More Than Protect You: A More Than Words Novella Page 8

  The article talks about his many affairs, lists Bethany, Evan, and Oliver as his illegitimate children, while echoing Griff’s speculation that there are more.

  The end of the article outlines his embezzlement scheme, the billions of dollars he stole, and his ultimate death at the hands of a former client here in Maui four months ago.

  It’s all good information, but nothing particularly helpful to keep Amanda safe. Clicking onto other search results brings me to message boards from amateur sleuths about how he perpetrated a crime of that magnitude and almost got away with it, attorneys-in-training discussing how they would prosecute or defend the case, and a forum for survivors of predatory bosses with a whole thread dedicated to Barclay Reed. Some of the stories from his former assistants and even women who interviewed for him make my stomach turn.

  Then again, this is a man who was approaching fifty when he more than likely seduced a fifteen-year-old girl. It doesn’t get much lower than that.

  Other than feeling as if I need a shower after reading about this predator, I’m not learning anything new, so I start looking into Bruce. It takes me a while to figure out his last name, and I have to resort to the time-honored tradition of looking for Facebook friends of people in Amanda’s life who might also be friends with him. A few minutes later? Bingo.

  Bruce Barrett. And what do you know? He has a Wikipedia page, too. Age thirty-one. Co-founder of some hipster new investment firm. Heir of Wall Street royalty. Net worth over half a billion dollars, just like Lund Senior said. He’s decent looking, a Yale grad, and a philanthropist according to what I’m reading. I glance through his bio. It’s no shock he skated by in high school. There’s speculation that his name and money paved his way to college. He was initiated into Skull and Bones, which means he knows all the movers and shakers who are fellow Bonesmen—senators, supreme court justices, heads of big investment banks, and even President Hayes.

  There’s a paragraph dedicated to high school antics and college pranks—everything from defacing a rival school’s property to kidnapping their mascot, a hazing incident or two, and even a cheating scandal—but somehow he’s always managed to come out unscathed. To me, that’s not a mystery. That’s just money.

  I darken my phone and pry Oliver away from the double-glass doors leading to the beach. He wants out. He’s a boy who wants to run and play, and I don’t blame him, but I need more time to take stock out there and see if there’s a safe area. Instead, I scoop him up and do my best to toss him in the air and mimic him flying over my head like he’s an airplane.

  I’m making zooming noises to the sound of his giggles when I hear the bedroom door tear open and Amanda lurches out, a long blond braid nestled between her soft breasts and a silken champagne-colored nightie barely covering the essentials.

  My mouth goes dry.

  Her panicked gaze lands on us, then she sighs with relief. “Oh, thank God. You’ve got Oliver, and he’s okay.”

  “Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t take care of him?”

  “He’s not your responsibility.” She bustles closer, shoving her braid over her shoulder.

  My mouth goes even dryer. I’d bet a hundred bucks she’s not wearing a stitch under that nightie. Its spaghetti straps attach to a bodice that dips into a V that barely contain her breasts. Everything in front is covered…but when she plucks Oliver from my grip and turns to lift him against her, I realize the sides are made of nothing but transparent lace and the back is virtually non-existent. Everything between her neck and the curve of her ass is bare, except the two thin criss-crossing straps. Fuck, my mouth is so dry now I can’t even swallow.

  I hate to admit how hard my cock is.

  “How long has he been awake?”

  It’s impossible to tear my stare away from her so I stop trying. “Um…a couple of hours. I gave him some breakfast. Then Griff came by with the crib, and…” I lose my train of thought when she turns her profile to me to cuddle her son—and I get a glimpse of the side of her pale, plump breast.

  “Did you change him?” she asks.

  “No.” I should have and I didn’t even think of it. “Sorry. It’s my first rodeo with a kid.”

  “It’s fine. Thank you for feeding him.” She grabs the diaper bag, then disappears with Oliver into the master bedroom.

  I find myself staring at a wall. What the hell am I going to do? I have to choose between restarting my future and safeguarding hers. And then there’s all the awareness between us, complicating everything even more.

  We need to talk. I need some answers. How does she feel about Bruce? What does she picture doing with the rest of her life?

  Be honest. You want to know if you have any chance with this woman.

  I hate that voice in my head, but it’s right.

  Fuck, we’ve talked about this. Amanda and I have no business getting tangled up in each other. She’s a dozen years younger. I haven’t even signed my divorce decree. I can’t provide for this woman, especially in the way she’s accustomed to. What the hell am I thinking?

  That her family, even if they’re well meaning, is controlling. They’ll insist, even coerce her, into doing what’s socially acceptable without caring what she wants or needs.

  And if she was serious about wanting me, I wouldn’t care about any of that. I would move heaven and earth to make her happy.

  She emerges a minute later. Oliver is wearing a new pair of khaki shorts and a brown tank top with a monster truck on the front. She sets him on the floor in front of me with an iPad already streaming a cartoon. “Will you watch him for a minute while I get dressed?”

  “Sure.” I’m barely able to croak the word, just like I’m barely able to peel my stare from her silk-draped curves.

  Amanda frowns. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  But I’m not. Am I seriously considering giving up the kind of money that could turn my entire life around for her? I should probably be asking myself if I’ve gone insane. I certainly didn’t wake up this morning with any thought of getting involved again. Now I’m only thinking about Amanda and wondering if I’m the only one who’s feeling something more than attraction.

  “If you say so…” She turns away with a shake of her head.

  “Before you go, I need to know one thing.”

  “What?”

  I grab her wrist and tug her against me. Her breasts collide with my chest. I wrap my arm around her middle. Her gaze bounces up to mine, and I brace her nape in my palm. Her lips part. Then I can’t resist dipping my head and taking her mouth with my own.

  If I had any doubt our chemistry would be incendiary, I put that to rest the instant our lips meet. They’re sweet and silky, pouty and yielding. They ignite an instant spark that burns through my blood.

  I jerk her closer and nudge my way into her mouth, plunging inside to taste her. Amanda stiffens and gasps. Shit, she’s going to slap me across the face and fire me. But no. She grabs my shoulders, presses her body against mine, and opens to me completely.

  Oh, holy fuck. This woman is burning me alive—and I don’t give a damn.

  I fist her hair and press deeper into her mouth to drink in more of her sweetness. My hand suddenly takes on a life of its own, sliding from her waist, down the small of her back, to squeeze her pert ass and tuck her snugly against my aching cock.

  I want her. Now. Sooner than now. I’m going to lose my damn mind before I get inside her. And it makes no sense. I’ve had my fair share of sex over the last couple of decades. I know how it usually feels and how I typically react to a woman. But this? I’ve never, ever felt this belly-lit, thought-crushing pleasure in my life. Until Amanda.

  Is she with me?

  I tear my lips away and stare down at her suddenly flushed face and slick, rosy lips. “Mandy? Say something, baby.”

  She’s breathing hard, blinking at me, mouth agape. Finally she swallows. “What was that?”

  “Something I couldn’t stop. I’ll apologize if you want me
to, but I’ll be lying.”

  “We already agreed getting involved would be a terrible idea.” She steps back.

  I’m suddenly transfixed at the sight of her nipples stabbing the front of her nightgown. Yeah, I got to her. “We did. But I’m starting to wonder if this attraction is stronger than us.”

  For a long minute, she says nothing. The only sounds I hear are Oliver’s cartoon at our feet and her choppy breathing. She glances into my eyes, then her gaze drops to my lips. My heart lurches. Is she going to kiss me again?

  “I’m not interested in just sex. I can’t be.”

  “I’m not, either. Whatever’s between us feels like more.” Because I don’t just want to take Amanda to bed, I want to see her protected and happy. Loved. And I can’t see anyone else giving her that but me.

  Yeah, I’ve lost my mind.

  Instantly, she shakes her head. “No. I’ve been down this road, in a relationship with someone so wrong for me because the attraction felt too overpowering to resist. It doesn’t lead anywhere good.”

  “That was Barclay. Don’t compare me to him.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’m saying the pull between us—this hot, this strong, this quick—it’s a lie. We have no future. I have a son to raise. You have a divorce to finalize. You don’t know where you’re living. I don’t know where I’m living, either. I have no money, no job. And as far as I can tell, neither do you.”

  “We can figure that out together.”

  “Are you listening to yourself? How can you want me for anything beyond sex?” She tosses her hands in the air. “You’ve barely known me half a day.”

  Her father has underestimated Amanda. She’s learned from her mistake with Barclay. She’s trying to be logical and adult and make the most rational decision for herself and her son going forward.

  And I’m dying for her to throw caution to the wind and let me do more than protect her.

  “Maybe because I’ve been around the block enough to know that what we have is more than just attraction.”

  “I don’t know if I can trust you—or any man—again.”

  “How do you know you can’t? Are you going to spend the rest of your life alone? Are you going to deny what I can tell you’re feeling”—I press a thumb over her pounding pulse—“because you’re afraid?”

  “It’s not that simple. I have more than myself to think about.”

  She’s right. And she’s afraid that she’ll let herself be carried away by her feelings again. So while taking her to bed might make us both feel damn good, that won’t convince her to give us a chance.

  “All right, then. Put on some clothes. I’ll make you some food, and we can talk.”

  “If you have something to say, just say it.”

  I can’t resist another visual skim of her curves before I force myself to look away. “If you keep wearing that silky, see-through thing and think I’ll be able to have a productive conversation, you’re insane. You look so gorgeous, and it’s taking everything I have not to pluck you up and carry you off to the bedroom.”

  “Oh.” She looks surprised. “I’ll, um…be right back.”

  I nod, then lift Oliver, along with his iPad, carrying both into the kitchen, then set them on the tile. As I open the nearly barren refrigerator and absently check the expiration date on a container of strawberry Greek yogurt, I wonder what the fuck I can say to win Amanda’s trust.

  As I scramble another egg and toast one of the last pieces of bread, she returns to the kitchen, dressed in a springy turquoise sundress with spaghetti straps, a fitted waist, and a flirty hem that ends inches above her knees.

  The dress does nothing to cool my libido.

  “Is that for me?” She nods toward the stove.

  “Yeah.” Her toast pops up and her egg is finished, so I plate them, along with the yogurt. Then I set them in front of a nearby barstool before doing the same with utensils and a napkin. “Eat.”

  “I appreciate this. I’m starved,” she admits as she sits.

  “More coffee?”

  She shakes her head. “Find any bottles of water?”

  “A couple.” I pluck one from the fridge and hand it her way.

  “Thanks.”

  While she eats, we make small talk about the grocery order we need to place and the fact that Oliver will probably need another nap soon. We discuss the weather, then finally watch Oliver watching his cartoon in a silence so packed with awareness I swear the air is buzzing.

  Finally, she’s finished and stands. Together, we clean the kitchen, not exchanging a word.

  I turn off the sink and say the only thing I think might convince her that I deserve her trust. “While you were sleeping, your father called and offered me a hundred thousand dollars to divulge our location.”

  “What?” She gapes.

  “Oh, it gets better. There was an extra twenty-five thousand in it for me if I persuaded you to see Bruce Barrett and convinced you to marry him by Thursday.”

  Amanda shakes her head. “I’d be furious if it would do any good. He means well…”

  “Maybe. But he doesn’t understand you.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  I could lie. Something pretty and not quite honest would prevent her from putting another brick in the wall between us. But if I want to win her trust, I can’t. “That I’d call him back tomorrow and let him know.”

  “You didn’t tell him to go to hell?” She laughs cynically and tosses her thick braid over her shoulder again. “I shouldn’t even be surprised. You’re not who I thought, and we don’t have anything else to say.”

  When she tries to leave the kitchen, I block her path. “Really? I told you about his call, rather than disclosing our location and talking up this guy I’ve never met. That should tell you where my loyalties lie, baby.”

  “How do I know you’re not confessing all this simply as leverage? If I agree to sleep with you, you won’t tell my dad where to find me, but if I don’t you’ll be a hundred thousand dollars richer. It’s a win-win for you.”

  “That’s cynical. Barclay must have been a real”—I notice Oliver is suddenly watching us with big eyes—“jerk. I would never do that. I could have just seduced you.”

  “No, you couldn’t.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  She says nothing, just watches me with wary eyes.

  “If I’d wanted to, I could have spent tonight inside you. Then tomorrow morning, I could have simply texted your dad our location, never mentioned his demand, then acted surprised when Bruce showed up to sweep you off your feet. After he took you away, I could have laughed all the way to the bank as I cashed my check. But I didn’t. I’m being up front because I want your trust. Nothing between us will work unless you believe I’ll take care of you. And unlike your dad, I’ll do my best to respect your wishes, thoughts, and decisions.”

  Her expression softens. “Point taken. If you’re so wonderful, why did you and…what’s your wife’s name?”

  “Ex. All I have to do is sign the papers and pop them in the mail. Ellie is every bit as impatient to be done with our marriage as I am.”

  Amanda lifts a cynical brow. “How do I know that’s true? You have no proof to show me, and Barclay told me some great stories. He was going to divorce Linda any day. She was being difficult, but he had great attorneys. The relationship falling apart was all her fault, of course. She only married him for money. She never loved him. And he never expected to find love with me, but he was going to move mountains so we could spend the rest of our lives together.” She scoffs. “All lies.”

  That doesn’t surprise me. “I’ll never lie to you.”

  “Then why did you and Ellie split up?”

  How the fuck do I explain this? “It’s complicated.”

  “You cheated?”

  “No.”

  “She cheated?”

  “No. I could give you the canned answer that we grew apart. That’s what I told my dad. But it’s not one hundre
d percent accurate. The truth is, we both changed. And as I got older, I felt more compelled to help and shelter her from the worst of reality.”

  “She didn’t like it?” Amanda sounds surprised by that.

  “She hated it. Ellie’s perspective has changed since we met. Now she sees my guidance as a sign that I think she’s incapable of handling her own life. She also believes I wanted to take control because she’s female. She’s not completely wrong, but she’s sure I did that because I thought she was inferior. That’s not true at all.” I shrug. “Over the last couple of years, I’ve figured out that I’m just wired to take care of the woman I’m with.”

  “Is that why you’re attracted to me, because my brother thinks I need a ‘daddy’?”

  “Do you think you need one?”

  “Answer me first.” She sounds nervous.

  “No. I was attracted to you before I even laid eyes on you. I heard you talking to Oliver from the hall at Nia’s house, and just the sound of your voice did something to me. Setting eyes on you was an instant jolt.”

  “Me, too.”

  Good to know. “Now you answer me.”

  “I don’t need someone to tell me what to do, and I resent my brother oversimplifying. I don’t think he means to be sexist or dismissive. He just doesn’t understand. What I want is a helpmate, a true lover in every sense of the word. Someone I can talk to, confide in. And…someone who will help protect me if there’s a storm, so to speak.”

  Clearly, Barclay wasn’t that man. “Exactly. And for the record, no. I don’t think you need a ‘daddy.’ I think you need what I’m aching to give you.”

  “I’m not looking for someone to run my life or tell me what to do,” she warns.

  “I know, Mandy. You want someone who will be there if you need him.” I brush my knuckles down her cheek, wanting to touch her so much more. “I can be that someone.”

  “I almost believe you. Are we crazy?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re not gun-shy from your divorce? It’s not even final and—”