Second Chance with the Billionaire

She shrugged. “I don’t feel strong. Most days I feel like a juggler with too many oranges and too few hands. But I don’t see why this requires an apology.”

“I flirted with you. I saw you weren’t wearing a wedding ring and I assumed—”

“That I was divorced,” she said quickly.

He nodded, his eyes bleak. “Lord, Ellie, I never even considered the fact that you were a widow.”

“Does it matter?” She was shriveling inside, actively pained at the thought of discussing Kevin with Conor Kavanagh. Her guilt consumed her. What would Conor think if he ever found out the truth...the truth that not even Kirby knew?

“Yeah,” he said, the word harsh. “I’m not usually such an idiot. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I am single, Conor, whether I want to be or not.”

He ignored her words as if she had never spoken. “I’ll do what I can for Kirby. And if I can help you in any way, all you need to do is ask. You’re a mother and a daughter and a sister and a granddaughter. That’s a lot for anyone to handle. I’d like to make things easier for you.”

“Kirby needs your help, not me.” She didn’t want to be Conor Kavanagh’s charity case. She was lonely and afraid and confused. The thought of resurrecting her friendship with Conor had kept her going lately. Now, even that was in jeopardy.

Conor stared at her, his gaze shuttered. “I’ll be in touch with Kirby. Goodbye, Ellie.”

Four (#ulink_354d2b5b-b1d3-53c8-b2d8-aa2ebc1282bb)

Conor spent a sleepless night, largely due to his dreams. Even knowing that Ellie was a grieving widow didn’t keep his subconscious from going after what it wanted in erotic, carnal vignettes. The little devil on his shoulder pointed out the opportunity to take advantage of a vulnerable woman.

He wouldn’t do that. Probably. Definitely.

When he heard Ellie had come home to Silver Glen, he had visions of reconnecting with the laughing, happy sixteen-year-old girl he had known. At some level, he resented the fact that she had an entire life he knew nothing about. He wanted her to be the girl in his fantasies. The childhood friend. The innocent first love.

Even to himself he had to admit the problem with that rationale. Though he had never married, he’d had two pretty serious relationships. Both of them had ended for different reasons, but he’d been emotionally invested each time. In between, he’d sown his share of wild oats.

He liked women. The way they smelled. The way they moved. The interesting ways their minds worked.

What he didn’t like was the idea of competing with a dead man.

Did that make him petty? Or simply pragmatic?

Beyond that conundrum was the knowledge that he and Ellie were not suited for each other. He was still the kind of man she had once rejected. He hadn’t changed. Not really. It would be better for both of them if he kept his distance.

He called Kirby early and made arrangements to pick him up at ten. “I’ll wait in the car,” he said. “And keep the A/C going. It’s hot as hell today.”

The stalled-out weather front was unrelenting. Humidity and a scorching summer sun alternately baked and broiled the town. But the real reasons he decided not to go into the house were twofold. He didn’t want to see Ellie, and he did want to watch Kirby walk to the car.

He sent a text when he pulled up in front of the house. Moments later, as if he had been waiting by the door, Kirby appeared on the porch. As Conor watched, the other man made his way down the walk.

To a casual observer, Kirby’s legs and gait would appear normal. But Conor looked beneath the surface. He saw the effort Kirby was making to walk naturally. Instead of looking toward the car, Kirby’s eyes were trained on the ground as if something might jump up at any moment to trip him and send him flying.

Conor’s heart contracted in sympathy, but he knew that kind of response would be the last thing Kirby wanted. Kirby didn’t need Conor’s platitudes. What he needed was to feel normal.

Leaning across the passenger seat, Conor unlocked the door and shoved it open. “Climb in, my friend. We’ve got a full day planned.”

Kirby eased his big body into the car and shut the door. His forehead was beaded with sweat and his lips pressed together in a white-rimmed line. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

Conor drummed his hands on the steering wheel. Then he sighed. “Do you have a cane, Kirby? Do you need it?”

Kirby stared straight ahead, his tumultuous emotions etched in his body language. “Did I look that bad tottering out here?” he asked, the question clipped with frustration.

“You looked fine. Honestly. But I know you, man. You once played an entire quarter of football with a busted wrist. Today, though, we’re not out to prove anything. So, tell me the truth.”

“Yes and yes.” Kirby’s breathing was shallow, his skin clammy and pale. He dropped his head against the back of the seat and muttered an expletive under his breath.

“Do you have any objections if I go get the damned thing?”

Kirby shrugged, his eyes closed. “Knock yourself out.”

Conor shouldn’t have been surprised to find Ellie hovering just inside the door. She was wearing old faded jeans and a white tank top that showed off her honey-colored tan and more-than-a-C-cup breasts. “I’m here for his cane,” he said. “Superman out there is trying to prove something, but I want to get him home in one piece.”

Ellie nodded, relief on her face. “He’s stubborn.”

“I’d be the same way. In fact, I was,” he said, thinking back to the long months after his skiing accident. “I was determined to show everybody that I was okay. That things were back to normal.”

“And were they?”

Though he saw nothing but simple curiosity on her face, the question stung. “No,” he said bluntly. “They weren’t.” He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her. But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Even though she smelled like vanilla and temptation.

He took the carved walnut cane and left without saying goodbye. He could barely look at Ellie now. All he could see was an image of her in another man’s arms, another man’s bed.

When he got back in the car and tossed the cane in the backseat, Kirby had recovered enough to give him a wry smile. “They tell me not to push it...that time is what I need. But I’m damned tired of feeling like a cripple.”

“Is that how you would refer to one of your patients?” Conor started the engine.

Kirby’s head shot around so fast it was amazing he didn’t get whiplash. “Of course not.”

“Then quit whining. Life sucks. Sometimes more than others. You’ve made it through the worst part. You might as well concentrate on having fun once in a while.”

Kirby fell silent for the remainder of the trip to the ski resort. Had Conor offended him?

Once they arrived at the lodge, Conor was stymied at first. In ordinary circumstances, he would have asked Kirby to hike the perimeter of the property with him. As high school kids, fitness had been everything to them. That was a long time ago, though, and Kirby faced a new reality.

Kirby was a doctor, a pediatric specialist according to Ellie. All Conor had to do was persuade him that losing a foot didn’t negate his training and his future.

Easier said than done. But Conor was determined to ease the grief in Ellie’s eyes. She had come to Conor for help, and he would give it, even if it meant keeping his physical needs in check. He was no longer an adolescent boy with a crush on a girl. Still, his need to make Ellie happy had apparently survived the years of separation.

After a quick tour of the lodge, Conor made a snap decision. If they couldn’t hike the property, they could at least see it from the air. “How about riding the chairlift with me?” he said. “We run it at least once a week to see if any problems crop up.”

Kirby nodded, his mood hard to read. “Sure.”

At the top of the lift, Conor elbowed his friend. “If that foot falls off, I’m not crawling all over this mountain to find it.”

Apparently he hit just the right note, because Kirby chuckled. “Is nothing sacred to you?”