At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? (14 page)

She eyed him warily—sitting down did not equal getting this over with as quickly as possible.

“Just hear me out, Macy. If you want me to go when I'm done, I'll go.” His face was earnest, imploring, and
she believed him. She'd give him this one last gift of her time and attention.

She moved to the couch and sat as far away as the three-seater would allow. If he was too close, she'd be tempted to crawl into his lap and stay there. She folded her arms under her breasts, as if that could offer some protection from temptation, from what he was about to say, from the entire situation.

“I'm listening,” she said in a rough whisper.

“Seth and I talked about this new claimant, J.T. Hartley, and how much of a threat he could be. I said there was a chance he really is a son of our father. The man kept a wife and a mistress for over thirty years—why wouldn't he have a second mistress, as well?”

She pressed her fingers to her temple, suddenly light-headed. He wanted to talk about his
family
when she was
dying
inside? “Please, Ryder, can we talk about this tomorrow? I can see you're tired from the trip—we can discuss it in the morning. I'll call you—”

He cut her off, his expression urgent. “You need to hear this now, Macy.”

She shored up all the courage she could, and, ignoring her own pain to concentrate on the story he obviously needed to tell, she nodded. “Okay. So you think your father could have had a second mistress. Makes sense.”

He flashed her a tight smile, acknowledging her willingness to listen. “Seth disagreed. He honestly believes Warner loved his mother, Amanda Kentrell.”

“Then why didn't he marry her?”

He shrugged. “Respect for my mother. Fear of a scandal. Wanting to keep access to my mother's money as well as his own. Maybe my mother wouldn't agree to a divorce. Whatever it was, Seth is certain that Warner wouldn't have cheated on Amanda.”

Despite everything else going on, she found herself intrigued enough to delve further. “Wasn't keeping a wife cheating on her?”

“My parents had separate lives, separate bedrooms for the few occasions when he came home. Seth's version has some possibility of being true.”

She couldn't help but think of Ryder as a boy, living in that sterile family. No wonder he had imperfect notions of the capacity of his own heart. She ached to hold him and explain, but she was far from the right person to do that.

So she did what she could—focused on what he was saying in the here and now. “If you give Seth the benefit of the doubt, are you now thinking J.T. Hartley isn't a brother? That his claim will fail?”

“He'd be stupid to make a claim with nothing to back it up.” Ryder scrubbed a hand through his hair, leaving the short strands mussed. “If Seth's right about Warner and Amanda, the old man could still have conceived another child after the marriage but before he met Amanda.”

The media and public would go crazy for a story about a new Bramson brother, between Ryder and Seth in age and staking his claim on the Bramson billions. “Will you share the inheritance with him?”

He leaned back in the couch and lifted one ankle to rest on the other knee, seeming even more tired than when he'd arrived. “We're setting plans into place now for either eventuality. Seth is adamant that it takes more than DNA to deserve part of the company.”

“What about you?” she asked, more concerned than ever about the shadows under his eyes and the stress he was under.

“To be honest, I haven't decided.” His fingers began tapping on the armrest and suddenly he seemed less
tired and more…as if he was…nervous. “My mind was occupied with another consequence of Seth's information.”

“Which is?” If it was enough to make Ryder nervous, then whatever it was, was bigger than anything he'd mentioned so far.

“If Seth's account is reliable—” he paused, swallowed “—my father was capable of love. My view of my childhood has been recalibrated.”

There was something big here, she could feel it, but she wasn't quite following. “In what way?”

“I thought my father was playing the field. Having two families, probably more. But it seems he had a woman he loved and two sons he cherished. They were his family. My mother and I were…an aberration.”

Pain for him lanced through her chest. It was an awful thing to discover, no matter his age.

She leaned in, reaching for his hand and entwining their fingers. “Ryder, I'm so sorry.”

He looked up at her, surprised. “I don't need sympathy—this is a good thing. Amanda, Seth and Jesse were the family he should have had if he hadn't married for money.” He turned in the couch to face her. “Do you understand what this means? He was capable of romantic love. My beliefs about myself and my genes were wrong. I'm not wired against loving one woman for life. I just need to marry the one I love, the way my father should have waited to find Amanda and married her.”

Her lungs stalled. The picture was beginning to come together—the call from her father, Ryder's visit today…He'd wanted to marry her for the company, the stock, the way his father had married his mother. But he realized now he should wait to find the woman he loved. And she couldn't blame him. He should have love.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down on it, willing herself not to cry in front of him. “That's why you cancelled the deal with my father?”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes searching hers as if asking for understanding.

Another jagged piece of her heart tore away, but she didn't shrink back, she smiled. She'd let him go to find love and happiness. More than anything, she wanted Ryder to be happy. She unlaced their fingers and stood, needing to break the intimacy before she said something that revealed the depth of her pain and made him feel guilty for doing the right thing.

She headed for the wet bar and poured two glasses of water from a bottle in the small refrigerator. “I'm glad you spent time with Seth.”

He followed and accepted the glass she handed him. “Just a damn shame it didn't happen before Jesse died.”

He leaned back on the bar, dominating her office with his size and presence. Macy gulped her water and turned to refill her glass, speaking over her shoulder. “Did you go to the funeral?”

“Yes.” He took a mouthful of water, then deposited his glass on the bar, his forehead puckered in a pained expression. “And burying a brother I hadn't known made me look at myself. Take stock.”

“Understandable.” She nodded, gripping her glass tightly, trying to gain strength from it, from anything, to see her through this.

“I've put things in their proper perspective now.” He moved to stand in front of her. “There's something I need more than money. More than the company.” He took her glass from her fingers, put it in the sink before he grasped her hands. “You.”

The world tilted and she gripped his hands tighter
to avoid falling over. “Me?” Her voice was so high it squeaked. She took a deep breath, calming herself so she could speak. “I thought you cancelled the deal so you could find the woman you could love.”

“I've found her.” His eyes were earnest, a window directly to his heart, his soul. “And I didn't want any question in your mind about my priorities, so I cancelled the sale. Macy, I love you.”

She swallowed hard. “You love me?”

“Hell, yes,”
he said roughly. He pulled her to him and held her firmly, and she could feel his racing heart beneath his shirt. Then he clasped her shoulders and leaned back, looking deep into her eyes. “And this is beyond business. Beyond inheritances, beyond all else—just a man in love wanting to marry his woman.”

The tilting of the world, the overwhelming feeling stopped, and all she could see was his face, and hear one word repeating in her head. Her knees buckled but he grabbed her waist and held her firm. “Marry?” she whispered.

“I love you. I need you in my life. If I have to let go of the company to prove this is all about you and only you, I choose you.”

She blinked up at him, unable to do much more than listen to what he was saying and try to comprehend it.

“Tell me it's not too late, Macy,” he said huskily. “If my leaving killed the precious love you had, I'll never forgive myself, but I'll understand.”

The uncertainty in his features, the need in his eyes brought everything back into focus and galvanized her. She laid a palm against his cheek. “Killed my love for you? Are you crazy?”

“All evidence so far would point to that, given that I was willing to leave the woman I love more than my own
life.” He shook his head and let out a self-reproachful growl. Then he laid his own hand over hers as it still rested on his cheek. “Tell me you love me,” he said, his heart in his eyes.

A stillness came over her, a sense that the world was just as it should be, that this was
right.
“I love you.”

His lips parted as his gaze darted from her eyes to her mouth and back again. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure.” She wound her arms up, around his neck, reveling in the shudder of his body at the touch.

“Then you'll marry me?” The rise and fall of his chest seemed to stall, as if he was holding his breath.

Macy looked deep into his eyes and felt a tear escape to run down her cheek. This man she loved with every beat of her heart loved her back with the same intensity—it was all there for her to see in his face. He brushed her tear away with a thumb and she felt another escape her lashes. She kissed him lightly, but what started as a featherlike caress of lips quickly flared into something hungrier, more passionate.

When Ryder pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. “You didn't answer my question,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“I'll marry you—” she let her hands drift across the broad expanse of his shoulders “—on one condition.”

“Name it,” he said, without hesitation.

Her hands flowed from his shoulders, down his arms until she found his hands. She linked their fingers, and smiled. “We don't ever spend eight days apart again. That was intolerable.”

Ryder smiled back widely. “I can agree to that.”

He leaned in and kissed her, and she melted, knowing she'd found her home. No matter where they lived, Ryder was, and always would be her home.

One month later

M
acy walked into her fiancé's office, Ryder's hand at the small of her back guiding her. She looked around, impressed by its size and view of Manhattan's skyline at night. After she'd finished the Chocolate Diva project, she'd packed everything she owned and had it shipped to Ryder's house. They'd kept to their vow and only spent a couple of nights apart at a time during the transition.

This was her first visit to his office, and she ran a finger along the shelf of a wooden bookcase. “Nice setup.”

“Ah,” he said with a smile in his voice, “but you haven't seen the best part yet.”

She turned as she heard the lock on the door click. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. “The best part?”

He strode across the room to the large oak desk and thumped a hand on it. “The desk. Solid enough for two.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Mr. Bramson, are you flirting with an employee?”

“No,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You don't class that as flirting?” She moved toward him. “You practically asked me to hop up on your desk.”

“Oh, that was flirting, sure.” He grinned. “It was the employee part that was wrong.”

“You're firing me?” He was going somewhere with this and she couldn't wait to see where that was. Life with Ryder would never be boring.

“Well, you told me once that it's best not to mix personal and business, and I have very personal, intimate plans for you. On this very desk, in fact. I have no interest in abandoning those plans, so I have no choice but to let you go.”

She didn't mention that technically, her project was over so he had no contract to “let her go” from—her report had recommended Chocolate Diva enter the Australian market and she'd handpicked a new team to take the next steps. She'd been reviewing some very attractive offers from other companies that had been impressed with her work for Ryder, and her fiancé had suggested they start their own business together, which had a strong appeal, too.

But the game was much too fun to ruin with details like fact.

She flicked her hair behind her shoulder and moistened her lips. “When you put it that way…”

“Besides—” he snagged her fingers and drew her
closer “—I have a few wedding presents that I think might make up for your shocking dismissal.”

The feel of him against her, his scent surrounding her, was as intoxicating as ever. She leaned her cheek against the crisp cotton of his shirt. “I like presents. But we haven't even set a date yet.”

“They're early wedding presents. You can have them now,” he said slowly, seductively as he traced lazy circles on her shoulder with his thumb.

She almost purred as his hands worked their magic. “I like the sound of them already.” Though nothing could be more of a present than Ryder himself. The gifts of his heart and his commitment were beyond her wildest fantasies.

“I've had your father's old company transferred into your name. All of it. Which means you also now hold stock in Bramson Food Holdings.”

She felt her jaw slacken as she pulled away to look into his eyes. She'd pressed him to go through with the sale, assuring him that she knew about his priorities. He didn't need to avoid the sale to prove anything to her—she was secure in his love, and it was in both his and her father's best interests. But she'd never expected this.

“Ryder,” she said, framing his face with her hands. “You wanted those shares. Keep them.”

He enclosed her hands in his and brought them to his lips. Gently, he kissed each one before answering. “I want you to have them. Though—” he grinned “—I was pretty much hoping you'd use them to vote for me as chairman when it comes to that.”

For a moment, she couldn't speak. He'd handed her control over his dream. For a man like Ryder, it was the ultimate vow of trust. Her heart melted. And she knew just the way to repay him.

She traced a line down his chest with one fingernail. “You'll have to play your cards right before then.”

Heat flashed in his eyes. “Will this help?”

He kissed her and lifted her onto the oak desk without breaking contact, moving in to stand between her thighs.

Breathless, she broke away. “Okay, you have my vote.”

He placed a kiss below her earlobe then whispered into her ear, “I'll just have to work on keeping it now.”

“I'm sure that can be arranged.” Her breath hitched as he drew her earlobe into the heat of his mouth. But then she remembered something. “You said wedding presents. Plural.”

“Ah, yes.” He straightened and cleared his throat. “This one isn't a wedding present so much as something I should have given you when I asked for your hand in marriage two months ago.” He pulled a small box from his trouser pocket. “But that night I couldn't think of anything except getting back to you as fast as I could, and I was seriously amiss. Then after you'd said yes, I wanted it to be exactly the right one, so I kept looking.”

He handed her the box and she opened it to find a princess cut pale blue solitaire diamond. “It's perfect,” she whispered, her eyes misting up.

He slipped it on her finger and then kissed her again. “I knew I didn't want a fancy setting or other stones around it, just a strong, beautiful diamond that needed no other adornment. Like you.”

She looked at the ring on her finger, then at the man who'd placed it there, and her love for him threatened to overwhelm her. She wrapped her calves around his thighs and pulled him as close as she could, needing him more than ever.

“Ryder,” she whispered past a ball of emotion in her throat, “I love you.”

He skimmed his hands up her thighs, his eyes drifting shut. “I love you more than I can say,” he said as he lifted her skirt higher, and she lay back on the desk, dragging him down on top of her.

Much later, she pressed a lazy kiss to the chest exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. She smiled up at him. “I think I can live with those compensations for no longer being an employee.” A thought occurred to her. “Now I own shares in your company, doesn't that make me one of your bosses?”

One end of his mouth twitched, and he stepped back as he began to button his shirt. “I was wondering when that would come up.”

“I'll try not to use it to blackmail you.”

Laughter danced in his eyes. “I appreciate it.”

“I have an early wedding present for you, too.” She pushed off the desk and straightened her skirt.

Ryder raised an eyebrow as he tucked his shirt into his trousers. “Cufflinks?”

“No,” she said and walked over to enjoy the view from the window, knowing he'd follow.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Monogrammed golf towel?”

She grinned. “Not even close.”

“Then you might want to give me a hint.”

She melted back into his solid chest. “Remember the day you came back to me in Melbourne?”

“Vividly,” he said, his mouth just behind her ear.

“Remember that night, back in my apartment, we became a bit…distracted, and you carried me to the bedroom?”

His arms around her tightened. “I still think about that night. And the things you did.”

She'd been replaying the night over in her mind, too. As well as the nights that followed—the lovemaking since they'd committed to each other had become more intense, more beautiful. Their trust had become absolute and the effect was amazing. And it had all started with the night he came back for her.

She turned in his arms and met his warm brown gaze. “Remember we were so carried away we forgot protection?”

He stilled. “You're saying…”

“That in approximately eight months—”

He claimed her mouth before she even finished the sentence. He kissed her hungrily, possessively, and after timeless minutes, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. “That was the best night of my life for two reasons now.”

“Mine, too,” she whispered. “But I think we have many more best nights ahead of us.”

A slow, sexy smile spread across his face. “I guarantee it,” he said and kissed her again.