Second Chance With Her Billionaire

Which didn’t mean she wanted them to see her fall.

Instead of falling, though, she was pulled back up against a hard body. Her mind needed a moment to recover, so it took longer than she would have liked to realise the body was behind her, not in front. It took even longer to realise that she recognised the feel of that body against her.

No, no, no, no, no.

Wyatt had not saved her from falling. He was not standing behind her, his hard, delicious body pressed against hers, his arm around her.

She was not remembering how many times he’d seduced her from this very position. Sliding an arm around her waist, pulling her against him, dipping his head to the nape of her neck, brushing his lips over the sensitive spot he knew was there.

She was not thinking about how she would lean her head back to give him better access. Or how she’d let out a sound that had been somewhere between a purr and a moan when he obliged her. When he’d started seducing her more earnestly, his hand would move from her waist over her breast, linger there while teasing the sensitive spot in her neck. She’d push back onto his—

Two seconds later she’d stepped out of her shoes and was facing him.

‘Thank you,’ she said, her face burning. She couldn’t command the embarrassment back now, though a part of her tried. She hoped he’d think it was because of her almost-fall rather than her overactive imagination.

He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before bending down and removing her shoes from the ground. He placed them in front of her, looking up at her expectantly. She blinked. Then realised he wanted her to step back into them and felt the faint call of hysteria.

That was what this intense desire to laugh was, wasn’t it? And did he really think she wanted to touch him again after what her mind had put her through minutes before?

Oh, wait, she thought. He didn’t know what she was thinking. She also couldn’t keep acting like a lovestruck teenager. She was feeling attraction. She was attracted to him. Had been the moment she’d seen him at her father’s Christmas party three years before; would still be now, two years after their divorce. Attraction didn’t simply go away because they were no longer together. In fact, it had probably grown because she knew what it was like to be with him.

Yes, that was the perfectly logical explanation for why she was so overwhelmed by how sexy he was. Simple, biological attraction.

She took a breath and slid one foot into her shoe. When she was unable to think of a way to avoid it, she rested her hand on his shoulder and stepped into her other shoe. He waited to see if she was steady, then rose. Slowly, languidly, as if giving her a chance to grow accustomed to his new position.

He was still much taller than her; his shoulders broad, his torso and hips narrow, held up by powerful legs.

And suddenly simple biological attraction didn’t seem like the truth.

He lowered his head, meeting her eyes lazily.

‘Put your weight on the balls of your feet,’ he told her, before walking away.

She didn’t walk after him. Instead, she took a moment to regroup. She had known this would be hard. She had known seeing him would be hard.

Seeing him at a celebration for an occasion she didn’t quite believe in? Hard. Seeing him around her father? Hard.

But she hadn’t expected this. This attraction that awoke every part of her body. Or the sharp quips or any discussion, really. She’d thought she’d avoid him. Avoidance was the perfect solution to any problem, she found.

Up until the moment when she was forced to face what she was avoiding.

Like how steady her parents were even though her father had had an affair; and how unsteady she still felt because of it. She was still an outsider to her family. To their unit: her mother, her father, Autumn. She’d been outside that unit for years. But she hadn’t put herself there.

She couldn’t tell her mother or Autumn that. Not when they’d moved on and their family had recovered from her father’s affair. She couldn’t tell Wyatt either. He looked at their family with the kind of awe that came from not having a supportive one as a child. He looked to her father as the gold standard. Of being a businessman, a husband, a father. Unfortunately, he didn’t know that Trevor had put the first before the last two.

Or that he had done the same, and she’d ended up feeling like an outsider to their marriage, too.

She took a breath. Thought happy thoughts. Strangely, those thoughts were still of the times when she didn’t have to pretend to be a part of her family. They’d spent summers travelling the world; had almost daily family dinners. Her father’s phone had been glued to his hand the entire time, but at least he’d been there.

He’d been more involved when she’d expressed interest in the company though. She’d spent weeks following her father around the Bishop Enterprises building when she was younger. She’d looked at how Trevor had turned the business her grandfather had started into an empire, and she’d been proud. So proud she’d wanted to be a part of it.

Until she’d found out he’d cheated on her mother and it had all felt like a lie.

She shifted gears, but what was left in her bank of happy memories was of her and Wyatt. Of the dates where she’d fallen in love with his kindness, his wit. Where he’d listened to her, really listened, and she’d felt understood for the first time since…since her father had told her she couldn’t speak honestly to the two people she loved most.

As she thought it, it felt as if tar had been smeared all over her happy memories. They felt icky now. Messy. Shameful. No one could blame her for avoiding things when thinking about them turned out like this.

Not that she’d care if they did. Her plan was to stay on the outskirts of her parents’ celebrations as far as she could anyway. She’d wait until Autumn arrived and use her sister as a shield. Against Wyatt, too, she thought, reminding herself to stay away from him.

She turned then, putting her weight on the balls of her feet as instructed, and walked towards the patio. As soon as she got there, her parents’ guests started walking through the doors. She quickly stepped aside, keeping out of the way as she took in the scene.

The guests had blankets and picnic baskets, and were walking onto the grass in groups. Some of them nodded a head at her in greeting; she offered them one back. They spread out their blankets and began to relax on the grass, clearly preparing to watch the sun set.

She couldn’t fault the actual activity. Watching the sunset on a cliff overlooking an ocean was pretty great. Romantic, too, which she supposed her parents had intended. The weather was warm in that careless way summer had. The waiters were moving around taking drink orders so the warmth would soon be combatted by icy cocktails and cold beers.

‘The blankets and baskets are inside,’ Lynette Bishop told her, stopping in front of Summer.

‘Okay,’ Summer replied slowly, looking past her mother to where her father stood in the doorway with Wyatt. Both their stances were casual; they were obviously comfortable with each other. Resentment pushed up in her throat, and she told herself to shake it off. Deliberately, she looked back at her mother.

‘I think I’m going to go back to the cabin, Mom,’ she said with forced calm. ‘It’s been a difficult week and—’

‘I’m sure it has been,’ Lynette interrupted. ‘Running your own business must be so exhausting,’ she continued, as if she hadn’t spent her entire life running the Bishop social empire, which was pretty much its own business, ‘which means you have to find time to relax.’

‘I know.’ She smiled. ‘Like going to bed early so I can get some sleep.’

‘Or taking a blanket and watching the sun set with your parents, whom you love.’

Lynette’s smile was equal parts sweet, equal parts threatening. As if she were not only daring Summer to go back to the cabin, but daring Summer to contradict her statement, too.

But Summer had no desire to give in to her mother’s dares. The first had been her taking a chance anyway; the second wouldn’t be true. She did love her parents, which was why all of what they’d gone through—and what she, alone, was still going through—was so hard. Besides, she was there, after all.

She sighed. ‘If I stay, I’m not sitting with you and Dad. I’d prefer not to embarrass myself like that.’

Lynette gave a light laugh. ‘You will stay, but that’s perfectly acceptable.’ Her face changed slightly. ‘Would you prefer sitting with Wyatt?’

‘Mother.’

‘You’re not looking forward to the reconciliation?’

‘I didn’t look forward to it, no. Since we already had it, I can say that I was right not to.’

Her mother didn’t say anything for a moment. Summer wondered whether it was because Lynette wanted to encourage her to sit with Wyatt. Her parents had always liked him. Which made sense, considering Wyatt so badly wanted them to like him.

It wasn’t that Wyatt pretended around them, but rather that he wasn’t entirely the man she’d fallen for when they were all together. She’d tried to avoid spending time with her parents during her marriage because of it. It hadn’t helped. Wyatt had turned into that man anyway.

‘Fine, dear,’ her mother told her with a pat on the shoulder. ‘You can sit by yourself. I just want you here with us.’

Summer nodded, swallowing her sigh. This added to her problem. Her mother was the same person she’d been before the affair. It hadn’t changed her, finding out. Not for the first time, Summer wondered if that would stay the same if her mother found out Summer had known before Lynette had.

Not wanting to think about it, Summer walked past Lynette to get a blanket and basket, hesitating when she reached her father and Wyatt.

What was the protocol with this? Did she ignore them, or did she join in the conversation?

Because neither appealed to her, she offered them both a smile—small, polite, like the one she would have given to two strangers—and passed them. A hand closed around her arm before she could let out the breath she was holding.

‘Are you looking for a blanket?’ Wyatt asked her.

Her head lifted, though she wanted to stare at the hand that was sending uncomfortable shots of electricity through her body. Staring might make him stop touching her. She resisted, looking from her father, who was watching them with interest, back to Wyatt instead.

‘Yes. I was told they’re in here.’

‘They were.’ He lifted a hand, which held a blanket. ‘This is the last one.’

There was a beat when she wondered what he expected her to say. Okay? Thank you for telling me? Can we share?

When all of them rang true, Summer let out a little breath.

‘Okay. Thank you for telling me. Can we share?’

There was another beat, but this time it was long and awkward, making her stomach turn.

‘Of course we can share, Summer,’ Wyatt said slowly, politely, and she gave him a bland stare.

When she looked at her father now, he seemed almost amused. Which annoyed her, though she wouldn’t show it.

Avoid, avoid, avoid.

‘I’ll leave you two to it, then,’ Trevor said, giving them both a nod before walking out to join Lynette. Summer stared after him while the ball of tension in her stomach that was always there when she was around her father unravelled. She took a deep breath.

‘That was weird,’ Wyatt commented before she could say anything.

‘What?’

‘You were being weird just now.’

‘I’m sorry, this is the first time I’ve had to interact with an ex-husband,’ she said flatly.

His expression tightened, but he continued. ‘I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you and your father.’

Her heart immediately thudded in her chest, but she tried for an easy smile. ‘Not sure what you mean, Montgomery.’

He blinked. She didn’t need that to tell her she’d taken him by surprise though. She’d only ever called him by his surname when things had been good between them. When things had been easy. It hadn’t been her intention, but she hoped it would be enough to distract him.

‘I’ll get us a basket,’ she said, and headed to where the wait staff were standing.

She smiled at the waiter who handed her the wicker basket, then did a mental shoulder roll before heading back to Wyatt. She couldn’t let him suspect anything was wrong. She’d hidden the turmoil between her and her father for the entire year she and Wyatt had been together. She hadn’t let him see how his desire to be like her father had affected her either.

She wouldn’t reveal it now. Which would be an effort, considering the anniversary—the vow renewal—was challenging for her.

But she would play the part. She wouldn’t let Wyatt suspect she was keeping secrets. She wouldn’t let her mother and Autumn suspect it either. She’d just let them all think she was being her usual surly self. And everyone could go on pretending everything was fine.

She swallowed down the wave of nausea.

When Wyatt reached out for the basket, she handed it to him, then took the blanket instead. In silence, they made their way to the grass. There was only one spot free, a little to the side of the cliff, where they wouldn’t have a perfect view of the sunset. But the spot offered them a different view. Of the large green trees on the hills a short distance away; the houses amongst the trees; the ocean crashing against the rocky bases of the hills. Not seeing the sunset didn’t seem so bad, considering.

She spread out the blanket in front of them, looked down. Realised she wasn’t entirely sure how to sit. All her options seem to involve inelegance or flashing some poor unexpected guest.

‘Need help?’

Her body tensed at the prospect of his touch, but she managed to arrange her expression into a careful smile.

‘Yes, please.’

Wyatt held her hand as she settled onto the blanket, legs to the side, one angled over the other. Before he sat down, a waiter approached him with two glasses of what she thought was lemonade. She couldn’t be sure since the ice filled the glass just as much as the liquid did. He handed her one of the glasses, then lowered his body onto the blanket.

‘What is this?’

‘Lemonade,’ he confirmed. ‘I ordered it when you went to fetch the basket.’

‘Quick work,’ she commented. ‘Thanks.’

It was all either of them said for the longest time.

‘How badly do you wish someone else had got the last blanket?’

‘On a scale from one to ten?’ she asked thinly. ‘An eleven.’

‘Ten being how badly you wanted it to be me then?’

She glanced over at him. His mouth curved. She let out a breath.

‘You’re being a lot less prickly than earlier.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

She didn’t even blink. ‘Sure you don’t.’

Something flickered in his eyes. ‘I thought it might be easier if I were nicer to you.’

‘No, you don’t,’ she replied. ‘You don’t believe in being nice for the sake of easy.’

The edges of his mouth turned down. ‘True,’ he said softly. The tone of it brushed over her skin. ‘Fine, then. Your father asked me to be.’

CHAPTER THREE

HE HADN’T MEANT to tell her that, and, somehow, he’d made it sound worse than it had been.

Which he knew based on the way the air around them was now standing to attention.

‘Is that what you two were talking about just now?’ she asked stiffly.

‘Yes.’

‘He asked you to be nice to me.’

It wasn’t a question, and it sounded as if she was speaking to herself more than she was to him.

‘Well,’ Wyatt said, ‘he said that he knew this was tough on the both of us. And he…suggested that it might make things easier if I cut you some slack.’

She made an impatient sound deep in her throat. ‘Is that why you were being so polite earlier?’

‘Yes.’

‘Just because my father asked?’ Her voice sounded strangled.

He shrugged. ‘It made sense.’

‘Because I’m the big bad wolf,’ she muttered.

The anger he thought he’d set aside—much as he had the attraction—stirred. ‘I think the person who asks for a divorce is generally the big bad wolf in the tale.’

‘Not the person who signs the divorce papers without a fight?’ she retorted, but quickly shook her head before he could reply. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’

He didn’t believe her.

‘I wasn’t talking about you anyway,’ she continued. Closed her eyes. Opened them. ‘And you’re right. It does make sense.’ There was a pause. ‘How about this view?’

He didn’t reply. Was afraid if he did, they’d find themselves doing a post-mortem of their marriage. He’d decided—one desperate, torturous night two years ago—that the best thing he could do for himself was to forget that Summer Bishop existed. It had been hard to do considering the building he worked in bore her name, but he’d been determined.

For the most part, he’d succeeded. He’d buried himself in his work. Deeper, he qualified, since he hadn’t stopped digging since Trevor had given him his first job opportunity. Trevor had shown him work was the kind of investment Wyatt could make without regret.

It had been the first of many lessons Trevor had taught him. Wyatt had paid attention to all of them. Who could blame him? Trevor had a life Wyatt hadn’t dared to dream of when he’d been a child. Stability, security. Love, happiness. When Wyatt had realised it was possible, he’d been determined to do whatever it took to try and get it. The professional and financial success he’d managed; the personal success, not so much.

He wasn’t sure why he’d thought things would be different with Summer. He’d had a string of short-lived relationships before her. A long-term relationship was bound not to work. Especially not with her.

It hadn’t mattered that he’d thought she was a perfect match for him. Or that their life together had had the potential to inspire others—just as Trevor and Lynette’s had inspired him. He and Summer weren’t…suited. She’d made that clear when she’d asked for the divorce. When she’d said she wanted to focus on her business; that she didn’t have time for their marriage.

A lie, he’d known immediately. What she hadn’t had time for was him.

What else was new?

He shook the sinister question out of his head. He’d learnt his lesson. He wouldn’t rise to her bait about how he hadn’t fought for their marriage. She’d decided he wasn’t good enough to be her husband. How was he supposed to fight that?

He did linger on her comment about her father though. It spoke to that thing he’d picked up between Summer and Trevor earlier. That…vibe. He wasn’t sure how they were connected; he only knew they were.

‘When people say silly things about Africa, I wish I could show them this,’ she said suddenly, and he looked over. Her face had lost some of its earlier tension, making it seem softer.

Soft Summer made him think of Vulnerable Summer. Behind-the-Mask Summer. The effect of that was immediate. Potent.

He cleared his throat. ‘You mean, you’d rather show them this than the picture of your pet lion?’

Her lips curved. ‘Exactly. I’d prefer not to exploit Nala like that.’

Wyatt chuckled, and wondered if he should be allowing himself to enjoy her. She’d hurt him. This was the first time since he’d truly come to terms with the fact that she had—since signing the divorce papers—that he was seeing her. He shouldn’t even be wondering about enjoying her. He should be tempering the anger; taming the hurt.

And yet he still found himself enjoying her.

‘I’m sure Nala appreciates it.’

‘I don’t do it for the fame, Montgomery. It’s the right thing to do.’

She lifted her glass and took a slow sip of her lemonade. His lips twitched. Heaven only knew why. He shouldn’t be attracted to her sense of humour. He shouldn’t be watching her tongue slip between her lips as it checked for leftover lemonade. That moment earlier should have been enough warning about his attraction to her. When he’d felt her body against his after he’d caught her, her butt pressing into an area that had immediately awakened, as if it had been in a deep slumber since her.

He’d told himself the fact that he’d had no sexual interest in anyone since his divorce was normal. He’d never been through a divorce before to know for sure, but it seemed logical. Of course not wanting to risk his heart in another relationship seemed logical.

Until he’d realised he’d never risked his heart in any of his relationships before Summer. He’d had a distinct sexual interest in the women he’d dated before her though.

Then he’d seen Summer again and his body had responded to her as if she were the prince in a fairy tale; he, the princess put under a spell that only she could break.

He was immediately disgusted with himself for the fanciful notion. The anger he’d been struggling to keep a grip on was suddenly firm in his hands, too. She was making him feel this way. Even though she’d left him as everyone else in his life had, he was allowing her to make him feel this way. Which made him just as angry at himself as he was at her.

He was angry that she made his body betray him. That for the second time that day, she’d called him by his surname. He was angry that he missed that. And that even though he’d missed it, he still didn’t want her to use it.

It was something intimate. Something people who were close to one another did. He and Summer weren’t close any more; they no longer shared intimacies. She had no right to use it in the same way she had when they’d still been married.

His anger had nothing to do with the fact that no one else in his life called him that now. It had nothing to do with the hurt he felt at that fact; or the longing; or the inevitable resentment. He still had Trevor. So what if their relationship wasn’t a surname-calling one? Relationships didn’t only look one way. Being close to someone didn’t only look one way.

This was the worst part about seeing Summer again, he thought. Contemplations on things he’d gleefully ignored most of his life. She did this to him. She made him think about his feelings. Sure, feelings were natural—but they were feelings, and he had no patience for them. Not when he knew he shouldn’t entertain them.

Not entertaining them had got him through a father who’d left when he was ten. It had helped him survive a mother who’d almost died from alcohol poisoning when he was fourteen. It had kept him sane when he’d been bounced between his mother’s house and foster care until he was eighteen. It had kept him from hitting rock bottom when he’d returned from his first term at university to find out his mother was selling the family house and was nowhere to be found.

‘I can hear you stewing,’ she commented into the silence that had grown tense as he’d been thinking.

‘I’m not stewing.’

‘You don’t have to stay here, you know,’ she replied, ignoring his denial. ‘I do, because my mother asked me to, and, obligation.’

‘You don’t think your father was asking the same of me when he told me to cut you some slack?’

‘No,’ she said simply. ‘Though if he was, you’ve fulfilled that obligation. You’ve been perfectly cordial to me.’ There was a brief pause. ‘I’ll be sure to tell him that if you like.’

‘Why does this sound like a bribe?’ he asked, feeling more sullen than angry. ‘I leave, you get to spend time alone and you tell your father I’ve been nice.’

She snorted. ‘No one said anything about nice.’ She tilted her head towards him, though her eyes were still on the view ahead of them. ‘Cordial. Or polite, though they mean the same thing. That’s my final offer.’

He didn’t reply, but he didn’t move either. He supposed that gave her an answer.

She sighed. ‘So, you’re going to be stubborn.’