Tempting the Billionaire (Love in the Balance 1)

“Or you could go home and I could go inside,” she said, but made no effort to unhook her hands from around his neck.

“If you can live with yourself for sending me away, then I’ll go.”

“Okay, I’ll see you Wednesday,” she said brightly.

“Ouch,” he said, tipping his lips. “Why not tomorrow?”

She shook her head, winding a finger around in his hair. “Sorry, I’m going to take tomorrow off. I promised Mom I’d take her shopping and to dinner at the Hard Rock Café.”

She waited for him to argue, but instead he said, “I love the Hard Rock Café.”

“Are you fishing for an invitation?” As if he needed to. She was halfway to inviting him already.

“Yes.” He muttered an expletive. “No. I just remembered I have a meeting at five thirty.” He clasped his hands behind her waist. “After?”

“Sorry,” she answered entirely out of self-preservation. She needed some distance to be able to think clearly. Whenever he was near, looking at her the way he was now, she was far too likely to agree with everything he said. “I’ll see you all day on Wednesday.”

“And all night?” he asked, sealing his lips with hers.

The kiss was short-lived, but it still managed to evaporate her good sense. “And all night.”

Chapter 30

Shane got home in time to hear his father’s clock strike twelve. He hung his keys on the hook by the coatrack and considered how close he’d come to losing Crickitt over the stupid thing. And while he wasn’t sure, exactly, what the definition of their relationship was, he was willing to admit he wasn’t anywhere near ready to let go of her.

He flipped his security box closed after keying in the code and turned on his floodlights outside. In his bedroom he stripped down to his boxers and fell onto the mattress, his thoughts on the woman who’d been on it beneath him. And on top of him. A goofy smile stretched across his face as he closed his eyes and watched flashes of what they’d done together this evening on his eyelids. He wished she had stayed, but he couldn’t blame her. She had family in town. Even though he was pretty sure he’d already won over Gerald and Chandra Day. He waited for panic to tighten his chest, but it didn’t come. He felt lighter than he had in…ever.

And he’d see her Wednesday, he reminded himself, exhaling, anticipation draining from his muscles as he sank lower into bed. And if he could somehow get out of his ill-timed meeting tomorrow night, maybe he’d find a way to see her then, too.

It was his last thought before he drifted off to sleep.

Shane woke up with a jolt, blinked at the darkened room, and tried to orient himself. He was in his bed. Light filtered through the spaces in the blinds and striped the sheets. Sheets he was strangling with balled-up fists. He opened his hands, untangling the blankets and kicking them from his legs. He was sweating, his heart racing.

What the hell?

It was like he’d been having a nightmare, but not so much as a wisp of it clung to his memory. He sat up, breathed in and out, and tried to recall even a flash of it. He couldn’t.

Heading for the attached master bath, he splashed a few jittery palms full of cold water on his face and neck before facing his mirror. His grainy, dripping reflection looked back at him. “What the hell?” they said to one another.

He headed back to his bedroom and stood over his bed, his unfocused gaze on the rumpled sheets. If Crickitt had taken his suggestion and stayed, she’d be there now. He could imagine her lying on her side, blinking sleepy eyes at him, asking what was wrong. The temptation to crawl into bed beside her and bury whatever was wrong beneath her silken skin jolted him like an electric fence. That would have been a far better prospect than having a panic attack wearing only his skivvies.

He was half tempted to jump in the car and go and get her. A thought that sent a shiver reverberating through his body. Because if Shane was one thing, it was independent…or so he thought. His palms shook and he balled up his hands. Right now, he felt pretty damn needy.

Four chimes interrupted his thoughts, their echoes hanging in the air long after the clock fell silent.

He’d been alone a lot in his life. His father moving in with him was the first time he’d lived with someone since…well, since he lived at home.

And if anything immunized him from wanting another person close by, it had been Sean August. “Your mother loved that stupid clock,” he’d grumble day after day, insisting to Shane it was “his duty” to hang it. “Piece of junk if you ask me,” he’d say after demanding it be wound. And each time it clanged the hour, Sean reminded Shane that he was responsible for his mother’s death. When Sean died, Shane kept the clock. Kept it out of some misguided sense of loyalty. Or maybe it was guilt.