Her Second Billionaire (Her Billionaires #2)

Her Second Billionaire (Her Billionaires #2) Page 4

Mike was about as opposite of Dylan as you could possibly get. Tall – if he was shorter than 6‘5” she’d be surprised – blonde, maybe Danish, with piercing blue eyes and the lanky body of a thirty-something guy who walked like he was seventeen and still a little awkward. Just looking at his body told her he was a true athlete, and he had told her himself he was a ski instructor, so obviously he was coordinated, toned and balanced, and could move with fluidity and grace whether they were hiking, skiing, or…in bed?

She, on the other hand, felt like a giant cotton ball right now. A sweaty, huffing cotton ball. Who wanted nothing more than to relax in a hammock with a pitcher of sangrias.

And an oxygen tank.

Yet here she was, about a quarter mile from the summit of some crazy-ass hill that he wanted her to climb to the top of. She could expand her horizons. This was something new. He was sweet, quiet, kind of taciturn – but not in a bad way. Nothing was awkward. Nothing was uncomfortable. He was just was a man who didn’t talk too much. He preferred, obviously, to act, to stretch, to move – to move up that damn hill. Which she now stared at as if she were looking at the top of Mount Everest.

“So, we’re really going to climb up that?” she asked, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

“Yep, we really are!” he grinned. “But,” he patted the log next to him where he’d sat down, stretching out his long legs, his arms toned and golden, eyes kind and nervous. “We can take a short break.”

“A short break?” Eek. She didn’t mean to sound so overwhelmed, but if she paused, took a deep breath, and did an inner inventory, she had to admit that this hike was killing her. This may be her true walk of shame, especially if Mike had to call 911 and have her hauled down this mountain on a hand-held stretcher. With her luck, Dylan would be the paramedic on call.

Don’t think about Dylan!

“OK, a long break.” His hearty laugh put her at ease. What was most comfortable, though, was what he didn’t say – how he just moved from laughter to quiet, the silence self-composed and genuine. He wasn’t shifting around or twitching in his own skin. He just wasn’t going to say anything if he didn’t have anything to say, and yet his nonverbal communication was calm and sweet. Mike was just there, with Laura, and the two were spending time together. That was enough.

She liked this. It was new. Time and space were enough, and as the seconds unfolded gradually into minutes, the minutes now more than an hour, she felt like she was spending time in a bubble with this new man, learning an entire new language of mindfulness.

“Whew,” she said, collapsing on the log next to him, trying to suck in her belly at the same time as her hamstrings cried out in relief.

Laura suddenly felt like a complete ass, her calm focus from just seconds ago vanquished, replaced by a self-consciousness that was most unwelcome. Not exactly experienced with dates like this, she’d overdressed and now, many miles into this hike, she was dripping with sweat, her hair limp and plastered against the edges of her face, her body flushed with the heat and the exertion of this trek up this crazy tall hill. She felt about as feminine as a wet tissue and yet that kernel of woman in her did have a spark of femininity, because she was responding to Mike in ways that shocked her.

Her body should have been spent from the night with Dylan. Rather than finding herself halting or tentative, it was as if what she had done with Dylan the night before had opened her up like a flower blossoming, giving permission to show its true colors and to spread itself in full glory – and right now, Laura was ready to spread herself again.

Easy, girl, she told herself as she stole another look at Mike.

What was it about these two? Dylan was incredible last night and yet she’d already crossed him off her mental list of eligible partners because the guy obviously had a girlfriend – or, worse, a wife. Who keeps the pictures of some gorgeous woman all over the place in their bedroom otherwise? And now here she was, less than fifteen hours after sneaking out of Dylan’s house and heading home for what she thought would be a nice, big cry and a pint of ice cream, finding herself with yet another incredibly hopeful relationship staring her in the face.

Literally. She looked up and realized that Mike was watching her, his head cocked to the side, a little half grin making him look boyish and absolutely adorable. “What are you thinking, Laura?” he asked.

“Uh…” she stammered, completely unwilling to tell him what she was really thinking. “Oh, I was just marveling at how beautiful it is here.”

“Yeah it’s amazing isn’t it?” Was he staring at her to tell her that those words had a double meaning? She felt shy, suddenly, and tucked a clump of wet hair behind her ear, feeling her face flush with bashfulness. A rising heat between her legs didn’t help, either. Her body was telling her that they were alone, out in the woods, he was gorgeous and attentive, and –

“So you work here?” She forced herself to ask the question, to break her thought loop out of its rush, because if she didn’t, pretty soon she would just plain old jump him.

“Well, yeah in the winter, but I just thought I’d bring you up here on a hike right now, because the canyon looks so much better. Different – when it’s not covered with snow and skiers. Actually it’s kinda nice to be here when I’m not on duty and worrying about some teenager who breaks a leg or some eight year old who can’t grab the tow rope properly and gets dragged up the hill.” He chuckled and she joined him. That was the most she had heard out of his mouth in one continuous stretch since she’d met him.

He seemed so good-natured, didn’t talk much, was kind of quiet – and she liked that way more than she ever would have imagined. It was really different from Dylan, who was so gregarious, open and extroverted. There was a quiet depth to Mike that she found refreshing. Most guys she’d met on the dating site were either out for a piece of ass or to just sit there on a date and talk themselves up. Nobody had ever asked her out on a hiking date and she was starting to realize that this guy was different, this guy was special – and she hoped she was special enough for him.

“Shh!” he said, grabbing her arm suddenly, the pressure of his fingers more urgent than arousing. “Look!” he hissed, pointing into the woods. She leaned into him, craning her head to see what he was pointing to, taking advantage of the moment to get that much closer, to cross the silent boundary between them and to bridge the gap in those first seconds of contact that you never get back.

She could smell him this close and he smelled like pine and sweat and something more – a sporty musk that seemed to turn on her inner sensors, making her instantly flushed, a lump forming in her throat that told her that there was definitely a spark of chemistry here. An inner bliss poured into her veins, channeling through her, making every pore hum and relax as she reveled in the newness of Mike.

“What is it?” she asked.

“There – do you see it?” Two deer stood deep in the woods munching on the bark of a tree. The mother perked her head up, turned to her fawn, and looked back at Laura and Mike with a precision only animals could possess. The doe nudged her baby and the two ran off into the woods, not so much scared as careful. You never know about humans; they’re just as likely to be friend as foe, and Laura understood. Goodbye, little Mama, she thought.

“Oh, wow,” Laura said. “That’s really beautiful.” A quick glance showed he was watching the animals as intently as she was, yet also attuned to the tension between them, now shifting from the sheer simplicity of first contact to a journey of unspoken communication. Blood pulsed through her, beating a rhythm of questions she hoped he could feel and that, in turn, he could decipher. I want you, it said, and the greatest hope inside her was that his return beat would be the message, I want you, too.

The pressure of his fingers lightened, shifting from a grab of urgency to a lingering touch that asked a question his mouth couldn’t – or wouldn’t – ask. Two seconds, Laura, she told herself, two seconds to just start to breathe before turning and looking at him. Was that his return beat? The feel of his fingertips was agonizingly puzzling, for it could mean nothing or, if she was right, it could mean everything.

When she turned, body perked like the doe’s, heightened by animal instinct, he saw it in his eyes, too, as Mike leaned down and took her lips with his.

Bringing Laura up here had been a dicey move. He hadn’t really thought much about his request to make a first date out of a hike, but then again he wasn’t exactly Mr. Suave. And this was his life, so sharing it with someone upfront made a certain kind of sense to him. Get reality out of the way and if the other person still wanted to see him, then great. If not, they didn’t waste their time and could move on. If only everything were so simple. Dating, so far, hadn’t been, no matter how hard he tried to make it cut and dried.

He found solace – he found peace – he found meaning and fun and even excitement in the woods, on the slopes, on a long run. When he ran, his mind turned off and something deeper turned on. An awareness of being that he only got from the pounding of his soles against the pavement, against the dirt, on the trail.

Most people didn’t like the way he lived. It was too different, too quiet, too introspective and too focused on doing and not focused enough on talking or posturing or obvious displays of status or of involvement in things that just didn’t matter to him. He wanted to move. He wanted to run. He wanted to ski. He wanted to help people.

And to his surprise, as he’d reached adulthood, he’d found that there weren’t many women, or men for that matter, who valued that. He watched Laura closely and had liked what he saw. She wasn’t an outdoors type but she was gamely marching on up this hill; he could tell she wasn’t a hiker. He could tell she wasn’t the type who would, on her own, take the initiative and go for a long bike or a run or a swim. She certainly wasn’t a triathlete, but she had a gentleness about her and openness and a willingness to just be that he didn’t find in many people.

He didn’t find it in any people other than, strangely enough, Dylan – and then in Jill. And so when he leaned in to kiss Laura, he surprised himself; that was the last thing he expected he would do on a first date. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who wined and dined women, and yet this felt right. It felt perfect.

Something in him deepened as their mouths met, as he reached for her, as he claimed those curves for his own. In that moment, he rose up and a finesse, a sophistication that he knew was there but buried very deep, surged to the surface. This woman was his, in his arms as she softened, opening up to him, their tongues intertwining. He would definitely not be just sharing this woman with Dylan. They would be partners with this woman.

Arousal burst through his veins, like a pump turned on, a switch flipped, with a sudden explosion of want and need and lust. Hungry for more of her in his hands, on his lips, against his body, he searched her, like going on a journey through another person’s land, and found that his need to explore was absolutely endless. His erection pressed against her leg as she leaned into him pushing, searching, wanting. The two joined in an obvious mutual exploration that made him wish he had asked her to his cabin for dinner so that a bed were handy.