Tempted By The Billionaire Next Door

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‘Where do you live when you’re not living here?’

‘I just bought a place that isn’t ready for me to move in yet. And the lease of the one I rented before is up.’ She sighed. ‘Anja and Chet are letting me stay here until my flat’s ready.’

He processed the information. ‘What about the father of the baby?’

She hesitated. ‘He isn’t an option right now.’

‘So he doesn’t care where the mother of his child is?’

‘That’s not—’ She broke off. ‘He isn’t an option. But this isn’t your problem, so don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.’

‘I will worry. You have nowhere to go.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Jess—’

‘Why are you pushing me?’

‘Why won’t you accept my help?’

‘I have accepted your help. With all of this.’ She waved her hand around them at the house. ‘You’ve done enough.’

‘Not if I leave you to figure things out by yourself,’ he argued. ‘Letting someone help you isn’t going to rob you of anything, you know.’

‘Not in my experience.’

He paused. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing,’ she said immediately, shaking her head. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

He studied her. Couldn’t bring himself to look away from her. Not when her expression was so captivating. She’d been hurt before, he saw. And realised that hurt had made her lose something of herself.

Though he barely knew her, Dylan found his fists curling and his mind fantasising about being alone with whoever had hurt her. And since she was pregnant and didn’t want to turn to the father of her child for help, Dylan was willing to bet he knew who he’d like to hurt.

He forced himself to relax. ‘Okay, how about you get some of your clothes and come over to my place for breakfast? You can figure it out there,’ he added over the protest he could sense would come from her.

But, instead of protesting, she said, ‘That would be great, thanks,’ surprising him. He watched as she got up—resisting the urge to help her when her movements looked the slightest bit sluggish—and waited in the passage leading to the front door while she packed.

He used the time to look at his sister’s house. Just as he’d told Jess the day before, he preferred the décor here to that of his own house. Though the architecture was much the same, the bright colours made Anja’s house look more homely than his own. When he’d told Anja as much, she’d told him that if he’d been there, maybe he could have made sure his was homely, too.

It had been the first sign of the crack in their relationship, but of course, he’d ignored it. It had been easier to do than facing the fact that he should have been home...

Jess came out then, just in time to stop those thoughts from spiralling. He wordlessly took the small suitcase she had, and turned towards his place. He was almost surprised to see how sullen the sky had become, though he shouldn’t have been. It was autumn, and the warmth of the past few days had been more of a fluke than the grey sky.

He opened the door of his house to an excited dog, who became even more excited when she saw Jess behind him. Though he could still see the fatigue in Jess’s eyes, she dutifully gave Daisy the attention the dog wanted and then followed him into the kitchen.

It was strange having her in his house again. Which itself was strange, considering that he’d only been living in that house for eight days himself after being away from it for two years. And since the décor had changed while he’d been away, it was almost like living in a new place.

‘You can have the guest room,’ he told her, leading the way. ‘My housekeeper comes in every second day, so the room should be okay to stay in. There’s an en suite bathroom, too, so it has everything you need.’

‘Thanks. I think I’ll take a shower and change.’

‘And I’ll get breakfast ready.’

‘Oh, you really don’t have to—’

‘I know,’ he interrupted her. ‘But I’m hungry, too, so it won’t be that much of an effort.’

He left before she could argue with him, and started making their breakfast. Cooking was one of the habits he’d picked up growing up that didn’t annoy him. At first it had been for survival. After it had become clear his father wasn’t going to come home, his mother had given up on most tasks, including feeding them.

So Dylan had used the money he’d found in his father’s safe to buy food, but he’d quickly realised that the money wouldn’t last if he didn’t learn how to buy sustainable items. And that the items that had been sustainable required effort on his behalf. So he’d spent a lot of time watching cooking shows, had flipped through the faded cookbooks in his mother’s bookshelf and had taught himself to cook. He’d soon realised that it calmed him, and had roped Anja in, hoping she’d feel the same way.

‘You look better,’ he said when he saw Jess walk into the kitchen. He plated the muffins his housekeeper had made.

‘You mean better than the horror show I was this morning?’

‘Not at all. I just meant—’ He broke off when he saw her smile, and felt his stomach flip. He ignored it.

‘Do you want something to drink?’

‘Tea, please.’ She settled onto the bar stool at the counter.

‘I have more comfortable chairs in the living room.’

‘I know. But I won’t let this baby rob me of the opportunity to eat while I watch you cook.’

She gave him a cheeky grin, and he laughed. She did look better than before. Not only because now she wore a long-sleeved black dress that stretched down to her feet with a belt tied under her breasts accentuating her bump, but because she didn’t look quite as tired, as restless, as she had when she’d first got there.

He wondered if that meant he could convince her to stay with him while the work on Anja’s house was being done. The thought was as surprising as it was sudden, but when he thought about it he realised it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Unless he thought about how things sparked between them. And how badly he wanted to kiss her lips, to taste her mouth and feel the fullness of her body against his again...

Which, of course, he wouldn’t think about.

He told himself to wait until breakfast was over before he mentioned it, and slid the tea and muffins in front of her. ‘Your wish is my command.’

‘You’re such a good man,’ she breathed as she picked up a chocolate muffin.

He bit back a grin. ‘Those are the first ones I go for, too.’

‘They’re delicious. Where did you get them?’

‘My housekeeper made them for me.’

‘They’re homemade? You need to ask her for the recipe.’

‘You cook?’ he asked, and started cutting fruit. He didn’t know what was in a pregnant woman’s diet, but he figured he’d cover all his bases.

‘That’s baking, Dylan.’

‘You bake?’

‘No.’

His lips curved. ‘So you cook, then?’

‘Nope.’

‘Then why did you correct me?’

‘It seemed like a fun thing to do,’ she said with a smile, and then sobered. ‘I’ve been learning how to do both over the last few years. I’m not quite at the level of being able to say that I can cook or bake well, but I can feed myself. And these—’ she lifted the muffin ‘—are definitely the kind of food I’d like to learn how to make.’

‘What happened a few years ago? That made you want to learn how to cook and bake, I mean.’ He set the fruit he’d been cutting up to the side, and began preparing the bacon and eggs.

‘I... I moved out of my parents’ house.’

He frowned. ‘How old are you?’

‘Old enough to have been out of my parents’ house by then,’ she said with a laugh, but it sounded forced. ‘We used to have a cook, so there was never really a need for me to learn how to feed myself.’

‘You had a cook?’

‘Yes.’ He glanced over to see the hesitation in her eyes. ‘Extravagant, isn’t it?’

‘I wasn’t thinking that.’

‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did.’

He turned to her and watched as she avoided his eyes. And suddenly he thought that perhaps he’d attributed the hurt he saw in her to someone who hadn’t deserved it.

‘So you had an...extravagant childhood?’

‘I guess you could say that.’

‘What would you say?’

‘I...was always well provided for.’ He could hear the care she’d taken with those words.

‘Your parents are wealthy?’

‘Yes.’

‘So why—’ He broke off, knowing that his question would veer into territory she might not be comfortable with. But she finished his sentence for him.

‘Why am I working as a PA?’ He nodded. ‘Well, I wasn’t...well cared for. Or cared for at all,’ she added softly, and Dylan felt his heart throb. ‘So, when I moved out, I stopped talking to them. Which meant I had to take care of myself, hence this job.’

Seconds passed as he digested this new information. ‘When you didn’t want my help this morning, were you...thinking about them?’

‘Only about how they used to throw it in my face whenever I asked them for help.’ She paused. ‘I remember when I was younger, I started saving for a new laptop. I didn’t want to use my dad’s old one any more, so I got a job and put away every cent of it so I could buy myself a new one. But my dad’s laptop broke before I had enough money to replace it, so I asked them to help me buy a new one.’ She lifted a hand, brushed at something on her cheek that he couldn’t see. ‘I thought that having half of the money for it—that working for it—would make them proud, but—’ she cleared her throat ‘—but it didn’t. They helped me buy the laptop, and reminded me of it whenever I acted in a way they didn’t approve of.’