Tempted by the Billionaire: A Hometown Hero Series Novel (11 page)

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at her. “I wanted to take you out on a date. I couldn’t do that with you driving.”

She arched a brow, but slid into the seat. “That’s sort of chauvinistic.”

He laughed, and came to sit beside her. “I was going for romance.”

“In this day and age, there’s a fine line between romance and chauvinism.”

“Oh!” He clutched at his chest, pretending to be wounded. “The cynicism. You surprise me, Willow.”

She rolled her eyes. “I just don’t understand why you’d buy a car in Haymarket Bay?” But beneath the veil of cynicism and criticism was unadulterated pleasure and hope. Did it mean he planned to stay? And for how long? Surely he wouldn’t buy a car if he was going to leave again anytime soon.

He instantly understood, and that spider web of guilt seemed to thicken across his senses. “I can always sell it. Give it to Ike.” He looked at her as he turned the key and revved the powerful engine. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Right. The hope was weighed down like a stone in water. It didn’t mean anything.

“Mattias…” She toyed with the hem of dress. “I don’t mean to sound intrusive, but cars are kind of expensive to just buy and then give away.”

He nodded, shooting her a droll look as he expertly navigated the beast of a thing towards the beach. He turned left onto the esplanade, and picked a route that would take them along the coastline. “Is this going to turn into a lecture about silver spoons and a sense of entitlement?”

She frowned. “Depends. Are you saying you were born with a silver spoon?”

“I’ve certainly read that in the papers,” he laughed. “I guess a billion dollar trust fund amounts to that.”

Willow spun her head to face his so fast she thought she’d got whiplash. “A
billion dollar trust fund
?” She demanded, her body flashing hot and cold. “Are you kidding me?”

He shot her another look of confusion. “Willow… Is it possible you don’t know who I am?” He pondered, more amused than surprised.

“Who you are?” She shook her head slowly. He was the man she was falling in love with. The man who had brought her all kinds of pleasure and delight in her bed. The man she was fast become totally hooked on. “Who are you?”

“You mean you really don’t know?” He laughed then, a rich sound that filled the luxury interior with warmth. “This is absolutely fantastic,” he said, putting a hand on her thigh and squeezing the slender muscle.

“Matt, who are you?”

He sobered, and focussed all his attention back on the seaside road. To their right, a sharp cliff dropped towards the ocean. To their left, tiny little beach shacks dotted the grassy land. “Have you heard of McCain Industries?”

“Of course. The airline.” She rolled her eyes. “Who hasn’t?”

“Heard of Mattias McCain?”

She angled her whole body to look at him. “You’re… You’re Mattias McCain.” She nodded, though, because it made sense. He carried himself with the confidence and authority of one who had been groomed to believe in their power. Someone who, from birth, had been given the best opportunities in life. She had never really thought him to be ordinary. But she hadn’t expected him to be a closet billionaire, either.

“Yeah.” He laughed again. “I will say this: it’s nice to know my wealth has nothing to do with what you see in me.”

Willow laughed now, her eyes crinkling at the corners. His heart turned over. Her laugh was incredibly beautiful. Possibly the nicest sound he’d ever heard. “As if anyone would fall for you because of money. You know, Matt, you don’t need to pretend modesty.”

The compliment, dressed up as an accusation, was music to his ears. “Not so much pretended modesty as the voice of experience.”

Willow frowned. “I don’t believe it. You mean your marriage?”

“Yeah. Turns out, amongst her other faults, Meghan was a big old gold-digger.”

“But… you’re gorgeous!” She said with complete disbelief.

Happiness, an actual force, burst through him. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I don’t think so. I know so. I don’t mean it in a subjective way. I mean, you’re seriously hot. I doubt anyone could disagree.”

His smiled at her then looked back towards the road.

“No, seriously Matt. And you’re incredible in bed. Like, mind-blowingly, insanely incredible.”

He pulled over to the side of the road and cut the engine. When he turned his head towards her, his eyes burned with intensity. “Willow, we’re going to have a problem if you keep going like this.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m going to find it hard to resist making love to you right here and now.”

Her cheeks flushed pink.

“Especially if you blush like that,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “It’s just that I find it hard to believe anyone married to you would only want you for the money.”

His fingers gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “There was prestige too. Invitations to the best events in Manhattan. I think Meghan liked being Mrs Mattias McCain.”

“And yet she left you…” Willow probed gently, putting a hand out and wrapping her fingers over his.

He nodded, but when he looked at her, his expression was nonplussed. “She’s getting a good settlement. A great settlement, actually,” he corrected, thinking of their Manhattan penthouse apartment and the trust fund he’d set up for her. “She’ll still have the prestige of having been my first wife.” He shrugged. “And I was a pain in the neck to be married to, so she’s free of that.”

Something rolled inside Willow’s stomach; as though the car, still stationary, had crested over a hill. “Were you?” She said quietly, and jealousy flushed her system. “Why?”

He was silent for a long time, and then he grinned. “I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“In case I scare you off.” He laced his fingers through hers, and lifted the back of her hand to his mouth. He kissed her gently, reverently, and then placed her hand back on her lap. He restarted the engine and pulled the car out into traffic effortlessly.

As he drove them south, along the coast, he wondered what the hell he was doing. He considered himself a free agent, but did he really want to jump into another serious relationship so soon after the demise of his marriage? Was he crazy to even be thinking about a real future with Willow?

He frowned. It might have been crazy, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The thought of returning to his life in New York and leaving her here filled him with a drowning sense of panic.

“Why’d you move to Haymarket Bay?” He prompted, a few miles down the road, in which neither had spoken.

Willow looked out of the windscreen, admiring the motley boats bobbing on the horizon. “It’s about as far removed from Chicago as you can get,” she pointed out truthfully. “And when Ashton and I broke up, I wanted to get away.”

“But so far away?”

She nodded. “It’s hard to explain. I didn’t just want to leave Chicago. I wanted to get out of my head. Away from who I was. I hated myself.” She took in a deep breath for courage. “His wife confronted me. I didn’t get to find out the truth and fade away. I saw her hurt. I saw the way she hated me. I saw her heartbreak. And, God, Matt. I hated myself.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he retorted immediately, feeling both defensive and angry. “He put you in that position.”

She wiped at her eyes, where tears were threatening to fall. “I know. He was a selfish bastard. But, at the time, that didn’t make me feel any less guilty. So I travelled to a place with sunshine and fishing boats, and just about the friendliest people I’ve ever met.” She looked at him, examining his rugged profile until her heart clenched. “I spent the first few months just sitting in the sunshine, in a semi-catatonic state. I guess I was healing, because eventually, I woke up, and didn’t think about Ashton. And didn’t see his poor wife’s face when I closed my eyes.”

“He had no business putting you through that.”

“No.” She nodded jerkily. “But people like Ashton will do whatever suits them, irrespective of who gets hurt.”

“I will never hurt you,” he promised, his voice gravelly, his eyes, when he briefly looked at her, rich with feeling. But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. How could he avoid hurting her? His stay in the Bay was temporary. He had a whole new life to move onto. But he would do anything to spare her pain. Anything except walk away from their relationship before he absolutely had to.

* * *

A warm breeze lifted past Willow, scattering a light spray of sand onto her face. She lifted a hand and brushed at it, then reached for another crunchy onion ring. “Was I right about this food or what?” She asked, looking sidelong at Matt. He was half way through his burger.

“You were absolutely right,” he agreed, smiling across at her. “Almost the best burger I’ve ever had.”

“Almost?” She queried, inserting mock offence into her tone.

He nodded seriously. “The crab shack on the road to the Hamptons does a lobster burger that is to die for. You’ll love it.”

Willow reached for another onion ring, to hide the way his words had made her heart flutter. He had started doing that more lately. Talking about things he wanted to show her. Things he wanted to share with her. And despite the fact that he was just in the midst of a divorce, and she’d sworn not to get too involved, she had let those little promises build into a big wall of hope inside of her.

Matt’s burger was good. Delicious, in fact. But it had nothing to do with why he couldn’t stop smiling. Willow St Clare was doing something crazy to him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and when he wasn’t with her, he missed her like hell.

He made no attempt to disguise the way he was studying her, as she brushed her hands together to free them of crumbs, then folded her legs to her chest. She balanced her chin on top of her knees, and stared towards the horizon.

“I’ve always loved the beach at night,” she said after a moment.

“That makes sense. Most people like the beach at the hottest time of the day. You, Willow, are a law unto yourself.”

She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Don’t you think it looks like a magical gateway to another world?”

He followed her gaze, trying to see it as she did.

“The moonlight is like a diamond pathway, leading somewhere far away and wonderful. Look at how it glitters and shines. It makes me wish I could swim out and grab it, and follow it all the way to the secret world beyond; but its very intangibility is what makes it so special.”

He was quiet. Not because he disagreed, but because she was, as always, weaving her web of magic tight around him. “What else do you like?” He prompted, his voice thick with admiration.

“The sky,” she looked heavenwards. “It’s so inky black at night. Just a few brave stars winking down at us. And listen,” she turned her eyes to him, and stayed perfectly silent.

“I don’t hear anything except the waves,” he said after a quiet moment.

“The waves, yes, but can’t you hear the reeds? The way they whisper to each other with each breeze, telling secrets of what they’ve seen. Who knows? Maybe mermaids have come and taken their fronds to brush their hair.”

Matt burst out laughing, but he was completely enamoured of her imagination. “Mermaids?”

“Hey, have you got some secret knowledge of the ocean I lack?” She responded, her eyes perfectly serious as they locked with his.

“Only that mermaids are a myth, you mean?”

“Says you. And a bunch of sceptics. But who really knows? We’ve mapped hardly any of the sea floor. Don’t you think it’s possible that there’s a whole other world down there?”

He shook his head. “You’re one of a kind, honey.”

“I’m not saying I believe it, necessarily. I mean, would I stake my life on their existence? Probably not. But I don’t want to live in a world where we think we know everything. A world where we’re so completely closed off to the idea of magic. Sometimes, you just have to believe.”

Matt nodded slowly. Magic did happen. He was sitting in the midst of it. Some might have called Matt’s meeting Willow fateful. Matt preferred to think of it as magic. She was some kind of angel, sent to him when he most needed a new path in life.

Willow mistook his continued silence for scepticism, and she reached across, playfully punching his arm. “Didn’t your folks read you fairy tales as a child?”

He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I guess they did, when I was small. Truth be told, I didn’t like sitting still for long enough. I imagine I was a handful.”

She nodded, scanning his face thoughtfully, while butterflies flapped furiously inside her stomach. “I can see that.” Her cheeks colored. “I don’t mean the handful part. I mean that I can see you as an active, outdoorsy kid.” She reached up and ran a hand through his blonde hair. “Are you like your dad?” Funny, she didn’t feel like she was intruding to ask him about his father now. After only a week of spending every spare, secret moment together, she felt totally comfortable saying anything to Matt.

“I am. Though I wish I was more like him, sometimes,” he agreed, a wistful smile on his lips.