One Night With the Billionaire (Men of the Zodiac) (6 page)

He was going to make her fucking beg.

She just stared at him for the longest time. A string of emotions played through her eyes, and he didn’t know what a damn one meant, but she was in the middle of making a decision. So he waited.

Finally, she reached for him. Traced her fingertips along his jaw. With her attention on her travels, he took advantage of the chance to study her up close. If she wore makeup, it was so natural he didn’t notice, not even from less than a foot away. Thick lashes framed wide, intelligent eyes. Her skin was smooth, flawless. He wondered what she thought of his scars.

Her index finger landed on his lip, a replay of what had happened in the guest suite, and sent his imagination into overdrive. Though the vision had bad idea written all over it, in his mind she was already in his bed, clutching at the sheets like as if they could save her.

As if anything could.

She tipped her head again like she was going to kiss him, and his arms shook with the need to touch her. Pull her close. But he kept his hands fixed on the side of the pool and let her lean into him. She gained some height—tiptoes, maybe—and when she dropped her hand from his mouth, he just knew he was going to taste her, to feel the torturous slide of her tongue against his.

But she hesitated.

In the quiet aftermath of her indecision, he took a breath. She was off limits, and he’d do well to remember it.

Though it killed him, he took a step back and averted his attention from the flash of uncertainty that clouded her eyes. Even still, he saw her straighten. Stiffen. And match his retreat with a step of her own.

She cleared her throat. “How is it possible you haven’t found anyone to share this with you?”

A beat passed before he answered. “It’s not that I’m against relationships. I guess given my past, it’s hard to trust that the women who are interested don’t just want my money, because they sure wouldn’t want anything to do with me if I were still fixing up old cars. Except Aggie, of course.” He grinned. “But how about you? If you like island living so much, why don’t you chuck it all and buy one yourself?”

The question took a couple of watts out of what looked like a forced smile, leaving him feeling like an ass without really knowing why. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” she said. “Life back home awaits. Life, my father, the law firm I’m supposed to take over when he retires. I’ve been working my whole life toward that goal.”

“That’s a hell of a thing tying you down.”

“It’s complicated.” She raised a cupped hand out of the pool and tipped it, watching the water pour out.

“I think you attorney types have a habit of making things complicated whether they are or not.”

His words earned him a sharp glance, but then she sighed. “You’re probably right.”

“You only get one ride, princess. If you’re not happy, figure out how to get there.” Funny, the irony. Her father had basically given Ryder options, and he’d be willing to bet her father was exactly the one to take hers away.

“So, are you happy?” she asked.

He held out his arms in dramatic fashion. “Look at this. Who wouldn’t be?”

She rolled her eyes. “Let me rephrase. Are you happy without anyone to share this with?”

Straight to the cross examination
. “Happier than I ever was looking.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugged. “After a while, you stop trusting people. There’s no such thing as ‘just sex’ once you make the Forbes list. And anything more than that? Forget it. Everyone has an agenda, and I’m tired of being on it.”

“That’s really sad.” She tilted her head. “I guess we’re both a little pathetic in our own ways. Both running.”

He opened his mouth to tell her he wasn’t running, but he hadn’t bought an entire island, population him, because he’d been content to stand still. There was just one difference. “I’ve stopped running. What about you?”

She sank past her shoulders, a small smile shaping her lips as tiny waves bumped her chin. “For me to quit running, you’d have to fire up that jet of yours and send me back to…back to where I came from, so I could face what happened there.”

“You’ll have to do that eventually.”

“Yes, and eventually I want to. My eyes are opened in a way they weren’t before… I want to go back on my terms. Start working for what I want instead of doing everything to please my father. In a way, I’m grateful for what happened. I have a second chance. But until the gossip rags move on to the next scandal, I’d be ineffective, and I don’t want to walk back into failure.”

Her confession shifted something inside him. All these years she’d existed in his mind on the pedestal her daddy built for her—a place where Ryder figured nothing went wrong, even though logically he knew better. Scandal that hit both on personal and professional levels had a way of devastating most people. Shattering illusions. But not her. He admired that she took the blow she’d been dealt and wanted to do something with it.

He related a little too well.

But did she know that?

She hadn’t laid eyes on him in ten years. Having money didn’t make him a good guy; if anything, his past suggested the contrary. He imagined she placed a degree of trust in him because of the unexpectedly mutual friend who had arranged for her visit, but trust was a damned hard thing to win. In retrospect, he was shocked she hadn’t taken one look at him and demanded to go home. She probably hadn’t the wherewithal to do so at the time, but now she’d had time to think. And he cared a little too much about what she thought of him, but hadn’t that always been the problem? So much of his life had been shaped by disapproval. It was past time to move on. Past time for a truce…not just with her, but with the man he’d once been.

Which gave him an idea.

“There’s an opening gala,” he said.

“I heard.”

“You should be there.” A fresh start for both of them—he with his resort, and for her a return to the public eye…but on her terms. No mobs of paparazzi, and no one bringing up the scandal she wanted to forget—the guests he’d invited had manners. “Get with Aggie with your dress size, and I’ll bring in a few for you to try.” To her quizzical expression, he added, “It’s black tie.”

Black tie.

Fuck.

Too late, he realized his mistake. His guest list included everyone from A-list celebrities to US Senators and state governors and their wives. Every well-heeled eye in the place would be on the woman who, by her own account, had been the subject of a recent scandal. They’d have to be—a woman as gorgeous as Zoe wouldn’t go unnoticed under any circumstances, let alone in that crowd. Which only meant one thing.

If he’d ever had a chance of keeping his association with Zoe a secret from her father, he’d just shot it all to hell.

Chapter Seven

T
he next morning, Zoe powered on her phone and waited for approximately eleven thousand notifications to come through, every one of which she intended to delete unread. She kept one eye on the dinging phone and the other on Ryder, who stood at the stove frying bacon and scrambling eggs for omelets.

“You
cook
?”

“You think anyone ever cooked for me?”

“I just figured…by now…”

He shook his head, then walked over and handed her a cup of coffee. “Nah. Not my style. If having money made me too helpless to fix my own breakfast, I’d probably give it back. I’m my own man first. Man with money second.” He paused, his gaze skating over her. “Something wrong with your phone, or do you normally have that many notifications?”

She shifted uneasily, not willing to admit the ridiculous degree to which her father was involved in her life. Approximately ten thousand of the messages were probably from him. “My friends and business associates don’t know where I am.”

“I figured it would be your parents.”

Well, alrighty then. “I mentioned a vacation.”

“You like mushrooms? Spinach?”

“Yes.” He stunned her. How was this man single?

She wondered all the way through breakfast, then decided to cyber stalk him the minute he went out the door. She hadn’t brought her laptop, and there was no way she was using the tablet he’d given her for inventory, so her cell phone would have to do.

She learned pretty quickly that Ryder kept an astoundingly low profile for a man whose net worth reportedly touched ten figures. The first dozen or more search results for his name were all real estate transactions and business deals, most consisting of nothing more than standard legal notices. She scanned through a couple of pages that might be considered articles, all referencing real estate transactions, and learned nothing her contact hadn’t already told her. Apparently Ryder was far more rich than famous, for he’d garnered very little attention. That could also only mean he was well behaved—anything else would have been a field day for a reporter looking for a story to spin.

She sat back against the leather sofa and stared at Ryder’s bedroom door. Wanting. But sleeping with him would be crazy, and Zoe didn’t do crazy things.

She got up and rinsed her coffee cup. Ryder told her she didn’t need to rush over to the resort, but it wasn’t as if she had anything else to do. Other than…the Caribbean stretched endlessly beyond the white sand, its waters the same cerulean blue as Ryder’s eyes. In her short tenure on the island, she’d yet to walk out on the beach. For that matter, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on one, and never one as gorgeous as this.

She couldn’t think of a better way to kill some time, especially considering it kept her out of the line of fire of questions. She wasn’t concerned with her identity getting out—she doubted Ryder’s inner circle would betray the confidence—but she didn’t want to contradict anything he may have said. The more she kept to herself, the better.

She put on her new bikini and found she was a lot more self-conscious in it now than she had been in the store’s dressing room. Just the thought of Ryder’s hungry gaze skating over her body was enough to draw chills over every inch of flesh, and that was in spite of an inferno that seemed to rage every time she thought of him. Which was often. Fortunately he was off doing whatever one did before launching a resort, and she’d have the beach to herself.

The sand was powder soft, the sea so tranquil Zoe almost felt like an intruder in a world that wasn’t hers. Still, she paused only for a moment before walking out into the water, kicking out her feet to swim when the water reached her belly. After several tranquil laps, she dove under. When she broke the surface, she was richly rewarded when a school of brightly colored fish shimmied in unison as they darted away from her disruption.

“Looks like you have some rebel in you after all.”

Zoe jolted at the sound of Ryder’s voice. She turned to find him standing in the water just a few feet away, nothing but bare skin visible. She looked below the surface, somewhat relieved he wasn’t naked, and back up again to see him grinning.

“I can take them off.”

She ignored his offer. “Why am I a rebel?”

“You’re not supposed to swim alone.” He pointed to a sign on the beach noting as much.

“Then why do the cabanas have private pools?”

“Let me rephrase. You’re not supposed to swim alone offshore. You drown in the pool, at least we’ll all know what happened.”

“Charming.”

He laughed. “Want to help me out? I could use some feedback from a tourist.”

She eyed the gear in his hands, unsure what she was getting herself into. “Okay?”

“Easy and harmless. I promise.”

“If it’s so easy and harmless,” she asked warily, “why haven’t you told me yet what you’re talking about?”

“Snorkeling. Not to be confused with scuba. You stay at or near the surface unless you want to dive, but we’ll work up to that. I assume you’re a strong swimmer, since you didn’t have any qualms about being out here alone?”

“Yep, no problem there.” Other than she wondered how long he’d been watching her, but the idea thrilled her. Maybe even more than it mortified her. To catch up with her so quickly, he had to have almost followed her out, although now that she thought about it, she hadn’t looked behind her. She’d been too mesmerized by the sea ahead.

He tossed her a vest, then slipped into a second one. “This is a snorkeling vest. It won’t keep you from diving or going under, but it will provide some buoyancy. It helps with fatigue, which can kind of creep up on you if you get involved with the view or if you’re not used to swimming in currents. I’ll stay with you, and Neil knows we’re out here, but if you start to get tired, let me know. Where we’re going, you’ll be able to touch the bottom, so I don’t anticipate any trouble.”

After she’d gotten into the vest, he handed her the snorkel and mask.

“Breathing through the tube is simple enough, though it takes some getting used to. The problem most people have is when they get water in there. It can happen if a wave hits—a boat wake can do it even in calm water—or if you end up with your head deeper than you thought and accidentally submerge the tube.”

“At which point I suck in a lung full of water.”

He grinned. “Pretty much, but it’ll probably only happen once.”

“Yeah, I’m betting you pretty much only drown the one time.”

“You won’t drown,” he said, laughing. Good for him, so easily amused. “Breathing water when you expect air can be scary, but the solution is as simple as blowing through the snorkel to get rid of the water. It’ll take some practice. If you start to panic, just lift your head, spit out the tube, and breathe the old-fashioned way. When you’re ready, blow out the snorkel and get back to it.”

He waited while she practiced clearing the tube. “Think I’ve got it.”

“Just remember it’s a little harder when you’re not expecting it. Ready to swim?” His gaze skated lower. Her breasts, her abdomen…her muscles tightened with need.

Oh, dear God
. They’d finally fallen into companionable conversation—one not seething with sexual overtones—and he had to go and look at her like that. “Ready,” she managed to choke.

“We’re headed for those shadows under the water,” he said, pointing off to the right. “You practice breathing with your face in the water, and I’ll stay up here so I can see if you get into any trouble.”

Pathetic, the way her heart melted at that. He’d give the same direction to anyone, of course, but her insides had taken it personally and gone to mush. Still, she managed to make it from point A to point B without sucking in a lungful of water, though the memory of the softness and warmth of his lips on hers made CPR sound all kinds of tempting.

Get. A. Grip
.

There was nothing between them but a past acquaintance. She wanted to go home to DC. She
belonged
in DC. And he must have everything he ever wanted here in the world he’d created for himself—a world that would absolutely never include her. He’d made that clear.

“There will a lot of fish and plant life around this reef,” he said. “Move slowly and try to keep your feet up—the less you disturb the sand and water, the more you’ll be able to see.” He pointed to a school of fish visible from the surface. “From here, they look like Queen Angelfish. They’re blue and yellow and at the right angle appear to glow.”

“Wow,” she said, impressed. She had him pegged for knowing one socket from another, but tropical fish?

“Don’t be so surprised,” he said with a wry grin. “It’s probably the only one I know. Quintessential tourist favorite and soon on a souvenir near you. Neil is trying to teach me a few others, but I get so caught in the view, I forget to label things.” He laughed. “Too much like school.”

“So why are you out here teaching me?”

He looked at her for a minute before he spoke. Then, softly, “Because it’s nice to have someone to share it with.”

Grip. Gone
.

She almost cried. Honest to goodness cried, standing there shoulder-deep in the glorious Caribbean with the bad boy she’d always wanted—one who owned a lethal combination of sweet and sexy like he’d invented it. Everything he did was a seduction, but he was so gracious. So humble. He had the world at his fingertips, but when he looked at her, she felt like she
was
his world. And that was a dangerous feeling. He wasn’t hers, but already he’d made her feel what no man before him had.

Then again, that’s probably why his high school car had had a revolving back door. The man had seduction down to a science.

Shit
.

She blinked back the burn of tears, grateful she could blame the water and he’d never be the wiser. Still, she looked away, at least until the lump faded from her throat.

“That came out wrong,” he said. “It’s just nice to have a familiar face here, and such a beautiful one at that.”

Yep, he had the player thing down. And she’d been played enough. She was done.

“You okay?” He stood watching her, concern etching his forehead.

“I think I’m going be.”

He gave her an odd look, but she didn’t care. She was a long way from being okay in the truest sense of the word, but she’d get there. “So what’s next?”

“You and me, babe. Let’s go see if we know our fish.”