One Night With a Billionaire (Novella): The Perfect Man (10 page)

“What about you? Will you like that?”

“You mean will I like sleeping in your bed every night and making love whenever we feel like it?”

He chuckled. “Among other things. Listen, I can give you a much better proposal than this. You don’t have to say yes yet. Let me get the ring and do it up right.”

“Good grief. Never mind all that drama. My answer is yes, I will like being married to you. I will like it very much.”

“Good. I’ll slip the ring under your pillow some night after we’ve had lots of good sex. How about that?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“You don’t care about the ring?” He should have known that, too.

“I only care about you.” She met his gaze.

“And that’s why I’m the luckiest man on Earth.”

“And I’m the luckiest woman. I guess that takes care of everything, huh?”

“Almost.” He reached for her seat belt and unbuckled it. “Except for the kissing part. Please stand up. My knees are killing me.”

Laughing, she let him pull her up and into his arms. Their kiss was long and heartfelt, punctuated by more murmured words of love. It lasted until the plane lurched and Suzanne came back to advise them of turbulence.

Drew held Melanie close for one second more and gazed into her eyes. “There’s so much to talk about—whether we want kids, where we’ll live, the size of the wedding, where we should go on our honeymoon . . .”

“We have a long plane ride. We’ll figure it out. But I know where I want to go on our honeymoon.”

“Bali? Tahiti?”

She shook her head. “Paris. There’s this small hotel there, and—”

“I can’t think of anything better.” He supposed at some point in his life he’d been this happy, but if so, he couldn’t remember when.

Epilogue

It was a three-margarita night when Melanie met her friends Astrid Lindberg and Valerie Wolitzky at Stetsons & Golden Spurs, their favorite watering hole in downtown Dallas. Two weeks earlier, Drew had joined them so Val could meet the paragon Melanie planned to marry, and Astrid could get reacquainted with the childhood friend she hadn’t seen in years. But tonight was just for the girls. Melanie wanted to show them the antique ring Drew had given her, which was perfect and so much better than a huge rock. And meanwhile, Astrid said she needed some advice on her own love life.

The three friends went back a long way. They’d met and bonded their freshman year at a small college in east Texas. They’d joined the same sorority, and because they were all only children, they’d cherished the sense of sisterhood more than most. After graduation, they’d stayed close. Val, the only one who wasn’t from the Dallas area, had deliberately taken a job with a Dallas law firm so she wouldn’t lose touch with her buddies.

Melanie’s wedding plans took up most of the first round of drinks. They discussed dress designs, venues, and the bachelorette party. Because Melanie was the first to get engaged, they spent part of the time on their phones doing internet research on current wedding fashions.

By the second round of margaritas, Astrid began to open up about her problems. Blonde and petite, she didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a large-animal vet, but she loved the work. She also came from money and was expected to marry a wealthy man. She was currently dating Edward, who had all the right credentials.

“My mother
loves
him,” Astrid said. “So does my father. Edward fits into my family beautifully. And he’s a nice guy. I just . . .”

“What?” Val, a redhead with an eccentric sense of style, leaned forward. “Is he terrible in bed?”

Astrid shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Melanie stared at her. “You’re practically engaged to the guy. You haven’t kicked the tires?”

“He hasn’t pushed for that, and neither have I. I don’t . . . like how he kisses.”

Val threw up her hands. “Don’t you dare marry him. Mark my words, a bad kisser is going to be a nightmare between the sheets. Somebody needs to educate this guy, but not you. And some men are tone-deaf when it comes to these things. Edward could be one of those.”

“But my parents are wild to have him as their son-in-law.”

Melanie laughed. “Yeah, but they don’t have to go to bed with him. Val’s right. Back in the Dark Ages, women had to make a bad match for the good of the family. Those days are gone.”

“Maybe it’s me.” Astrid polished off her drink. “Maybe I’m a cold fish.”

“You are not.” Val smirked. “We remember what you were like in college
.
You have the soul of a seductress, chica. You just need the right Zorro to light your fire.”

“Like Fletch.” Astrid gazed dreamily into her empty glass.

“Who?” Melanie leaned forward. “Who’s Fletch?”

Astrid glanced up, startled. “Oh, nobody. Just a client. He’s the one with the mare who’s having a rough time.”

“A client.” Val nodded wisely. “Methinks he’s a sexy client. Tell us more.”

“He’s a rancher. Like all ranchers, his money is tied up in land and livestock.”

Melanie studied her friend. Astrid moved in the same circles as Drew, so Melanie understood the issues more than she might have otherwise. “A cash-strapped rancher wouldn’t make your parents very happy, right?”

“No.” Astrid looked at Melanie. “He wouldn’t. My mother has warned me for years to marry someone with money so I’d never have to worry about his motives. But Fletch is not like that. I know he’s not.”

Their third round arrived, and they all drank a toast to true love.

Val was the one who asked the critical question. “How does this Fletch guy feel about you?”

“Ah, there’s the big question.” Astrid sipped her drink. “Sometimes I think he’s interested, but other times he acts as if I’m simply a vet he’s hired to take care of his pregnant mare. And he
is
a client, so I can’t very well make a move.”

Val cradled her goblet in both hands. “Sticky situation. But promise me you won’t go to bed with Edward until you’ve had a chance to find out if Fletch is on the market.”

“I agree.” Melanie raised her glass. “To talented lovers, which we all deserve.”

“Yeah.” Astrid touched her glass to Melanie’s. “May we all find a guy who floats our boat the way Drew does Melanie’s.” Then she glanced at Val. “Gonna toast with us?”

“I’ll toast the two of you. As for me, I’m on hiatus. No boat floating going on over here.”

Melanie met Astrid’s gaze. Now was not the time to confront Val about her issues. Melanie amended the toast. “To each of us finding what we need.”

Val looked relieved. “I’ll drink to that.”

The three woman clicked their glasses together. As Melanie drank her margarita, she counted her blessings. She never would have expected that a down-home cowgirl would end up with a Prince Charming like Drew. But she’d learned that love could come along when a person least expected it. She hoped her friends would find that out soon, too.

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

This story, and the series itself, wouldn’t exist without the vision and patience of my editor, Claire Zion. I’m grateful to her and to everyone on the InterMix team at Penguin for their enthusiastic support of the project. And many thanks, as always, to my assistant, Audrey Sharpe, and my agent, Robert Gottlieb.

Keep reading for a preview of the second installment in Vicki Lewis Thompson’s Perfect Man trilogy

TEMPTED BY A COWBOY

Available June 2013 from InterMix

“I can’t lose her.” Fletcher Grayson crouched beside the bay mare and stroked her sweat-dampened neck as she lay on her side in the foaling stall, her breath labored.

“We’re not going to lose her.” Astrid Lindberg was determined that both mare and foal would survive this night. Fletch had called her emergency line at ten pm. It was a testimony to her lack of a social life that she’d been home on a Saturday night.

She’d rushed out to the Rocking G, driving through a summer downpour. It was what locals called a trash mover of a rain, falling in endless sheets of water. Four hours later, the rain continued to pound the roof of the barn, and Janis still hadn’t foaled.

Astrid had monitored the pregnant mare for weeks, ever since the first signs of edema. Because of the swelling, Janis’s abdomen was far more distended than it would be in a normal pregnancy. The condition was worrisome, and recently Fletch had kept her confined to the barn and a small paddock to restrict her movements.

Some vets might have performed a C-section by now. Astrid preferred to see if Janis could deliver naturally, which would mean a better start for both mother and baby. Luckily Fletch agreed with her.

Fletch tended to agree with her on most things, which made her job as his vet much easier. It also made her life as a woman frustrating as hell. From her first glimpse of the broad-shouldered rancher, she’d been in trouble. Fletch Grayson was hot. And single. And a client. He was definitely off-limits.

“I think she wants to get up.” Fletch stood and backed away. Concern shone in his brown eyes. “I wish she’d just have that foal and be done with it.”

“Me, too.” Astrid rose and edged back as Janis lumbered to her feet. “Let’s move out of the stall and give her room to pace if she needs to.”

“Sure.” He followed her out and they leaned side-by-side against the front of the stall so they could observe the mare as she walked the perimeter of her enclosure.

Standing close together in this cozy barn watching Janis as the rain came down outside was the most natural thing in the world for them to be doing. Yet stormy nights always made Astrid long to be held, and it drove her crazy to be within touching distance of the yummy Mr. Grayson. She imagined the feel of all those muscles under his blue denim shirt and barely controlled a shiver.

He’d named his ranch the Rocking G because he had a fondness for classic rock and roll. This horse honored Janis Joplin, and the stable was filled with namesakes of other famous rockers. In Astrid’s opinion, Fletch was the one who rocked.

He’d hung his Stetson on a peg outside the stall. When he was nervous, he had a habit of running his fingers through his chocolate brown hair, which only made that wavy hair sexier. No one should look this good at two in the morning. Or smell this good. Fletch’s woodsy aftershave was one of the many things about him that made her pulse race.

He possessed a killer combo of square-jawed masculinity and a heart of gold. The same passionate love of animals that had propelled her into the field of veterinary medicine had caused him to sink all his savings into a horse-breeding operation. Although he was finally turning a profit, he did so only by carefully managing his budget.

They’d become so comfortable with each other during the six months she’d tended his horses that he’d shared major decisions, such as when he’d postponed the purchase of a new truck so he could install more efficient heating in the horse barn. She treasured those long conversations, even though they stirred up inappropriate thoughts. Would he be even better at pillow talk?

But she also treasured her professional standing in the Dallas area, so she wouldn’t be sharing a pillow with gorgeous Fletch Grayson. It was hard enough for a girl to be taken seriously as a vet in Texas, even harder for someone like Astrid, the daughter of a rich family. Besides, she didn’t know if he would welcome that idea. Sometimes she imagined him looking at her with interest, but that might be wishful thinking on her part.

“One thing’s for sure,” he said. “I won’t breed her again. She deserves a rest.”

“Yes, she does.” Although he didn’t know it, Astrid could offer to invest in his ranch and eliminate most of his money problems. She constantly battled the urge to do exactly that. But giving him money would change their relationship forever, and she selfishly wanted to keep that relationship as it was, even if friendship was all she’d ever have.

None of her clients realized she came from a wealthy family, and she preferred it that way. She’d learned from sad experience that being worth millions usually affected how people viewed her. She wanted to be seen as a competent professional who took her vocation seriously.

She might not need the money she earned, but she considered it validation that she was good at her job. Her parents wished she’d spend less time at work and more time at social events looking for eligible billionaires to marry. She didn’t care to take the time right now. Eventually she’d want a home and kids, and she’d probably end up with a wealthy man. Her mother thought that was the only way to avoid hooking up with a fortune hunter, and there was some truth in that.

“Good, she’s lying down again.” Fletch went back into the stall. “Maybe this is it.”

“Fingers crossed.” Astrid picked up her bag and followed him.

He walked around behind the horse and glanced over at Astrid. “I hate that you have to be up so late, but I really need—”

“Don’t give it another thought. I want to be here.” Janis, and Fletch’s concern for his favorite brood mare, had been her priority for some time. She’d reluctantly cancelled a trip to Paris with her girlfriends because Janis’s condition had been unstable. Now they were down to the wire, and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here in this stall with the mare . . . and Fletch.

He hadn’t owned the ranch long, only about three years, but he’d been a cowhand all his adult life, and the Rocking G was evidence of his ability to work hard toward a goal. She admired his grit more than she could say. Compared to him, she’d encountered no real obstacles in her quest to become a vet, unless she counted the expectations of her parents. They weren’t pleased that she’d chosen a profession that included getting covered in blood and occasionally horse manure.

Although their snooty attitude bothered her, she loved them deeply and couldn’t deny how much they’d done for her, in spite of their disapproval of her choices. They’d paid for her extensive schooling, and her trust fund had financed her clinic. To completely ignore their wishes and advice on marriage would be ungrateful.

But sometimes she wished that she could be what Fletch assumed her to be—a self-made woman in the same way he was a self-made man. She wondered if he’d respect her as much if he knew her career had been handed to her on a silver platter. Maybe he wouldn’t care. He seemed open-minded about most things. Still, she wasn’t ready to test it.

For now, they had a birth to attend. And finally, Janis appeared ready to get the job done. Astrid knelt behind her and said a little prayer. This was the moment of truth. If the mare couldn’t manage this on her own, Astrid was prepared to intervene, but that would require methods that would stress both mother and baby.

Fletch stroked Janis’s neck as he’d done before and crooned encouraging words.

“That’s good,” Astrid said. “Keep talking to her.” She had a sudden flash of what he’d be like in the delivery room waiting for his own child. He’d be solid as a rock, but empathetic, too.

“I’d sing her
The Rose
, except my singing has been known to stampede cattle.”

Astrid smiled. “I love that song.” She wasn’t surprised that he did, too. They connected on so many levels.

“You wouldn’t after I finished singing it. You’d beg for mercy.”

“Talking works just fine. I’m sure she senses your confidence in her.” So did Astrid. Knowing he trusted her with an animal he loved did wonders for her self-esteem.

“I hope so. But I have to tell you, I’m sweating bullets.”

“Join the club.”

And then Janis groaned, heaved, and just like that, the process started. No matter how many times Astrid witnessed the birth of a foal, she was awed by the first thrust of tiny forelegs, followed by a nose, a neck, and finally, the entire baby horse, all wrapped in a glistening, semi-transparent membrane.

Eleven months of effort culminated in one glorious miracle. She and Fletch had worried about this event for weeks, but the foaling, as with most equine births, took less than twenty minutes.

“Beautiful,” Astrid murmured.

“Are we good down there?”

“We’re good. We’re so good.” Astrid’s chest tightened with gratitude. “Janis has a beautiful baby.”

“Thank God.” Fletch’s voice was thick with emotion.

Astrid glanced up and caught a moment he might not have meant her to see. He buried his face against the mare’s neck and murmured something she couldn’t hear. Not wanting to embarrass him, she returned her focus to the foal, which seemed perfectly formed and healthy.

Janis had been Fletch’s first brood mare, and the horse had obviously won his heart with her gentle disposition. He cared about the foal, too, but his biggest concern had been for Janis. Convinced that neither mare nor foal were in distress, Astrid scooted away to let Janis attend to her baby.

Fletch also sat back on his heels as the horse maneuvered so that she could lick her newborn clean. He gazed at the foal. “It’s a colt.”

“Yep. The ultrasound was right. You never can know for sure with those.”

A grin lit his face. “And four white socks, like his mother’s.”

“He’ll look a lot like her.”

“I’d hoped for that. And now it’s official. Buddy Holly is in residence at the Rocking G.”

Astrid laughed. “Yes, he certainly is. They both seem to be doing great.”

“I can order the nameplate for his stall, now. I was too superstitious to do it before.” Fletch’s glance sought hers. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But after all, it’s my job.”

“I know, but you don’t treat it like a job. My previous vet did, which was why I stopped using him. I’ve watched you work with these animals. You put your heart and soul into it.”

She couldn’t imagine higher praise than that. “I love my work. That makes me a lucky lady.”

“And I’m lucky to have found you.”

Dear God, there
was
something more than friendship in those warm brown eyes. She swallowed. “Fletch . . .”

“I know.” His jaw firmed. “You’re my vet. I’m a client. I understand the parameters, but damn it, Astrid, does that mean we can’t . . .”

Her heart beat as if she were a wild creature suddenly trapped in a net. “I think it does mean that.”

“I could fire you.”

“You could.” That wouldn’t remove all the barriers. She’d still be a very rich woman and he would be a financially strapped rancher. But he didn’t know about that issue.

“I don’t want to fire you.” He got to his feet. “You’re a fantastic vet, a thousand times better than the guy I had before. I can’t imagine having anyone else now that I’ve seen how you work.”

She took a deep breath and stood, too. “I don’t want you to fire me, either.” She looked into his eyes, which mirrored the frustration she felt. “I love having you as a client.”

“Can’t I be a client and something more, too? Who has to know? I’m certainly not going to make a big deal about it.”

“Okay, let’s say we’re discreet.” She picked up her bag and walked out of the stall. “What if we discover somewhere down the line that we’re not right for each other? What happens to our client-vet relationship then?” She put down the bag and turned to face him as he stepped into the aisle.

His stance was wide, his expression calm, the epitome of confident male. “We wouldn’t discover that. You and I get along great.”

“In this setting, we do, but . . .”

“But what?”

She pictured dragging him to some charity ball hosted by her wealthy friends, or coaxing him to attend the opening of a show by some new darling of the Dallas art community. She’d been inside Fletch’s home. He liked western artists like Remington and Shoofly. He also didn’t seem like the tux-wearing type, but now wasn’t the time to reveal the difference in their lifestyles.

“Are you worried that we might not get along in bed?”

Oh, boy. Her hesitation had led him to the wrong conclusion. She wasn’t worried about that at
all.
“I—”

“Lady, we would burn up the sheets.” He smiled as he took a step closer. “And you damned well know we would.”

“Maybe.” The nearer he came, the faster her heart beat. It seemed to keep time with the rapid tattoo of the rain on the roof.

He chuckled. “I guarantee you do. I can see it in those baby blues. I wasn’t sure until this minute, when I finally got the courage to broach the subject, but we’re on the same page, you and I.”

“Okay, so I’m attracted to you, but acting on that attraction would be a really bad idea.”

He nodded. “You could be right. But that doesn’t keep me from wanting to kiss you.”

Oh.
She should protest, should move back, out of the magic circle he’d created with his considerable charm. But she couldn’t seem to do that.

“I know you have reservations about getting involved with me.” He reached for her and cupped her face in his big hands.

She closed her eyes. That touch . . . so gentle, yet sure. She’d imagined his touch for so long, and now she allowed herself to savor it.