Despite the Gentleman's Riches: Sweet Billionaire Romance (For Richer or Poorer Book 1) (17 page)

"Well, go after him!" the romantic lady exclaimed when I stood rooted to the spot, staring after Jack's retreating form. He had transformed from businessman to boyfriend so abruptly that I was having trouble keeping my balance, let alone following in his footsteps.

"Not by herself, she doesn't," Tom said, and this time the other Cuadic members were in full agreement. They rolled out through the door in a tsunami of activists, and I was pushed along in their wake. As we emerged from the building, my eye immediately met Jack's as he waited for me in the parking lot, the contact nearly as tangible as a physical touch, but there were too many grandparents between us for me to be able to reach his side.

For once, I yearned to climb into Jack's spaceship of a car, to have the time to talk through everything that had occurred during the last day. I wanted to make sure that my ex-employer wasn't forgetting about Lena in his rush to win me over, and that he would have the ability to make this crazy and wonderful research center a reality.

Okay, if I was being truly honest, I mostly just wanted to kiss the man standing so gloriously in front of us and to reassure myself that he was really Jack, not Mr. Fish Sticks after all.

But, instead, I was pushed into Kimberly's vehicle, Florabelle and the romantic lady crammed into the backseat as we carpooled back toward the site of my former home. Jack led the way in his spaceship of a car, and behind us I could make out a line of vehicles that would have resembled a funeral procession if the inhabitants hadn't all been talking so excitedly amongst themselves. I even caught Claudia shooting me a thumbs up before I turned back around to face the property that had been the scene of last night's defeat...

...The property from which my trailer had already been removed, only to be replaced with a huge piece of machinery that was rolling menacingly toward Pippin.

And I forgot all about Claudia. I forgot about Kimberly and Tom and the romantic lady, and even about Jack. The loss of my books and home had given me a twinge of regret, but what really hurt was knowing that I was going to have to watch my beloved apple tree be ripped out of the soil right in front of my eyes. Surely even the malicious Mr. Reed would have realized that the huge cone-shaped
thing
attached to the back of the truck now rolling across my once-perfect garden was overkill. Surely my sweet little tree didn't need fourteen tons of equipment to knock her down?

Pippin
was
just a tree, I reminded myself, hardly realizing that I was flinging open the car door and sprinting across my ruined yard to reach her side. Yes, I had poured every dream I possessed into her slender trunk, had spent hours pruning and training and managing her growth. But my rational mind understood that every dream I'd banked within Pippin would still be present inside my body once the apple tree was gone. Pippin had helped to focus my yearnings rather than truly housing them, and I
would
keep moving forward even without her arboreal pep talks.

Behind my back, I could hear Mr. Reed's voice raised as he argued with my boyfriend. I couldn't quite make out the words on either side of the debate, but what I picked up of Jack's tone reminded me of his father's sternness, only with a hint of humor underlying the firm words. I suspected that the businessman was trying to save my tree—surely Lena would have let slip my attachment to the plant while she was sharing all of my other secrets. But I was equally certain that Mr. Reed wouldn't budge. My snarky farewell the night before would ensure that his continued ire was too great to allow my ex-landlord to be bought or bullied.

And it didn't matter anyway because the huge metal cone in front of my eyes was opening up into four pointed diamonds, the ends so sharp I suspected they would cut off my foot if I was stupid enough to take one more step toward my beloved tree. "Ma'am, I need you to move out of the way," called the machine's operator, and I obediently paced backwards in a daze. Jack would be too late to stop the cone's depredations, and I was too timid to become the tree-hugger in fact that my neighbors called me in jest.

"Thank you, Pippin," I whispered, not even able to hear my own words over the roar of the vehicle's motor. The four diamonds centered around my beloved apple tree, then they fell with a crunch to surround the plant in unyielding metal.

Unable to watch, I turned away and allowed the tears I'd been withholding to stream down my cheeks.

***

"Hey, Ginny, it's okay."

Jack's face swam within my fuzzy vision, his strong hands taking my cheeks between them so he could tilt my face upwards to meet his.
I loved Pippin, but I love Jack more
, I realized, yet that didn't stop the tears (and other bodily fluids) from flowing copiously. "I know," I answered. Then, barely able to choke out the words: "She's just a tree."

"What do you mean she's just a tree?" Jack demanded, his words suddenly angry, although his grip remained gentle. "That
tree
is your heart, and I'm going to keep it safe no matter what."

What a time to discover that poor Jack was a closet romantic. But how could my companion not realize that my apple tree had already fled to whatever happy hunting ground in the sky was reserved for therapy plants? My hand fluttered a wave back over my shoulder, unable to put Pippin's loss into words.

"I thought for sure you'd know what a tree spade was," Jack muttered, almost to himself, then he dropped his hands down onto my shoulders and carefully spun me around to face the other way.

For a moment, all I could take in was the way Jack's arms shifted to fold across my stomach, his public embrace filling my body with a sudden burst of joy.
This is home
, I thought, the words reminding me what it had felt like to be encircled by a real family. Then I realized what my companion was trying to show me: Pippin wasn't gone after all.

While I wasn't looking, the cone had closed up around Pippin's base, the four diamonds springing back together to cup a huge expanse of earth eight feet in diameter. And now, as we both watched, the tree spade slowly surged upwards, gently raising Pippin into the air, roots and all. Her branches swayed mildly, the lone apple bobbing in place as leaves rustled, and I almost thought I could hear the tree exclaiming in delight. How often does a tree get the opportunity to fly?

It took me long minutes to fully take in the reality of the scene in front of me. The heavy machinery wasn't a tool of destruction after all, but was instead a huge, mechanical version of the way I gently teased broccoli seedlings out of their tray with a fork before transplanting. Jack had worked a miracle.

"But you can't move a tree," I murmured, not believing the evidence of my own eyes.

"Together, you and I can do
anything
," Jack promised. Then he turned me back around and kissed me on the lips.

***

"But where are you taking her?" I asked, once we were finally able to come up for air. The bond I'd felt forming between us as I lay on Jack's shoulder above Central Park suddenly seemed solid, a swinging bridge I could walk across without any hint of danger, simply reveling in the headiness of height. Was it me or Pippin who was dangling ten feet above the ground?

"I have a proposal for you," Jack said, but this time he didn't pull out any visual aids. That was okay—the only image I wanted right now was my lover's glorious form in front of my eyes.

And, apparently, in front of others' eyes as well. "A proposal!" the romantic lady exclaimed, and I couldn't help peering over Jack's shoulder to where every one of the Cuadic members was arrayed in a ring at the businessman's back. Sure enough, the romantic lady seemed just about ready to swoon.

"Not
that
proposal, at least, not quite yet," Jack said, his blue eyes still gazing into mine, but his words a little louder so he was sure my friends would overhear. "Although, yes, you're all invited to the wedding, once I talk Ginny around. If
she
doesn't want you there, then you can sit on the groom's side." His eyes crinkled up at his own jest, and I thought I might have heard the romantic lady slide to the ground in a faint of pure joy. But I couldn't tear my attention away from Jack any longer to make sure.

"I
could
move Pippin anywhere you want," Jack was saying. "There's a lot for sale in town—it could be in your name by dinnertime. Or perhaps you'd rather own an acreage further out in the country. I found several of those, some with houses, some without."

Jack was being unbelievably kind, but his words were making the swinging bridge between us dwindle back down into a slippery tightrope. I didn't want to lose Pippin, but I also didn't want Jack's grand production to simply be a way of paying me back for helping out his sister. Setting up my tree miles distant from Jack's slowly-warming mansion on the hill would mean that my ex-employer was just being kind, rather than trying to transplant my heart into his backyard. Was this a romantic gesture or not?

Jack was oblivious to my internal conflict. Or was he? A hint of that beloved smirk was rising up through his serious expression, try as the businessman might to maintain a poker face. "I
could
do that," he said, his warm gaze making the rope between us feel less treacherous by the moment. "But I don't want to. What I
want
to do is to plant your heart right in front of my window, where I can see it the minute I wake up and gaze upon it every day before I fall asleep. If I'm lucky, Pippin will require daily visits from her mistress, and that will mean that I get to see you as well."

Jack reached into his jacket pocket, pulling forth a sheaf of official-looking papers, now a bit bedraggled from their unusual mode of transportation. "This is a deed to a one-acre tract of land a stone's throw from my front door," he continued, returning to business mode. "You're the new owner, sale price one dollar. If you'll let me plant your tree there, the property will be entirely yours with no strings attached. In fact, I had my lawyer add a paragraph down here at the bottom...." He flipped through the pages, coming to the one he was looking for at last. "I could read you the legalese, but the gist is that, if you decide that you can't bear having Mr. Fish Sticks so close to your heart, then I'll move out, no questions asked." I accepted the papers that my companion was trying to push into my hands, but didn't even glance at them as Jack finished: "So, what do you say? Do you accept my offer?"

"Less talking and more kissing!" The order from behind me wasn't unexpected, but its timber was. Rather than the high, reedy tones of the romantic lady, this encourager was male, and I was pretty sure that our resident conspiracy theorist had finally been won over by Jack's proposal.

Well, if it was good enough for Tom, then it was good enough for me. Reaching up behind Jack's neck to pull his lips down to mine, I sealed the deal with another kiss.

"But why did you have to hire a lawyer to draw up the deed if you went to law school yourself?" Fifteen minutes later, the hordes of Cuadic well-wishers finally eluded, Jack was pulling into the long driveway leading up to his house on the hill and I was just starting to come down off the high of our most recent kiss. The tree spade, with Pippin in its arms, had gently tilted backwards to lie parallel with the flat bed of the truck, and the whole contraption was trundling up the road in front of us. I kept expecting Pippin's sole apple to come tumbling down to be squashed beneath our tires, but so far, my precious tree and her fruit remained intact, which left me with the mental energy to focus on more human concerns. And while I really wanted to ask Jack if he'd meant it about a potential wedding, law school seemed like a safer topic, at least for now.

"I had a lot of other tasks keeping me busy last night," Jack explained, shooting me a glance out of the corner of his eye. "I wanted to go after you immediately when you left yesterday, but I couldn't shake my father until you were already out of sight. And by the time I reached your property, the trailer was sitting by the side of the road, which side-tracked me for a while."

We crested the last rise as Jack paused, and then I gasped. I'd assumed there would be a big hole in front of the mansion where Pippin was going to be planted, and that cavity was indeed evident. But I had no idea that my trailer would be parked right beside Pippin's future home as well. The tiny dwelling looked grossly out of place, located no more than fifty feet from the front door of Jack's mansion, and I suspected the sight would be enough to give the older Mr. Reynolds heart palpitations. Jack, on the other hand, was casting the same look in my direction that had been on his face when the fancy gowns were unveiled in his New York City apartment, as if he hoped his gift would be well received but thought there was a good chance it would instead be thrown back into his face.

I knew I should hurry up and give my companion a clue that I wasn't angry, but the truth was that I couldn't get my vocal cords to work as I carefully set Florabelle's cage down on the car seat and walked toward the home I'd thought was lost. Not only was my trailer solidly moored to the new patch of earth, the entire area around the structure was newly landscaped...or rather, it was populated with the same plants I'd nurtured in my old lot. Raspberries and vegetables had been carefully dug up and replanted just like my apple tree was currently being moved, and none of the plants showed the least sign of wilting. It was as if the workers had gone to the effort of using the tree spade even on ephemeral annuals like leaf lettuce, and I could barely wrap my mind around the time and expense required to make such a seamless transition. This gift was so much more extraordinary than fancy bath salts and cut orchids that I could barely capture my breath.

"I know it's not laid out exactly like your yard was before," Jack said hastily, filling in the silence that had elongated between us. "I had some Master Gardeners come up and look at the soil, and they said this was the best spot for a garden. But, if you hate it, we'll move it. I want you to feel at home here."

The tree guy had been working while the two of us talked, and now he pushed a lever to twist Pippin back to her upright position. Very slowly, the massive cone began its descent toward the pyramidal hole in Jack's lawn, and Pippin was soon settled back into the earth. My heart had found its final resting place.

***

"I need to bring Florabelle inside," I said finally, when the tree-spade truck was gone and Jack was suitably thanked. My companion looked less grim now but still a little tense, as if he weren't entirely confident that I wouldn't order him to hook my trailer back up to an even bigger truck and haul it elsewhere if Jack put one foot down in the wrong place. Although how he could expect any girl to turn down Mr. Fish Sticks when he begged for the honor of planting her heart right outside his front door was beyond me.

To be honest, though, I was feeling a little tense as well. But the root of my anxiety was quite different from Jack's, revolving around the expected shambles within my home that had surely arisen during its impromptu move. Unlike RVs, mobile homes don't come with latches on cabinets and bookcases, and I fully expected the interior to look like a massive earthquake had hit in my absence. Would the refrigerator door have swung open, spraying perishables out to rot on the linoleum? The dishes I'd left in the drainer would definitely be shattered and papers would likely be flying everywhere. I was starting to get a little bleary-eyed from all of the recent traumas stacked on top of my wakeful night, and I wasn't looking forward to spending hours picking up debris before I could finally fall into my own bed.

But, to my surprise, the door opened easily with no furniture barring the way, and I carried Florabelle inside to a home that looked exactly like the one I'd left less than a week before. "Who...?" I began, wonder filling my voice as I flipped on the light switch, twisted open the kitchen faucet, and discovered everything to be in perfect working order. Even the fridge was full and humming happily in one corner.

"That's the other project that I was busy with last night," Jack explained quietly from the open doorway. "Your landlord hadn't taken the time to secure your possessions, so everything needed to be picked up and battened down before we could move the trailer again. I know it's an invasion of your privacy, but I hoped you'd feel less violated if I did it all myself...." Despite his words, Jack sounded far from sure that I'd follow his logic, and he still had that look on his face that suggested he was waiting to be slapped down.

As I tore my gaze away from the wonder of my pristine home, I suddenly realized that my companion hadn't entered the room and appeared to be waiting to be invited into my tiny abode. The trailer was now located on what was basically his property (new deed aside), but Jack seemed intent upon giving me as much personal space as I craved. And I appreciated the gesture, if not the way my companion's shoulders were still hunched with anxiety. Had Mr. Fish Sticks really changed so much in a few short weeks, transforming from the suave businessman who had arrogantly tried to pick me up in the checkout line into this thoughtful supporter? Or had he been the same person all along, with my perception of the man being the only thing to shift as hints of the real Jack slowly shone through his charismatic facade?

Either way, it was past time to show my companion how much I appreciated all of his efforts. Because I really did welcome every one of his actions, even though they might have seemed to threaten my independence. I was surprised to realize that I
didn't
feel invaded at all by the thought of having Jack's fingers running across my books, or even through my underwear drawer. In fact....

Setting Florabelle's cage down in her usual spot, I took Jack's hand and pulled him across the threshold and into the tiny kitchen. Only then did I realize that my companion had moved my entire front deck to this new location as well, transferring the structure board by board. But I had more important matters to focus on right now than lumber.

"Perhaps you'd like to invade my bedroom?" I purred, feeling embarrassed by my own forwardness as soon as the words left my mouth. But before I could cringe away, I saw Jack's pupils expand in desire, and I could have sworn I felt the testosterone levels in my own blood rise in response.

"I noticed your bed is twin-sized," my companion replied, voice husky as he followed me down the short hallway. Perhaps it was only the close confines that made his hand brush against my butt, but I doubted it. It definitely wasn't chance that made me lean back into the touch. "We'll have to nestle up close to both fit...." he continued.

"I suspect we'll manage," I answered, pulling my t-shirt over my head. And, moments later, when the rest of our clothes had tumbled into a heap on the bedroom floor, I finally understood what the oxytocin had been trying to tell me all along. Jack and I had merged, body, mind, and spirit. How could I not trust a man who had uprooted my heart so that he could nurture it right in his front lawn?