Billionaire Boss: The Billion Dollar Deal
“What?”
“Never mind,” she whispered, lifting her hips and pulling her panties off. “Just … hurry.”
“I bloody well will.” He scraped one hand across his face, then turned and bolted for the front door. It cost him to leave her, even for the few moments this necessary trip would take.
He was through the front door and out to his car in a blink. He hardly felt the misting rain as it covered him in an icy, wet blanket. The night was quiet; the only light came from that of the fire within the parlor, a mere echo of light out here, battling and losing against the darkness and the rain.
He tore through the glove box, grabbed the box of condoms and slammed the door closed again. Back inside the house, he staggered to a stop on the threshold of the parlor. She’d moved from the couch, and now she lay stretched out, naked, on the rug before the fire, her head on one of the countless pillows she’d brought down there with her.
Sean’s gaze moved over her in a flash and then again, more slowly, so he could savor everything she was. Mouth dry, heartbeat hammering in his chest, he thought he’d never seen a more beautiful picture than the one she made in the firelight.
“You’re wet,” she whispered.
Sean shoved one hand through his rain-soaked hair, then shrugged off his shirt. “Hadn’t noticed.”
“Cold?” she asked, and levered herself up on one elbow to watch him.
The curve of her hip, the swell of her breasts and the heat in her eyes all came together to flash into an inferno inside him. “Cold? Not likely.”
Never taking his gaze from hers, he pulled off the rest of his clothes and simply dropped them onto the colorful rug beneath his feet. He went to her, laser-focused on the woman stretched out beside him on the carpet in the firelight.
She reached up and cupped his cheek before smiling. “I thought we’d have more room down here than on the couch.”
“Very sensible,” he muttered, kissing her palm then dipping to claim her lips in a brief, hard kiss. “Nothing more sexy than a smart woman.”
“Always nice to hear.” She grinned and moved into him, pressing her mouth to his. Opening for him, welcoming the taste of him as he devoured her. Bells clanged in his mind, warning or jubilation he didn’t care which.
All that mattered now was the next touch. The next taste. She filled him as he’d never been filled before and all Sean could think was Why had it taken them so bloody long to do this?
Then his thoughts dissolved under an onslaught of sensations that flooded his system. He tore his mouth from hers to nibble at the underside of her jaw. To drag lips and tongue along the line of her throat while she sighed with pleasure and slid her hands up and down his back.
She was soft, smooth and smelled of flowers, and every breath he took drew her deeper inside him. He lost himself in the discovery of her, sliding his palms over her curves. He took first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth, tasting, suckling, driving her sighs into desperate gasps for air. She touched him, too, sliding her hands across his back and around to his chest and then down, to his abdomen. Then further still, until she curled her fingers around his length and Sean lifted his head, looked down into her eyes and let her see what she was doing to him.
Firelight flickered, rain spattered against the windows and the wind rattled the glass.
Her breath came fast and heavy. His heart galloped in his chest. Reaching for the condoms he’d tossed to the hearth, he tore one packet open, sheathed himself, then moved to kneel between her legs.
She planted her feet and lifted her hips in invitation and Sean couldn’t wait another damn minute. He needed this. Needed her as he’d never needed anything before.
Scooping his hands beneath her butt, he lifted her and, in one swift push, buried himself inside her.
Her head fell back, and a soft moan slid from her lips. His jaw tight, he swallowed the groan trying to escape his throat. Then she wrapped her legs around his middle, lifted her arms and drew him in deeper, closer. He bent over her and kissed her as the rhythm of this ancient, powerful dance swept them both away.
They moved together as if they’d been partners for years. Each seemed to know instinctively what would most touch, most inflame, the other. Their shadows moved on the walls and the night crowded closer as Sean pushed Georgia higher and higher.
His gaze locked with hers, he watched her eyes flash, felt her body tremble as her release exploded inside her. Lost himself in the pleasure glittering in her twilight eyes and then, finally, his control snapped completely. Taking her mouth with his, he kissed her deeply as his body shattered.
Georgia felt … fabulous.
Heat from the fire warmed her on one side, while Sean’s amazing body warmed her from the other. And of the two, she preferred the heat pumping from the tall, gorgeous man laying beside her.
Turning to face him, she smiled. “That was—”
“Aye, it was,” he agreed.
“Worth waiting for,” she confessed.
He skimmed a palm along the curve of her hip and she shivered. “And I was just wondering why in the hell we waited as long as we did.”
“Worried about complications, remember?” she asked, and only now felt the first niggling doubt about whether or not they’d done the right thing. Probably not, she mused, but it was hard to regret any of it.
“There’s always complications to good sex,” he said softly, “and that wasn’t just good, it was—”
“Yeah,” she said, “it was.”
“So the question arises,” he continued, smoothing his hand now across her bottom, “what do we do about this?”
She really hadn’t had time to consider all the options, and Georgia was a woman who spent most of her life looking at any given situation from every angle possible. Well, until tonight anyway. Now, her brain was scrambling to come up with coherent thoughts in spite of the fact that her body was still buzzing and even now hoping for more.
Still, one thing did come to mind, though she didn’t much care for it. “We could just stop whatever this is. Pretend tonight never happened and go back to the way things were.”
“And is that what you really want to do?” he asked, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her mouth.
She licked her lips as if to savor the taste of him, then sighed and shook her head. “No, I really don’t. But those complications will only get worse if we keep doing this.”
“Life is complicated, Georgia,” he said, smoothing his hand around her body to tug playfully at one nipple.
She sucked in a gulp of air and blew it out again. “True.”
“And, pretending it didn’t happen won’t work, as every time I see you, I’ll want to do this again …”
“There is that,” she said, reaching out to smooth his hair back from his forehead. Heck, she already wanted to do it all again. Feel that moment when his body slid into hers. Experience the sensation of his body filling hers completely. That indescribable friction that only happened when sex was done really well. And this so had been.
His eyes in the firelight glittered as if there were sparks dancing in their depths, and Georgia knew she was a goner. At least for now, anyway. She might regret it all later, but if she did, she would still walk away with some amazing memories.
“So,” he said softly, “we’ll take the complications as they come and do as we choose?”
“Yes,” she said after giving the thought of never being with him again no more than a moment’s consideration. “We’ll take the complications. We’re adults. We know what we’re doing.”
“We certainly seemed to a few minutes ago,” he said with a teasing grin.
“Okay, then. No strings. No expectations. Just … us. For however long it lasts.”
“Sounds good.” He pushed himself to his feet and walked naked to the table where they’d abandoned their wineglasses and the now nearly empty bottle of champagne.
“What’re you doing?”
He passed her the glasses as she sat up, then held the empty bottle aloft. “I’m going to open another of Ronan’s fine bottles of champagne. The first we drank to our new and lovely Fiona. The second we’ll drink to us. And the bargain we’ve just made.”
She looked up at him, her gaze moving over every square inch of that deliciously toned and rangy body. He looked like some pagan god, doused in firelight, and her breath stuttered in her chest. She could only nod to his suggestion because her throat was so suddenly tight with need, with passion, with … other things she didn’t even want to contemplate.
Sean Connolly wasn’t a forever kind of man—but, Georgia reminded herself as she watched him move to the tiny refrigerator and open it, she wasn’t looking for forever. She’d already tried that and had survived the crash-and-burn. Sure, he wasn’t the man her ex had been. But why even go there? Why try to make more out of this than it was? Great sex didn’t have to be forever.
And as a right-now kind of man, Sean was perfect.
Three
The next couple of weeks were busy.
Laura was just settling into life as a mother, and both she and Ronan looked asleep on their feet half the time. But there was happiness in the house, and Georgia was determined to find some of that happy for herself.
Sean had been a big help in navigating village society. Most of the people who lived and worked in Dunley had been there for generations. And though they might like the idea of a new shop in town, the reality of it slammed up against the whole aversion-to-change thing. Still, since Georgia was no longer a complete stranger, most of the people in town were more interested than resentful.
“A design shop, you say?”
“That’s right,” Georgia answered, turning to look at Maeve Carrol. At five feet two inches tall, the seventy-year-old woman had been Ronan’s nanny once upon a long-ago time. Since then, she was the self-appointed chieftain of the village and kept up with everything that was happening.
Her white hair was piled at the top of her head in a lopsided bun. Her cheeks were red from the wind, and her blue eyes were sharp enough that Georgia was willing to bet Maeve didn’t miss much. Buttoned up in a Kelly green cardigan and black slacks, she looked snug, right down to the soles of her bright pink sneakers.
“And you’ll draw up pictures of things to be done to peoples’ homes.”
“Yes, and businesses, as well,” Georgia said, “just about anything. It’s all about the flow of a space. Not exactly feng shui but along the same lines.”
Maeve’s nose twitched and a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. “Fing Shooey—not a lot of that in the village.”
Georgia smiled at Maeve’s pronunciation of the design philosophy, then said, “Doesn’t matter. Some will want help redecorating, and there will be customers for me in Westport and Galway …”
“True enough,” Maeve allowed.
Georgia paused to take a look up and down the main street she’d come to love over the past year. There really wasn’t much to the village, all in all. The main street held a few shops, the Pennywhistle pub, a grocer’s, the post office and a row of two-story cottages brightly painted.
The sidewalks were swept every morning by the shop owners, and flowers spilled from pots beside every doorway. The doors were painted in brilliant colors, scarlet, blue, yellow and green, as if the bright shades could offset the ever-present gray clouds.
There were more homes, of course, some above the shops and some just outside the village proper on the narrow track that wound through the local farmers’ fields. Dunley had probably looked much the same for centuries, she thought, and liked the idea very much.
It would be good to have roots. To belong. After her divorce, Georgia had felt so … untethered. She’d lived in Laura’s house, joined Laura’s business. Hadn’t really had something to call hers. This was a new beginning. A chapter in her life that she would write in her own way in her own time. It was a heady feeling.
Outside of town was a cemetery with graves dating back five hundred years or more, each of them still lovingly tended by the descendants of those who lay there. The ruins of once-grand castles stubbled the countryside and often stood side by side with the modern buildings that would never be able to match the staying power of those ancient structures.
And soon, she would be a part of it.
“It’s a pretty village,” Georgia said with a little sigh.
“It is at that,” Maeve agreed. “We won the Tidy Town award back in ‘74, you know. The Mayor’s ever after us to win it again.”
“Tidy Town.” She smiled as she repeated the words and loved the fact that soon she would be a part of the village life. She might always be called “the Yank,” but it would be said with affection, she thought, and one day, everyone might even forget that Georgia Page hadn’t always been there.
She hoped so, anyway. This was important to her. This life makeover. And she wanted—needed—it to work.
“You’ve your heart set on this place, have you?” Maeve asked.
Georgia grinned at the older woman then shifted her gaze to the empty building in front of them. It was at the end of the village itself and had been standing empty for a couple of years. The last renter had given up on making a go of it and had left for America.
“I have,” Georgia said with a sharp nod for emphasis. “It’s a great space, Maeve—”
“Surely a lot of it,” the older woman agreed, peering through dirty windows to the interior. “Colin Ferris now, he never did have a head for business. Imagine trying to make a living selling interwebbing things in a village the size of Dunley.”
Apparently Colin hadn’t been able to convince the villagers that an internet café was a good idea. And there hadn’t been enough of the tourist trade to tide him over.
“’Twas no surprise to me he headed off to America.” She looked over at Georgia. “Seems only right that one goes and one comes, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” She hadn’t looked at it that way before, but there was a sort of synchronicity to the whole thing. Colin left for America, and Georgia left America for Dunley.
“So you’ve your path laid out then?”
“What? Oh. Yes, I guess I have,” Georgia said, smiling around the words. She had found the building she would rent for her business, and maybe in a couple of years, she’d be doing so well she would buy it. It was all happening, she thought with an inner grin. Her whole life was changing right before her eyes. Georgia would never again be the same woman she had been when Mike had walked out of her life, taking her self-confidence with him.
“Our Sean’s been busy as well, hasn’t he?” Maeve mused aloud. “Been a help to you right along?”
Cautious, Georgia slid a glance at the canny woman beside her. So far she and Sean had kept their … relationship under the radar. And in a village the size of Dunley, that had been a minor miracle. But if Maeve Carrol was paying attention, their little secret could be out.
And Maeve wasn’t the only one paying attention. Laura was starting to give Georgia contemplative looks that had to mean she was wondering about all the time Georgia and Sean were spending together.
Keeping her voice cool and her manner even cooler, Georgia said only, “Sean’s been great. He’s helped me get the paperwork going on getting my business license—” Which was turning out to be more complicated than she’d anticipated.
“He’s a sharp one, is Sean,” Maeve said. “No one better at wangling his way around to what he wants in the end.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Maggie Culhane told me yesterday that she and Colleen Leary were having tea at the pub and heard Sean talking to Brian Connor about his mum’s cottage, it standing empty this last year or more.”
Georgia sighed inwardly. The grapevine in Dunley was really incredible.
“Yes, Sean was asking about the cottage for me. I’d really like to live in the village if I can.”
“I see,” Maeve murmured, her gaze on Georgia as sharp as any cop’s, waiting for a confession.
“Oh, look,” Georgia blurted, “here comes Mary Donohue with the keys to the store.”
Thank God, she thought, grateful for the reprieve in the conversation. Maeve was a sweetie, but she had a laser like focus that Georgia would just as soon avoid. And she and Sean were keeping whatever it was between them quiet. There was no need for anyone else to know, anyway. Neither one of them was interested in feeding the local gossips—and Georgia really didn’t want to hear advice from her sister.
“Sorry I’m late,” Mary called out when she got closer. “I was showing a farm to a client, and wouldn’t you know he’d be late and then insist on walking over every bloody blade of grass in the fields?”
She shook her mass of thick red hair back from her face, produced a key from her suitcase-sized purse and opened the door to the shop. “Now then,” she announced, standing back to allow Georgia to pass in front of her. “If this isn’t perfect for what you’re wanting, I’ll be shocked.”
It was perfect, Georgia thought, wandering into the empty space. The floor was wood, scarred from generations of feet tracking across its surface. But with some polish, it would look great. The walls were in need of a coat of paint, but all in all, the place really worked for Georgia. In her mind, she set up a desk and chairs and shelves with samples stacked neatly. She walked through, the heels of her boots clacking against the floor. She gave a quick look to the small kitchen in the back, the closet-sized bath and the storeroom. She’d already been through the place once and knew it was the one for her. But today was to settle the last of her nerves before she signed the rental papers.
The main room was long and narrow, and the window let in a wide swath of daylight even in the gray afternoon. She had a great view of the main street, looking out directly across the road at a small bakery where she could go for her lunch every day and get tea and a sandwich. She’d be a part of Dunley, and she could grow the kind of business she’d always wanted to have.
Georgia breathed deep and realized that Mary was giving her spiel, and she grinned when she realized she would never have to do that herself, again. Maeve wandered the room, inspecting the space as if she’d never seen it before. Outside, two or three curious villagers began to gather, peering into the windows, hands cupped around their eyes.
Another quick smile from Georgia as she turned to Mary and said, “Yes. It’s perfect.”
Sean came rushing through the front door just in time to hear her announcement. He gave her a wide smile and walked across the room to her. Dropping both hands onto her shoulders, he gave her a fast, hard kiss, and said, “That’s for congratulations.”
Georgia’s lips buzzed in reaction to that spontaneous kiss even while she worried about Maeve and Mary being witnesses to it. Sean didn’t seem to mind, though. But then, he was such an outgoing guy, maybe no one would think anything of it.
“We used handshakes for that in my day,” Maeve murmured.
“Ah, Maeve my darlin’, did you want a kiss, too?” Sean swept the older woman up, planted a quick kiss on her mouth and had her back on her feet, swatting the air at him a second later.
“Go on, Sean Connolly, you always were free with your kisses.”
“He was indeed,” Mary said with a wink for Georgia. “Talk of the village he was. Why when my Kitty was young, I used to warn her about our Sean here.”
Sean slapped one hand to his chest in mock offense. “You’re a hard woman, Mary Donohue, when you know Kitty was the first to break my heart.”
Mary snorted. “Hard to break a thing that’s never been used.”
No one else seemed to notice, but Georgia saw a flash of something in Sean’s eyes that made her wonder if Mary’s words hadn’t cut a little deeper than she’d meant. But a moment later, Sean was speaking again in that teasing tone she knew so well.
“Pretty women were meant to be kissed. You can’t blame me for doing what’s expected, can you?”
“You always did have as much brass as a marching band,” Maeve told him, but she was smiling.
“So then, it’s settled.” Sean looked from Georgia to Mary. “You’ll be taking the shop.”
“I am,” she said, “if Mary’s brought the papers with her.”
“I have indeed,” that woman said and again dipped into her massive handbag.
Georgia followed her off a few steps to take care of business while Sean stood beside Maeve and watched her go.
“And just what kind of deviltry are you up to this time, Sean Connolly?” Maeve whispered.
Sean didn’t look at the older woman. Couldn’t seem to tear his gaze off of Georgia. Nothing new there. She had been uppermost in his mind for the past two weeks. Since the first time he’d touched her, Sean had thought about little else but touching her again. He hadn’t meant to kiss her like that in front of witnesses—especially Maeve—but damned if he’d been able to help himself.
“I don’t know what you mean, Maeve.”
“Oh, yes,” the older woman said with a knowing look, “it’s clear I’ve confused you …”
“Leave off, Maeve,” he murmured. “I’m here only to help if I can.”
“Being the generous sort,” she muttered right back.
He shot her a quick look and sighed. There was no putting anything over on Maeve Carrol. When they were boys, he and Ronan had tried too many times to count to get away with some trouble or other only to be stopped short by the tiny woman now beside him.
Frowning a bit, he turned to watch Georgia as she read over the real estate agent’s papers. She was small but, as he knew too well, curvy in all the right places. In her faded blue jeans and dark scarlet, thickly knit sweater, she looked too good. Standing here in this worn, empty store, she looked vivid. Alive. In a way that made everything else around her look as gray as the skies covering Dunley.
“Ronan says you haven’t been by the house much,” Maeve mentioned.
“Ah, well, I’m giving them time to settle in with Fiona. Don’t need people dropping in right and left.”
“You’ve been dropping in since you were a boy, Sean.” She clucked her tongue and mused, “Makes a body wonder what you’ve found that’s kept you so busy.”
“I’ve got a business to run, don’t I?” he argued in a lame defense, for Maeve knew as well as he did that his presence wasn’t required daily at the offices of Irish Air. There was plenty of time for him to stop in at Ronan’s house as he always had. But before, he hadn’t been trying to cover up an affair with his … what was Georgia to him? A cousin-in-law? He shook his head. Didn’t matter. “I’ll go to the house, Maeve.”
“See that you do. Ronan’s wanting to show off his baby girl to you, so mind you go to there soon.”
“I will and all,” he assured her, then snatched at his ringing cell phone as he would a lifeline tossed into a churning sea. Lifting one finger to Maeve as if to tell her one moment, he turned and answered, “Sean Connolly.”
A cool, dispassionate voice started speaking and he actually felt a ball of ice drop into the pit of his stomach.
“Repeat that if you please,” he ordered, though he didn’t want to hear the news again. He had to have the information.
His gaze moved to Georgia, who had turned to look at him, a question in her eyes. His tone of voice must have alerted her to a problem.
“I understand,” he said into the phone. “I’m on my way.”
He snapped the phone closed.
Georgia walked up to him. “What is it?”
Sean could hardly say the words, but he forced them out. “It’s my mother. She’s in hospital.” It didn’t sound real. Didn’t feel real. But according to the nurse who’d just hung up on him, it was. “She’s had a heart attack.”
“Ah, Sean,” Maeve said, sympathy rich in her voice.
He didn’t want pity. More than that though, he didn’t want to be in a position to need it. “She’s in Westport. I have to go.”