Maureen Child - Millionaire - Needed for One Month - Thirty Day Affair

“It's amazing,” she said with a sigh. “Some rock star held an interview in the penthouse suite and the news covered it—there was an incredible view of London.”

“The view from the owner's suite is even more impressive,” he told her, picturing it vividly now in his mind. “You can see Big Ben in the distance and the Millennium Wheel.”

“The huge Ferris wheel!” she cried and grabbed his arm hard. “Have you ridden it?” She paused, and said, “Of course you haven't. Honestly, Nathan, don't you ever have any fun?”

A little insulted, he said, “Sure I do.”

“Prove it. Name one thing you've done just for fun in the last month,” she challenged.

“I sat on a stone hearth letting a beautiful woman insult me.”

She tipped her head to one side, gave him a smile that made his heart jitter in his chest and repeated, “Beautiful?”

“Figures that's the part you heard.”

Her smile brightened into a grin. “Well, duh.”

He really enjoyed the flash of humor in her eyes. And for the first time in way too long, he realized there wasn't a steel band wrapped around his middle. There was no pressure pounding through him. No hurry to get work done. To check his e-mail. To leave the lodge.

Because suddenly and completely, there was simply nowhere else on earth he'd rather be.

The quiet between them stretched on for another minute or two, the only sound in the room, the snap and hiss of the fire behind them. Shadows stretched across the room and, outside, dots of white swirled in ever changing patterns driven by the wind.

“I envy you,” she said quietly. “All the places you've seen.”

“You like traveling?”

“Never really traveled much, but yeah, I think I would.” She folded her legs up beneath her on the stone, her white socks standing out brilliantly against her dark denim jeans. “I had big plans,” she admitted. “When I was a teenager, I went to bookstores and bought street maps of foreign cities. If you had dropped me into the middle of Paris, I could have found my way around blindfolded, I studied those maps so often. London, Dublin, Barcelona, Rome, oh … Venice. ” Her voice took on a dreamy quality that tugged at something deep inside him. “I wanted to drink wine while riding in a gondola. And see the windmills in Holland, and the Swiss Alps …”

“But …”

“But,” she said, giving him a dazzling smile and lifting her glass for another sip of brandy, “life happened. I had to take care of Kelly, and then I got busy with the town and …”

“You stopped reading your maps?”

“Oh, no,” she said, “I've still got them all and I still pore over them and plan trips and, one of these days, I'll get away.” She looked down into her glass and asked, “What about you? When the month is up, where do you go next?”

“Barbados for a couple of weeks, then Madrid.”

She sighed. “It sounds wonderful.”

“Barbados or Madrid?”

“Both. But Barbados first. A tropical island.” She sighed again.

“A beautiful one,” he agreed.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and said, “Show me.”

“Can't. Don't have any pictures of it.”

“No,” she said softly, “Draw me a picture with words. Show it to me through your memories of the place.”

Nathan frowned down at the top of her head and tried to give her what she wanted. He thought about the Barbados Barrister for a long moment, bringing it up in his mind, then slowly said, “It's our newest hotel. Only been open a few months. It sits right on the beach, stretches out almost a block. It has five stories for guest rooms and the sixth floor is the owner's suite.” His voice warmed as his memories thickened and the ease of sharing them became more comfortable. “The views stretch on forever. The ocean is so blue you're not sure if you're looking at the sea or the sky.”

“Keep going,” she said.

He smiled. “There are palm trees and sand so white it hurts to look at it. Green-and-white striped umbrellas surround an infinity pool, and waiters dressed in green shirts and white pants carry trays of drinks to the people lounging poolside.”

“More,” she said, nestling in closer.

The feel of her leaning into him, the heat of the fire behind them and the quiet of the house all made for a feeling of intimacy that Nathan hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

“Inside the hotel,” he continued, “the wood is pale, almost gold. The windows are always open, and the sea wind sweeps through the lobby where pots of flowers and trailing vines make it seem almost like a jungle.” He rested his head on top of hers. “There are deck chairs on a wide, white porch that stretches the length of the first floor, and people sit out there, sometimes all day, just to watch the ocean. And the restaurant has an outside deck where you can dine and watch the sunset.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“Actually,” he said, not a little surprised himself, “it really is.”

She raised her head and smiled up at him. “I'm going to buy a map of Barbados,” she said, “and I'm putting that hotel on my list.”

He smoothed her hair back from her face, his fingertips lingering on the softness of her skin. She closed her eyes at his touch and shivered a little as his fingers slid down to her jaw.

“I'll put your name on the VIP list,” he whispered, threading his fingers through her silky hair again just to enjoy the sensation.

“Nathan?”

“Keira …”

“The storm's still blowing,” she said softly, her gaze locked with his. “What will we do while we wait it out?”

“We could eat,” he offered.

“True,” she said. “Or you could tell me about another of your hotels.”

“Or play chess.”

“Watch a movie.”

“Read.”

She nodded and reached up to catch his hand with hers and hold it against her cheek. “All good ideas. But, I have a better idea.”

Nathan bit back a groan as she leaned in close to him. His body was hard and tight and every breath now was a victory. If he didn't have her in the next few minutes, he was going to explode. “Yeah?” he asked. “What's that?”

“I think you know,” she said and took one more sip of brandy before setting her glass down on the hearth.

Nathan tipped his head back and tossed the last of his brandy down his throat before setting his glass down beside hers.

“Possibly,” he said, though a voice in his brain was telling him to stop now before it was too late. But damn it, he wanted her. Keira's image had been haunting him for days—she'd gotten to him more than any other woman he'd ever known. He wasn't used to waiting for something he wanted. Usually, he simply took what most women were more than willing to offer. Keira was different. “Why don't you tell me, and I'll let you know if we're on the same page.”

“Why don't I show you?” she whispered, and then pressed her mouth to his.

Air.

He probably needed air, because the edges of his vision were blurring and his brain felt as if it had been short-circuited. But breathing didn't seem as important as kissing her—harder, deeper—did.

Nathan groaned, pulled her in tightly to him and opened her mouth with a sweep of his tongue. She sighed into him as he tasted her, tangling their tongues together in a wild, frantic dance of need and promise.

He felt her hands tighten on his shoulders, her fingers digging into the soft fabric of his sweater to brand his skin with match-head dots of flame. Electricity hummed between them and Nathan surrendered to the sensations coursing through him.

He needed her.

Now.

He pulled her into his arms and settled her on his lap. His hands swept up and down her back, defining her curves through the soft knit of her sweater. She sighed heavily, pressed herself more firmly to him and rubbed her body against his.