The Perfect Gift: A Christmas Billionaire Sexy Romance (Three Wise Men Book 1) (7 page)

“Yeah. In a way I feel ashamed for having such low expectations.” Anger surged through her. That’s what Jack had done to her. He’d ruined her for every other guy because he’d been such a complete and utter bastard. “I don’t know why I ever liked him. I can’t believe I went out with him.”

Caitlin had obviously kept up with Erin’s change of tack. “You trusted him—and why wouldn’t you? The majority of men are nice. The majority of the human race is nice. But there is a small percentage that isn’t, and they spoil it for everyone else, destroying our trust. It’s Christmas though. Isn’t it a time for miracles? Maybe this is the guy you’re supposed to be with. Maybe this is Mr. Right.”

“Maybe,” Erin said doubtfully, “let’s not jump to conclusions. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

Caitlin reached out and rubbed Erin’s arm. “Jack really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

Erin knew she didn’t have to explain how hard it had been when her ex had shown his true colors. She’d spoken to Cait a lot on the phone at the time, so Cait was perfectly aware how difficult it had been.

“Don’t let him spoil this thing—whatever it ends up being—with Brock,” Cait said. “I know you doubt your own instincts now, but try to trust them at the weekend. Go with your gut feeling, and believe in the magic of Christmas.”

“I’ll try.” Erin finished off her ice cream. It wouldn’t be easy to get rid of all her doubts. Jack had destroyed her trust, and it seemed impossible to get it back. Could Brock really be as nice as he seemed?

Brock glanced across at Erin. She sat beside him in his car, looking out of the window at the countryside flashing by. True, it was a splendid view, the hills an emerald green in the summer sun, the sea glittering on either side of them as they headed along the peninsula to Opito Bay. But even though it was magnificent, it didn’t explain why she wasn’t saying anything.

It had taken until Thursday for her to accept his invitation to go away for the night. He’d texted on Monday to ask how Ryan was doing, and she’d replied to tell him he’d finally been discharged from hospital. After that, over the next few days, they’d exchanged several chatty, light-hearted texts a day, mostly about Ryan, sometimes about what they were up to and how their day was going. He’d fought against his urge to ask if she’d made up her mind, knowing he had to let her come to her own decision without seeming to pressure her, and he’d been relieved when she’d finally sent the text on Thursday.

I’ve decided, by the way. The answer’s yes.

His heart had leapt like a sixteen-year-old boy’s after he’d asked a girl to go to the school ball.
Excellent
, he’d replied, a big grin on his face,
shall I pick you up on Saturday at one o’clock?

I look forward to it,
she’d said.

They hadn’t mentioned it again, although they’d continued to exchange texts. He’d grown used to his mobile vibrating in his pocket. He liked holding appointments with the delicious anticipation of knowing he had another message to read from her, and he didn’t miss the glow it gave him every time he saw her name on the screen.

He’d arrived at Erin’s house on Saturday shortly before one to find her ready and waiting with her bag packed. Her eyes had been bright with excitement, and she’d even given him a quick kiss on the cheek before she’d gotten into the car. He’d wondered whether she’d find it difficult to leave her son, but the boy had waved goodbye to her at the door, holding his grandma’s hand, and she’d seemed happy enough when they’d driven away.

Over the last ten minutes, though, she’d grown quiet, and Brock had the feeling she was regretting her decision to go with him.

As he glanced over at her again, he saw that her brow had furrowed.

“I thought we were heading to Sandcombe,” she said, referring to the small but pleasant hotel nestled in the bush overlooking the marina. He’d just passed the turnoff for it. “Where are we going?”

“Paua Cliffs,” he said.

Erin’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, seriously?”

He gave her an amused glance. “Have you been there?”

“Of course I haven’t been there. A room costs more than a month’s rent! Are we really going there?”

“You want me to turn around? I can get a room for ninety bucks at the motel on the main road if you’d rather.” He was joking, but as he saw the look on her face, he realized Matt had been right.

The day after he’d met Erin at the hospital, he’d told his brothers what he’d organized for the following weekend. Charlie hadn’t seen anything wrong with what he’d done, but then Charlie knew more about his laboratory than he knew about women, whereas Matt was more attuned to the female species than both his brothers put together.

“You fucking idiot,” Matt had said. “We finally get you to go out with someone and you want to take her to a hotel. She’s going to wonder what you want in return.”

“I don’t want anything in return,” Brock had said, puzzled. “It’s a gift. It’s her birthday.”

“Dude, even men who’ve known their wives for thirty years only buy them an ironing board for their birthday. No wonder the poor girl’s concerned. It looks as if you’re taking her away for a dirty weekend.”

“I…” Brock had remembered the look on her face when he’d first mentioned it. “But I told her I’d book two rooms.”

“So sex didn’t enter your head at all then?”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far. But I swear that’s not why I suggested it. I thought I’d take her to Paua Cliffs. I thought she’d enjoy it—a nice dinner and then a room to herself. Women like that.”

“Aah,” Charlie had said, “Paua Cliffs. Nice. Classy.”

“Yeah. She’ll definitely think you want sex if you take her there,” Matt had advised. “You should have gotten her a box of chocolates and a dozen roses.”

“She’s a single mum. She doesn’t want flowers scattering petals over all the Lego on the carpet, more mess to clear up. What she wants is time to herself.”

“With you knocking on the door asking for a cup of sugar halfway through the night?”

Brock had sworn at his brother and hung up. Sometimes he felt as if they were all still teenagers.

Now, though, he had to acknowledge that, as usual, his brother had been right, and he should have stuck to chocolates and flowers.

Seeing a picnic stop ahead, he signaled and pulled over, then turned off the engine. A family sat at a table further along, munching on their sandwiches as they looked over the bay, but Brock ignored them, unclipped his seatbelt, and turned in the seat to look at Erin.

Her eyes were wide, puzzled. “What’s up?” she asked.

“Perhaps we should get something out in the open,” he advised. “As a family, the Kings don’t struggle to make ends meet.”

“I’ve gathered that.”

“All three of us work hard—I can’t honestly remember the last time I took a whole weekend off. I save lives on a regular basis—I’m not being flash, it’s just a fact, and I give an alarming amount to charity. So I’m not going to apologize for having money, or for wanting to spend a tiny proportion of it on the first beautiful woman I’ve seen in two years who presses my buttons.”

Her lips curved up a little. “I press your buttons?”

He sighed. “You do, Miss Bloom. I hope it’s acceptable to say that.”

“You’re being very generous,” she said. “I must sound terribly rude to you.”

“Not at all. Matt’s already given me a lecture about the appropriateness of asking a woman I barely know to go away with me. I know I’ve made a faux pas and I’m sorry—if I had my time again I would have just asked you to dinner. Rest assured I meant well, and I just want you to have a nice break and a good time. The thing is, if you’ve changed your mind, I’d rather you say now. I won’t be upset. I can’t say I won’t be disappointed because I was looking forward to having dinner with you tonight, but I’ll understand. But if you decide to come with me, then maybe we can put this behind us, move on, and just have a nice evening.” He heard a hint of steel creep into his voice and he stopped talking. He didn’t want to spend the rest of the day apologizing for having money or for wanting to treat her on her birthday. Equally, he wanted her to feel comfortable, or what was the point?

He wondered whether she’d be angry at his tone, but to his surprise a small smile played on her lips. “I know you meant well,” she murmured. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

That surprised him. “Nervous?”

She gave the little sexy shrug he was beginning to adore. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date. I’ve forgotten the… protocol.” She wrinkled her nose.

He smiled. She wore jeans and a white shirt, and she was as fresh and summery as the warm breeze blowing through the open window. “There’s no protocol,” he told her. “Not with me anyway. I just want you to be yourself. To have a good time.” He decided honesty was the best policy. “Look, there’s no doubt it’s strange for both of us. I haven’t dated anyone since Fleur died, and I have to admit I feel odd about it.”

Erin’s expression softened. “Of course, I’m sorry, I didn’t think of that.”

“Why would you? I know most people think it’s weird to have waited so long before getting back into the dating game. Charlie and Matt have been trying to get me to go out with girls for ages, but I just wasn’t ready, I guess.”

“Are you ready now?” she asked softly. Her eyes were the color of the ocean behind her, a deep blue. The breeze lifted the strands of hair that had fallen out of her clip, and they fluttered around her face. Outside, the soothing wash of waves and the singing of cicadas were the only sounds to be heard. He felt as if time had paused, and even the birds were listening with bated breath to their conversation.

“Part of me feels disloyal,” he admitted. “That people will think I don’t love her anymore, and that breaks my heart. But equally, I need something else in my life other than work. I can’t tell you how happy I’ve been over the last few days, waiting for my phone to buzz in my pocket to say you’ve texted. I’ve felt like a schoolkid, and it’s been good. I’ve felt alive again, and I want to keep on feeling alive.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “We’ll take it slowly.”

“Step by step,” he said. “Today, dinner in a nice restaurant to celebrate your birthday. And we’ll see how it goes.” He meant in the future—whether she’d want to see him again, but the mischievous light in her eyes told him she thought he was talking about what happened after dinner. “Erin,” he scolded.

She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh, but she wasn’t able to stop a giggle breaking out. “Your face is a picture,” she said.

He shook his head. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t know the protocol.” He hadn’t even kissed a girl for over two years, let alone done anything more intimate than that.

Her expression softened again as if she’d read his mind. “It must have been difficult for you, losing your wife. It’s bad enough when you’re seventy, but when you’re only… How old are you?”

“Thirty-one.”

“...thirty-one, I can only imagine how hard it must be. Brock, what you said about not expecting anything, it goes both ways. Whatever happens between us, if at any point you feel as if you want to slow down, I want you to say. I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

He smiled at the sheer lunacy of that statement. “You don’t make me feel bad. Quite the opposite.”

“I’m glad.”

“In fact,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to her mouth, “I know it’s inappropriate this early on a date, and Matt would kill me if he could hear me, but all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you. Is that terrible?”

Erin moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Well, maybe we should test the water, so to speak. Try it and see how we feel afterward.”

“Maybe we should.” His heart thundered, but he told himself,
Take it slow
. He waited for a moment as she unclipped her seatbelt, and he inhaled the sweet summer breeze that filtered into the car, bringing with it the smell of the sea and the scent of sun lotion from Erin’s skin.

She turned and moved forward a little in her seat, leaning an elbow on the rest between them, and tipped her head to the side as she met his gaze.

Brock moved to meet her, resting one arm on the seat behind her, and lifted the other hand to cup her face. He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, across the freckles that peppered her lightly-tanned skin, and lowered his mouth, stopping when his lips were a fraction of an inch from hers.

Her breath whispered across his lips as she exhaled. So close, and yet he hadn’t kissed her yet. There was still time to stop, to put off this last, final betrayal. If he moved back now, he’d be able to tell himself he’d remained faithful to Fleur. He would have fought his weakness and stayed strong in his grief, encased in the shadows in which he’d hidden for the last two years.

But the day was too beautiful, full of light and life. A couple of huge Red Admiral butterflies fluttered past the window, and a flash of color behind Erin told him a rosella had swooped over the grass. In the distance, the children of the family having lunch at the picnic table laughed as they threw a Frisbee to one another, and someone called out from the boat further down on the water. It was summer, and it was almost Christmas, a time to celebrate the birth of things, not the end.

Erin was waiting patiently, maybe sensing his internal struggle, her gaze gently caressing his face. Her hand came up and she trailed a finger along his eyebrow, removing a strand of hair that the breeze had blown into his eye, and her touch—even though it was innocent and innocuous—was enough to flick a switch inside him.

He let out the breath he’d been holding, a long slow sigh of acceptance.

Erin’s lips curved up a little, and then she moved the last fraction of an inch to touch her lips to his.

They were as soft and light as if one of the butterflies had brushed against him, the briefest of kisses, tentative and shy enough to make him melt.

She moved back a little and met his gaze again as if to say, Okay?

Brock felt as if he’d been kissed by summer itself. How could anything as beautiful as that be wrong?

After giving a short, exultant laugh, he slid his hand into her hair, and lowered his lips again.

This time he kissed her, moving his mouth across hers slowly but firmly, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation of being near to someone again, being intimate. Her hair felt silky in his fingers, her cheeks warming beneath his palm as he continued to kiss her. She murmured low in her throat, a purr of approval, sliding her hand into his hair, and he shivered when she clenched her fingers in the short strands.

It was a brief kiss, hardly a steamy smooch, and yet it was the most erotic thing that had happened to him in years. His blood raced around his body, and his jeans tightened as his erection miraculously sprang to life. He wanted to plunge his tongue into her mouth and deepen the kiss, pull her toward him and slide his hands under her white shirt, but this was only supposed to be a trial, a peck, a testing of the water.