Beauty and the Brooding Billionaire Page 10

  Her cheeks pinkened delightfully, but she shook her head. “It’s okay. I’ve been on the pill for years.”

  He put his hand in hers and stood, his towel falling away.

  * * *

  Jess tried not to stare, but Bran was standing naked in her living room. Tall and lean, with a small scar on his lower right abdomen, and a soft dusting of hair from his chest down to his navel. She wanted this. But the fierceness with which she wanted him was unfamiliar, and gave her a moment’s pause.

  Then she met his gaze and he lifted a single eyebrow. She tugged on his hand, leading him past her easel and canvas to the small bedroom and the bottom bunk.

  “There’s not a lot of head room,” she whispered, catching her breath when he came up behind her and his body grazed hers.

  “I’m not planning on standing up.” His voice was low and seductive, warm at her ear. “Unless you want to.”

  Oh, my.

  Jess took a deep breath and pulled off her hoodie. She still wasn’t wearing a bra, and the night air made goose bumps rise on her skin. Wordlessly she shimmied out of her yoga pants, and once she was naked, Bran reached out and pulled her close.

  She was afraid. Not of him. But of being overwhelmed.

  But he took his time, kissing her, touching her with light strokes, lighting her on fire and making her melt at the same time. His skin was warm on hers, and she marveled at the intimacy of the feeling, skin on skin. When her knees grew weak and he laid her down on the mattress, his eyes found hers in the dim moonlight cast through the window. “Okay?” he asked.

  Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them away. He was so considerate. So gentle. So...everything.

  “More than okay,” she assured him.

  His gaze held hers, his eyes widening for a moment as they came together, key into lock. Jess felt a pang in her heart, the bittersweet knowledge that she’d fallen for a man she couldn’t have, or could have but only for a little while.

  But living in the moment meant embracing the moment, and she was determined to do that. So she reached up and looped her hand around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. If she couldn’t have Branson as her love, she could at least have him for her lover. And when their breathing finally slowed and the sweat dried from their skin, she had no regrets.

  * * *

  Jess shifted beneath the blanket, trying not to wake Bran. The sun was barely up, and the light in the bedroom was watery and dim. But it was enough that she could make out his features completely. The bit of hair that was in a tangle on the pillow. His lips, open slightly as he slept, and the way he linked his fingers together over his belly. She liked that the most, as it seemed like a cute little quirk individual to him. He was a back sleeper. She was usually a sprawler, but sprawling was impossible in a bed this size and shared with a man of his build.

  They were both naked under the covers. His clothes were still in the dryer, and she was on the inside of the bed, closest to the wall, and hadn’t gotten up to pull something on after...

  After.

  Her chest cramped, in both delicious memory and delightful anticipation. He’d been a thorough, attentive lover. There’d been a moment where something threatened to overwhelm her, and maybe him, too. Their eyes had met and their smiles faded. In that moment sex had become more than just sex. It had become his first time since Jennie. She was sure of that. And for her...

  It had been connection. Bone-deep, in-the-blood connection with another human being. For all her live-in-the-moment Zen-ness, deep connections, trust...those were rare occurrences. It was why losing Ana had hurt so badly.

  People didn’t tend to stay in her life. But this time there was no danger of that. She was going into this with the knowledge and understanding that in a matter of weeks, they’d both be moving on. No surprises, no being blindsided, no one hurt. Bran let out a sigh and something soft and sentimental wound through her at the sound. A smile touched her lips. This summer would be one of healing, for both of them if they were lucky. And they’d be able to look back on this as the summer they made their way back to the living, with fond memories.

  Bran stirred and shifted to his side, then his eyes slowly opened. She met his gaze evenly, the smile still on her lips. “Good morning,” she whispered.

  “Good morning.” His cheeks colored a little and she loved that he was blushing right now, just a hint of pink above his beard.

  “You okay?” Mornings-after could be awkward. Things were different in the light of day. Last night they’d been swept up in each other, but now...now they had to navigate the dynamic.

  He nodded slightly, then shifted his arm and said, “Come here.”

  She shifted over and curled in next to his side. His skin was soft and warm, and the smattering of hair on his chest tickled her breasts.

  His arm tightened around her. “I’m okay. You?”

  She nodded, her cheek rubbing against his shoulder. “Me, too. I was afraid it might be...awkward.”

  He chuckled, a low sound that moved his chest and made her smile. “It is, a little. I’m very out of practice with mornings-after. But...” He moved his head so that he was looking down at her, and she tilted up her chin. “We’ve been fairly gentle with each other so far. I figure if we can keep doing that, we’re okay.”

  “Except, you know, when you kicked me off your property.”

  A smile lit his face. “Yeah, except then. And when I saved you with my boat. I didn’t say you weren’t a pain in my ass.”

  She laughed, then they grew quiet again. She was thinking about how their friendship had evolved when her stomach growled loudly in the silence.

  “Someone is hungry.”

  “I have eggs and sourdough bread. Maybe even some bacon. You want breakfast?”

  “I would. But it means not sneaking away before Jeremy has a chance to see my car.”

  She pushed away and rested on her elbows so she could see him better. “That would bother you, huh.”

  “Him knowing? Not that, exactly. It’s more the questions to follow.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I hate when people want me to explain myself.”

  “I have an answer for that.”

  “Do tell.”

  She grinned. “Practice saying this phrase—It’s none of your business.”

  Bran’s face straightened into a serious expression. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Nope. Not convinced. Try again.”

  This time it was accompanied by an angled eyebrow. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Better. Let’s practice some more. Hey, Bran, how’s the new novel coming?”

  He grinned. “It’s none of your business.”

  “What’s it about? Come on, you can tell me that.”

  Firmer this time: “It’s none of your business.”

  “Good! And wow. You spent the night with Jess. Are you sure that was a good thing?”

  He rolled slightly and placed a kiss on her naked shoulder. “Oh, I’m very sure it was a good thing,” he replied, his voice husky.

  “Tsk-tsk. That’s not the right answer.”

  “Yes, it is,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair. “But it’s none of Jeremy’s business, or Tori’s either.” He kissed her, long and slow, and then slid out from beneath the covers and left the bedroom, presumably heading toward the dryer and his clothes.

  Her body was still humming from the power of that kiss, though. He was very, very good at it.

  She slipped out from beneath the sheets and pulled on underwear and last night’s yoga pants and top. She’d shower later, before she had to make the trip to Halifax to pick up more supplies.

  Branson was in the kitchen, already boiling water for making coffee in her French press, his shorts and T-shirt wrinkled from being in the dryer overnight, but looking entirely scrumptious. She let him w
ork his magic—clearly he knew his way around coffee—and dug out eggs, and bacon she bought at the farmer’s market. She put the latter to fry in a cast iron pan, then set to work slicing sourdough bread for toast.

  The scent of bacon and coffee filled the air and she smiled up at Bran, who’d found her mugs and had poured her a cup of coffee. It was nice having him here, though it played havoc with her heart a little. She was not sticking around. It wouldn’t be good to get used to this kind of domestic scene, would it?

  Bran took over toasting the bread while Jess drained the bacon and then cracked eggs into the pan. “How do you like your eggs? Over? Yolks hard or soft?”

  “Over and just set.”

  Just like she preferred hers.

  Soon they were seated at her tiny table, with bacon, eggs, and pots of butter and jam between them for the toast. “Delicious,” Bran said, chewing on a strip of bacon.

  “Big breakfast is one of my favorites,” she admitted. “Sometimes I even like having breakfast for dinner.”

  He laughed. “Me, too. Only with pancakes.”

  “Mmm... Or waffles.”

  She spread raspberry jam on her toast and took a bite. “So. What’s on your agenda for today?”

  He shrugged. “Changing my clothes. Going over some of the stuff from yesterday, with the restoration and stuff. You?”

  “Actually, I think I’m the one heading to Halifax today. I want to visit a shop there for more supplies. I’ve only been there once since arriving. To be honest, I could stand a little city life for a day. As much as I love all this nature, I miss people sometimes. The vitality of it.”

  Bran was quiet for a moment, took a sip of his coffee, then looked her in the eye. “What if I went with you? We could make a day of it. You could pick up your supplies, and we could go for dinner someplace nice downtown.”

  “Like a date?”

  Again, he shrugged. “If you want to call it that. We could just call it hanging out.”

  It did sound lovely. A couple of hours drive on a beautiful summer day, an errand or two, and then a fine dinner... She hadn’t done that in a long time. Especially with company. She’d spent the last several months traveling alone, and she’d enjoyed it, but she couldn’t deny it was a lonely existence.

  “You’re welcome to come along.”

  “Do you want me to drive, or take yours?” He lifted an eyebrow. “If we take mine, you can have some wine with dinner. I’m happy to be your designated driver.”

  It was a generous offer, but she already felt a little odd, considering he wasn’t drinking at all. “I don’t need wine,” she said, popping the last crust of toast into her mouth.

  “You say that, but the place I have in mind has a very good wine list. And it doesn’t bother me, Jess. Truly.”

  She took his plate and stacked it on her own. “Then I accept. It sounds like a very nice day, and since my cooking is plain at best, a dinner out sounds lovely.”

  “Perfect.” He pushed away from the table and then checked his watch. “It’s nearly eight. Jeremy will have noticed my car by now. Time to answer the inevitable questions, and head home for a shower. What time should I pick you up?”

  She pondered for a moment. “Eleven? It would give me a couple of hours to work before we go.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  She took the dishes to the sink, and when she turned back again, there was an odd moment where they stood and stared at each other.

  “Okay. So the awkward exit is a thing,” he said, then took a step forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for last night,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  She nodded, feeling a little breathless.

  And then he was gone.

  Jess stared at the door for ten seconds, then shook herself into action. First, work. Then, a shower.

  And then, the rest of the day with a man who could never really be hers.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BRAN RETURNED AT just past eleven o’clock. He’d left without encountering Jeremy, nor was there any questioning text message from either him or Tori. They either hadn’t noticed his car, or they were minding their own business. If he were a betting man, he’d say they had slept in and missed his exit. Because Jeremy wouldn’t hesitate to put in his two cents.

  This time, instead of parking in the main driveway, he pulled in next to Jess’s car. She came outside and shut the door behind her, and his breath caught a little.

  He wasn’t supposed to be feeling this way. Not now. Maybe not ever. And yet he wasn’t going to cancel their plans. It was just a summer thing. He wasn’t going to fall in love, so that wasn’t an issue. And they were both clear on that, weren’t they? She was leaving to go back to Chicago. Why shouldn’t they combat some of their loneliness with each other?

  Jess wore a pretty little dress with a light blue background and tiny pink flowers, with cute little blue sandals on her feet. She looked as fresh and pretty as a spring morning, with her sunny hair shining and grazing the tips of her shoulders in soft waves. A bag was slung over her shoulder, a pastel-colored tapestry kind of thing that suited her completely. “Have you been waiting?” she asked, descending the two steps to the graveled walk.

  “Only for a few minutes. You look very nice.” He moved to the passenger side to open her door. Lord, she smelled delicious, too. Like sweet peas softened by hints of vanilla.

  “Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “No paint-stained jeans and tees for me today. If we’re going to dinner, I wanted to dress up a little.”

  She looked him up and down too, as he held open the door. “You also look very nice.”

  He needed a haircut, but there hadn’t been time. But he’d trimmed his beard and put aside jeans and tees for dress pants and a button-down shirt in off-white.

  “Well, let’s hit the road,” he suggested, and watched the long length of her leg as she slid into the car and he shut the door behind her.

  They drove to Halifax in just under two hours. The highway traffic was light, and they only hit one small section of construction. Bran used the car’s GPS to navigate his way to the art supply store Jess had picked, and went inside with her as she browsed and made her purchases. They stowed everything in his trunk, and then he suggested a walk in the popular public gardens.

  The sun was bright, and there was a light breeze as they made their way to the entrance. “It’s a beautiful day,” she said, letting out a happy sigh. “This was such a good idea, Bran.”

  “The gardens will be packed, but I hear they’re beautiful. If you like flowers.”

  She patted her bag. “I’ll make a confession. I brought a small sketch pad with me.”

  He laughed. Laughing was so easy with her, particularly when she looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. “Of course you did.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t always have a notebook with you.”

  He angled a wry look in her direction. “Of course I don’t.” Then after a moment, he added, “I voice record on my phone.”

  But he wasn’t interested in dictating now. He just wanted to spend the afternoon with her, in the early summer sun, and live in the moment.

  It was miles better than living in the past.

  The garden was heavy with tourists and what appeared to be a couple of bus tour groups. As they entered the ornate iron gates, a strange amphibious vehicle approached the intersection, loaded with tourists and a guide narrating local history. They sent up a strange cry of “ribbit-ribbit” as they passed, and then Bran chuckled. “The Harbor Hopper,” he said, nudging her and pointing. “Want to go? From the look of it, it’s one of those land and sea tour things.”

  “Oh, my,” she replied, laughing as the vehicle pulled away, the guide changing topic. “I’m not sure I’m dressed for that.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn�
��t fall in.” He took her hand in his. “But if you did, I’m a strong swimmer.”

  “One ocean rescue is enough for me.” She pushed up her sunglasses. “Oh, Bran. You were right, this is gorgeous.”

  They wandered along the paths, meandering slowly around all the different flower beds, examining species of tree and shrub and bloom. Couples posed for pictures and selfies on a small stone bridge, and Jess kindly offered to snap photos of a couple on their honeymoon. The smell was absolutely heavenly: fresh-cut grass and the heavy, sweet scent of lilacs; rhododendrons in various shades of purple, the size of cars, were in full, showy bloom, and the annual flower beds offered bright rainbows of colors. They ambled in the shade and stopped for Jess to take out her pencils and sketch a laburnum tree, the yellow chains of flowers reminding Bran of a sunshine-hued wisteria.

  They stopped again and sat on a bench near the pond. A middle-aged man fed the ducks on the bank, and Bran was happy to sit and watch as Jess worked away, her pencil strokes brisk and confident. A tiny replica of the Titanic floated on the water, and Bran considered telling Jess the city’s connection to the disaster, only he didn’t want to interrupt her.

  She was in another world when she sketched. Her focus was razor sharp, and nothing escaped her notice as her gaze darted between subject and paper.

  He was happy to people watch. He leaned back on the bench, crossed an ankle over his knee, and watched the dynamics between parents and children, old and young, couples on dates and those who seemed to have been together for a long time. They were the ones who didn’t have to hold hands to show intimacy; it was in their relaxed body language and the easy way they touched each other in passing, speaking of a comfort and devotion that pricked at Bran’s capricious contentment. Strangers wandered together, name tags stuck to their shirts from some sort of guided tour. They were smiling and polite as they talked to each other, pointing out blossoms and reading the species signs dotted throughout the garden.

  A father and son left the pathway nearby, the boy holding his dad’s hand as they picked their way over the grass toward a handful of ducks near the water’s edge. “Dada, ducks!” the boy exclaimed. Bran guessed he was maybe three. He swallowed thickly. Owen would be about the same age now, if he were alive. Would he have liked ducks? Held Bran’s hand, maybe in Central Park on Saturdays?