Tempting the Billionaire (Love in the Balance) Read online

  She rolled her eyes.

  He meant to claim her with a deep kiss but found himself pressing his lips softly against hers. Heat burned between them all the same. “Now would be a good time for you to massage my ego. Tell me how I stack up to your former lover.”

  Crickitt squirmed, but he kept her caged between his arms.

  “Right,” she said, stilling. “Like your ego needs massaging!”

  He narrowed one eye. “Uh-oh. Does that mean I wasn’t any good? Because I’d be glad to make it up to you. I’m a quick learner. A hard worker.”

  To prove his point, he kissed a trail from her collarbone to the freckle on her neck, which had become his fifth favorite part of her body. He flicked out his tongue and she giggled. He found the unique ticklish spot this morning. “Told you I was a quick learner,” he said, doing it again.

  He assaulted her until she shrieked, “Fine! I give!”

  Her face grew serious, her voice quiet. “You make me forget”—she trailed a finger along the stubble on his face—“what it’s like to be with anyone else.”

  Damn. Shane gulped. That was honest. He didn’t think he could say something like that to himself, let alone out loud. Even though, he realized as sweat beaded his temple, it would have been true for him, too.

  Crickittt’s eyes were moist from laughing, her cheeks flushed. Sifting her fingers into his hair, she looked past him. “What about me?”

  Hesitation laced her voice. She had no idea how amazing she was. No clue. He leaned in and kissed her, slowly this time, until she made a needy sound in the back of her throat. When he lifted his head, he could make out the doubt in her eyes, but now passion competed for space.

  “You,” he said, “are the only woman I’ve ever spent the day in bed with.”

  He didn’t know if it was enough, but it was as much as he could give. He waited for her to push him away. Instead, she tugged his head to her mouth and nipped his earlobe.

  “Get comfortable,” she purred. “I’m keeping you here all night, too.”

  Then his brain quit functioning altogether.

  Chapter 26

  Crickitt passed her suitcase to Thomas and climbed into the rear of the limo while he loaded the trunk. Shane followed, unfolding his long body next to her as he reached for her hand. He didn’t speak, only brushed her knuckles with his thumb, his head down.

  “Thanks for breakfast,” she said, doing her best to keep from grinning. He’d been scrambling eggs for two this morning when she’d joined him at the stove. He’d moved the pan from stove to sink, lingering over her lips instead.

  He pressed a fingertip into the corner of her mouth. “I see that,” he murmured. “We can stop if you’re hungry.” He grasped one of her curls, winding it around his finger.

  “I’m good,” she said, her grin emerging.

  “I’ll say.” He put a smacking kiss on the center of her mouth.

  Thomas angled down the mountainside to take them home.

  After the third hour of repeating tree-and-hill landscape outside her window, Crickitt was nearly mad with boredom.

  “Do you only travel by ground?” she asked Shane, who had since relocated to the bench opposite her.

  He looked up from a newspaper he’d been flipping through. “Hmm?”

  “Why don’t you fly? If you had your own plane, you could be to Tennessee in, like, an hour instead of sitting through a six-hour car ride.”

  “I like the ride. Gives me time to think.”

  “Have you heard the phrase time is money?”

  “Have you heard the phrase stop and smell the roses?”

  “Yes,” she said, “but I don’t think it applies here.”

  He returned to his article. “I don’t fly.”

  Well. That was unexpected.

  “I don’t like it and I have the means to avoid it, so I do,” he said.

  “Oh.”

  “I have a passport.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s not like I’ve been in a plane crash or have a phobia,” he continued defensively. “I just don’t like it.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You were thinking it.”

  He was adorable when lacking confidence. She moved to sit next to him, even though facing backward made her woozy. She curled her legs beneath her and plucked the paper from his hands. In what she hoped was a seductive move, she flicked her wrist and tossed it in a pile at his feet.

  “You”—she poked a finger into his chest, batting her eyelashes—“don’t have a clue what I’m thinking.”

  The corner of his mouth curved. “Guilty.”

  She plucked one button from its buttonhole, followed by another. He pulled her onto his lap and she straddled him, taking the opportunity to muss his thick hair with her fingers.

  “You’re becoming a habit,” he murmured.

  Oh, she liked the sound of that. Shane was a routine guy. Every day sounded like a habit she could get into. His hands closed around hers, stroking her fingers and sending the blood zinging through her veins like a laser light show.

  “Kiss me.”

  She obeyed.

  As she moved her lips on his, she considered it was Shane who was becoming the habit. It was hard to imagine not being this close to him, not touching him, not kissing him.

  His hands slid down to cup her bottom, where it rested on his lap. He deepened the kiss, sending her pulse racing. Closing her eyes, she kissed him back and returned to the task of opening his shirt. The future would happen whether she worried about it or not.

  And for now, she chose not.

  * * *

  A bowl of half-eaten popcorn and two wineglasses rested on Shane’s coffee table. Crickitt sat, knees tucked to her chin on the stylish black leather couch. Her heels began to slide and she pushed herself up for the twelfth time. And, for the twelfth time, slid right back down. “I hate this couch!”

  Shane chuckled.

  She faced him. “I can’t enjoy my movie if I’m constantly slipping onto the floor.”

  He turned his attention to the television, where an enormous alligator chomped on a hapless fisherman’s remaining limbs. Shane screwed his mouth to one side. “I’m not sure how you can enjoy it as it is.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. He’d pandered to her fondness for horror movies, letting her pick what to snuggle up and watch after each of their weekday dates. Though, in her defense, they did more making out than watching the screen. Still, he could probably use a break.

  She pointed the remote and the television winked off. “Let’s do what you want to do tonight.” Wasting no time, he reached for her. She pushed against him. “I’m serious. I have been eating up your evenings every night since we got back from Tennessee.” So far, the most amazing nights of her life.

  He frowned. “You make it sound like you’re keeping me from something.”

  “Aren’t I?”

  Shane patted his flat stomach. “My workouts. If I miss too many more, I’ll lose my figure.”

  “Okay, well, let’s be active.”

  Shane’s grin was predatory. “Yes. Let’s.”

  He smothered her attempt to shove him away by nuzzling her neck. Moving her shirt aside, he kissed her bare shoulder and slipped his tongue under her bra strap.

  “I meant a real workout,” she managed weakly.

  “Oh, it will be.”

  The clock on the wall chimed and his shoulders went rigid, his mouth hovering over her neck. As the last chime echoed across the room, his arms tightened around her and he returned his lips to her skin.

  It was a subtle reaction, the briefest response. But she noticed.

  She grasped Shane’s face between her palms. “What was that?” She smoothed the crease between his brows with her thumb.

  He pushed a hand through his hair, swiping her hands from his face in the process. “What was what?”

  “Your reaction. To the clock.” She wasn’t sure that’s what it was until h
e shot her a look, confirming it.

  He recovered quickly. “Just noticed it was late, that’s all.”

  “Late,” she said flatly. It wasn’t, not for them. Each of their dates lasted until they were both yawning, their eyes heavy.

  Shane clenched his jaw. A piece of his hair stood out from the side of his head. She reached for it, but he dipped his head to one side, avoiding her.

  He stood, gesturing toward her half-full wineglass. “Done?”

  “Uh…I guess so.”

  He carried their glasses to the sink and washed them at the island, his face drawn. Had the room cooled several degrees, or was it her? She shrugged her shirt back over her shoulder as Shane came to stand between the kitchen and the front door.

  “Should I go?” she asked. Surely not.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty late.” He palmed the back of his neck and avoided looking at her.

  Crickitt slipped on her shoes and stood, straightening her shirt. He spared her a glance. She took the opportunity of eye contact to ask, “What just happened?”

  “Nothing.” His voice raised a note. Calmer, he added, “I’ve been up late all week. Makes me grouchy.” He offered a stiff smile. “I’ll rest up this weekend, be back to normal by Monday.”

  Monday? They spent every day together and now he wanted to go all weekend without seeing her? She felt the pull of an argument, the words jumbling in her head. She thought they’d shared a deep connection and had since dismissed the day by the waterfall. The day he’d suggested something casual.

  Had she been fooling herself this whole time? Maybe nothing had changed. Maybe he still wanted to keep things casual. And if that was the case, she was in no position to argue with him.

  The thought stung like a fresh paper cut.

  Crickitt paced to the door, talking herself down along the way. Shane was a bachelor. He wasn’t used to having someone soak up his every free minute. Maybe he really did need to rest, to be alone.

  She shouldered her purse, putting on a smile that wasn’t full of doubt and resentment before she faced him. “See you Monday.” And then out of nowhere, she added, “Sorry for asking about the clock.”

  At the same time she grasped the doorknob, Shane’s palm wrapped around her arm. His expression was a mix of pain, uncertainty, and hesitation. Like he wanted to talk to her but couldn’t. Or maybe he wasn’t ready.

  When he didn’t say anything, she tipped her head and kissed him, half hoping he’d grab her up and tell her not to go. He didn’t. “Monday,” she said, giving him her best unaffected smile.

  He nodded.

  Then, forcing her doubts to the pit of her stomach, she left.

  Chapter 27

  Crickitt unloaded the contents of her canvas bag on Monday morning, her movements jerky. She flitted another glance at Shane’s closed office door across the hall. He wasn’t in there. She’d arrived at work an hour early, hoping she could talk to him before the rest of the staff hustled in. True to his word, he hadn’t called her over the weekend. Twice, she’d dialed his number before clearing the screen instead of hitting Call.

  She’d tried to convince herself she was overreacting, but her intuition popped like water in hot oil.

  Were they through? Had their brief affair met its expiration date? Was she more foolish for sleeping with him in the first place, or for wanting to continue to sleep with him now?

  She shook her head to dislodge the erratic thoughts. It was possible she was being overly sensitive. And after the last twelve months of dealing with Ronald, who could blame her? Who wouldn’t look for early warning signs of The End after missing so many in her marriage?

  She’d never been good at holding back. When she got involved with someone, she was as see-through as cellophane. But with Shane, she’d tried. She never asked or expected him to stay overnight. She didn’t pack a bag when he invited her to his house, didn’t linger in his office or call him or text him unless it was work-related. She’d done her best to be what Shane needed. And for what? So he could usher her out of his house, out of his life?

  Crickitt slumped in her chair. She felt horrible. She felt used. She felt unwanted. What started out as magical had morphed into a dirty one-week stand. And she hated it.

  But before the burrowing insects of doubt made their way into her heart, Crickitt squared her shoulders and straightened in her chair. She refused to do this. To allow their affair, no matter how short-lived, to annihilate her. She wasn’t about to curl up and let another man kick her around like a soccer ball. She’d dismantled a marriage, her home, her former persona. Surely she was strong enough to handle this.

  Snatching her empty mug, she headed for the coffeepot. Shane may be capable of compartmentalizing relationships, but she wasn’t as shallow. And that was okay. Better than okay, it was admirable.

  Lengthening her legs as she walked, she strengthened her gait, stiffened her spine. Every experience in her life had brought with it a lesson. This one was no different. And if the lesson was that she was unable to seal off her emotions, that she couldn’t separate her heart from her head, well, then, she had nothing to be ashamed of. And in the future she wouldn’t pretend to be someone she’s not.

  Her inner cheerleader dropped her pom-poms the moment she entered the break room and nearly collided with Shane’s wide shoulders. Because no matter how inspired her speech was, no matter how carefully crafted her wall of protection, when she saw him, she couldn’t deny the truth.

  She didn’t want to lose him. Not now, maybe not ever.

  For a split second, he looked surprised to see her, then masked the expression beneath one more neutral.

  Watching him rein in his emotions threatened to crumble Crickitt to her knees.

  It’s over.

  “Sorry, I can come back.” Her voice wobbled, her throat filled with words she couldn’t say. She turned to leave.

  “Crickitt, wait.”

  “Oh! Excuse me.” Keena stopped short of the doorway, flicking a look from Crickitt to Shane. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No,” Crickitt said.

  At the same time Shane said, “Yes.”

  She flashed him a warning look before sliding past Keena and marching toward her office. They weren’t doing this. Not here. Gathering speed, she angled down the hallway. He caught her easily.

  “Crickitt,” he called behind her. “We need to talk.”

  She didn’t slow down; as if she could outrun the truth she’d seen in his eyes.

  “Please?”

  She reached her office and clutched the door frame. Running would only delay the inevitable. He was going to break up with her. She nodded without turning.

  He disappeared inside his office.

  She stood, staring down at her desk, attempting to gather her strength. Every appendage from the tips of her fingers to the tops of her toes had gone numb.

  Carrying a pen and a legal pad she didn’t need—she obviously hadn’t been summoned for business reasons—Crickitt walked the short distance from her office to Shane’s and settled into the chair across from his desk.

  She heard the snick of the door as he pulled it shut. He rounded his desk and sat. Crickitt wrote the day’s date at the top of the paper and refused to look at him.

  Here it comes. Like the cresting wave of a tsunami and just as unstoppable.

  Crickitt’s throat constricted as she attempted to swallow around the unwanted lump of emotion. The breath meant to steady her stuttered from her lips, and the dam blocking her tear ducts burst, salt water splashing onto the notepad on her lap.

  Shane moved to stand but she held up a hand. “Ignore me.” She swiped her eyes, drying her fingertips on her pant leg. “This is—I’m not doing this on purpose.” She added the afterthought, “I wish I weren’t doing it at all.” She cleared her throat, and despite feeling crepe paper thin forced herself to meet Shane’s gaze. “Just say it.”

  But the sympathy etched on his features said it all. She would give any
thing to fast-forward through the next five minutes, get it over with as soon as possible. She’d cry later, when she was alone and when Shane wasn’t watching her like a fragile valuable teetering on a high shelf.

  “Do you think you can continue to work here?” he asked.

  She almost laughed. But it wasn’t funny, it was annoyingly pragmatic. He was dumping her yet clarifying she was a swell assistant. Well, wasn’t that lovely?

  Current situation aside, she liked her job. And she was good at it; she and Shane were good partners at work. She swallowed down a wave of hot tears as she realized the truth. That she’d been hoping to be partners outside of work, too.

  Still, with both of them willing, maybe they could get back to the way things were before—before—

  She couldn’t even think it.

  “Yes,” she answered with a certainty she didn’t feel.

  “Good. I don’t want to lose you.”

  What she would give to hear those words in a different context. Questions swirled around her, blowing up debris better left at rest. What went wrong? What wasn’t he telling her? Wasn’t she worth an explanation? How could he be so composed when she was seconds away from dropping to her knees and begging him back?

  A sharp rap sounded at the door. Even muffled through the panel, Crickitt recognized the cocktail of overexcited female mixed with earthy male baritone.

  Oh, no.

  The door swung inward. “Mr. August,” Keena said. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  Crickitt stood, mouth dropping open as she watched her mother and father file in behind Keena. They’d barged in on her before, but never had their surprise visits been this unwelcome, or their timing this poor.

  “Sweetheart!” The woman behind Keena burst in and clasped on to Crickitt, squeezing the air from her lungs. The man followed, pumping his arms and giving her a rosy-cheek grin.

  “Mom. Dad,” Crickitt managed, aware of Shane standing directly behind her. “What are you doing here?”

  Chapter 28

  Shane’s office turned into a three-ring circus in the span of a few seconds. He tried to keep tabs on the melee in front of him, but it happened too fast. Keena apologizing for interrupting, Crickitt’s mother shushing her. Crickitt’s father’s hearty laughter as he grasped Crickitt’s arm and shook her.