Taming The Billionaire

She was already shaking her head, sending her hair flying once more. “We need to clean up first,” she insisted. To his surprise she started gathering the mess into the middle of the bed.

While the thought was appreciated, her movements afforded Tate an even better view. The T-shirt barely covered her upper thighs. The expanse of smooth skin was mouthwatering. “I’ll get something to catch the water,” he murmured.

Escape was a relief, but a brief one.

When he returned with a large plastic tub, he found himself eye level with a pair of silky panties he’d have been better off not seeing. “What are you doing?” he growled.

Willow jerked, her shock unbalancing her and the candle in her hand as she stood on the bed.

“Woman,” he snapped. “Let’s not catch the bed on fire, too.”

She frowned at him. “This isn’t my fault. I was just trying to see what had caused the leak.”

“I’ll investigate in the morning.” He glanced over the now-stripped bed and soggy mattress. “And get this all replaced.”

There was no helping it. His gaze snagged on creamy white thighs below the edge of her T-shirt. She might not have realized how she looked before, but now was different. Her delicate hand came into view, tugging the hem down. He flicked his gaze up to her face, only to see a red stain spreading across her skin. Yep, she was fully aware now.

“Let me help you,” he murmured, then had to clear his throat as his voice deepened without his permission.

Still she accepted his hand for balance as she climbed down. The shocking chill of her skin as it met his made him shift gears from lust to more practical matters. Like where she was going to sleep...

He placed the tub carefully in the middle of the bed to catch the dripping water. Good thing it wasn’t coming down heavier. “This should halt the damage for a while. It should stop raining in a couple of hours,” he said.

Willow offered a brief nod, then skirted around behind him. “I’ve got to see about some clothes,” she said, her voice sounding strangled.

He shouldn’t have made her uncomfortable, but the rest of the night would make matters much worse.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as she scooted toward the open doorway.

“I guess I’ll have to go out to the car to get my bags.” She paused, then inched back inside. “I should probably put on some shoes for that.”

“You aren’t going out in this weather.” As if to back him up, lightning flashed outside, then thunder rumbled loud enough to rattle the windows. “We will find something else for you.” He gestured for her to go out into the hall, but she hesitated.

Tate had a feeling this was where living as a single man and not as part of a family was going to bite him in the ass. He turned smartly on his heel and headed back the way he’d come, silently gesturing for her to follow. He ignored her questions, trying to get everything straight in his own mind first. With a sense of trepidation that he kept well hidden, he walked straight into his bedroom and opened the top drawer of the bureau, pulling out a well-worn T-shirt. He turned back to see her hovering in the doorway.

“You might as well come inside,” he snapped.

“Why?”

Her obvious hesitation reminded him that the situation wasn’t her fault and was completely out of both of their control. He tempered his tone.

“Because this is where the only other bed in the house is,” he said with a voice full of resignation.

She stepped through the doorway, her eyes wide with shock. “What?”

He spoke a little more slowly. “This is the only bed... And the only decent sofa is right there.” He pointed back toward the living area that comprised half the large master suite. “We’re going to share a room tonight, I’m afraid.”

Even in the dim light he could see her eyes cataloging everything she’d seen tonight—which wasn’t much. Still, she tried. “But there are so many rooms—”

“Which have been stripped. Or I assure you the mattresses are nothing but dust and springs by now.”

He held out the oversize T. “Your attire, my dear.”

Three (#uaf29149e-ccf7-505c-b22d-47c96151c2b0)

Even with the sound of heavy rain outside, Willow could still hear every squeak of the leather when Tate moved on the couch. And he moved a lot.

Too bad it wasn’t thundering still.

As the furniture protested yet another turn of Tate’s big body, Willow contemplated their current situation in the dark. She knew Murdoch had said they never had visitors, but she never imagined a big house like this wouldn’t at least be set up for the possibility. This was the South. Hospitality was an actual way of life down here. All these rooms lying dormant would be unheard of.

It was a type of isolation Willow couldn’t imagine.

She should be sound asleep right now. Between the tense drive and the stress of meeting her new boss, exhaustion weighed down her bones. But her unexpected dousing in cold water and ceiling tiles had her hyped. And every squeak of the leather told her Tate was in the same boat.

As one particularly restless move was followed by a long sigh, Willow finally gave in. She sat up and projected her voice above the noise of raindrops hitting the windows. “This is ridiculous. Come to bed.”

Hmm...that probably wasn’t the right way to put it. Now that her vision had adjusted somewhat to the dark, she could see his head and bare shoulders rise above the back of the couch. “What did you say?”

She should have been intimidated, but she was over that by now. “Come sleep in your own bed. You’re never gonna get any rest over there. And neither am I.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That every time you move that couch creaks. It’s even noisier than the rain outside.”

He slowly got to his feet. To her relief, he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, covering the light skin that she wanted so badly to see. To cover her awkwardness over having her gorgeous new boss approach the bed she was sleeping in, she said the first thing that came to mind.

“At least the one good bed left in the house is the size of a football field.” Frankly, she felt a little lost in all this yardage.

“I’m not a small guy.”

To that, she could attest.

“But I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said.

“I think we’ll manage,” she said, her sense of humor asserting itself. “I won’t think less of you if you put pillows down the middle. After all, I want you to feel safe.”

Even in the dark she caught his pause. “Shouldn’t that be my line?” he asked. She detected a touch of amusement. Probably the best she could hope for with him, especially since his progress had slowed considerably. Did walking toward her on the bed have to resemble a death march?

Not that he should be too eager, but still...

“I’m not the one who needs convincing,” she reminded him. “And if I don’t get some sleep soon, I’ll have trouble proving my worth to my new boss tomorrow.”

This time she was granted a chuckle, and he finished making his way across the room. The bed shifted a little as he lay down, but he seemed to stay as close to the edge as possible. Heck, her arm fully stretched out wouldn’t come close to reaching him.

“No pillows?” she finally asked.

“I think I’m safe.”