The Billionaire's Masquerade (The Friendship Series) (4 page)

“Is that why he moved out here to Cape Elizabeth?” she asked softly, feeling sadness and compassion for the man she hadn’t yet met. “But if he hates people and the financial world so much, why does he continue to invest?”

Emerson shrugged. He couldn’t really explain why he hadn’t simply retired from the investing world completely. He had enough money stored up for several lifetimes but there was just something about investing, in drawing conclusions about where a company or even a country or commodity was going to go. It was like a puzzle, a mystery that was an almost compulsive, driving need within him. “I can’t really answer that question,” he told her honestly.

“What’s his secret?” she asked slyly with a huge grin.

Emerson looked at her and wanted to take her into his arms and make love to her right here in the sunshine. He wanted to put that smile on her face because of a joke or because he made her feel good, not because he had some secret investing strategy he could relay to her. There wasn’t really any sort of trick to what he did anyway. He just read the news and saw the bigger picture.

“Perhaps his secret is here, in the water and the sunshine.”

That definitely wasn’t the answer she was looking for. She frowned and shook her head, trying to understand but coming up empty. “I don’t get it.”

He smiled gently and took a long sip of his lemonade. “I didn’t think you would,” he said with resignation. “The man you’re looking for is the kind of guy who relaxes as often as he works. He doesn’t try to be the first to discover the next big thing, he looks at life, enjoys what comes his way and shrugs off the opportunities that he misses. There’s a lot out there to do. It would be difficult to try and have it all.”

“I disagree,” she replied primly. “And if anyone has it all, it would be Emerson Watson. The man has more money than god and all the power behind that kind of wealth.” She might be shallow to want that kind of power, but she didn’t care. She would never go back. She’d lived the life of a pauper and it wasn’t kind or gentle. It was having people take advantage of you because you didn’t have the power to force them to be fair and courteous. It was going without meals and walking long distances when the car broke down again. It was missing parties with friends because she either couldn’t get a ride to the party, or didn’t have anything appropriate to wear and was too insecure to go in what she had, knowing that the other guests would laugh at her outfit. Poverty was painful, not empowering.

Emerson saw the emotions flit over her lovely, delicate features and something struck him hard. She wasn’t just a flighty, greedy investor. There was much more to this woman. She had depth of character that was usually missing in the people who sought out his financial advice. “Is that what you want?” he asked softly. “Power and money?”

She thought about her two best friends she’d known from elementary school all the way through college, Nikki and Brianna, both of whom had struggled just as hard as she had over the years. Brianna was a reporter who loved reporting on the beauty in the world, even if it was a garden party or the latest society wedding. And Nikki was a sweet, kind, gentle, dynamo school teacher who loved her job but not all the abuse she had to take from the parents who liked to push her around. She thought of her parents who had lost their house because of a corrupt mortgage company. The error had been rectified, but not before they’d been kicked out of their house.

She straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine, refusing to go back to her old life. “Yes. I want power and money.” She didn’t go into the reasons now, but her chin jutted out defensively. “I know some people think that desire is shallow, but I don’t care.”

“Do I look like I have a lot of money?” he teased.

Rachel’s eyes focused on the man, coming back to the present. She shrugged one shoulder and took another sip of lemonade. “Anyone can have hidden wealth. I try hard not to judge someone by the way they dress or what they do.”

He was impressed. In his experience, most people in the investing community dismissed laborers as unimportant. People that provided a service would be beneath their acknowledgement.

Feeling awkward all of a sudden, Rachel stood up. “I’d better let you get back to your work,” she said, feeling uncomfortable, especially when he stood up as well. He was closer than she’d thought and she looked up at him nervously.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said and put a hand to the small of her back.

“No need,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice. She needed to get away from this man. She felt something for him, something strange that she didn’t completely understand nor would she allow this…vulnerability. And whatever it was that pulled her towards him, she didn’t have time for it. She was here on a mission. Discovering fascinating, muscle-covered gorgeous men was not on the agenda for the weekend.

“What’s the rush?” he asked when she started walking quickly back to her car.

“I’m just…”

Thankfully, her car was right around the next bush and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Here it is,” she said and turned around to face him, her car keys in front of her like a shield. “Thank you for the water. And the lemonade,” she said, thinking of his conversation. It occurred to her that she should probably thank him for the spectacular view of his chest as well but suppressed that thought as possibly coming out wrong. She wasn’t exactly sure how to thank a man for being buff anyway.

“You’re very welcome,” Emerson replied, thinking about how soft her lips looked.

She stood there, feeling like she should say something, anything. There was a long, awkward silence while she bit her lower lip, wondering what it would be like to kiss those hard lips or touch his fascinating chest.

She actually jerked backwards slightly when she realized what she was thinking. Goodness! Why had she let that thought form? How rude! She glanced at his mouth, then hurriedly away. She barely knew this man! She should not be thinking about kissing him!

“Well, thank you,” she said awkwardly again.

She turned around and was fumbling with her keys, trying very hard to get the key into the lock. His large, strong hand reached out and took the keys from her. Instead of unlocking the door, he took her hand in his, examining her nails. “You don’t get your nails manicured every week?” he asked softly.

She wanted to curl her fingers up into a ball so he couldn’t see her nails. It wasn’t that they were messy. But she did her own nails, filing them on Thursday nights and painting them carefully with clear nail polish. She didn’t need fabulous red or maroon nails. She didn’t think it was something to waste her time on. But now, with him looking down at her nails, she desperately wished she’d taken a moment to get her nails done by someone who knew what they were doing.

“No. I don’t really…,” she was flustered by his touch. And he was so tall! Even in her killer heels she still only came up to his chin. “You’re too tall,” she whispered.

His deep chuckle caught her attention. “It’s never been a problem for me before.”

She smiled, but she couldn’t see the humor. She was too nervous with him this close. “Can I have my keys back?”

“I’m going to kiss you,” Emerson told her, wanting to warn her for some reason.

She bit her lip and looked at his chest, trying to decide if she wanted that or not. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she finally came back.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” he asked her, but it wasn’t really a question. His hands moved to her arms, pulling her closer while his mouth descended towards hers. Slowly. So painfully slowly.

She should pull back. Put a hand on his chest to push him away. She should simply step out of his arms and tell him ‘no’ in a very firm voice. But she did none of that. She waited, barely breathing, for his lips to touch hers. She shouldn’t, but she wanted his kiss like nothing she’d ever wanted before. And when his lips finally touched hers, she sighed with the release of her breath. With trembling hands, she reached up and touched his cheek, feeling the roughness of his day-old beard under her fingertips.

At twenty-five years old, she’d definitely been kissed before. But none of those weak, momentary caresses could compare to what she experienced when his mouth touched hers. It wasn’t so much a kiss as it was a lightning bolt of desire that shot through her whole body. She trembled even while she moved closer, begging him to deepen the kiss. And when he obliged, she whimpered with the need that stormed her body, making her knees almost give out on her. It was too intense, too hot and she was shocked, but she couldn’t pull away. She couldn’t do anything but experience this man’s kiss and savor the moment.

When he finally lifted his head, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, not sure what to say. It was almost as if words would be wrong at this point.

She looked around, startled to realize that the birds were still singing and the wind was still pushing the leaves to clap as they danced in the sunshine. What was she doing? She looked up and realized that her arms had wrapped around his neck and his own hands were spread out on her back, pressing her closer. Goodness! She stepped out of his arms, feeling disoriented and stunned by how a simple kiss could distract her so completely.

“Yes…well…um,” she had no idea what to do next. She felt small and silly, as awkward as a teenager. “I’d better go,” she said, but it was only a whisper. She cleared her throat, trying to gain a bit more poise. Plucking her keys out of his hand, she spun about and slipped into her car. It took her several tries to remember how to turn on the engine but finally her fingers fumbled on the button and the small rental car roared to life.

She was grateful when the man stepped back because she was so flustered, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to avoid hitting him. Thankfully, she finally had the car turned around and was able to press the accelerator, speeding down the driveway and away from the man who had flustered her more than she’d thought was possible.

Chapter 2

Rachel sat uncomfortably in the rough, wooden chair, wishing she were anywhere other than here. This bar was for locals and being outside of the local community, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, that and the fact that she was still dressed in her business suit and red heels while the rest of the people in the bar wore flannel shirts and jeans with work boots that looked infinitely more comfortable than her three inch heels, which she planned to immediately throw into the trash when this maddening day was finally over.

She had just one mission now. She needed to introduce herself to Emerson Watson. If she could do that, get her face into his memory, she could leave here and introduce herself through a letter or phone call at a later date. Obviously, showing up at his house wasn’t the right approach since the man was rarely there. Which was ironic. If she owned that house, she’d probably never leave!

Rachel still didn’t understand how he could get so much done when he rarely worked. If she could just talk to him, pick his brain a bit, she might have a better understanding of how he worked. But that wasn’t to be, she knew. She’d have to approach him much more surreptitiously. Tonight was only an introduction, she told herself. Just a “meet, greet and get out of his way” event.

She twirled the glass of her white wine around in front of her, looking at the other patrons. They were all laughing and having a good time. It felt like everyone knew each other here. Sort of a “Cheers” type of environment. Which only made her feel even more awkward, since she didn’t know anyone.

When the doors opened up again, she looked in that direction, hoping to see an older, distinguished man with a frown or perhaps scowling eyes.

What she didn’t expect to see was Jack strolling casually through the doors. As soon as she saw him her mind screamed for her to hide. But there wasn’t any place to hide except under the table. As their kiss earlier today flashed through her mind, she actually considered hiding below the table as an option. She didn’t want to see him much less talk to him after that kiss. It had been too mind-blowing, too special. She wasn’t sure how to react to him now.

Unfortunately, the dratted man wasn’t going to let her hide. As soon as he saw her, he walked to her table. Not even waiting for an invitation, he picked up the chair on the opposite side of her table and sat down in it backwards, leaning his arms across the back. “So we meet again,” he said smoothly.

“Hey Jack!” someone from the bar called out. “The usual?”

“Sure!” he called back, not moving his eyes away from Rachel’s now-burning face.

“Were you able to accomplish your mission today?” he asked softly, his eyes surveying her pink features in the dim light of the bar.

She couldn’t hide her grimace. “No. I couldn’t find him anywhere,” she said, looking down at her wine glass. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Jack’s heart lurched with her words. Had she somehow found out about his identity? Who would have told her? “What do you mean?” he asked, playing along just to hear what she might say.

“The man is a ghost,” Rachel said with a frustrated sigh. “I can’t imagine where he’s gone, but he hasn’t appeared in any of the places the locals said he might be.”

He smothered a chuckle and watched her pretty green eyes, fascinated by all the emotions that were surging in them for him to see. “Is that why you’re here?”

Rachel nodded, lifting her glass to her lips and taking a sip, then cringing as the foul tasting wine hit her taste buds. With him sitting in front of her, the flannel shirt pulled taught against those broad, muscular shoulders and his long, jeans-clad legs stretched out on either side of her own legs, she was flustered and trying to regroup so he wouldn’t know how powerfully he impacted her.

So with all of that hot, studly masculinity turning her mind to mush, it was no wonder she’d forgotten how bad the wine was. She’d made the decision after the first two or three sips that nothing could make this foul concoction taste better. Pushing the wine glass away, she tried to school her features into something less revealing, trying to hide both her reaction to the wine as well as to the man.