Tempting the Billionaire (10 page)

She
was apologizing to him? Shane watched her jerky movements, amused by her clumsy attempt to dress him and regain her composure. He tamped down a budding smile as his hands left her baby-smooth skin. Couldn’t she see there was no way to go back? Not now, not after that game-changing kiss. Brows meeting in the middle in deep concentration, she tried but failed to pull the last button through the hole. He stilled her hands with one of his, pressing them to his chest. His heart gave a dangerous leap as she met his eyes. She looked cute and slightly muddled with her hair tousled in the pattern of his fingers. And again, he felt powerless to resist her.

“Shane,” she whispered.

He didn’t let her finish, trapping her words with his lips. He caught the back of her neck with one palm but held her gently, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She didn’t. He swept his tongue into her mouth in triumph, stroking her for long, breath-stealing seconds, until he felt her go limp beneath him, her hands bunching the front of his shirt weakly.

He pulled away and found her looking up at him drowsily, her eyelids at half-mast. “You’re a great kisser,” she murmured. Then a hue of pink stole her cheeks, and her eyes went wide. “Sorry.”

Shane allowed himself to laugh. “Would you stop apologizing? You’re making me feel bad.” He placed a final, full-lipped kiss square on the center of her mouth. “I should have done that a long time ago.”

A vision assaulted him: her beneath him, naked, willing, tangled in his bedsheets. Reluctantly, he pushed the thought away. She could be brimming with regret for all he knew. He was her boss, signed her paychecks, made her schedule…special-ordered the desk he was sitting on. And while it would only take the slightest nudge to convince her to come home with him, he didn’t want her regretting that, either.

“I…guess I should get home,” Crickitt said, straightening her clothing and glancing around as if she was lost.

He heard the question in her voice, felt the longing mirroring his own. She was
asking
if she should get home. Giving him every opportunity to suggest she come home with him. And he wanted to, so badly. Wanted to pretend there was nothing standing between them. But if they were going to do this, it had to be handled delicately. He scanned her face, her soft features. She needed to be handled delicately.

“Yeah. Me, too,” he said, sympathizing with the flash of disappointment in her eyes.

With superhuman strength, he left her side, taking one leaden step after another. Away from her, he didn’t feel stronger, only weaker. And filled with so much regret he could hardly breathe.

You’re doing the right thing.

“I’d better be,” he growled under his breath.

S
econds turned into minutes as Crickitt came to the slow realization that Shane was giving her some space. Soon she’d have to face him again and relive the moment she jumped him like a cheetah on a baby gazelle.

She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead.
That would be twice now. Twice you’ve thrown yourself at your boss.

Only this time, she’d lost her composure at work.
At work.
The one place she should be able to control her emotions.

If not for Ronald’s poor timing she would be at home, nuking a frozen dinner and settling in for a
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
marathon. Despite what had just happened between her and Shane, Ronald’s final words before she hung up reverberated around her like a Sunday-morning church bell. She didn’t know if she could forget it or ever forgive him for saying it.

“Still reeling, I see?”

She jerked her attention to the doorway. Shane leaned against it, strong and solid, his black leather bag hooked on one shoulder. Faint red scratches decorated his neck, and a thread missing its button poked from the collar of his shirt.

My gosh. I attacked him.

Feeling a swell of guilt, she opened her mouth to apologize but swallowed it. Still, she couldn’t keep from muttering, “Your neck…”

“Love bite?” He rubbed at the spot, making it redder. “Good thing tomorrow’s Saturday. This would have been fun to explain in the Townsend meeting.”

She gaped at him, a humorless laugh eking out of her throat. “You’re impossible.”

“You started it,” he reminded her with a lopsided grin.

Shane stepped into her office, reclaiming his perch at the corner of her desk and choking the atmosphere with his overwhelming presence. Was that shame or lust burning a hole in her stomach? Hard to tell.

It wasn’t her fault Shane’s arrival happened to be perfectly in sync with her pending nervous breakdown.

“We should talk,” he said, his voice a low husk.

He sounded so serious, her heart stalled, then pounded extra hard to make up for the missed beat. The last thing she wanted was to talk. She wanted to pretend the kiss had never happened, to be in blissful denial. She wanted to—

“I’d like to take you on a date.”

Crickitt felt her eyebrows rise.

“You’ve left me no choice,” he continued. “Since you singlehandedly nullified our friendship pact.”

She gaped at him. Was he saying she’d seduced him? Hadn’t Ronald just accused her of being lackluster in the bedroom? Yet Shane, a potent mixture of masculinity and sex appeal, wanted to take her on a date?

How could two people see her so differently? And who would she rather be? The barely tolerated wife of a banker, or lover of a primal, potent man whose knees she’d weakened with just a kiss.

There was a heady, downright delicious prospect. Shane wanted more. Shane wanted
her
.

Shane’s mouth twitched in what she recognized as him barely holding back a smile. He stood abruptly and walked into the hallway. “How about tomorrow?”

She didn’t answer right away. The idea excited her as much as it intimidated her. Was she even equipped for a date with someone like Shane August? Shouldn’t she have a few practice dates with men who weren’t billionaires? Her gaze flickered over his body. Or built like underwear models?

He lifted his brow at her silence, holding out a palm. “Well?”

Crickitt had never been a fan of futility, and no amount of stalling would change the answer pressing against her lips. She reached for her mailbag and extinguished the light in her office before stepping forward and putting her hand in his.

Shane intertwined their fingers, and their steps automatically aligned as they walked through the abandoned waiting room. He stopped to press the call button on the elevator, and the doors slid open.

She cast one final glance at the threshold, her mind whirling. Crossing the literal line from lobby to lift would, in a way, also be crossing the one drawn between co-workers and lovers.

“I promise to stay on my own side of the car,” Shane said at her hesitation. “Think you can keep your hands to yourself, Ms. Day?”

A burble of laughter burst from her lips at his challenge. How did this man make her feel powerful and confident when Ronald made her feel exactly the opposite? Shane dropped her hand to press the button for the ground floor, and Crickitt took a bold step in his direction.

Startled, Shane flattened against the wall, an amused expression on his face as Crickitt poked a finger into his lapel.

“The next move,
Mr. August
,” she said, issuing her own dare in a low voice, “is yours.”

C
rickitt frantically searched her sparse, bland closet in search of something to wear for her date with Shane this morning. He’d promised to pick her up at eleven, instructing her to “wear something comfortable.” Rows of “comfortable” clothes greeted her. All dull-colored and more function than form. Then she came across the peachy-colored blouse Sadie had complimented her on the other day.

And suddenly, she knew just what to wear. Digging through her dresser drawers, she finally found the bright coral-colored tee and white shorts Sadie bought her for her birthday. She ripped off the tags and put them on, admiring herself in the bedroom mirror. The color gave her cheeks a rosy glow, and the shorts did wonders for her butt. And, for a change, there was a chance of someone other than her noticing both of those details.

She slipped on her tennis shoes and watched for her date out the kitchen window. A gentle breeze blew the leaves on the trees and sent puffy clouds sailing across the late June sky. Instead of Thomas’s limo, a sleek, topless black sports car growled into a guest parking space.

Shane unfolded himself from his car, looking wind-tossed and casual in a pair of plaid shorts and an olive shirt. Crickitt lapped up the sight of him as he strode to her door on long, strong legs leading down to a pair of sturdy leather sandals.

Unbelievable. Even his feet were attractive.

She pulled the door open before he had the chance to knock. His T-shirt strained the width of his chest, and it took her a few seconds to redirect her eyes to his face. He gave her a toothy grin.

“Keep that up, we won’t make it off this porch.” He brushed her body with his eyes. “You look gorgeous.”

So do you
, she thought, gawking at him hungrily.

“Thank you.” She slid her hands down her shorts self-consciously. Were they this short when she put them on earlier? Palming a small purse, she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

Shane didn’t reach for her hand or move to kiss her, and Crickitt couldn’t decide if she was glad about that or not. He opened the passenger door.

“You drove,” she said, sinking into a butter-yellow leather seat.

“You didn’t think I’d bring a limo to our first date, did you?”

She did, but she didn’t say so.

In the driver’s seat, Shane slid his sunglasses on and revved the engine. The car rumbled like a live animal. “Ready, Freddy?”

She nodded.

“If you need a hat, there’s one in the glove compartment,” he said.

She decided to spare Shane her Medusa head and pulled the baseball cap over her hair. After a few seconds of his unabashed staring, she sent him a questioning glance.

Tugging on the cap, he swore lightly. “You’re too attractive for your own good, Crickitt.”

Shane navigated the convertible through highway traffic with speedy caution. His hair whipped in the wind as he moved his lips to a song on the radio. He had it all wrong. It was Shane,
not her
, who was too attractive for his own good.

How about a date with a devastatingly charming billionaire? Don’t mind if I do.

“What are you smiling about?” Shane yelled over the music.

She shook her head. Shane snapped his attention to the road and cars around them, gauged his speed, then leaned over and stole a brief kiss.

Memories of last night flooded over her, the firm insistence of his lips and the feel of his hands grazing her rib cage. As if reading her mind, he shot her a primal, dangerous grin. Whatever he had planned for them today, she hoped she could handle it.

Ten minutes later they pulled into John Adams Reserve. Crickitt held on to the door handle for stability as Shane whipped into a parking space. He killed the engine and she tossed the hat into the backseat and tousled her hair into some semblance of shape. “A park,” she said, taking in their surroundings as he opened her door for her.

Picnic areas were alive with smoking grills, their inhabitants milling around ice-filled coolers or lounging at brown wooden tables. Kids and adults dotted a lake in the distance, some fishing off the dock, others from boats. A few dogs chased balls and Frisbees along the water’s edge.

“Hope you like the great outdoors,” he said.

“I do.” She accepted his hand and he helped her out. “Kind of surprised you do.”

“You underestimate me.” He tsked. “I like that in a woman.”

After nearly an hour of traversing a rocky hillside, navigating around logs and boulders and through dense brush and trees, Crickitt realized Shane was right. She
had
underestimated him, and
overestimated
her level of physical fitness. Her calves screamed, her steps slowing as they came to yet another incline.

She leaned against a tree trunk to catch her breath, remembering too late she’d worn white. Stepping away, she dusted the back of her shorts.

“Let me know if you need help with that,” Shane offered.

“Are you always this forward?” she asked, but her reprimand held little threat.

“Not always.”

“I think I need a break.”

He grimaced as he approached. “But we’re so close.”

She looked over his shoulder where a hill as steep as the side of a pyramid loomed.

Giving her a brief assessment, he turned away and squatted down. “Get on.”

She took one look at his broad back and shook her head. “No way.”

“Why not?”

She crossed her arms. “Because…” She stopped short of the litany of obvious references. She was five five, not exactly petite, and she had a healthy curve to her hips and backside. She was far from overweight, but neither was she rail thin. “Because,” she repeated.

“Lame,” Shane said, standing to face her. “You’re underestimating me again. Tell you what, you can either get on my back, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way.” He flashed her a smile. “I dare you to call me on that.” He bent down and patted his back with both hands.

She believed him. Believed he’d carry her off into the woods like Tarzan while she kicked her legs uselessly. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she said a prayer and hopped, throwing her legs around his waist.

He locked his arms beneath her knees and stood easily, muttering, “Lightweight.”

Arms hooked around his neck, Shane ponied her up the trail, sidestepping a low-hanging branch. “Watch your head,” he told her. She ducked, pressing even closer against him, feeling the rumble of his voice in her stomach when he spoke again. “Don’t want to add clotheslining to our first date.”

Their first date. The night she met Shane at the club, she never could have imagined riding on his back in the woods or kissing him until he stole the oxygen from her lungs.

“Here we are.” He lowered her to the ground. She landed not-so-gracefully, and he grasped her arm to steady her. The force of his charismatic smile shook her to the core.

They crested one small bump of a hill, the sound of flowing water growing louder as they approached. A waterfall stood in the distance, cascading over a rocky ledge of moss and smoothed rock before breaking into a shallow pool below.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

It was also hard to believe the Kodak-worthy spot wasn’t teeming with sightseers. Then a man stepped out from behind a tree and she understood why. Apparently, the falls were guarded by Andre the Giant.

“Leo,” Shane greeted him. “Meet Crickitt.”

Leo stepped forward and swallowed Crickitt’s hand in his, his smile lighting his oddly large features. “I like your name,” he told her, releasing her hand. He nodded to Shane. “It’s ready.”

Then Leo stepped past her, a roll of yellow Caution tape in one beefy mitt, and began stringing it around the trees.

“What’s he doing?” she asked Shane.

Shane clasped her hand, leading her closer to the falls. “Giving us some privacy.”