Jennifer Greene - The Billionaire’s Handler

Henry started tsk-tsking at her bare feet and lack of coat, being the fastidious old mother hen that he was, but the car was so one-of-a-kind adorable. Only after another few minutes oohing and aahing did she notice the duffel bag in back.

“We’re going to be gone for twenty-four hours. Not far. Not sure how far we can trust the car-but Henry’ll be here, home, ready to send out the Mounties if she’s not in the mood to run well.”

“You mean I can actually drive it?”

“I don’t know,” Maguire murmured. “Can you? I mean, I’ll be glad to take the wheel if you’re afraid of it-”

“But I can?”

Maguire spun a circle as if searching everywhere in sight. “Do you see anyone stopping her, Henry? Of course, maybe we should have crash helmets before letting her behind the wheel. And a quick course in what a clutch is for-”

“I grew up on jalopies, Maguire. I know what a clutch is. My grandpa used to restore old cars.”

“So that’s how you knew about this baby?”

“Yeah. He found and fixed up an old MG for a neighbor.” She could see both he and Harry were in lust. They should look at women the way they looked at the car. They stroked. Drooled. Looked with reverence. Praised every body part. Revered.

Which gave her plenty of time to yank on clothes and shoes and a jacket and run back outside. Maguire was already installed in the passenger seat.

“I thought maybe you’d let me drive,” he said.

“Maybe in the next life. This was my fantasy. Not yours.”

“But I didn’t know about this car until you brought it up.”

“Not my problem.” She sank into the old leather, savoring the adorable dash, the tiny wheel, the long sleek front.

“What happened to my frugal, unselfish, can’t-accept-anything-for-herself woman I met a week ago?”

“You ruined her, Maguire. Until you, I had no idea being corrupted could be so much fun. Snap on your seat belt. Oh. There are no seat belts. Then just hold on and pray, big boy, while we see what she can do.”

She hadn’t forgotten Maguire’s moodiness the day before. He hadn’t, of course, mentioned that anything was troubling him, because Maguire wouldn’t. Not to her. Not to anyone, as far as she could tell.

Carolina was increasingly aware that her place in Maguire’s life had been carefully, completely, sharply defined by him. Once she was “better,” as he called it, he had every intention of disappearing-back to his life, whatever he did, whoever he did it with. If she felt something more, it was her problem. She’d cracked his armor when they made love, but he hadn’t willingly opened his heart to her. Even an inch.

Possibly that was why she made the first turn on two wheels. She didn’t want to give Maguire a heart attack exactly. More like an attack of the heart.

Within two miles, she’d mastered the four gears and aimed for some nice, steep, curly mountain roads.

“Does the phrase ‘oh, my God’ make you think we should slow down a little?” he asked over the wind.

“Nope.”

“Hey. Where is my shy, softhearted school-teacher?”

“That was then. This is now.” She had to shout to be heard above the wind. “Maybe you don’t find out what a girl’s made of until she has the chance to get behind the wheel, Maguire.” She glanced at him, but only a millisecond of a glance. The steep road had no guardrails, every swinging turn and swerve creating blind spots. Like falling in love with him, she thought. There were unknown dangers behind every turn. Reckless dangers. Worrisome dangers. But damned if her heart wasn’t racing with the thrill of it.

“Carolina.” He was white-knuckled, holding the dash and door. Laughing. But definitely holding on. “Do you think there’s a prayer we could return the car in one piece?”

The car, yes, she thought.

But her heart had already been cracked, hard.

And if streaking mountain roads at breakneck speed was what it took to make him laugh, she wasn’t about to put her sensible shoes back on now.

Whatever time she had left with him, she was determined to give it everything she had.

It took enormous motivation to get her to park the car, but then, Maguire prided himself at being able to occasionally achieve the impossible.

She started yelling at the top of her lungs.

While she was occupied, Maguire crawled out of the old MG and kissed the cold, damp ground. He was that grateful to be alive. He wanted to give himself credit-Carolina most distinctly was not depressed or despondent, the way he’d first found her. The sound of her shrieks was damn well worth gold. And he was going to enjoy them. After kissing the ground. He hadn’t been sure she was even listening to his directions, much less following them. The last ten minutes he’d been praying with his eyes closed.

“Maguire! Quit that! You weren’t that terrorized by my driving!”

“Oh, yes, I was,” he said feelingly, in no hurry to get off his knees.

He hadn’t been afraid of anything since he could remember, but he was starting to be mighty afraid of Carolina. She was doing just what he wanted her to do-becoming strong, becoming happy, standing up for herself more and more. It was just…

She wasn’t predictable. At least she wasn’t predictable with him.

Her excited shrieks, though, were very, very Carolina. At least when Carolina was happy. So if other issues weren’t perfect, Maguire was determined to be careful. To do the right thing. To finish up the fixing and healing of Carolina-no matter what it took.

“Maguire! How did you find this? I can’t believe you found this! Oh, my heavens. I didn’t even know anything like this existed! It was just a crazy fantasy idea, for heaven’s sake!”

She charged over-he knew damn well to throw herself in his arms; she was that excited, that beside herself. So he swiftly got to his feet and pulled a duffel bag from the back of the car, staving off any contact between them. “You ready to climb up?” he asked her.

“Are you kidding?”

Some women fantasized about jewels and furs. She’d wanted to spend the night in a tree house. Finding the jewels would have been a whole lot easier, but Maguire had to admit, he’d outdone himself this time.

He’d seen pretty much everything, but this was as close to plain old simple fun. It was easy enough to find a tree house, just not an adult tree house, much less within reasonable driving distance. This one fit all the criteria.

He didn’t know trees, but figured the base was one of the giant pines or spruces, because the top almost reached the sky. Midway up-thirty ladder steps up-a guy named McConnell had built an octagon-shaped cabin around the trunk. All the walls were tinted glass.

At the top of the ladder-he followed Carolina’s butt-was a push-up door. Next to it was a pulley device intended to carry things up and down, such as the duffel Maguire had packed for the two of them, and the groceries Henry had boxed up.

The pulley was damn fun. While Carolina took off exploring, he brought the gear up and started stowing, feeling like a kid playing hooky. The only regular door in the place concealed a tiny bathroom and shower-it had glass windows like the rest of the tree house, but heaven knew, no one could see them at that height.

The architect had been intent on building green. The main living area was heated with a solar-powered heater. The minikitchen used solar power, as well, to chill, heat and store. A cupboard opened to reveal a pull-out collapsible table. A double-size beanbag functioned as a giant chair, big enough for two. A single bed-Maguire kept his eyes off it, as did Carolina-was double-sleeping-bag size, nothing fancy.