Island Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story (The Kisses Series Book 9) (9 page)

“No kidding,” I agreed, still trying to catch my breath.

I expected him to ask me back to his place. I expected him to kiss me again, to press me against the hood of my car and show me what he was looking for. Instead of taking advantage of me in my vulnerable state of excitement, he gave me one more peck on the lips and then opened my car door for me.

“Best date ever,” he said. He grinned and fixed his baseball cap so it fit on his head better. “I look forward to the next one.”

I bit the corner of my bottom lip, as I kept myself from jumping him right there and having my way with him. I wasn't expecting him to be a gentleman and I wasn't sure how to react.

“Definitely,” I said slowly. I didn't know what else to do but get in my car. Gabe closed the door for me and patted the top of my trunk as he walked away, leaving me filled with a combination of emotion unlike any other. He could have had his way with me right there. All he had to do was invite me to his place and I would have been out of those jeans in a heartbeat, allowing this amazing man to take me. But he
didn’t
do that. He respected me enough to let our second date end with just an amazing kiss, knowing that there would be more dates down the road.

If anything, it made me like him even more.

The smile on my face felt permanent as I drove home in the dark. It felt like I had finally met a man who knew how to treat a lady and I decided that I’d do whatever I possibly could to make sure that I didn’t screw it up.

This time, I wanted neither of us to be the bad date.

“
H
arper
, you sound awfully cheery this morning,” Mom said within thirty seconds of me answering the phone. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“What do you mean, Mom?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. “I sound the same as I always do.”

“Not true,” she disagreed. I could almost see her shaking her head through the phone.

“Maybe it was the extra cup of coffee I had this morning,” I offered. “You know what caffeine does to me.”

“Come on, Harper. I know you better than you know yourself,” she informed me. “Tell me everything.”

It had to be mother’s intuition. She had the distinct ability to sense change in any and every inflection in my voice. No matter how hard I tried to sound “normal”, the fact remained that I actually
was
a little more cheery than I’d usually be at nine in the morning. The date with Gabe the night before still had me wired. All that I could think about was the incredible kiss we had shared in the stadium parking lot.

“Harper, are you there?”

My mom’s voice pulled me away from my idle daydreaming. I sat in my office chair with my fist under my chin, gazing out of the window, just lost in the memory of the night before.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said. A soft smile filled my face and I could smell his cologne if I closed my eyes.

“See, I can tell your thoughts are elsewhere,” she said. “Now spill it, Harper. Tell me everything before I have to pry it out of Rosie.”

Mom is nothing if not persistent,
I thought.
I suppose I can’t get too frustrated with her, though. God knows I can be the same way if I really want something.

“Okay, okay,” I replied. “What do you want to know?”

“Rosie already told me you had your second date with Gabe last night, so I want to know how it went,” she finally admitted. “Give me the details.”

Darn it, Rosie,
I thought.
Why do you have to gossip with Mother?

There was definitely no turning back on the conversation at this point. So I just went ahead and jumped in headfirst.

“Yes, Gabe and I went on another date last night,” I said simply. I wasn't about to offer up any more details. Especially not to my mother.

“And?” Mom pried.

“And, what?” I asked. “I just went on a date.”

“Come on, Harper. Don’t be like this.” Mom was frowning at me through the phone. I could feel it. “The only reason I’m asking is because I’m excited for you, that’s all. What did you guys do? Did he take you to another expensive restaurant or what?”

I chuckled at the last question. “No overpriced restaurant this time. But he actually did one better. You’ll never guess where he took me.”

“He took you shopping at Tiffany's?” Mom asked, her voice getting squeaky with excitement.

“No, Mom. That's where he would take
you
on a date.” I rolled my eyes. “He got us box seats at the Blue Jays game, Mom. Can you believe that? Not just any box seats, though. We sat in the owner’s box.”

“You’re joking,” she replied. “That's not a date!”

“Nope, not kidding,” I informed her. “Oscar Demoya sat behind us the entire time. The
owner
of the Blue Jays gave me high fives whenever the team scored a touchdown.”

“What kind of date is that?” Mom asked, clearly not understanding why I was so happy. “He took you to a football game? That's not a date with a girl! That's something you do with your guy friends. He needs to take you out shopping. Or to a movie...”

I shook my head and only half listened to my mother rant about what a horrible date idea a football game was. I didn't care. A smile crossed my face and I closed my eyes, reliving the memory from the night before. Instantly, I could feel the excitement of the game again and the butterflies in my stomach from my crush on Gabe. I thought about his green eyes and smile, his smell and the way he tasted when we kissed.

My thoughts were broken, though, this time not by my mother but by a knock on my front door. I opened my eyes and sat up in my office chair.

“Hey, Mom, can I call you back?” I interrupted her. She was talking about proper foot apparel for dates now and how cleats just wouldn't cut it. “Someone’s at the door.”

“Just go see who it is. I’ll wait,” she responded with an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, hold on.” I set the phone down and ran downstairs to see the deliveryman walking away from the front door. Sitting on my small patio was a cardboard box. I stepped out and grabbed it, then spun around, using my foot to close the door.

“What’s this?” I wondered out loud. “I’m not expecting any packages.”

My mom was still on hold upstairs, but I wasn’t in a huge rush to continue her lecture of how a sporting event wasn't a real date, so I grabbed some scissors from the kitchen drawer and used them to cut the tape on the box. When I opened it up, the first thing I saw was some shiny blue cloth. I reached in and pulled it out, letting it unfold in the air in front of me.

“No. Freaking. Way,” I gasped.

In my hands, was a brand new, totally authentic, Blue Jays jersey. It was a girl’s version, so the sides of it were slimmed in a bit. On the back there was the number sixty-seven, Peyton Boyying's number. My favorite. There was only one person who could have sent this to me, but I glanced down at the box it came in just to check. Sure enough, Gabe’s name was scribbled on the return address.

This thing must have cost at least two hundred bucks,
I thought, as I slipped it on over my t-shirt.

It fit perfectly. I ran my hands over the smooth material, noticing how expensive it felt and almost feeling guilty about having it. I never splurged on anything like this and certainly wasn’t used to others doing it for me. I was touched by it, though, and completely thrilled.

I know what I’m going to be wearing every single Sunday during football season from now on,
I thought.
Every day forever, really
.

With my new jersey on, I made my way back upstairs to finish the conversation with my mother. Once in my office, I sat down at my desk and picked up the cell. My smile was wider than ever as I beamed with joy from the surprise gift from Gabe.

“Hey, sorry about that, Mom.”

“No problem, honey,” she replied. “Who was at the door? It wasn’t your new boyfriend by chance, was it?”

“No, no,” I said. “Just the delivery man dropping off a package. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“What were we talking about before you answered the door?” she asked. “Oh yeah, Gabe.”

“Yes, Gabe,” I stated, with a dreamy smile plastered across my face.

“I can't remember the last time you went on a second date,” she replied. “Do you see a future with him?”

“Mom, I’ve only seen him
two times
. It’s impossible for me to answer that question,” I said, as my smile faded with annoyance. “But I can tell you this: he’s a pretty amazing guy, at least from what he’s shown me so far. I mean he’s taken me on two of the best dates I’ve ever had. He’s definitely making a solid first impression.”

“So you went to Dove’s restaurant on your first date and then got box seats to the Blue Jays game on your second,” she paused, worry coming into her voice. “I’ve got to ask, Harper. What does this guy do for a living?”

I rolled my eyes, as the snooping side of my mother began to be revealed. “Don't worry, Mom. He's not a mafia king,” I teased her. “He’s a software engineer or a computer programmer. Something like that, I don’t really remember exactly, and it's not important.”

“Harper, I don’t think software engineers make enough money to spend a couple of thousand dollars on the first two dates with a girl. That takes serious cash, you know? Unless he took out a loan or something to try and impress you.” She let the assumption that he was bad with money just hang in the air without actually saying it. Of course the man I finally show interest in, the one that will finally get her off my back, has
something
wrong with him.

“Mom, does it really matter what he does or how he got the money?” I asked. “Shouldn’t it just be enough that he took me out on some nice dates?”

“I guess you’re right, Harp. It’s not super important how he got the money,” she replied, but without conviction. “But it is kind of important that you know what he does for a living.”

“Why?” I snapped back. “
Why
does it matter?”

“Because it seems like you don’t really know anything about him,” she explained. “It worries me.”

“That’s not true, Mom. I know
plenty
about him,” I replied, feeling defensive.

“Really? Like what?” she asked. “Tell me everything you know about him.”

It took everything I had not to hang up my phone in frustration. I thought about her question, though, and quickly realized that she was right. I really
didn’t
know very much about the guy, except that he worked with computers and appeared to have a lot of money. I didn’t have a good answer for her, so I decided to just dodge the question the best I could.

“He’s overall a great guy. I think that’s all I need to know right now,” I stated. “Can't you just be excited for me for one minute?”

“Harper, I just want you to be happy,” she said. “There’s no need to be short with me. I just want what’s best for you.”

“You want me to be happy?” I asked, feeling my blood pressure begin to rise. “I’d be a lot happier if you stopped second-guessing everything that I enjoy in life! Why can’t you just stop with the questions and accept that I simply had a good night? Why do you feel like you need to plan out my entire life for me, just because I had
one
decent date. It was just a date, Mom. He’s just a guy and it was just a date. Can we please leave it alone?”

I had gone from smiling with joy to yelling at my mother in less than thirty seconds.

“I’m not second-guessing anything,” Mom replied, irritation and exasperation in her voice. “And I’m not planning out your life, Harper. I just want you to be happy and I don’t want you to mess it up with this guy. He seems like he could be amazing and I’d hate to see you write him off as just more material for your website. I just want you to give someone a real chance, Harper. Time is flying by and you aren’t getting any younger. I only want what’s best for you.”

I felt like banging my head against the wall. This was just a new variation on the conversation we always had. I had a feeling that even if I was dating a billionaire, Mom wouldn't think it was good enough.

“I know, Mom. I know.” I sighed. “Look, can I call you a little later? I’ve got a lot of writing to do today and I need to get started. I’m sorry I yelled.”

“It’s okay, honey,” she said. “Let’s talk later on tonight when you’re not so busy.”

“Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, Harp.”

I hung up the phone and instantly felt a knot in my gut from speaking to my mother so angrily. I always felt bad when I snapped like that, but there were times when she’d just pry and pry until I couldn’t take it any more.

Still, though, as mad as she made me with her constant questions about Gabe, I couldn't really deny that she had a point. I didn’t know much about him and if I thought there was even a tiny possibility of this turning into a relationship, then had I better change that.

It really only left one option and that was to spend some more time talking to Gabe, which didn’t sound too bad at all. I needed to thank him for my new jersey anyway, which gave me the perfect excuse to call him and set up another meeting.

T
he GPS
on my phone told me to take a right onto Vista Drive. I pulled over and looked at it again, just to make sure that I had typed in the address correctly. There was no way that this was the right Vista Drive.

This is weird,
I thought.
There has to be something wrong.

I had been driving for twenty minutes, following the directions to the address that Gabe had given me to come visit him at his home. My GPS had led me to the bridge that connected to one of the islands just outside of Miami, but there was no way this was the right bridge.

“This can’t be right,” I said, as I checked the address for the second time.

I looked out across the water to a small body of land called Virginia Key. Massive mansions decorated the top of the hills. It was by far the most prestigious area in all of Miami. This wasn’t just a well-to-do part of town. The people who lived on the Virginia Key were a different kind of rich. They weren’t millionaires. They were billionaires.

The thought crossed my mind that I should call up Gabe and double-check on the address, but I decided not to pursue that. Maybe he lived in one of the guest houses or something. Besides, it was just a few minutes drive to the island and even if it wasn’t where Gabe lived, I figured I might as well check it out. I had lived in Miami most of my life and still hadn’t gone over there to see the castles that some people referred to as “homes”.

I turned onto the bridge and took the drive over the ocean. It didn't take long until I arrived at the other side. At the end of the bridge, the road ran into a giant gate, which was closed off and blocking my access. Next to the gate was a small building with a guard.

“This is ridiculous,” I said to myself. “This isn’t where Gabe lives. I should turn around.”

It was then that I realized I
couldn’t
turn around without driving up to the gate anyway, since there wasn’t enough room on the two-lane road. With a sigh, I pulled up to the small building next to the gate where I was greeted by a tall man in a security uniform.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said through the window. “How may I help you?”

“I think I might be in the wrong place,” I explained. “I’m looking for a guy named Gabe. I’m pretty sure I have the wrong address, though. Can I just turn around somewhere?”

“Gabe?” the guy asked. “Do you have a last name for him?”

I felt embarrassed, realizing that I didn’t remember the last name of the guy that I was dating.

“I think it starts with an H, but I can't remember exactly,” I admitted. “Honors? That sounds right. But if you can let me through the gate to turn around, I promise I won’t go any further than I have to. There’s just not enough room for me to flip my car around here.”

“What's your name?” the guard asked. I didn't have much of a choice, so I told him. The guy held his finger up. “Hold on one moment, ma’am. Let me just make a quick phone call.”

He closed his window and I watched as he picked up the phone. Even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I somehow began to fear that the guy was calling the cops to report an intruder. I pictured myself running from the law in high heels and chuckled. After a moment, he opened his window once more.

“Okay, go ahead,” he said. “Gabe confirmed your visit. Please pull through.”

My eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, but I wasn’t going to argue with the guy. So when the black gates lifted, I pulled my car through.

This is actually where he lives? The address was correct?

I had my hesitations, but my GPS told me to keep driving forward. According to my phone, I was still on the right path. I began to feel very out of place, though, driving my little beat up car toward the giant mansions.

“No wonder that guard didn’t trust me to just turn around,” I whispered, as I stared with awe at the homes in front of me. “This is probably the cheapest car that’s ever driven into this neighborhood.”

I only drove a half a mile, though, before I came across another gate. It was similar to the first. This time, a woman wearing the same security uniform stepped out of the building and up to my driver’s side window.

“Hi there,” she said, with a professional smile. “You must be Harper. May I see some ID?”

“ID?” I asked.

“It’s standard protocol, ma’am.” She smiled, but there was steel behind her gaze. I didn't want to mess with her.

“Um, ok,” I responded, as I dug into my purse and pulled out my driver’s license.

The woman took a glance at it and then swiped it through a little handheld machine, before returning it. “Have a great evening, ma’am.”

She then walked back into the building and opened up the gate, allowing me in. I knew that there were gated neighborhoods, but I had no clue that there existed any that had
two
sets gates to get inside. This was insane.

Finally, though, after getting through security and steering my car along the winding road that led between the homes, I made it all the way to the back of the island. It was then that my GPS told me I had arrived at my destination. I looked up to see what I’d have called a castle. The entire house was built out of stone and it stood proudly on the edge of the surrounding golf course.

“I guess this is it,” I said to myself out loud. “This is the address that Gabe gave me anyway.”

I pulled into the long driveway and parked my car. Before stepping out, I quickly glanced in the rear view mirror to sure that my hair and makeup looked good.

If this is where Gabe actually lives, then he has some explaining to do about his profession. There’s no way that a computer programmer could buy a place like this. No freaking way,
I thought.

When I walked up to the door and knocked. I wasn't sure if knocking was appropriate for a house like this. Perhaps a gong or a rope bell. I thought for sure that I had the wrong house. Then Gabe opened the door.

“You made it,” he said, with a smile. He opened the door a little wider to let me in. “You’re a little early, but I’m glad you’re here. I don’t have dinner ready yet, just so you know.”

He leaned in and gave me a peck on the lips. As he pulled away, I accidentally gave him an obvious once over. I couldn't help it. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt and gray slacks. He looked super cute.

“I wasn't sure I would make it,” I replied. “I was pretty sure that I had the wrong address.”

“Yeah, people tend to think that,” he said with a laugh. “Come on in.”

I followed him inside and looked around, doing my best to not let my jaw hit the tile floor. The home was huge and open, by far the biggest place I had ever stepped foot in. But it was also intimate and homey at the same time. The walls were all decorated with amazing, hand-painted modern art and each room was overflowing with comfortable and expensive-looking furniture. It looked like something out of a magazine or out of as episode of MTV cribs.

“This is where you live?” I asked, as I attempted to hide my surprise. I didn't do a very good job.

“Yep, this is it,” he replied. He turned and held his arms open. His eyes twinkled with enjoyment and I wondered how often he got to show his home off to surprised visitors. “Do you like it?”

How could I not?
I thought. “It’s really nice,” I said, trying to shrug as if this were all completely normal. “How long have you lived here?”

“I bought it a couple of years ago,” he said, as he led me across the main area of the home. “I used to live in downtown Miami, but I got kind of sick of the crowds. I wanted a retreat and when I saw this place, I just knew that I had to have it.”

We stepped into the kitchen, which was practically the size of the first floor of my house. All of the appliances were stainless steel and the counters were made of black granite. On the far back wall was a full-size bar, completely stocked with every kind of alcohol.

“This is amazing,” I whispered. “Do you really live here?”

“This isn’t even the best part,” he replied. With a chuckle and a grin, he grabbed my hand and led me a little further through the house to the back patio. We stepped out to a view of the ocean that would have made a cruise ship jealous.

“Oh, my gosh. This is absolutely insane,” I whispered.

The guy owned a mansion with an ocean view. I couldn’t help but to be impressed, but also a little curious. I found myself wondering just how much money he had. What exactly did he do that gave him a house like this? Did he belong to a rich family maybe? Won the lottery?

It’s none of your business, Harper. It doesn’t matter how much he has,
I told myself.

If I was going to be with Gabe, I wanted to be with him because he was a great guy, not because he has an amazing house with a lot of money. Though, I had to admit that those things definitely didn’t hurt.

I stepped up to the railing overlooking the view and Gabe came up next to me, placing a hand on my lower back. A small thrill went through me and my heart fluttered at his touch.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked. “This view is the biggest reason I wanted this place.”

“I love the ocean,” I said, taking in a deep breath of salty air.

“Me too. I love it, because it’s a constant reminder of just how small we are in comparison to the world,” he said softly. “It’s humbling. It's honest and real.”

I turned to face him. The setting sun fell across his face, lighting up his eyes and accentuating his gorgeous features. Not only was Gabe absolutely beautiful but it was becoming clear that he was also extremely deep and intelligent.

“That was poetic,” I responded. “Did you write that yourself?”

“No, but I have more.” He laughed and then put on his best serious expression again. “I’m small compared to the world. It’s just a fact. I just like to remind myself of it so that I can stay humble. Everyone can use more humility.”

I couldn't help but laugh. He joined in, his laugh complimenting mine and making me feel comfortable standing there.

We had our arms wrapped around each other for a moment, just taking in the view. Standing there next to him, I realized that there really wasn’t any place I’d rather be. But a moment later, the peace was shattered by a crashing sound coming from the kitchen. We both turned around immediately in surprise.

“What in the hell was that?” I asked, suddenly a little spooked. Apparently this house was either haunted or we weren't alone.

“Sorry. Dropped a pan. I just brought in all of the dinner ingredients, Gabe.” A man wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt poked his head out of the patio door. “And, she's already here. Everything you need is on the counter.”

“Hey, Bastian,” Gabe said, as he led me across the patio. “This is Harper.”

The man came out to greet me, holding out his hand. The motion was reluctant. He was a good looking guy, though there was a faint scar running from his cheek to his eyebrow. His short, golden-brown hair was neatly groomed, which contrasted Gabe's messy look.

“I'm not actually supposed to be here,” he said. Gabe glared at him, so he smiled politely. “It's nice to meet you. How are you?”

“I’m well,” I responded, not quite sure what to make of him. Where Gabe was easy going, this man was brooding and intense.

“Harper, this is my best friend, Bastian,” Gabe jumped in. “I’ve known him forever. Sometimes he also helps me out around here, since I need all the help I can get.”

“Seriously, you do,” Bastian joked back, losing some of his intensity and opening up. “I don’t know what you would do without my help, honestly. This place would fall apart or you’d starve to death, and I’m not sure which would happen first.”

I giggled softly. “Did you say you brought dinner ingredients?”

“I did,” he said. His eyes were incredibly light and full of confidence and power. “Gabe said he wanted to make a special dinner, but he didn’t have time to get the food. I offered to help him out.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” I said. The dark aura he projected didn't quite fit with him bringing Gabe dinner. I wondered for a moment if he was in the Mob and that was how Gabe was making his money.

“Yeah, well, Gabe would do the same for me,” he said. “Right, Gabe?”

“Of course,” Gabe said, leading us back inside. “You’re practically my brother.”

I watched as Gabe walked over to the kitchen counter and pulled steaks out of the reusable grocery bag while Bastian helped.

“Are you going to make me dinner?” I asked, with a smile that showed my surprise.

“I wanted to try,” he explained. Bastian snorted and Gabe glared at him before turning to me with a defeated sigh. “I’ll be completely honest with you, though. I’m probably the worst cook of all time.”

Bastian jumped in on the conversation. “He’s not lying, Harper. The guy can’t even seem to make Ramen noodles without screwing it up.”

“Bastian, everybody knows that I make the best Ramen noodles in town,” Gabe shot back. He winked at me and made a face at Bastian. Bastian just rolled his eyes at Gabe and kept unloading the ingredients.

“Only eat his meal if you are an exceptional actress,” Bastian advised. “I was supposed to come and cook it all for him, so then he could claim it as his own after I left.”

“Way to rat me out, Bro.” Gabe glared at Bastian a little harder. Bastian just shrugged and kept setting things on the counter.

“I think it’s sweet that you wanted to try to make me dinner,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Even if you weren't going to do it yourself. I'd still eat whatever you made, though, Gabe.”

Bastian paused and looked over at Gabe. “You like her, so I'm going to cook so you don't kill her with food poisoning.”

“I'm not that bad,” Gabe protested.

Bastian turned toward me. “He is that bad. One time, he got our entire house sick. And we only had one bathroom. Let me tell you, it was terrible. And all his fault.”

“Thank you for that, Bastian.” Gabe massaged the bridge of his nose and made a face. “I may kill you. And not just with food poisoning. I'm still semi-trying to impress her.”

“Don't worry, you already impressed me,” I assured him. I came over and kissed his cheek. “But, I would probably prefer it if you didn't cook.”