More Than a Billionaire (2 page)

Most days, Derek’s comments rolled off his back. Derek excelled at giving him a hard time. He always had. Today, his brother’s comments sent his already foul mood farther south.

“I told them all you’d be here.” Gray’s dad gave him a hug and a thump on the back. “I hope you plan to visit for a little while.”

Gray chose to ignore Derek and his comments. “At least for a few days.”

His father stepped away. “Good. Abby will be pleased.

“Gray, I’d like you to meet Addie’s brother, Rock.” Trent dropped a hand on his future brother in-law’s shoulder.

Gray didn’t know a lot about Trent’s fiancée, but he did know she had four older brothers all of whom where in the military. “It’s nice to meet you.” Gray extended his hand toward the man. He didn’t know the how or why behind the name Rock, but it certainly fit the guy well. He was built like a giant boulder.

“You, too.” Rock shook his hand, but didn’t crack a smile.

“Okay, gentlemen, now that you’re all here, I’d like to get a few more shots before we head to the church.” The photographer stepped forward, interrupting the family reunion.

***

Kiera glanced around the grand ballroom. How long had it been since she visited Cliff House? She didn’t know, but it looked unchanged. Of course, why would anyone mess with something so magnificent?

“That was such a beautiful ceremony today,” her mom said beside her. “And I haven’t seen Trent look so happy since before his mom passed.”

Not only was her mother, Annette, married to Mark Sherbrooke’s chef, but she was also the head gardener for his estates. Her mom had met Mrs. Sherbrooke when they’d been kids at summer camp years ago. In fact, her Mom was the first employee Donna Sherbrooke hired after she and her husband had built their mansion in Barrington. A lover of plants and flowers, Donna had often worked alongside her mom, and sometimes, their children would accompany them.

As usual, her mom was correct. Everything about the ceremony had been gorgeous, if not a little too traditional for her tastes. Considering Trent’s wife came from a large Italian family, it made sense that they’d gotten married in the Catholic Cathedral on Fenner Street in downtown Providence.

“It was, and I love Addison’s gown.” Kiera looked across the room. “The bridesmaids’ gowns are beautiful, too.”

She watched Trent’s sister dance with a gorgeous man in dress blues. Thanks to the media—and her mother—she knew that the man with Trent’s sister was one of Addison’s older brothers.

“Mark must be thrilled everyone made it today.”

Others might find it odd that her mom called her employer by his first name, but not Kiera. Over the years, the line between employer and employee had blurred between the Sherbrookes and Renaults, which explained their presence at the wedding today. Although still a large reception, only immediate family and close friends filled the ballroom.

“Your dad overheard Mark and Abby the other night. Mark was worried Gray wouldn’t make it. He missed Trent’s bachelor party.”

Kiera looked across the room at Gray, who sat in conversation with his cousin Sara and her fiancée. “Really?”

Trent and Gray had a good sibling relationship, or at least they had growing up. She had seen it first-hand, spending much of her childhood tagging along with the two of them as they explored their parents’ estates in Barrington and on Martha’s Vineyard.

Her mom nodded. “And he never showed up for the New Year’s Eve party, according to your grandfather.”

Despite his advanced years, her grandfather, Henri Renault, still ruled the kitchen of Cliff House, something he’d done for well over thirty years.

“I didn’t think he ever missed that.”

“Your father heard Mark say he’s worried Gray’s taking up where Trent left off with women.” Her mom leaned a little closer. “I’ve always adored Trent, but he was a terrible player, with a different woman on his arm every other week. It drove his father crazy.”

Her mom didn’t have to tell her what a playboy Trent had been before meeting Addison. The media had done a fabulous job documenting his activities. When she’d first heard Trent was getting married, she’d wondered if Mom had gotten it wrong.

Kiera glanced at her mother. “He’s probably just busy.”

She hadn’t spent much time with Gray over the past few years, but she didn’t see him jumping from one woman to the next the way Trent had.

Then again, people changed. Weren’t they, right now, celebrating the marriage of Trent Sherbrooke, a man the world never envisioned married?

“I hope that’s all. I think Trent already gave Mark enough stress.”

Although it shouldn’t matter to her one way or the other, she hoped she was right, too. Kiera’s eyes drifted in Gray’s direction again.

As she watched, Sara said something that caused Gray to shake his head and frown. In the process, their eyes meet. Right away, his frown reversed direction, and he waved.

Kiera returned the gesture and expected him to continue his conversation. Instead, he said something to Sara, then headed her way.

Wow, the man rocked a tuxedo. Then again, he’d make a toga look hot. Grayson Sherbrooke, like everyone else in the Sherbrooke family, had hit the jackpot in the gene department. Tall and blessed with an athletic physique, he’d inherited his father’s dirty blond hair and his mother’s light blue eyes. It was no wonder every magazine editorial staff loved to put him on their cover.

“Annette, how are you?” Gray sat down at the table and smiled at her mom. “Is Mathieu here, too?”

“He went to get some drinks.” Her mom patted Gray’s hand. “You’ve been away too long. We’ve all missed you.”

“I know, but now that I’m here, I plan to take advantage of Mathieu’s cooking.”

“If you want something exceptional, Kiera’s the one you want cooking for you.” Her mom looked around as if to make sure her husband wasn’t within hearing. “Her culinary skills surpass even her grandfather’s now.”

Kiera heard the pride in her mom’s voice, and even though she didn’t agree, the praise pleased her.

Gray looked her way. “Doesn’t surprise me.” He paused, than got a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Do you still specialize in chocolate cupcakes?”

“Of course. What else?”

Gray’s comment brought up a long-forgotten memory. She’d been perhaps five or six and had made cupcakes with her dad. Once they’d cooled, he’d let her decorate them on her own. Like any good kid, she found a bag of double chocolate cookies and gummy worms. She’d crushed up the cookies and added them and the worms to the frosting on the cupcakes. Once finished, she’d snatched three and brought them to Trent and Gray’s tree house, only to find that their younger sister, Allison, had followed them that day. None of them had wanted to share the treats, so she convinced Allison that the cupcakes were covered with real worms and dirt. Allison believed her and ran off to find a more suitable snack, leaving the three of them alone to enjoy their cupcakes.

“And now that you mention it, I think I’ll bake some tonight.”

“Any chance I can get a few?”

Kiera patted his hand. “For you, I’ll even add extra worms.”

Gray laughed a deep rich sound that shattered the serious expression she struggled to maintain.

“Perfect. I’ll be by first thing tomorrow to pick them up.” Gray tilted his head toward the dance floor. “How about a dance?”

She lifted each of his hands and examined them. “You’re not holding any snakes, so I guess it’s safe.”

Gray threw back his head and laughed again. “You’re never going to forgive me for that, are you?”

“Nope.” Thanks to Gray and the garter snake he’d dropped on her head one day, she still got uneasy around snakes.

He helped her up. “I promise no snakes. Besides, I’ve learned women prefer to be surprised with jewelry instead.”

Together, they joined the other dancers already on the dance floor.

“I’m warning you, I haven’t danced in a long time.” Kiera rested her palms on his shoulders. Shoulders that were a bit wider than she remembered. Of course, the last time she’d danced with Gray, they’d been about fourteen. His mother had brought a professional dance instructor to the estate so that Trent, Gray, and Allison, could learn to dance properly. Short one female dance partner; Gray’s mom had invited her to join them.

Gray’s hand settled on her waist. “I’ll be careful.”

Like an expert, Gray moved them across the dance floor. When they approached the happy bride and groom, she watched them for a moment or two.

“Trent’s married. Blows the mind.”

A dancer behind them bumped into her, and Gray moved them away from the couple.

“I always thought he’d end up living in a mansion maybe on a private island surrounded by beautiful young women, she said. “I pictured Jake that way, too.”

“Me, too?”

Kiera looked away from the dancers, so she could see his face and discovered they now stood much closer than before. When had that happened? Had she moved closer or had he pulled her up against him? Either way, they needed space between them because she suddenly found it difficult to think.

“Never.” She met his eyes, an easy feat thanks to the height she’d inherited from her dad, but then she wished she hadn’t because she couldn’t look away.

Gray waited for Kiera’s answer. How she pictured him or anyone else in his family shouldn’t matter, yet it did. A lot.

“Then how do you picture me someday?” The question spilled out and he cursed himself. What a ridiculous question.

“More like your father, I guess.” Kiera titled her head. “You know, married to someone like your mom or one of your aunts, with a house full of light-haired, blue-eyed children.”

Relief, or something close to it, seeped through his body. If the media or strangers wanted to believe he was a carefree partier traveling around the world, dating different women, he didn’t care. His family and close friends were another story. Technically, Kiera wasn’t either—at least, not anymore. They hadn’t talked in years. For some reason, though, her opinion still mattered to him.

“That’s a relief.”

Kiera rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you would’ve lost sleep it if I had said something else.”

“Perhaps.”

The slow song ended and another started up.

“Wow, your feet survived that whole dance. I guess I remember more from those dance lessons than I thought.” Kiera turned to head to the edge of the dance floor.

“How about another dance, then?” He kept his eyes on her face—the safest place for them. Or, rather, he tried. His eyes had ideas of their own.

He could honestly say he hadn’t thought of Kiera in years. Even still, he knew she’d be the only thing he thought about tonight and perhaps tomorrow.

“You’re feet are the ones in danger, not mine.” She placed her hands back on his shoulders.

Gray pulled her closer, much closer than during their first dance, and a long-suppressed memory floated up—when he’d seen Kiera as a girl rather than a pal who happened to live on his parents’ estate.

“You’re dad must be happy you’re home. Are you staying long?”

Kiera’s question interrupted his pleasant trip down Memory Lane.

“A few days, maybe more. What about you? Are you just visiting?

“I moved back about a year ago. I loved living with my cousins in France, and working in Paris was incredible, but I missed my family here.”

He got the whole missing family thing, though no one would believe that. “There’s no other city quite like Paris.” He’d traveled to cities around the world and Paris remained one of his favorites.

The song ended and a popular Top Forty hit replaced it, bringing their dance to an end—as well as his excuse for having Kiera in his arms.

“Since we’re both around, why don’t we go for dinner one night?” His dinner dates these days involved business. For a change, he’d like an evening out with a friend.

Kiera’s hands dropped to her sides, his cue to let go of her waist.

A cue his brain failed to follow.

“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m scheduled at work every night this week.”

“Lunch then?” It took some effort, but he peeled one hand off her waist. He left the other on her lower back as he guided her back to her table.

“That I can do.”

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up Monday at noon.”

Kiera gave him her address, which he had just enough time to put into his phone before the damn thing rang.

“It’s work. I’m sorry, but I need to take this. I’ll see you Monday.” He took the call, but didn’t say hello. He didn’t need to; he already knew who it was.

She nodded. “Twelve o’clock.”

Gray walked away, but cast one more glance in Kiera’s direction, wishing he could dance with her again. Unable to do what he wanted he greeted his boss.

***

Fudge
. It couldn’t be eleven-thirty.

Kiera checked the wall clock.
Double fudge
. It said eleven-thirty, too. Gray was due in thirty minutes, and she hadn’t even stepped in the shower yet. One of these days, she’d learn not to experiment with a new recipe when she had plans.

Kiera pushed away a stray piece of hair. She’d clean the dirty bowls and pans later. Right now, she needed to get the perishable food put away. Thanks to years of practice, it took mere minutes to get food wrapped and put away, leaving her enough time for a hot shower, she hoped.

For the second time that week, only luke-warm water flowed from the showerhead. Actually, luke-warm water in her loft had become the norm over the past month. In fact, on several occasions, she’d driven to her friend’s apartment for a hot shower before work rather than suffer through an unpleasant cold one. Today, she’d have to suffer.

Once showered and dried off, Kiera grabbed a sweater from her drawer, her teeth chattering too much for her to care which one it was, and then she cranked up the thermostat. While the hot water remained temperamental, the heating system worked just fine. Quickly, she pulled on her clothes, which left only one thing to do: tackling the mess on her head that passed for hair.

Most days, she took the extra time required to blow the curly mop out straight. The clock said she didn’t have that luxury today.