Single Dad CEO: A Billionaire Boss Romance Read online

  Somehow, when she says ‘who she wants’ my mind drifts away from Abbie completely. I can’t stop looking at Jessica, her hand warm in mine and her skin so very soft where I’m touching it. I tug on that hand, almost instinctively, but I barely need to before she’s right in front of me, her head tilting up toward me.

  I don’t think as mine comes down to meet her, my mouth brushing those full, gorgeous lips as I’ve imagined so many times in the last few weeks. It’s just a light touch, almost nothing at all, but it becomes more almost instantly. I’m not sure who presses forward first, but in the next moment, our mouths are moving against each other - warm and intent, the softness of her lips feeling divine against mine as my other hand comes up to cup the back of her neck, pulling her into me.

  She shifts forward at the same moment, her body pressing up against me as our mouths open, the kiss deepening until I’m tasting her, hot and sweet and eager. Lust that I’ve barely let myself feel floods through my body as we grind up against each other, weeks of pent-up need and desire that have finally been released.

  It’s perfect.

  It’s better than I ever could have imagined.

  Everything I remember - and so much more.

  Jessica.

  Oh my god—

  She jerks back in the next moment, stumbling away from me as she gasps, looking back at me with something closer to horror than the ecstasy rushing through my veins.

  “I can’t do this—” She chokes out, shaking her head once, hard. “I can’t—not again.”

  Before I can react to the sudden shift in everything, she backs away - then turns, almost running for the door.

  “I—what—”

  I stand there as my mind struggles to process the sudden kissing, the fire in my veins and how, for a brief moment, it was like everything I’d been missing was suddenly right there - and then the rejection, the disappearance of it all the very next second.

  By the time I can think again, I’m already at the door.

  Wanting - needing - to go after her.

  To talk.

  No, not really to talk.

  To kiss. To finish what we were about to start.

  What we started years ago.

  To show her ‘yes, again’ in any way I have to.

  It’s only with my hand on the door that I pause, glancing back.

  Abbie.

  My little girl sleeping totally unaware in a room just past the living area.

  Jessica’s room is only just down the corridor, I wouldn’t be leaving her for more than a few moments, just long enough for—

  For what?

  I lean forward, my forehead dropping to the door in front of me as everything else in my life suddenly swamps me - not enough to diminish the desire pounding through me, but enough to make me stop.

  The complications.

  Abbie. ExVenture. Our jobs.

  More than that, too.

  Jessica’s words. The horror in her expression.

  Not again.

  All the history between us, the past we haven’t talked about…

  What can I say, in the face of all that? What can I tell her?

  When I have Abbie to think about, my company, all these responsibilities.

  I’m not seventeen anymore. I can’t go chasing the girl who drives me crazy on a whim, on a lust-fueled need, with only vague hope and unspoken potential to sustain us. It’s not like it was back then. It’s not just about me - or us.

  And look how all those teenage hopes and dreams worked out in the end. They’re never going to be enough again.

  “God damn it.”

  I slam the palm of my hand into the door, frustration and need twisting through me as I turn away - the bitter tang of disappointment following me back into my own suite.

  Into my own bed.

  Where thoughts and images of what just happened - how it all felt - flash through my mind, consuming me totally.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jessica

  After that night, I don’t see much of Kenneth before we get home.

  I’m not sure whether it’s deliberate - whether we’re avoiding each other or not - but I can’t help feeling relieved.

  My head is a mess. My emotions are all over the place and right now, it’s all I can do just to make it through the last day of this trip and get back home.

  To the weekend. To distance and space and time.

  A chance to sort through what happened last night - and what the hell I can do now.

  The few interactions we do have - the taxi to the airport followed by the flight home - I let him spend time with Abbie and try to distract myself with other things.

  While I was away with them this week, I almost felt like I was a part of that sweet relationship - bantering along with them, looking after Abbie and being a part of all the excited things she’d tell her Daddy, while enjoying some of the connection it gave me with him - and I’m not going to lie, I had a great time with it.

  But that was when I was just helping out. Now, after kissing Kenneth last night…being part of that is totally different.

  And definitely not something I can risk.

  Even if I do feel reluctant as I try to focus on other things, separating myself from what Kenneth is doing with Abbie.

  Because of Abbie. That’s why you’re reluctant. After spending so much time with her, you’re going to miss that little girl.

  I tell myself that, and it’s true. I’m just not sure it’s the whole truth.

  By the time we part in Springfield, I feel awkward and uncertain and confused enough - and totally unable to say anything to Kenneth while Abbie is right there - that I can’t wait to get back home and away from him.

  Not that I have any idea what I would have said to him, if I could have.

  But I’m sure if his daughter hadn’t been there, something would have come out, one way or the other.

  All these whirling emotions feel crazy enough that I’m not sure I have any control over them at all.

  I walk in the door to a streak of black darting over towards me - and I’ve never been more glad to see Pan in my life.

  “Ohh, Pan!”

  I pick him up as he tries to wind himself around my legs, meowing for attention, and cuddle him against my chest.

  “Oh, god, Pan, what have I done?”

  I think he’s slightly startled to be straight in my arms, but I hold him to me and stroke him anyway, not even bothering to take my coat off as I maneuver us over to the couch and flop down on it.

  The place I’ve wanted to be all day.

  He fidgets on my lap, butting his head against me, and I scratch his ears as I cover my eyes with the other hand.

  “What were we thinking?” I whisper to him, as everything about last night - everything I’ve tried to push away - comes straight back to me.

  He walks a circle around on my lap before flopping down and curling up in a ball, for once not fussing me for food the moment I see him.

  “Did Mandy overfeed you again?” I murmur idly, still stroking his head.

  From the purring, I assume the answer is ‘yes’. Pan has always been very good at convincing our neighbor that he’s half-starved.

  “That’s okay.” I say softly, more grateful than I want to admit for the soft warmth and companionship right now. “Love you, Pan.”

  The purring is more than enough of a response and I sigh as I let my head sink into the back of the couch, the confusion overwhelming me.

  Every time I close my eyes, it feels like I see Kenneth standing right there in front of me - the boy I remember, and the man that’s slowly filling in those memories with something else.

  Looking at me. Touching me. Kissing me.

  Telling me things I never would’ve expected him to share.

  Showing me…himself. Opening up like that…

  Kissing me.

  Oh, god, kissing me.

  I haven’t been kissed like that in years.

  Maybe not
ever, not even…before.

  The chemistry, the emotion, the sudden raging desire…all of it, just impossible.

  I moan softly and Pan cocks his head at me, before both eyes shut again.

  I went to sleep dreaming of that kiss. Of that - and more. Of what would have come next.

  The feeling of his arms around me, our bodies pressed together, how hard and perfect his felt against me. How much I wanted him - so much it terrified me.

  Still terrifies me.

  I can’t. I know I can’t. For a million reasons, I can’t.

  But I want to.

  Which is the most dangerous part of all of this.

  I try to remind myself why I shouldn’t want to - all the reasons I have to resent him - but instead of the familiar fire and anger, it just makes me sad.

  He broke my heart once. I can’t risk letting him do it again.

  And I’m scared that if that kiss had gone on any longer - if I’d spent any longer with him and his daughter - I would have been very much at risk of my heart getting involved.

  It always does that. However much you try to guard it, it seems to jump in without thought, whatever you do.

  It’s stupid. It was a kiss. This shouldn’t be about your heart at all.

  But…it was a kiss with the boy I used to love.

  My one real love. The only one that ever affected me.

  “Damn it, Pan. God damn it.”

  I fight the memories that want to wash over me. The relationship that had seemed so perfect, so unbelievable and blissful - until it ended, out of nowhere.

  The total devastation it wrought in my life.

  The hesitation I felt in every other relationship I’ve ever been in - the unwillingness to trust that anything could be real.

  He broke my heart once, back when life was simple and we could have done a million things to make it work. He chose a fresh start and an exciting new life over what we had.

  So, now? When life is hard and complex and he already has a dozen different responsibilities?

  How do you think that one’s going to end, Jessica?

  However much I keep dreaming of his touch, keep looking at him and imagining what could be - what could have been - I can’t trust him. I trusted him back then, and I shouldn’t have.

  I can’t make the same mistake again.

  So stop damn wanting to.

  “How can I, when I see him every day?” I whisper to Pan, scratching his ears as he drifts off to sleep. “When all I can think about is…”

  I don’t say it. Not out loud.

  I’m sure Pan doesn’t want to hear - and I can’t afford to say it.

  To bring those images to life. To have the desire that’s still there, unfulfilled and demanding, flare back to the front of my consciousness.

  For the first time, I seriously think about giving up the job.

  It’s not working with the ex who broke my heart - or even the boss I accidentally kissed. We can get over that, I’m sure, even if it would be awkward.

  It’s working with the man who does this to me. Who makes me want him. Fantasize about him.

  He’s kissed me once. If it happens again…will I have the strength to stop him?

  Do I even want to?

  “I can’t trust myself around him, Pan. Not anymore.” I tell my mostly-asleep cat, feeling restless.

  I want to get up and pace, but after he was loyal enough to lie down and comfort me, I can’t bring myself to disturb him. So instead I fidget on the couch and face the idea that I might have to stop working with Kenneth.

  “He’d let me ask for a transfer.” I say, half thinking out loud and half talking to Pan. “He’s decent enough for that. He might even want it himself.”

  That thought stings, but I don’t let myself dwell on it. He’s perfectly entitled to feel like this is all too hard, too.

  “I could work for someone else. The bump in pay for being the CEO’s secretary was nice, but I was doing okay before. It wasn’t too hard, scrimping a bit.” I say, but for some reason hearing the justification out loud just makes me feel worse.

  If you transfer, you won’t see Kenneth anymore. You won’t get to be around him all day.

  Can I live with that? Can I give that up?

  “Oh, fuck.” I mutter. “You’re so totally screwed, Jessica. How do you always manage to screw up—”

  My cell rings, totally startling me out of my confused trail of thoughts and I scramble around for it, upsetting Pan as he meows at me and springs off my lap.

  “I’m coming.” I mutter as I walk toward the bag I left in the hall, my mind still on Kenneth.

  “Miss Reynolds?” The voice on the other end is familiar, but upset, and I can’t quite place— “Jessica?”

  Angela. The care home.

  “Angela - is everything okay? Did something—”

  “I—I’m really sorry, dear, I’ve been trying to get hold of you—”

  “I was on a flight.” I say, cursing that fact as panic rushes through me. “What’s happened?”

  “Thomas had another stroke earlier today - he’s in hospital and we haven’t heard anything but—well, I’m sure they would have called you, but I wanted you to know—”

  “Oh god. Oh no. Ohh…” I close my eyes, my breath stalling as I clutch the phone to my ear.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t know anything else, but we caught it early, I know that—”

  “Yes. Okay yes, thank you. Thank you for calling. I—I’ve got to go.”

  I click the phone off, belatedly noticing the missed calls and voicemail that I never checked when I came in, too shocked and scared to feel rude about ending the call as I rush to grab my coat and bag. I almost forget the car keys as I rush out of the door, trying to hold back the tears - trying to hold back everything until I know exactly what’s going on.

  It doesn’t stop me fearing the worst as I rush to hospital. She said they caught it early, but I still don’t know what that means - what might have happened.

  You should have checked. You should have known. Too distracted by your own silly problems to even think…

  Every worst-case scenario flickers through my mind as I drive and I feel like I’m being hollowed out from the inside as I walk into the emergency room, the same way I did all those months ago.

  The first time.

  Not again. Please not again. I can’t…I don’t know…

  I tell them who I am and who I’m looking for in a daze, waiting as it seems to take them forever to bring up the information - and then they want me to confirm a dozen different insurance details that the care home already filled in.

  In the middle of it all, an almost distant thought occurs to me. I can’t afford that pay cut now. Not with these bills to pay too. Not with the risk Gramps might get worse. I’m going to have to stay working for Kenneth…

  I don’t even process it, though, I just want to get to him. I want to stop filling out stupid forms and see him. I struggle not to scream at them to at least tell me something - but it’s not like they even know.

  “Is he alright? Just tell me whether he’s alright.”

  Instead, they give me directions to the ward he’s on and I have to force myself not to run down the halls.

  When I finally get to the right place and they lead me to his room, I’m almost hesitant to ask again - because they know, because if it’s not good, if the answer—

  “Is he alright?” I breathe, barely hearing myself, but needing to get it out.

  Needing to know, one way or the other.

  “He’s stable.” The nurse leading me to the cubicle murmurs, looking at me. “I can’t tell you much more than that - I’ll ask the doctor to come and talk to you.”

  I don’t like the sound of that, even though I tell myself it’s just procedure.

  He’s stable. That’s something, isn’t it?

  She lets me in and I rush over to his side, a conflicting mix of desperation and caution filling me.

 
“Gramps.” I murmur, reaching out for his hand as my eyes run over him. “Ohh, Gramps, what’s happened…”

  I have to take a shaky breath and stop myself, not quite trusting my voice.

  He looks…worse.

  There’s no other way to put it.

  His body is covered by the sheets and gown he’s wearing, but his face…one half of it is obviously more slack than the other, drooping slightly - and I can’t help my fear when I see it.

  How bad was this?

  “Ohh please, Gramps. Don’t leave me, too. You can’t leave me…”

  Part of me hates that I’m making it about me, but I can’t help it. I’m scared not just for him, but for me too. I don’t know how I’d cope, what I’d do, he’s the only one I have…

  “Please…please be okay…”

  I keep talking to him, keep whispering, sitting beside him and pouring all my energy into wishing and wanting for him to get better. Hoping it might help. Feeling pathetic and helpless that it’s all I can do.

  He doesn’t wake up while I’m doing it - and by the time the doctor comes around, I’m almost too scared to ask him to tell me.

  Unable to bring myself to ask the question, I just look at him, feeling totally wretched.

  “I’m Jack Ferns, one of the doctors looking after Thomas.” He says softly. “And you’re…?”

  “Jess—Jessica Reynolds. His granddaughter.” I supply, even though I suspect he already knows. “I—I—is he—what—what—?”

  I don’t quite get it all out. It feels hard enough to say that much.

  “He had a stroke.” Jack says, his sympathy obvious. I guess I look that bad myself. “He’s stable now and he’s going to be alright, but we’re not sure how much damage it might have done. He was brought in in the early stages, which helps, but since it’s his second stroke, we’re going to have to wait and see to work out the full impact.”

  “It…it looks worse than…than the first one.” I say, hoping he’ll contradict me.

  He gives a slow nod, confirming my fears. “It was - but the first was fairly minor, as strokes go. There’s a good chance he’ll make a good recovery, but we can’t know for certain yet. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

  I nod, biting my lip and rocking slightly in the chair, trying desperately not to burst into tears right in front of him. I try to tell myself I need to be strong - I need to be here for Gramps - but it’s hard. He’s always been the one to be there for me. Even after the first stroke, by the time I got to Springfield he was still looking at me with that sparkle in his eyes telling me he’d had a little mishap but he’d sort it out in no time.