Billionaire Boss: The Billion Dollar Deal
The sting of tears burned Georgia’s eyes. Shaking her head, she took a sip of champagne and said, “That was beautiful, Sean.”
He gave her a grin, then took her free hand in his and led her over to one of the sofas. There, he sat her down and then went back to the bar for the bottle of champagne. He set it on the table in front of them, then took a seat beside Georgia on the couch.
“A hell of a day all in all, wouldn’t you say?”
“It was,” she agreed, then amended, “is.” Another sip of champagne and she added, “I’m tired, but I don’t think I could close my eyes, you know? Too much leftover adrenaline pumping away inside.”
“I feel the same,” he told her, “so it’s lucky we can keep each other company.”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Georgia agreed. Kicking her shoes off, she drew her feet up onto the sofa and idly rubbed her arches.
The snap and hiss of the fire along with the patter of rain on the window made for a cozy scene. Taking a sip of her champagne, she let her head fall back against the couch.
“So,” Sean said a moment or two later, “tell me about this plan of yours to move to Ireland.”
She lifted her head to look at him. His brown hair was tousled, his brown eyes tired but interested and the half smile on his face could have tempted a saint. Georgia took another sip of champagne, hoping the icy liquor would dampen the heat beginning to build inside.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” she admitted, her voice soft. “Actually since my last visit. When I left for home, I remember sitting on the airplane as it was taxiing and wondering why I was leaving.”
He nodded as if he understood completely, and that settled her enough to continue.
“I mean, you should be happy to go home after a trip, right?” She asked the question more of herself than of Sean and answered it the same way. “Looking forward to going back to your routine. Your everyday life. But I wasn’t. There was just this niggling sense of disappointment that seemed to get bigger the closer I got to home.”
“Maybe some of that was just because you were leaving your sister,” he said quietly.
“Probably,” she admitted with a nod and another sip of champagne. “I mean, Laura’s more than my sister, she’s my best friend.” Looking at him, she gave him a small smile. “I really miss having her around, you know?”
“I do,” he said, reaching for the champagne, then topping off their glasses. “When Ronan was in California, I found I missed going to the pub with him. I missed the laughter. And the arguments.” He grinned. “Though if you repeat any of this, I’ll deny it to my last breath.”
“Oh, understood,” she replied with a laugh. “Anyway, I got home, went to our—my—real estate office and stared out the front window. Waiting for clients to call or come in is a long, boring process.” She stared down into her champagne. “And while I was staring out that window, watching the world go by, I realized that everyone outside the glass was doing what they wanted to do. Everyone but me.”
“I thought you enjoyed selling real estate,” Sean said. “The way Laura tells it, the two of you were just beginning to build the business.”
“We were,” she agreed. “But it wasn’t what either of us wanted. Isn’t that ridiculous?” Georgia shifted on the couch, half turning to face Sean more fully.
Wow, she thought, he really is gorgeous.
She blinked, then looked at the champagne suspiciously. Maybe the bubbles were infiltrating her mind, making her more susceptible to the Connolly charm and good looks. But no, she decided a moment later, she’d always been susceptible. Just able to resist. But now …
Georgia cleared her throat and banished her wayward thoughts. What had she been saying? Oh, yeah.
“I mean, think about it. Laura’s an artist, and I was an interior designer once upon a time. And yet there we were, building a business neither of us was really interested in.”
“Why is that?” He watched her out of those beautiful brown eyes and seemed genuinely curious. “Why would you put so much of yourselves into a thing you’d no interest in?”
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” she asked, gesturing with her glass and cringing a little when the champagne slopped over the brim. To help fix that situation, she sipped the contents down a bit lower. “It started simply enough,” she continued. “Laura couldn’t make a living painting, so she took classes and became a real estate agent because she’d rather be her own boss, you know?”
“I do,” he said with a knowing nod.
Of course he understood that part, Georgia thought. As the owner of Irish Air, a huge and growing airline, Sean made his own rules. Sure, their situations were wildly different, but he would still get the feeling of being answerable only to oneself.
“Then my marriage dissolved,” she said, the words still tasting a little bitter. Georgia was mostly over it all, since it had been a few years now, but if she allowed herself to remember… “I moved out to live with Laura, and rather than try to build up a brand-new business of my own—and let’s face it, in California, you practically stumble across an interior designer every few steps, so they didn’t really need another one—I took classes and the two of us opened our own company.”
Shaking her head, she drank more of the champagne and sighed. “So basically, we both backed into a business we didn’t really want, but couldn’t think of a way to get out of. Does that make sense?”
“Completely,” Sean told her. “What it comes down to is, you weren’t happy.”
“Exactly.” She took a deep breath and let it go again. What was it about him? she wondered. So easy to talk to. So nice to look at, a tiny voice added from the back of her mind. Those eyes of his seemed to look deep inside her, while the lilt of Ireland sang in his voice. A heady combination, she warned herself. “I wasn’t happy. And, since I’m free and on my own, why shouldn’t I move to Ireland? Be closer to my sister? Live in a place I’ve come to love?”
“No reason a’tall,” he assured her companionably. Picking up the champagne bottle he refilled both of their glasses again, and Georgia nodded her thanks. “So, I’m guessing you won’t be after selling real estate here then?”
“No, thank you,” she said on a sigh. God, it felt wonderful to know that soon she wouldn’t have to deal with recalcitrant sellers and pushy buyers. When people came to her for design work, they would be buying her talent, not whatever house happened to be on the market.
“I’m going to open my own design shop. Of course, I’ll have to check everything out first, see what I have to do to get a business license in Ireland and to have my interior design credentials checked. And I’ll have to have a house …”
“You could always stay here,” he said with a shrug. “I’m sure Ronan and Laura would love to have you here with them, and God knows the place is big enough …”
“It is that,” she mused, shifting her gaze around the parlor of the luxurious manor house. In fact, the lovely old house was probably big enough for two or three families. “But I’d rather have a home of my own. My own place, not too far. I’m thinking of opening my shop in Dunley …”
Sean choked on a sip of champagne, then laughed a second later. “Dunley? You want to open a design shop in the village?”
Irritated, she scowled at him. And he’d been doing so nicely on the understanding thing, too. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Well, let’s just say I can’t see Danny Muldoon hiring you to give the Pennywhistle pub a makeover anytime soon.”
“Funny,” she muttered.
“Ah now,” Sean said, smile still firmly in place, “don’t get yourself in a twist. I’m only saying that perhaps the city might be a better spot for a design shop.”
Still frowning, she gave him a regal half nod. “Maybe. But Dunley is about halfway between Galway and Westport—two big cities, you’ll agree—”
“I do.”
“So, the village is centrally located, and I’d rather be in a small town than a big one anyway. And I can buy a cottage close by and walk to work. Living in the village, I’ll be a part of things as I wouldn’t if I lived in Galway and only visited on weekends. And,” she added, on a roll, “I’d be close to Laura to visit or help with the baby. Not to mention—”
“You’re right, absolutely.” He held up both hands, then noticed his champagne glass was nearly empty. He refilled his, and hers, and then lifted his glass in a toast. “I’m sorry I doubted you for a moment. You’ve thought this through.”
“I really have,” she said, a little mellower now, thanks not only to the wine, but to the gleam of admiration in Sean’s gaze. “I want to do this. I’m going to do this,” she added, a promise to herself and the universe at large.
“And so you will, I’ve no doubt,” Sean told her, leaning forward. “To the start of more than one new life this day. I wish you happiness, Georgia, with your decision and your shop.”
“Thanks,” she said, clinking her glass against his, making the heavy crystal sing. “I appreciate it.”
When they’d both had a sip to seal the toast, Sean mused, “So we’ll be neighbors.”
“We will.”
“And friends.”
“That, too,” she agreed, feeling just a little unsettled by his steady stare and the twisting sensation in the pit of her stomach.
“And as your friend,” Sean said softly, “I think I should tell you that when you’re excited about something, your eyes go as dark as a twilight sky.”
Two
“What?”
Sean watched the expression on her face shift from confusion to a quick flash of desire that was born and then gone again in a blink. But he’d seen it, and his response to it was immediate.
“Am I making you nervous, Georgia?”
“No,” she said and he read the lie in the way she let her gaze slide from his. After taking another sip of champagne, she licked a stray drop from her lip, and Sean’s insides fisted into knots.
Odd, he’d known Georgia for about a year now and though he’d been attracted, he’d never before been tempted. Now he was. Most definitely. Being here with her in the fire-lit shadows while rain pattered at the windows was, he thought, more than tempting. There was an intimacy here, two people who had shared a hellishly long day together. Now, in the quiet shadows, there was something new and … compelling rising up between them.
He knew she felt it, too, despite the wary gleam in her eyes as she watched him. Still, he wanted her breathless, not guarded, so he eased back and gave her a half smile. “I’m only saying you’re a beautiful woman, Georgia.”
“Hmm …” She tipped her head to one side, studying him.
“Surely it’s not the first time you’ve heard that from a man.”
“Oh, no,” she answered. “Men actually chase me down the street to tell me I have twilight eyes.”
He grinned. He did appreciate a quick wit. “Maybe I’m just more observant than most men.”
“And maybe you’re up to something,” she said thoughtfully. “What is it, Sean?”
“Not a thing,” he said, all innocence.
“Well, that’s good.” She nodded and reached down absently to rub at the arch of her foot. “I mean, we both know anything else would just be … complicated.”
“Aye, it would at that,” he agreed, and admitted silently that complicated might be worth it. “Your feet hurt?”
“What?” She glanced down to where her hand rubbed the arch of her right foot and smiled ruefully. “Yeah, they do.”
“A long day of standing, wasn’t it?”
“It was.”
She sipped at her champagne and a log shifted in the fire. As the flames hissed and spat, she closed her eyes—a little dreamily, he thought, and he felt that fist inside him tighten even further. The woman was unknowingly seducing him.
Logic and a stern warning sounded out in his mind, and he firmly shut them down. There was a time for a cool head, and there was a time for finding out just where the road you found yourself on would end up. So far, he liked this particular road very much.
He set his glass on the table in front of them, then sat back and dragged her feet onto his lap. Georgia looked at him and he gave her a quick grin. “I’m offering a one-night-only special. A foot rub.”
“Sean …”
He knew what she was thinking because his own mind was running along the same paths. Back up—or, stay the course and see what happened. As she tried to draw her feet away, he held them still in his lap and pushed his thumbs into her arch.
She groaned and let her head fall back and he knew he had her.
“Oh, that feels too good,” she whispered, as he continued to rub and stroke her skin.
“Just enjoy it for a bit then,” he murmured.
That had her lifting her head to look at him with the wariness back, glinting in those twilight depths. “What’re you up to?”
“Your ankles,” he said, sliding his hands higher to match his words. “Give me a minute, though, and ask again.”
She laughed as he’d meant her to, and the wariness edged off a bit.
“So,” she asked a moment later, “why do I rate a foot rub tonight?”
“I’m feeling generous, just becoming an uncle and all.” He paused, and let that settle. Of course, he and Ronan weren’t actually brothers, but they might as well have been. “Not really an uncle, but that’s how it feels.”
“You’re an uncle,” she told him. “You and Ronan are every bit as tight as Laura and I are.”
“True,” he murmured, and rubbed his thumb into the arches of her small, narrow feet. Her toes were painted a dark pink, and he smiled at the silver toe ring she wore on her left foot.
She sighed heavily and whispered, “Oh, my … you’ve got great hands.”
“So I’ve been told,” he said on a laugh. He slid his great hands a bit higher, stroking her ankles and then up along the line of her calves. Her skin was soft, smooth and warm, now that the fire had chased away the chill of the afternoon.
“Maybe it’s the champagne talking,” she said softly, “but what you’re doing feels way too good.”
“’Tisn’t the champagne,” he told her, meeting her eyes when she looked at him. “We’ve not had enough yet to blur the lines between us.”
“Then it’s the fire,” she whispered, “and the rain outside sealing us into this pretty room together.”
“Could be,” he allowed, sliding his hands even higher now, stroking the backs of her knees and watching her eyes close as she sighed. “And it could just be that you’re a lovely thing, here in the firelight, and I’m overcome.”
She snorted and he grinned in response.
“Oh, yes, overcome,” she said, staring into his eyes again, as if trying to see the plans he had, the plans he might come up with. “Sean Connolly, you’re a man who always knows what he’s doing. So answer me this. Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Ah, the shoe is on the other foot entirely, Georgia,” he murmured, his fingertips moving higher still, up her thighs, inch by inch. He hadn’t thought of it earlier, but now he was grateful she’d been wearing a skirt for their mad ride to the hospital. Made things so much simpler.
“Right,” she said. “I’m seducing you? You’re the one giving out foot rubs that have now escalated—” her breath caught briefly before she released it on a sigh “—to thigh rubs.”
“And do you like it?”
“I’d be a fool not to,” she admitted, and he liked her even more for her straightforwardness.
“Well then …”
“But the question remains,” she said, reaching down to capture one of his hands in hers, stilling his caresses. “If you’re seducing me, I have to ask, why now? We’ve known each other for so long, Sean, and we’ve never—”
“True enough,” he murmured, “but this is the first time we’ve been alone, isn’t it?” He set her hand aside and continued to stroke the outsides of her thighs before slowly edging around to the inside.
She squirmed, and he went hard as stone.
“Think of it, Georgia,” he continued, though his voice was strained and it felt as though there were a rock lodged in his throat. “‘Tis just us here for the night. No Ronan, no Laura, no Patsy, running in and out with her tea trays. Even the dogs are in the kitchen sleeping.”
Georgia laughed a little. “You’re right. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this house alone before. But …”
“No buts,” he interrupted, then leaned out and picked up the champagne bottle. Refilling her glass and then his own, he set the bottle down again and lifted his glass with one hand while keeping her feet trapped in his lap with the other. “I think we need more of this, then we’ll … talk about this some more.”
“After enough champagne, we won’t want to talk at all,” she said, though she sipped at the wine anyway.
“And isn’t that a lovely thought?” he asked, giving her a wink as he drained his glass.
She was watching him, and her eyes were filled with the same heat that burned inside him. For the life of him, Sean couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to keep his hands off of her for the past year or more. Right now, the desire leaping inside him had him hard and eager for the taste of her. The feel of her beneath his hands. He wanted to hear her sigh, hear her call his name as she erupted beneath him. Wanted to bury himself inside her heat and feel her surrounding him.
“That look in your eyes tells me exactly what you’re thinking,” Georgia said, and this time she took a long drink of champagne.
“And are you thinking the same?” he asked.
“I shouldn’t be.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Never breaking her gaze from his, Georgia blew out a breath and admitted, “Okay, yes, I’m thinking the same.”
“Thank the gods for that,” he said, a smile curving his mouth.
She chuckled, and the sound was rich and full. “I think you’ve got more in common with the devils than you do with the gods.”
“Isn’t that a lovely thing to say then?” he quipped. Reaching out, he plucked the champagne flute from her hand and set it onto the table.
“I wasn’t finished,” she told him.
“We’ll have more later. After,” he promised.
She took a deep breath and said, “This is probably a mistake, you know.”
“Aye, probably is. Would you have us stop then, before we get started?” He hoped to hell she said no, because if she said yes, he’d have to leave. And right now, leaving was the very last thing he wanted to do.
“I really should say yes, because we absolutely should stop. Probably,” she said quietly.
He liked the hesitation in that statement. “But?”
“But,” she added, “I’m tired of being sensible. I want you to touch me, Sean. I think I’ve wanted that right from the beginning, but we were being too sensible for me to admit to it.”
He pulled her up and over to him, settling her on his lap where she’d be sure to feel the hard length of him pressing into her bottom. “You can readily see that I feel the same.”
“Yeah,” she said, turning her face up to his. “I’m getting that.”
“Not yet,” he teased, “but you’re about to.”
“Promises, promises …”
“Well then, enough talking, yes?”
“Oh, yes.”
He kissed her, softly at first, a brush of the lips, a connection that was as swift and sweet as innocence. It was a tease. Something short to ease them both into this new wrinkle in their relationship.
But with that first kiss, something incredible happened. Sean felt a jolt of white-hot electricity zip through him in an instant. His eyes widened as he looked at her, and he knew the surprise he read on her face was also etched on his own.
“That was … Let’s just see if we can make that happen again, shall we?”
She nodded and arched into him, parting her lips for him when he kissed her, and this time Sean fed that electrical jolt that sizzled between them. He deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers, pulling her closer, tighter, to him. Her arms came up around his neck and held on. She kissed him back, feverishly, as if every ounce of passion within her had been unleashed at once.
She stabbed her fingers through his hair, nails dragging along his scalp. She twisted on his lap, rubbing her behind against his erection until a groan slid from his throat. The glorious friction of her body against his would only get better, he thought, if he could just get her out of these bloody clothes.
He broke the kiss and dragged in a breath of air, hoping to steady the racing beat of his heart. It didn’t help. Nothing would. Not until he’d had her, all of her. Only then would he be able to douse the fire inside. To cool the need and regain his control.
But for now, all he needed was her. Georgia Page, temptress with eyes of twilight and a mouth designed to drive a man wild.
“You’ve too many clothes on,” he muttered, dropping his hands to the buttons on her dark blue shirt.
“You, too,” she said, tugging the tail of his white, long-sleeved shirt free of the black jeans he wore. She fumbled at the buttons and then laughed at herself. “Can’t get them undone, damn it.”
“No need,” he snapped and, gripping both sides of his shirt, ripped it open, sending small white buttons flying around the room like tiny missiles.
She laughed again and slapped both palms to his chest. At the first touch of her skin to his, Sean hissed in a breath and held it. He savored every stroke, every caress, while she explored his skin as if determined to map every inch of him.
He was willing to lie still for that exploration, too, as long as he could do the same for her. He got the last of her buttons undone and slid her shirt off her shoulders and down her arms. She helped him with it, and then her skin was bared to him, all but her lovely breasts, hidden behind the pale, sky-blue lace of her bra. His mouth went dry.
Tossing her honey-blond hair back from her face, Georgia met his gaze as she unhooked the front clasp of that bra and then slipped out of it completely. Sean’s hands cupped her, his thumbs and forefingers brushing across the rigid peaks of her dark pink nipples until she sighed and cupped his hands with her own.
“You’re lovely, Georgia. More lovely than I’d imagined,” he whispered, then winked. “And my imagination was pretty damned good.”
She grinned, then whispered, “My turn.” She pushed his shirt off and skimmed her small, elegant hands slowly over his shoulders and arms, and every touch was a kiss of fire. Every caress a temptation.
He leaned over, laying her back on the sofa until she was staring up at him. Firelight played over her skin, light and shadow dancing in tandem, making her seem almost ethereal. But she was a real woman with a real need, and Sean was the man to meet it.
Deftly, he undid the waist button and the zipper of the skirt she wore, then slowly tugged the fabric down and off before tossing it to the floor. She wore a scrap of blue lace panties that were somehow even more erotic than seeing her naked would have been. Made him want to take that elastic band between his teeth and—
“Sean!” She half sat up and for a dark second or two, Sean was worried she’d changed her mind at the last. The thought of that nearly brought him to his knees.
“What is it?”
“Protection,” she said. “I’m not on the pill, and I don’t really travel with condoms.” Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she blurted, “Maybe Ronan’s got some old ones upstairs …”
“No need,” he said and stood. “I’ve some in the glove box of the car.”
She just looked at him. “You keep condoms in the glove compartment?”
Truthfully, he hadn’t used any of the stash he kept there for emergencies in longer than he cared to admit. There hadn’t been a woman for him in months. Maybe, he thought now, it was because he’d been too tangled up in thoughts of twilight eyes and kissable lips. Well, he didn’t much care for the sound of that, so he told himself that maybe he’d just been too bloody busy getting his airline off the ground, so to speak.
“Pays to be prepared,” was all he said.
Georgia’s lips twitched. “I didn’t realize Ireland had Boy Scouts.”