Читать книгу Tempted By The Billionaire Next Door - Therese Beharrie - Страница 9

CHAPTER ONE

JESSICA STEYN HADN’T deliberately sought out the half-naked man who’d entertained her over the last week. But she couldn’t deny that watching him had fast become her new favourite hobby.

She watched as he bent over to pick up another stack of logs—watched as the muscles of his naked back rippled, the lightest sheen of sweat defining them even more—and conceded that it was definitely top-notch entertainment.

Guilt poked at her, but she ignored it. It wasn’t her fault that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Nor was it her fault that he’d made a routine of cutting up the trees in his yard. Every day at noon he emerged from the house—wearing an old T-shirt that inevitably got tossed aside about five minutes into his task—and hacked the trunks he’d cut down the day before into logs. He then placed them in a pile, before carrying them over to an enclosed area where he’d set them down and start all over again.

So, ever since she’d noticed there was a routine, every day at noon she would settle in front of the window that overlooked his property to enjoy the show.

Thank goodness she’d discovered him, she thought as he gulped down a bottle of water. Water that dribbled over his chin, creating an enticing path down the column of his throat, between his pecs and the impressive ridges of his abs. Her heart rate immediately skyrocketed, and she thought that maybe she needed a glass of water, too.

He was a pretty decent distraction in an otherwise boring day. Now that her friend and boss, Anja, was away with her husband, Chet, on business, Jess’s days were mostly free. Apart from watching Mr Sexy-Next-Door.

And, of course, thinking about the child she carried.

Before her mind could take that detour—about how this child made Jess feel as if her life was actually worth something for the first time—she thought about how annoyed she was with Anja for not telling her that there was a Mr Sexy-Next-Door.

She’d been helping Anja manage her yoga studio for almost two years now, and this was the first time Jess had seen him. Though, to be fair, it was also the first time Jess had stayed at Anja’s house for longer than a few days. But she still expected Anja to tell her about the man. Perhaps not as her boss, but as her friend.

And definitely as her best friend.

But all thoughts of that vanished when the top log of the stack Mr Sexy had set down started to roll. He’d already turned away, so didn’t see the snowball effect of that one log. Jess pushed out of her chair, a wordless cry of warning on her lips, but it was too late. The logs had rolled under his feet and she watched in horror as he fell to the ground, twisting his body so that he landed on his hip.

Before she knew it, she was out of the front door. She had to turn back when she realised she hadn’t locked the house and, after she did, she ran as fast as her swollen body would allow to her temporary neighbour’s house. She said a silent prayer of thanks when she found his gate open and then she was kneeling beside him, her hands running over the chest she’d admired only minutes before.

She ignored how the grooves of his muscles, his abs, felt beneath her hands and focused on identifying whether anything was broken. She realised that he’d turned over onto his back then, but it only made her pause for a second. Then her hands were on his ankles, his calves, but, before she could feel his thighs or hips, two large hands gripped her wrists.

‘I’m not opposed to having a beautiful woman run her hands over me, but maybe we should leave that particular area for when we know each other better.’

Jess felt her face burn and quickly pulled back. But her balance was off and she landed on her butt. Her hand immediately went to her stomach, but she dropped it just as quickly. Not because his eyes had followed the gesture, and the way the interest there had cooled reminded her of the dismissive looks her parents had used to give her, but because she was fairly certain the baby was fine. She hadn’t fallen very hard. Though she really had to remember that pregnancy had made her clumsy.

‘I’m assuming that response means you didn’t knock your head on the way down.’ She debated not saying anything else, but she knew she would worry if she didn’t ask. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I guess so. Well, as okay as you can be when someone witnesses a couple of logs trip you.’ He moved to push up to his forearms, but she crawled forward and set a hand on his chest, pushing him back down.

‘You should stay still until we’re sure you’re really fine.’

‘I am sure. I’m fine.’

Realising he was the stubborn sort, Jess pressed a hand against his hip and nodded when he winced. ‘You’re not fine. I’m calling an ambulance.’

Before she could move to her feet, he grabbed her wrist again. This time, she felt the heat of his hand on her arm. Felt the callused bumps at the base of his fingers rub against her skin. She wasn’t sure why it sent a flush through her body, but she stilled and then gently pulled her arm out of his grip.

His expression didn’t change, though something in his eyes flickered. ‘I really am fine. I’ll probably have a bruise on my hip tomorrow—and my ego will probably need to be resuscitated since it was murdered so cruelly—but I promise you, I’m fine.’

He sat up then, and she let him. ‘Besides,’ he continued with a smile that made the flush in her body go hotter, ‘if I’m not fine, maybe you’ll come to my rescue again.’

‘Unlikely,’ she replied, ignoring the way her lips wanted to curve at his words. ‘I just happened to be looking out of my window when you fell.’

It sounded legitimate, she thought, and almost patted herself on the back when she saw he’d bought her excuse. Good thing, too. She wasn’t sure how she could explain the real reason she’d seen him.

‘I appreciate you wanting to help me. Are you a doctor?’

‘No.’

‘Nurse?’

She shook her head.

‘So, you just ran over when you saw me fall without any medical skills whatsoever?’

‘I was a lifeguard when I was a teenager.’ A choice her parents had disapproved of heartily. Funny how they’d chosen to be interested in something so insignificant when they’d ignored everything else in her life. When they’d ignored her. ‘I have first-aid experience, and falls were the first thing they taught us to deal with.’

‘I stand corrected.’ His smile was more genuine now, less cocky, and yet it had the same effect on her body.

Or maybe it was the fact that he still didn’t have a shirt on, and she was being treated to her afternoon entertainment close-up.

She almost lifted a hand to check whether she was drooling.

‘Well, now that I know you’re okay I should probably be off.’ She took a long time to get to her feet, and cursed silently when she saw how smoothly he did it.

‘How can I repay you?’

She snorted. ‘For what? Rushing over here and embarrassing us both?’

‘Why would you be embarrassed?’

Good question. ‘Because clearly you were fine and I panicked over nothing?’

‘You panicked?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘It was a hard fall, okay? I was worried.’

She couldn’t tell what had changed on his face, but something had. And it made his already too perfect features seem even more appealing. ‘So, I’m repaying you for being worried. It’s not often that people care.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ she agreed, feeling the words hit a little too close to home. ‘But I don’t need to be repaid. You’re fine. Right?’ He nodded. ‘So, I’ll be seeing you.’

She turned to leave and managed to get a few steps away from the gate before his voice called out, ‘Which window?’

She turned back. ‘What?’

‘From which window did you see me fall?’

‘That one.’ She nodded to the window on the second level of the house next door, grateful that the chair she’d been sitting on—or the chips she’d been eating while watching him—wasn’t visible.

‘That’s my sister’s house.’

It took a moment for her mind to process the new information. ‘Your sister?’ she repeated. ‘You’re Dylan?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, his forehead creasing. ‘Who are you? And why are you staying in my sister’s house?’

‘I’m Jess. Jessica,’ she added quickly. ‘I’m staying at the house while Anja and Chet are away.’

His features tightened. ‘Away where?’

‘Sydney. They wanted to get Anja’s new yoga studio up and running before the—’ She caught herself before it was too late. She couldn’t tell Dylan about the baby. Anja would kill her. And she didn’t need to upset one of the few people who cared about her. ‘Does she know you’re here?’

‘No.’

‘Oh.’

There was a long stretch of silence before either of them spoke again. And then she asked, ‘You’ve been back for at least a week. Why haven’t you come over? Or tried to call her?’

He frowned. ‘How do you know how long I’ve been back for?’

Jess felt her eyes widen, her cheeks heat, before she managed to reply with something other than I’ve been watching you. ‘I heard the garbage truck pick up your bin earlier this week.’ She held her breath and hoped he’d buy the somewhat lame excuse.

‘And how do you know that I haven’t tried to call her?’

‘She...would have told me.’

He studied her. ‘How exactly do you know Anja?’

Something about the way he asked it put her back up. ‘I’m her PA.’

‘She let her PA stay in her house?’ There was barely a pause before he continued. ‘She would tell her PA if her brother called her?’

Jess straightened. ‘Yes. Your sister and I are also friends. Good friends.’ She kept her hand from going to her stomach—to the proof of the bond that she and Anja shared—and forced herself to calm down when an inner voice questioned why she was responding so defensively. ‘I didn’t realise it was you when I came over.’

‘But you knew I lived next door?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, but it got her thinking about why it hadn’t occurred to her that Mr Sexy-Next-Door was actually Anja’s brother. ‘I knew you lived next door, but Anja didn’t tell me which next door you lived in.’

‘And you never asked?’

You’re not exactly a topic of conversation either of us readily bring up. ‘It didn’t matter.’

‘Because my sister doesn’t talk about me?’

‘Because you weren’t here.’

Though both answers were true, it seemed as if Dylan cared more about the option she’d offered. Because when he’d given his option his face hadn’t tightened the way it had after she’d spoken. Hurt hadn’t flashed across his face, quickly followed by a blankness she couldn’t help but feel was desperate.

‘Why are you here?’ she said after a moment, unable to help herself.

‘I live here.’ There was a beat of silence. ‘This is my home.’

‘It hasn’t been,’ she reminded him, still compelled by reasons she wasn’t quite sure of. ‘Not for the last two years.’

‘No, it has been,’ Dylan replied softly. ‘But even the best of us run away from home sometimes, don’t we?’

Her heart stalled, reminding her of the old car she’d seen just that morning, spluttering down the road in front of Anja’s house. Why did it feel as if he was talking about her? To her? As if he instinctively knew that she’d turned her back on the place she’d once called home? As if he knew that she’d run from the parents who hadn’t cared enough to even try to make her believe that they wanted her to stay?

‘When are they coming back?’ Dylan asked gruffly. Jess shook her head, ignoring the need to push for more answers. To find out why telling her he’d run from home had clearly upset him. It was none of her business.

‘The end of the month.’ Though Jess had a feeling it would be a lot sooner once she told Anja that Dylan had returned. ‘How long have you been back?’

‘You were right,’ he replied. ‘About a week.’

So he’d been chopping up wood since the day he’d returned, she thought, and forced away the sudden disappointment that came from knowing she’d no longer be able to watch him. How could she, knowing who he was?

Older brother of her best friend. Uncle to the child she carried.

‘Do you know where I’ve been?’

‘The UK?’ He nodded. ‘Yeah, Anja told me you’ve been away for...business.’

‘Clearly that isn’t all she told you,’ he said with a self-deprecating smile.

‘No.’

The smile dimmed. ‘There’s a lot you seem to know about me, Jessica, and yet I haven’t even heard about you.’

‘Does that surprise you?’

‘No.’ A fleeting shadow of pain darkened his features. ‘But I’m back now.’

‘So you are.’

‘And I’d like to have my return start on the right foot.’

Something pulsed in the air between them, but Jess refused to acknowledge it. ‘Yeah, okay. Go for it.’

He smiled at her, and this time it wasn’t laden with emotion. It was an easy, natural smile she imagined he’d give when he saw an old friend, or during his favourite movie. But it sent an unnatural frisson through her body.

‘You should have lunch with me.’

‘No,’ she said immediately.

‘You have somewhere else to be?’

‘No, but—’

‘Then have lunch with me.’

‘No, thank you,’ she said more firmly, hoping none of the panic she felt was evident in her voice. ‘You were...busy before I interrupted.’

‘After what happened, I think I’m done for the day.’

‘I really don’t think I should—’

‘Please.’ His smile widened and she almost felt faint. ‘I’d like to get to know the woman staying in my sister’s house. The woman who’s clearly a good friend of hers.’ He paused. ‘That’s what I meant by having my return start on the right foot. If you and I are on good terms when Anja gets back...’

The seconds ticked by, and then Jess narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re schmoozing me!’

Surprise captured his features, and then he laughed. A loud, genuine laugh that started at those fantastic abs and went all the way up to his perfect hair. It was fascinating to watch. The even angles of his face were animated with joy, those chocolate-whisky eyes she only now noticed he shared with his sister alight with appreciation.

She’d never been much of a beard woman, but Dylan’s stubble was dissuading her of that belief. She loved that his skin reminded her of oak—not too light, not too dark. And she really loved that he still didn’t have a shirt on, so she could appreciate that colour over hard, defined muscle...

‘If I told you I was, would that make you want to have lunch with me any less than you already do?’ he asked, interrupting her hormone-driven thoughts.

‘Probably.’ She waited. ‘So, are you?’

Now he chuckled. ‘No.’

She tilted her head. Watched him. ‘You’re the CEO of an international engineering company. I’d imagine that requires some measure of intelligence.’

‘You’re saying I’m not intelligent?’

‘Only if you expect me to believe that you’re not trying to...charm me into having lunch with you.’

‘Well, I am taking some time off from work. Perhaps that’s why I’m off my game. Why I’ve made such an unforgivable mistake.’

‘You’re still doing it!’

He smiled. ‘I can’t help it.’

‘Great. It’ll make my refusal so much easier then.’

‘No, wait,’ he said, grabbing her wrist when she turned. He let go when she turned back. Her skin prickled. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just...easier to schmooze than to...earnestly ask you to have lunch with me.’

‘Why do you want to have lunch with me so badly?’

‘You’re Anja’s friend and...and I’d like to show her that I’m serious about coming back to fix things. That’s why I’m here,’ he told her softly. ‘I want to fix what I broke when I left, and if you and I are on good terms...’ He shrugged. ‘I wasn’t lying about that, Jess.’

As Jess studied him she felt herself soften. She hated that she did, but she couldn’t ignore the emotion behind his words. The hope. She also couldn’t ignore how much it spoke to her own desire. The deep, dark one that she would never have admitted aloud to anyone.

That some day her parents would show up for her, just like it seemed Dylan had for Anja. That some day they’d want to fix things with her just as badly as Dylan clearly wanted to with his sister.

It was a stupid hope, one her experiences growing up had taught her not to entertain. But still, it made her want to say yes to Dylan. That, and the desire to prevent the child she carried from growing up in the tension, the brokenness that currently existed in Anja’s family. The same kind of tension and brokenness that Jess had grown up with.

Jess knew Anja was stubborn, and she wouldn’t let the brother who’d left her after their father had died just come strolling back into her life. Not when that brother had broken her heart by leaving. Not when he’d broken his promise to always be there for her.

‘I don’t know why you left, Dylan,’ Jess said softly, ‘or why you didn’t come home for two years. That’s probably none of my business...though what I’m about to ask you falls under that category, too. But...why haven’t you come over to speak with Anja since you got back?’

It was such a long time before he answered that Jess was sure he wouldn’t answer her at all. ‘I didn’t know whether she’d want to see me, and staying away, keeping my mind and body busy with menial tasks...they were all excuses to postpone the inevitably difficult conversation I would have to have with her.’

Surprised by his candour—and more than a little touched—Jess nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘Okay,’ she repeated. She waited a beat before she said, ‘You better have enough food to feed a pregnant woman, Dylan.’

* * *

It took Dylan a moment to realise what he’d done. Another to process what he’d said. And even then he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Inviting a woman he barely knew into his home? Offering to make her lunch? Sharing his intention of fixing things with Anja? Hoping that she’d be able to give him some insight into his sister?

It was crazy, but his craziness was dipped in desperation. Desperation because his sister hadn’t spoken to him—not properly—in almost two years. Desperation because his plan to speak with her when he got home wasn’t working.

Because every time he’d wanted to go over to her house to talk with her he’d remembered her face when he’d left. He’d remembered how broken she’d looked, how her voice had cracked when she’d said goodbye.

How he’d left anyway.

And now, when he’d finally told himself he would go to see her that night, it turned out she wasn’t even there.

He was disappointed, and perhaps that had been another reason for his invitation to Jess. But then the desperation, the craziness, the disappointment had landed him a meal with a beautiful woman, so was it really that bad?

Yes, an inner voice answered him. Of course it was. Because though the beautiful woman knew things about his sister that he didn’t know—that he wanted to know—she was also pregnant. Pregnant. Which meant someone had got her pregnant. His eyes searched her hand for a ring, but they didn’t find one.

It sent an absurd surge of hope through him, and he rolled his eyes as he led the way into his house. He bent down when he heard the scurry of paws against the wooden floor and fussed over his Labrador, Daisy, when she came bounding around the corner.

But she quickly lost interest in him and made her way to the woman he’d invited for lunch. Dylan watched as Jess’s face lit up and she lowered—carefully, he saw—before rubbing his dog vigorously. It sent another surge through him, but this time it was warmth. A bubble of warmth that floated from his heart and settled in his belly.

A bubble that abruptly popped when he remembered that no wedding ring didn’t mean that she was available.

And that a baby meant she definitely wasn’t available.

‘Daisy, back,’ he snapped, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended because of his thoughts. The dog gave him a beseeching look but stepped back and sat, and Dylan offered a hand to help Jess up.

‘Sorry about that. She gets a little excited around people.’

He sucked in his breath at the sizzle he felt coming from her hand. Held his breath when the vanilla scent she wore settled in his nose. As soon as she was steady, he broke the contact.

‘Don’t worry. I love dogs.’

‘Do you have any?’

Sadness dulled her eyes. ‘No, my parents weren’t really fans of pets when I was younger. Or children.’ She laughed breathlessly, but he could tell that it was meant to cover up her mistake. She hadn’t meant to tell him that.

Well, that makes two of us, he thought, remembering what he’d told her about coming home. And because of it he didn’t address her slip. Instead, he approached it from a different angle.

‘Why don’t you have any now? Doesn’t your husband want pets either?’

‘No husband.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m just your typical unwed pregnant woman, I guess.’

She didn’t look too bothered by it, which forced him to ignore the hope that stirred inside him again. ‘Somehow I doubt that.’

‘That I’m unwed and pregnant?’

‘That you’re typical.’

‘You barely know me, Dylan.’

Her eyes met his and it felt as if lightning flashed between them. The seconds ticked by, the current of energy between them grew more intense, but neither of them looked away. Eventually, he said, ‘What are you in the mood to eat?’

A moment passed, and then he could see her force herself to relax. ‘Do you have peanut butter?’

It was such a strange request that it broke the tension he still felt inside him. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You want peanut butter? I’m pretty sure there’s something more substantial in the fridge.’

‘Peanut butter is plenty substantial,’ she replied defensively. ‘Especially if you serve it with those bananas over there.’

She nodded to the fruit bowl on his kitchen table, and he felt the smile on his face almost before he even knew it was there. ‘Peanut butter and banana?’

‘Peanut butter and banana,’ she confirmed, and smiled. ‘I tried to warn you about what you were getting into by inviting a pregnant woman for lunch.’

‘Yeah, you did,’ he answered, though he struggled for the words because her smile was so...distracting. As was her face—the smooth curves of its oval shape, the high cheekbones, those cinnamon eyes, the glossy olive of her skin, those generous lips...

Even her hair was distracting. The dark brown strands were clipped back into a messy style that he couldn’t decide whether he liked. Mostly because it made him want to tidy it up. No, he corrected his thoughts immediately. Because it made him want to muss it up even more.

Her clothing was loose, hiding the curve of her stomach. That was why he hadn’t noticed she was pregnant at first—though he’d discovered it pretty quickly, so he couldn’t blame ignorance for the fact that he’d flirted with her.

But he didn’t want to think about what he could blame flirting with her on, so he was glad when she spoke.

‘Who looked after Daisy while you were away?’

‘Actually, I got her in London and then brought her back with me.’

Daisy wagged her tail when he looked over at her and love filled his heart. She’d saved him from depression, from the loneliness of his grief and anger. From his guilt. And she’d needed him in a way that was more simple than he could ever remember being needed.

His experience of being needed by his mother and sister had always—always—been complicated. And he blamed himself. He’d been the one who’d chosen to look after their family when his father had abandoned them. When his father had decided that gambling was more important than the woman he’d married. Than his children...

Dylan had been the one to take care of the household when his father’s abandonment had meant that they couldn’t rely on their mother any more either. So yes, maybe after they’d found out the man had died, Dylan had wanted to leave it all behind. And yes, maybe finding out a few days before his father’s funeral that his mother hadn’t been the victim she’d pretended to be all those years ago had given him even more incentive to leave.

But he was back now. Because his sister hadn’t lied to him, hadn’t betrayed him. And it was time that he stopped acting as though she had.

‘Daisy’s English?’ Jess asked, interrupting his thoughts. She snapped a finger and Daisy was at her side in an instant. ‘I’ve never met an English dog before,’ she said, cooing at his pet.

‘I don’t really think they have nationalities.’

‘Really? Because Daisy gives off a distinct English vibe. Like she’d invite me for tea and scones every afternoon at three.’

He laughed. ‘The English actually have their tea—’ He broke off at her smirk, and the laugh turned into a smile. ‘You don’t care, do you?’

‘Not unless I’m going to the UK, which is obviously not happening any time soon.’

‘How far along are you?’ he asked, and began to prepare their lunch. Since peanut butter and banana didn’t seem quite as appealing to him, he decided on a chicken mayo sandwich for himself.

‘Just over five months. Um, Dylan?’ He glanced at her. ‘I know the naked chef is a thing in the UK, but you not having a shirt on... Well, it’s really distracting. Do you mind?’