Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 1(18)

His thoughts faded as the enormity of Jill’s death hit him. In some ways, her death was still striking blows. Good ones. $59 million blows a year.

He, unlike Laura, would never have to worry about getting to work on time again. Man, even letting himself think like that made him queasy. It was a sick, sick way to become rich – losing your soulmate – and he was still so angry at something – God? Cancer? Fate? His own helplessness? – that he just wouldn’t quit the fire station, preferring to act like a working class slob because until two months ago, that’s exactly what, and who, he had been.

The masquerade of normalcy was important. Necessary. Especially now that he was dating Laura. Until he knew she cared for him as the old Dylan – before the trust fund – he needed to play it cool.

Sitting up, he stretched his arms over his head, willing blood to flow into his biceps, triceps, popping his elbows and slowly stretching out his neck. His hips ached just a little, the good kind of ache from a nice, deep, intense session of lovemaking. He grinned, the smell of her still on his sheets, her soft skin nearly still there, brushing against his chest. Laura was soft and sweet and sighed like it was all some kind of dream, as if his touch were new. He’d been tender with her, but detected a little something extra, a naughty streak. He’d been right and reveled in the discovery.

If he texted her now would that be seen as too pushy? Too stalkerish?

Who cares.

Grabbing his phone, he dug out her number and texted: So you went home and all I got was this morning boner. ;)

Silence. Give it five minutes, Dylan, he told himself. Standing, he let the sunlight stream in through the window and wash over him, his naked form tight with need. A bottle of lotion and a nice hot shower could kill off his arousal. Even better, though, would be a date tonight.

Nothing. He knew it seemed way too desperate, but he looked up her number and dialed. No answer. Not even a voice mail message. That was supremely weird, because the only reason you couldn’t leave a voice mail on someone’s phone was if they blocked you.

Cold rushed through his body, his flesh covered with goosebumps in seconds. Blocked? Why would she block him? He took a really good look around the room and let himself inhale, then exhale, a few times. Centered, he thought carefully through the last twenty-four hours.

He had found her online. Asked her out. Scheduled a dinner at the hottest restaurant in town. Found her attractive and the feeling mutual. Made a move, invited her over, hand mind-blowing sex (which he wanted more of) and had fallen sleep spooned with her in his bed.

Waking up, he was alone. He texted her. He called her – and now it appeared she had blocked him.

Blocked?

That had to be a mistake. He called again. It rang twenty-eight times before he hung up. Where was Mike? Oh, that’s right – at his cabin. He had decided to clear out so Dylan could have alone time with Laura. Except now Dylan had tons of alone time – with himself. Not the kind of private time he was hoping for.

He popped on the computer and opened a chat window at the dating site. She wasn’t in his “Favorites” any more. Huh? He ran a search – no Laura Michaels. It was as if she had vanished.

Blocked?

***

Beep-beep-beep! She whammed her hand on the alarm button, but it was elusive; a little too far out of her grasp, but instead she whacked the heel of her hand on the corner of her end table and listened to her own yelp of protest.

“Damn it.” She opened her eyes, giving the machine a glare meant to melt circuits. 6:00 a.m. – time for work. Really? Had she really only gotten two and a half hours of sleep at best? Shit.

She stood up, forced herself to stretch and then wondered why she felt so sore, so sticky, so

Oh. Dylan’s tongue on her clit, lapping in circles as his finger slid in and out, her legs on his shoulders and – That’s why. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily, letting emotion wash over her and just feeling it, knowing that blocking it, denying it, or pushing it aside would do her no good.

Let it be and it would fade. Force it away and she’d carry the pain forever.

What she had thought might have been just wasn’t meant to be, and she had to accept that. Too good to be true, really – the night was some sort of magical, very authentic encounter with a hot guy way out of her league.

But that was okay. It was okay. It was a new day and she reached for her smart phone, confirming the time and then seeing that she had about twenty-seven texts from Josie, and she’d have to answer those later. Josie would make her spill everything, tell all, and would congratulate her for refusing to accept second best.

Right now, though, Laura needed to wallow. And that, like so much else, was okay.