The Perfect Gift: A Christmas Billionaire Sexy Romance (Three Wise Men Book 1) (13 page)

“
And
a T-rex? What about a Stegosaurus?”

“And a Diplodocus.” Ryan said the word perfectly. “It’s bigger than my arm.”

“It’s not,” Brock fake-scoffed.

“It is! Come and look.” Ryan struggled to be put down, so Erin lowered him to the floor. Taking Brock’s hand, he led him over to the box in front of the TV.

Brock sat on the carpet and crossed his legs, hiding a smile when Ryan sat beside him and did the same before delving into the box. Brock risked a quick glance up at Erin. She was staring at him, her fingers pressed to her lips, although she turned away when she saw him look up. When Erin walked into the kitchen, Karen glanced over at Brock. Her lips curved up.

Taking that as a small victory, he turned his attention back to the boy, and concentrated on the important matter of making sure the dinosaurs had the right feet.

Ryan had never been on a plane before.

Erin showed him how to clip in his seat belt, and explained why he had to stay in his seat until Brock told him he could get down.

“We have to keep safe,” Brock said. “If you stay in your seat, I’ll take you to meet the pilot and show you all the dials in the cabin.”

Ryan’s eyes widened so far his eyeballs nearly fell out. Erin gave Brock a wry smile. “You’ll be his best friend for life the way you’re going.”

“That’s the plan.” Brock smiled.

Erin chewed her bottom lip and looked out of the plane as it taxied along the runway. Was he insinuating he was expecting this… whatever it was—a fling? an affair? a relationship?—to be long term? It sounded like it. She didn’t know whether that delighted or terrified her.

She’d barely slept over the past week. She’d felt as if a high-profile court case was going on in her head, with the defense and prosecution taking turns to fire questions at her as she struggled to come to a decision about the weekend, and she was exhausted with all the worry.

“I’m glad you said yes,” Brock said as if reading her mind.

To look at him, nobody would have guessed he was a billionaire. He wore an All Blacks short-sleeved rugby shirt, a pair of long, cream chino shorts, and gray Converses. The breeze blowing across the airport had ruffled his hair, and she was pretty sure he hadn’t shaved. He looked rough and ready, gorgeous enough to eat with a spoon, especially because every time he studied her now he had a gleam in his eye that suggested he was thinking about her with no clothes on.

It wasn’t difficult to remind herself he had money, though. They’d walked past the queues of people waiting to board the Air New Zealand flight from Kerikeri to Auckland, and she was now sitting in a cream leather chair on a sumptuous private jet. Ryan sat next to her, Brock opposite, with a table in between. Everything was made from cream leather, polished rimu wood, and glass so clean she could see her face in it. She was terrified about letting Ryan touch anything with his permanently sticky fingers.

“It took me all week to decide,” she said, opting for honesty.

“I know.” He smiled again.

Not for the first time, she wondered what the conversation he’d had with her mother had involved. It had been clear when she’d returned to the living room after collecting Ryan that the two of them had been talking, but when she’d asked Karen, all she would say was, “It’s possible he’s one of the good guys.”

That didn’t help. A one-night stand on her birthday was one thing. She’d had a great time, and she didn’t feel beholden to him because he’d gotten sex out of it. She tried not to think about the fact that it could be argued he’d paid a considerable amount for her to go to bed with him. It wasn’t like that, and she wasn’t going to let her brain think it was.

Meeting him again, flying down to Auckland with him, staying with her son at his apartment—that was a whole other matter. Suddenly it wasn’t about a quick fling or satisfying her body’s apparently insatiable desire for the guy. She had to think about Ryan, and what it meant for him if she began a relationship with Brock. She had to start thinking about Where It Was Going.

Or did she? After a week of internal wrangling, during which Brock didn’t pressure her—if she didn’t count the hundred-and-one text messages and phone calls they exchanged in which he repeatedly said he missed her—she became both bored and irritated with herself for not being able to make up her mind. She was tired of worrying about what other people might think if she said yes, including Brock. And eventually she decided she was going to simplify matters and follow her heart.

The plane turned and came to standstill, and the noise of the engines changed as the pilot prepared for take off. Erin covered Ryan’s hand with hers. “Ready?”

He nodded, his little face alight with excitement. The plane accelerated, and then she felt the uncomfortable lurch in her stomach as the wheels left the floor and the machine fought against gravity.

Ryan squealed. “We’re flying!”

Brock laughed. “You’ll see the clouds soon.”

“Will we be able to see the silver?” the boy asked.

Brock tipped his head quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Mummy says evwy cloud has a silver lining.”

Brock scratched his chin—she suspected to hide a smile. “That sounds like something your mother would say. We’ll have a look out the window when we’re a bit higher.”

He glanced at Erin, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Do you always look on the bright side of everything?”

“Don’t see much point in the glass half empty notion.”

“Some people would say you’ve had it tough, and it would be understandable if you blamed the world, or Fate, or people, for what’s gone wrong.”

She shrugged. “Life’s hard enough as it is without waking each morning filled with doom and gloom.”

His eyes were filled with warmth. He liked her positive approach to life—she could see that. He’d already called her Miss Sunshine, and it made sense that after two years of loneliness and heartbreak, he was enjoying being with someone who focused on the positive in everything.

It wasn’t always easy—Erin had her off days the same as anyone else, days when she wanted to curse the universe for everything: for losing her job, for falling pregnant, for not being able to give her child the things she felt he deserved because she didn’t have the money, and for being alone for so long. But ultimately, she knew those things weren’t anyone else’s fault. She could rant and scream Jack’s name—and she had done—for abandoning her, or at the world for giving her a tough time, but ultimately shit happens, and she figured it was how she dealt with it that mattered. Negativity breeds negativity, and the last thing she needed was to spiral downward into a pit from which she knew she’d have trouble climbing out of again.

Brock’s eyes were growing warmer—he was thinking about her naked again. She gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of going back to his apartment with him. He hadn’t specified what the sleeping arrangements would be, but she was certain he wasn’t expecting her to sleep with Ryan. Brock had asked her if Ryan slept in a bed now and she’d said yes, but that was as far as they’d discussed it.

He winked at her. She stuck her tongue out at him. He raised his eyebrows and ran his gaze deliberately down her body and back up. By the time it reached her face, she knew her cheeks were scarlet.

Luckily, she was saved by the appearance of the flight attendant. The slim, dark-haired woman who’d told Erin her name was Pat when they boarded came over with two glasses and a beaker for Ryan, and poured fresh orange juice into them.

“What would you like for breakfast, ma’am?” Pat asked.

“Oh, call me Erin, please.”

“She won’t do that,” Brock said. “She’s very formal, aren’t you, Pat?”

“Yes, Mr. King.”

He laughed. “What would you like for breakfast, Ryan? Do you like scrambled eggs? Toast and jam? Cereal?”

“Scwambled eggs!”

“Wow. Me too. It’s like we’re twins.”

Ryan thought that was hysterically funny. Trying not to laugh, Erin attempted to calm him and sent Pam an apologetic look. “Scrambled eggs would be lovely for both of us, thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Pat smiled and went off to cook the breakfast.

Erin fished out a small Transformer toy for Ryan to play with, and he settled back in his chair to change it from a car into a robot.

“You’re very good with him,” she told Brock. “Have you been around kids much in your personal life?”

“Only through friends and kids of distant relatives.”

“Your brothers don’t have any yet?”

He appeared to find that amusing. “No. Charlie wouldn’t know which end of a baby was which. And Matt’s far too cool to risk getting vomit on his shirt. Mind you, I can’t talk. I hold babies like they’re rugby balls.”

Erin dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. “Aw, with all the work you three have done for children? Visiting sick kids in hospital, making special equipment for them, devoting your whole lives to making them better? And Matt with all his children’s books? Now I know you’re fibbing.”

He shrugged. “I can tell you everything you’d ever want to know about bronchopulmonary dysplasia. Ask me to change a nappy and you’ll think my brain’s melted.”

His smile told her he was teasing her, again. He was being self-deprecating. She liked that about him. Jack had possessed a good sense of humor, but modesty hadn’t been one of his characteristics.

“Would you like children?” She couldn’t help herself. It was a provocative question, but if he wanted their relationship to last longer than a few weeks, it was something she needed to know.

His gaze slid to Ryan, and she was touched to see his expression soften. He genuinely liked her son. That touched her heart more than a thousand endearments would have done.

Then his eyes came back to her. “When I meet the right woman, of course I would.”

For a moment she thought he was referring to someone else. Her confusion must have shown, because amused exasperation crossed his face and he rolled his eyes. “You’re determined to make this hard work, aren’t you?”

She held her breath. “Make what hard work?”

He tipped his head to the side. “Courting you.”

“Courting me?” She couldn’t help but scoff. “Where are you from, 1852?”

“Nevertheless. I’d like to point out that it doesn’t matter how difficult you intend to make the chase. Once I want something, I never give up until I get it.” He raised an eyebrow. She had no doubt he meant every word he said.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “You’ve…” Her gaze slid to Ryan, but he was absorbed in making the Transformer pick up his fork and transport it across to the salt and pepper pots. “… had me,” she finished, mouthing the words.

A frown flickered on his brow. “You think once was enough?”

“Twice.”

He smirked. “The point is, do you really think that’s what I want from you?” At her wry look, he readjusted the sentence and tried again. “Do you really think that’s the only thing I want from you?”

She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Isn’t it?”

He smiled, but he held her gaze, and they looked into each other’s eyes for a long, long moment. She saw desire there, and affection, and hope too. He wasn’t lying. He wanted her, but it wasn’t all about getting her into bed. Deep down, she knew that. Over the year they’d been in contact, he’d been polite and courteous, the perfect gentleman, but their relationship—because that’s what it was, and she was demeaning it by calling it anything else—had soon exceeded that of a doctor comforting a patient, or of an online friend attempting to reassure a casual contact. They’d liked each other from the beginning, and even though the relationship had developed online first, it didn’t mean she could belittle it and pretend it didn’t mean anything.

“Ooh!” Ryan broke the spell by sitting upright, having spotted Pat’s approach.

Erin averted her gaze and smiled at the flight attendant, exclaiming at the sight of the perfectly cooked scrambled eggs, and concentrated on helping Ryan cut up his toast into squares and watching him to make sure he didn’t accidentally send bits of egg shooting off the table onto the pristine carpet.

But inside, she continued to glow with a magic that had nothing to do with it being Christmas.

Brock had lain awake the night before, worrying about the day ahead. Not because of the organization—his assistant, Lee, had arranged cars and tickets and everything else he needed with his usual efficiency, and the weatherman had promised it would be a beautiful summer’s day. But it was the first real stretch of time Brock had spent with Ryan, and he knew this time was crucial. If he connected with the boy, and vice versa, he’d be halfway to winning Erin over, but three-year-olds were notoriously difficult to predict.

He spent all day, every day with children, but that didn’t mean he could treat any of them like his own. He’d watched toddlers have tantrums and older children run rings around their parents, but he always stood on the outskirts, left to wonder whether he would have been able to handle a situation any better.

On several occasions, Erin had referred to herself as a bad mother. Brock knew it was half in jest, as the boy was clearly well-loved and cared for, and even though she obviously didn’t have any spare cash, the kid obviously didn’t go without food or clothing.

However, in spite of her parents being around, Erin had brought the boy up on her own, and Brock could only imagine how difficult that had been. He was already in love with Erin—had been before he met her, he was beginning to realize—but she and her son came as a package, and he was only just starting to understand what that meant. If he wanted Erin, he would need to love the boy too.

Even before his plane touched down in Auckland, he knew his concerns were unfounded. Erin and Ryan had a delightful relationship that constantly brought a smile to Brock’s face. He wasn’t sure he would have called her strict, but she was firm, especially where manners were concerned, and the boy knew his pleases and thank yous, asked rather than demanded, and seemed to understand if she said no to one of his requests.

Ryan loved the zoo, and they spent a few hours wandering around looking at the lions and tigers, elephants and giraffes, and the petting zoo where Ryan was delighted to be able to hold rabbits, guinea pigs, and puppies.

The boy himself had a lovely nature. Mischievous like many young children, he nevertheless was polite with Brock but also very open, and seemed to take to him immediately. Still, he remained shy, often clamming up when Brock asked him a question, even though he was talkative when his mother was around.

‘Talkative’ turned into ‘about to explode’ when they arrived at the sleigh ride at one o’clock for their trip to the North Pole. Rather than being annoying, though, the boy’s enthusiasm was infectious. Brock thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience, from sitting in the sleigh while the movie showed Rudolph leading them to the North Pole, to the arrival at Santa’s cabin where the icy air conditioning made it feel as if there really was snow outside the windows, to the moment when Ryan finally met Santa.

They stood in line while other kids sat with Santa, even the young ones requesting computers and consoles and mobile phones for Christmas. Brock listened to them, certain the kids’ wishes would be granted in spite of the parents rolling their eyes.

When it was Ryan’s turn and Santa asked him what he’d like to find in his stocking on Christmas Day, the boy said, “Could I have some more dino-saws please?” at which point Erin burst into tears.

Brock met Santa’s eyes and they exchanged a smile.

“We’ll see what we can do, young man.” Santa patted him on the head. “Here you go.” He handed him a wrapped parcel. Brock had already seen some of the other kids unwrap it and hand the truck or the cuddly toy to a parent after a minute’s inspection. Ryan, however, hugged his teddy bear as if it were made of gold.

“Come on.” Brock put an arm around Erin and led her out to the sleigh where they settled for the ride back to the zoo.

“Sorry,” she sniffed, wiping her nose as she watched Ryan introducing his new bear to Dixon.

He kissed her hair. “I don’t know who broke my heart more in there. You or Ryan.”

She didn’t say anything else, just leaned into him as they travelled back to the zoo, and he didn’t mention it again. But after that point something seemed to change in Erin, as if the incident had eroded the final brick of the wall she’d tried to keep erected around her heart.

In spite of his cuteness, Ryan was far from angelic. He had enough energy to power a small city and hated sitting still, and he’d developed the toddler habit of questioning everything his mother said, asking “Why?” whenever she tried to give him an explanation. She appeared to have an endless supply of patience with him, and Brock was impressed that when she eventually stated, “That’s enough, Ryan,” the boy didn’t press her.

Ryan did start to grow a little naughty as the day wore on, though, as it grew close to the time when he’d normally take a nap. When Erin nipped to the Ladies’, Brock attempted to distract the boy by taking him to look at the nearby enclosure of penguins. The zoo had put on a special Christmas show with them, and although it was busy, Brock managed to find a space for the two of them by the railings.

They’d only been there a few minutes, however, when Ryan looked around and said, “Where’s Mummy?”

“She’s just gone to the bathroom,” Brock said. “She’ll only be a minute. Hey, look at that penguin coming down the slide on his tummy!”

But Ryan’s clutched Dixon the Dog tightly under his arm, and his bottom lip trembled.

“Hey.” Brock dropped to his haunches. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ll look after you.”

Ryan studied him warily. Then he lifted his arms, requesting a cuddle.

Brock swallowed his surprise, slipped one arm around the boy, and lifted him easily up into his arms. Pushing himself back to his feet, he placed his other hand on Ryan’s back and gave it a comforting rub.

Ryan put one arm around Brock’s neck and cuddled up to him, sucking on Dixon’s paw.

Touched to the core, Brock kissed the boy’s head and turned back so the two of them could watch the penguins.

He and Fleur had talked often about having children. Both of them had wanted kids, and Brock would have been happy to have them immediately, but Fleur had planned it all out—she was going to finish her five year medical degree, her two years hospital training, and her three years of specialist training to become a Fellow of the Royal New Zealand College of General Practitioners before they started trying for a baby. That would have made her around twenty-eight—the perfect age, she’d said.

And then, a week before her twenty-fifth birthday, she’d discovered a lump in her breast. Less than two years later, she’d died.

Brock had spent the last two years telling himself he wasn’t fated to have children, and he’d done his best to ignore the gaping hole inside him at the thought of not experiencing that part of the cycle of life.

For the first time in a long while, though, he saw a pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel. He knew some men wouldn’t be interested in taking on another man’s child, but he had no problem with it. It wasn’t Ryan’s fault that his father was a dick. Brock didn’t expect to march in and call himself Ryan’s dad—he didn’t think either Ryan or Erin would want that, not yet anyway. But he liked the idea of getting to know the boy better.

And maybe, one day, he and Erin would be able to consider having children of their own.

“Sneaky,” Erin said, walking up to the barrier beside him. “I’m gone five minutes and you steal my son for a cuddle.” She was smiling, though, her eyes warm.

He wondered whether Ryan would reach out now his mother had arrived, but the boy remained cuddled up to him, his eyes drooping. Brock met her gaze. “You don’t mind?” he murmured.

“Of course not.” She moved closer to him and slipped a hand into the crook of his arm. Together, they watched the penguin show while Ryan dozed, but Brock was aware of her glancing up at him from time to time, a small smile on her lips.

When the show finished, with Ryan still dozing in Brock’s arms, they began to walk slowly through the zoo back to the car park. “I’m having such a lovely day,” Erin said.

“I’m glad.”

“It’s been very normal. That’s surprised me.”

“What do you mean, normal?”

She shook her head as if she’d said too much.

“What?” he prompted, pulling Ryan’s hat further down so it shaded his face from the hot sun. Erin had slathered the boy in sun lotion, but even so, the hole in the ozone layer over the Antarctic meant the sun’s rays were more powerful in New Zealand than almost anywhere else, so it was important to cover up.

“I don’t want to insult you,” she said.

“Insult away,” he said good-naturedly. “I’ve had too nice a day to take offence.”

“I just thought you’d be flashing your money around a bit more,” she admitted. “But apart from the private jet—and I admit that was enough flashing of money to dazzle me for the entire day, if not the whole week—you’ve been very… normal. I half-expected you to book the zoo so we had it to ourselves or something.”

He laughed. “Not much point in that. Half the fun is seeing everyone else’s enjoyment.”

“I suppose.” She scratched her nose. “Could you have booked the zoo if you’d wanted?”

“Probably.”

“Wow. Have you ever done anything like that?”

He thought of the night he’d asked Fleur to marry him. He hadn’t been quite as rich then—he’d made most of his money since she died and Three Wise Men had taken off, but he hadn’t exactly been short of cash. On New Year’s Eve, he’d taken her to Fiji’s most expensive hotel, hired one of the beaches and the bar on it, and asked her to marry him as the fireworks went off over the hotel. It had been romantic and flash and had taken her breath away, but he didn’t want to tell that to Erin.

Instead, he said, “I admit that occasionally I do things to make my life easier, like taking a private jet for example rather than waiting in line for a plane. I rent a nice apartment, which you’ll see shortly, and I enjoy wearing expensive suits. But apart from that, money’s not really important to me. I give away far more than I spend. I like having money because it gives me freedom, but as Matt’s always pointing out to me, money can’t buy life, love, or happiness.”

“True.” She started singing The Beatles’
Money Can’t Buy Me Love
. She had such a great voice and seemed completely unaware of how lovely she sounded.

An idea was beginning to bloom in his mind like the scarlet pohutukawa trees bursting into flower around the car park. It needed some thought, and he wasn’t ready to share it with Erin yet, but the idea excited him, and he filed it away in his mind to talk to Charlie about later.

They found his car—his Volvo XC90 that was the safest car he could think of for transporting the boy around town. He lowered Ryan carefully into the new car seat he’d bought, Erin clipped him in, and they got in the front.

“Where is your apartment?” she asked.

He started the engine and pulled away, heading east into the city. “On the waterfront. I used to have a house but I sold that when Fleur died. The apartment is closer to the hospital, and it’s nice, but it’s not as…” He tipped his head from side to side.

“Homely?”

“Yeah. It’s not as homely as the house, maybe because I don’t spend a lot of time there, maybe because it’s a fully furnished rental. I sold nearly all the furniture we’d had with the house as I found it too difficult to be surrounded by the memories of when and where we bought it all.” He sighed. “Charlie and Matt told me to wait for a while but I didn’t listen. I thought starting again would make it easier, but it didn’t, of course.”

“Do you regret getting rid of everything?”

“I did. Not so much now.” He was pleased he wasn’t taking Erin back to the bed that he and Fleur had slept in. He didn’t want Erin to be surrounded by the ghost of another woman.

As usual, it was nose-to-tail as they neared the business district, but it wasn’t long before he turned into Queen Street and headed for Princes Wharf.

“I thought I might cook for us tonight rather than eating out,” he said as he parked in the large underground car park and got out. “I thought Ryan might prefer that, but it’s up to you.”

“No, that would be lovely.” Erin retrieved a sleepy Ryan out of his seat and hoisted him onto her hip. Brock had asked Lee to take her overnight bag to the apartment after they landed, but he collected the large tote she hauled around that held the usual array of wipes, juice bottles, toys, and snack bars that come with any kid under the age of five.

She glanced around the car park, her gaze coming to rest on the silver F-type Jag two spaces along from the Volvo. “Is that yours? The one you were telling me about?”

“Yeah.” He closed the Volvo’s doors and locked it.

“How many of these cars are yours?”

“You really don’t want to know.”

“Brock. Seriously. You don’t own this whole car park?”

He laughed, taking her hand and leading her to the elevator. “No. Just this row.”

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “But that’s, like, ten cars!”

“Er, yeah.” He pressed the button to call the elevator. “You know when I said I didn’t care about money?”

“Yes…”

“I lied. I like cars.”

“So I see.” Luckily she looked amused.

They entered the elevator and he entered the code for access to the top floor.