A Billionaire's Redemption(30)

No, ma’am. I’m familiar with this building and its security system. You’ll be safe. We’ll wait in the car until you’re ready to leave. If you decide to stay the night, text me and we’ll take off. Just let us know what time you want a pickup tomorrow.”

Thankfully, the arrival of the elevator saved her from having to answer that. Her face must be scarlet if the heat in her cheeks was any indication. The bodyguard stepped inside, looked around the conveyance briefly, and held the door impassively for her as she stepped inside and keyed in the code.

Good night, ma’am,” he said emotionlessly.

The guy said that like he expected her to spend the night. She did have to admit, the idea of making love with Gabe again made her breath come short and her heart pound disconcertingly.

The elevator ride was far too short as she tried to regain her composure and give herself a pep talk. No matter how many times she told herself this would be okay, she didn’t believe it as she knocked timidly on Gabe’s completely intimidating, stainless-steel front door.

Without warning, the door swung open beneath her knuckles, and Gabe loomed in front of her, scowling darkly. He gestured silently with the whiskey bottle in his left hand for her to enter the lion’s den. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.





Chapter 13

Gabe didn’t know whether to be relieved or infuriated that Willa had shown up on his doorstep like this. He’d planned to spend the evening tying on a good, old-fashioned drunk. To hell with everyone who said a guy shouldn’t drink alone. Besides, he had plenty of ghosts to keep him company. The ghost of John Merris, the father he’d never had and whose standards he’d never quite managed to live up to. The ghost of Melinda, another person he’d never been quite good enough for.

What the hell did a man have to do to win their approval? He’d made a billion bucks with the sweat of his own brow, for God’s sake. Wasn’t that good enough for them? What the hell was the use of having all that money if it didn’t impress anyone? Maybe he should give it all away. Maybe that would impress them.

He snorted as he eyed Willa’s sexy little tush sashaying toward his living room ahead of him. John would call him a damned fool if he gave away his billions. Melinda might be momentarily impressed, but he knew all too well she wouldn’t stay that way for long. She would probably bust his balls for not giving the money away to the right cause.

Drink?” he asked Willa.

She perched on the edge of his sofa in her linen church-lady suit, straight out of the political fund-raiser fashion catalog. He much preferred the hot copper number from two nights ago. She hadn’t looked like some damned virgin in the backless gown. But in this modest getup, he felt dirty for even contemplating sex with her.

Not to mention the damned outfit made her look about fourteen years old and playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes. He had a flashback to when he’d first known her, and how guilty he’d felt about the lecherous thoughts she had inspired in him back then. Since when had he become a dirty old man? He had no business sleeping with someone her age. She ought to be out finding some nice young man her age to settle down with, not wasting her time with an old bastard like him.

Are you drunk?” she asked when he stumbled on the edge of an area rug.

Yes. Yes, I am.”

She nodded knowingly. “Be careful. Whiskey makes for some interesting true confessions.”

Confess something to me so I’m not laying out my guts all by myself,” he retorted.

I’ve imagined doing some very kinky things with you in bed, over the years.”

He stared disbelievingly, shocked out of his buzz. “No way.”

Way,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I fantasized about sleeping with you pretty much all the way through high school. And truth be told, through college, too. You thoroughly messed up my social life.”

Son of a— Who’d have guessed? Sweet little Willa Merris had harbored naughty thoughts of an older man? Tsk, tsk.

Drink?” he asked her.

No, thanks.” She said that like she could use a little liquid courage. But hey. If she didn’t want it, that was her call.

He made his way to the wet bar where he pulled out a double old-fashioned glass, stabbed it into the ice maker and poured a few fingers of whiskey over the ice. Damned women. Made a man drink politely. Out of a glass instead of straight out of the bottle. He carried his whiskey over to the sofas and sank down cautiously on the one opposite Willa.

Why are you here?” he asked baldly. He winced at the lack of subtlety in his voice. If he wanted to remain rational, he’d probably had enough to drink.

To apologize for yesterday. For refusing to take your calls. I overreacted.”

To what?”

To you calling Melinda your wife.”

He frowned, confused. Huh? “I’m drawing a blank here. Help me out. What the hell are you talking about?”

When the police called to tell you they had a video, you called her your wife. Not your ex-wife.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s what had your panties in a wad?” he exclaimed. “The cop on the phone called Melinda my wife and it was easier not to bother correcting him. The FBI analyst made the same mistake, too.”

What analyst?” Willa asked. She added in quick concern, “Is Melinda all right?”

She sounded like she genuinely gave a damn about Melinda’s safety. He knew plenty of women who would have secretly been rooting for his ex to die horribly, and clear the way for them. Not that Melinda was actually in the way...

...Right? It had been years since they divorced. He was over her, even if he hadn’t gotten into any serious relationships since then. He’d been too busy getting rich and letting the money fill his bed with beautiful women to get serious with anyone. No need to settle down. He had all the time in the world to do the whole commitment and marriage thing. Except now he’d blasted past age forty and his window of opportunity was starting to close. What if he never found the perfect woman? Was he doomed to live out his old age alone and bitter?

Damn, he’d forgotten how maudlin whiskey could make a man. The young beauty seated across from him was certainly ripe for the picking. She would make some man a hell of a wife. She was sweet and smart and a lady in public. And in private, she was another story, entirely. His body stirred with lust at the memory of the wildcat she’d been in his arms two nights ago. Once she had let go of her inhibitions, she’d been all the woman a man could ask for and more. He had to admit, it had made him feel damned good that he’d been the one to unlock her sensual side like that.

At the moment, her lips were pursed, her arms folded across her middle and her legs crossed primly at the ankles. Her body language screamed that she wasn’t even remotely thinking about sex right now. She was probably wallowing in disapproving thoughts of how he was going to hell for getting drunk.

I don’t care if I go to hell for indulging in a little whiskey,” he announced.

She shrugged, apparently unfazed. “I’ve seen worse. Besides, I wouldn’t call you actually drunk. You’re only mildly buzzed. You might have a headache in the morning if you don’t drink a little water before bed, but that’s about the extent of it.”

Now where would John Merris’s shockingly sheltered daughter learn to gauge a drunk so accurately? “John Merris was a drinker?” he asked, stunned.

More often and more heavily than you might think,” she replied grimly.

Well, hell. Now he felt bad for drinking in front of her. He set his glass down on the coffee table in sudden distaste. “Why did you get all upset over me calling Melinda my wife?”

That brought spots of color to her already pink cheeks. “I was in bed with you for goodness’ sake. Why do you think it upset me?”

Enlighten me.”

I like you.”

Ooooh-kay. “And?”

She huffed. “And I was jealous. I was mad at the thought that you still have deep feelings for her and think of her as your wife, not your ex-wife.”

He frowned. Did he still think of Melinda as his wife? He tried to imagine her sleeping with another man to see how he would react. Not only did no anger or hurt stir in his gut, but he couldn’t even conjure up an image of Melinda with any man. All that came to mind was some poor schmuck on his knees in front of her while she wore a latex jumpsuit and snapped a crop against her boot.

Maybe that was what broke them up. He’d refused to be her lackey the way she wanted him to be. He’d insisted on being his own man, heaven forbid.

Thank God Willa wasn’t that kind of woman. She’d liked it when he took charge in bed. The simmering lust in his loins heated up a little more.

Look, Gabe. I think it’s decent of you to still care for Melinda. It dawned on me last night that she may not have any other family to look out for her. She’s a human being, after all, and it’s not her fault some nut job kidnapped her. The fact that you put up the reward money and you’ve been pushing the cops so hard to find her is noble.”