculpted mouth with its wider lower lip—the mouth that had once kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts, the soft skin of her inner thigh…

  She had to swallow down another low moan before she protested again. ‘Connor—’

  He held her firm when she struggled against him. ‘Shush. You don’t want to cause a big scene in this crowd, now, do you?’

  When she looked into his eyes he had that same dark gaze that sparkled with knowing—

  he knew what he was doing to her. He knew and he was positively triumphant about it, goddamn it!

  Tearing her gaze away, she pursed her lips together as she tried to think of another way of getting out of her predicament. She was actually fairly sure, if she did cause a big scene, she could get him kicked out. After all, she’d been coming to this place for a long time. It was her local haunt.

  And one glance over his shoulder told her what she already knew—that her friends were more than aware that she was dancing with someone they had never seen before, which meant they would automatically keep an eye on her. And not just out of curiosity. It was something they all did for each other.

  Though, in fairness, the sight of three thumbs being pointed upwards didn’t give her much confidence in them as potential rescuers.

  She chanced another look into his eyes. And her brain suddenly started to function.

  Wait a minute. Why was she looking for a way out? Surely this was her chance to up the ante? If she was gonna go to battle with him then she couldn’t go into it with him, knowing he already had an advantage over her physically. She couldn’t let him think he could bend her to his will because she apparently still wanted him. What she needed to do was show him she was no naïve teenager any more. Hell, no. She was all grown-up now.

  Maybe it was about time he understood that.

  So she tossed her hair back over her shoulder again, leaning back a little against his arms as she damped her lips, caught her lower lip between her teeth, smiled seductively as he watched the movement.

  And for good measure she moved her pelvis across his, sliding back and forth until she heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his body go rigid.

  Touché, Connor Flanaghan. Your move.

  Her eyebrows quirked in challenge.

  Connor’s head descended slowly, until his clean shaven cheek was close to hers, musky male scent filling her nostrils as he grumbled into her ear, ‘You know, they say when a couple can dance together like this it means they’re compatible in other areas.’

  Shannon leaned back, her voice low. ‘Are you serious? That line gets you laid? Really?’

  He angled his face above hers, his warm breath washing over her cheeks as he looked at her with hooded eyes, ‘You’d be surprised.’

  ‘Well—’ she angled her face the opposite way, so that when she rocked forward a little and stood on her toes her mouth was inches from his, her eyes focused on the small distance between control and giving in to temptation ‘—on behalf of womankind everywhere, I am officially embarrassed that line worked for you.’

  Connor smiled a lazy smile. ‘Ah, but it’s not really a line; it makes perfect sense. Both have to do with natural rhythm, working with the way your partner moves, adjusting the give—and the take—to make thing
s better for each other. If you can synchronize on a dance floor then it makes sense that things are much better when—’

  Whoa—and he could stop right there! She’d got it! And she needed to stay in equal control here, didn’t she? So, with a cooling deep breath she leaned her head back again. ‘I get the picture.’

  Vividly and in Technicolor as it just so happened. Even accompanied with some bright sparks of multicoloured light when she closed her eyes as her lower abdomen came into contact with the beginnings of a rather impressive erection, and her body immediately flooded in readiness.

  O-h-h—if she was going to play this game she really needed to get her responses under control, didn’t she?

  Instead of picturing hot, sweaty sex while her eyes were still closed.

  ‘But then we already know we’re compatible in that area, don’t we, Sunshine?’

  Her eyes flew open. He had used her nickname from the ‘good old days’ when she had been head over heels about him—when the very sound of that word had been interpreted as an endearment rolling off his silver tongue. And it immediately reminded her of a time when she’d had no control at all around him.

  He played dirty!

  His smile grew when her eyes narrowed in warning. ‘I know you remember as much as I do, even if you want to try so desperately to forget it—which I really don’t think you do, deep down. Not really. Maybe what we should do is try it again, just to see if it’s as good a second time. You’ve obviously picked up some moves.’ He leaned a little closer. ‘I even have some new ones myself. And when you’re crying out my name this time, you might find you don’t regret crying it out the first time round either.’

  Shannon gasped. ‘Oh, well, you can just be a complete bastard when you put your mind to it, can’t you?’

  The arm around her waist became a steel band, his expression went dark, even his mouth twisted as he answered in a dangerously low tone, ‘You have no idea how right you are.’

  Shannon struggled to get free, then froze and decided instead to go on the offensive. ‘You know what really got to me the most all afternoon, thinking about you knowing it was me that time? It’s that you played along. The whole way through you never once felt the need to say you knew. Now just why might that be, do you think?’