She's Mine: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance Read online

  “I had drinks with Brayden last evening,” I continued as I picked up a slice of toast and slowly spread butter on it. “In fact, he asked me about you.”

  “Oh? Really? What did he say?” Ripley was ready to wet his pants.

  I pursed my lips and frowned slightly, if dramatically. “Oh, Brayden doesn’t talk business to me. He holds his cards close to his chest.”

  Ripley’s face flashed toward Bernadette, a look of I told you so all over it.

  She smiled with encouragement and pride. “Of course, Brayden wouldn’t discuss business with a nanny,” she threw in, her tone condescending. If I’d been hot before that, she’d just lit the match.

  “Well, that may be so.” I threw her a weakened fly. “But I’ve known him long enough to say that when Brayden is intrigued by something or someone, he begins to ask around—you know, sort of see what others think of them? I’ve seen that before, just before he made a major move.”

  “Oh, really?” Ripley was beside himself.

  “Yes. If you’re interested at all, I’d stay close to him. Really close. He’s always been one to include his friends in a spontaneous moment, and they’ve always come out the better for it.” I took a small bite of my toast and leaned forward conspiratorially. “He’s a genius, you know. Has an IQ over 165.”

  Ripley nodded with enthusiasm. “Oh, I wouldn’t doubt that. I could tell immediately he was one of us.”

  I almost blew my bite of toast across the table at that comment but I forced myself to nod in agreement and even make my eyes adoringly large.

  Bernadette’s arrogance was in full swing. With delicate arches of her wrists, she reached outward to shake the folds of her caftan sleeves as though she wore a royal robe. Her chin went up and she lifted her coffee mug with her pinkie arched outward. The mug handle wasn’t designed for that and she dropped it, the coffee cascading over her caftan. She hastily reached for her napkin, as well as Ripley’s. There was no power on the planet that could have forced her from the table during that self-adoring, self-important conversation.

  I couldn’t stand it another second. I had to escape before I burst out laughing. “Well, I’m taking the children to the beach,” I announced, pushing back my chair as I stood. I motioned to the brats. “As I said, Brayden doesn’t ask about people casually. If you can spare the time, I’d make the most of it. He could learn a lot from you, you know.”

  Ripley’s head was nodding like a bobble-head doll and I left the room, having sealed the deal for the arrogant Mr. Campbell. He needed a lesson in what it meant to underestimate me.

  * * *

  Wearing the red bathing suit I’d had since high school and with my laptop in the case flung over my shoulder, I shooed the Bonham brats onto the beach. Each had been tasked with carrying their life jackets; Dougie with my beach chair and Katie, the small cooler that held juice boxes. I chose my moments of revenge.

  I’d finally decided on a spot when Dougie threw down my chair. “If you want it somewhere else, move it yourself.”

  I narrowed my eyes in my best imitation of a prison matron and pointed to the chair. “Open it out and put on your life jacket.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but the call of the water was too strong. He decided to do as I said, but I suspected he’d get back at me sometime later. Katie set the cooler next to the chair as she obediently put on her life jacket.

  “Don’t go in above your waist,” I told them both and settled into the sand to set up my laptop and prop myself up into the beach chair. Naturally, Dougie immediately went in the water neck high. I set my laptop into the case to avoid blowing sand and went after him. Having grown up in Florida, I was a pretty fair swimmer and he recognized he was out of his league. I dragged him ashore by the back of his lifejacket and plopped him down onto the hot sand. “Sit there until you can learn to follow orders.”

  “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he shot back. “Too bad you’re so pathetic that your bathing suit has a hole in the butt.”

  I stopped and fought the impulse to run my hand over my bottom, but I knew he was lying.

  “Geez, when did you get that? 1960?”

  The kid had a talent for making me hate him, I had to give him that. He read me well and went on. “Yeah, right over your asshole. You probably farted too hard and it blew right through.”

  I tried to ignore him but he kept his eyes on my butt and it was making me crazy. I opened the cooler and took out a juice box, slowly looking at the back label so the colorful pictures of fresh fruit were in his direction. I poked the little straw through the foil spout and sipped it slowly, watching Katie as she scooped holes at the water’s edge and then watched the waves wash them away.

  “I want one of those,” Dougie finally said.

  I ignored him.

  He stood up and came toward me. “I said, you stupid nanny, I want one!” he shouted. There was no one within hearing. I had almost finished mine and now held it out to him.

  “Here you go.”

  He slapped it out of my hand and the juice made a red stain as it drained onto the hot sand. “I want my own.”

  “You will apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything you’ve done that was rude, mean or lying since breakfast.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “Then I will heave these two remaining juices into the ocean,” I threatened, picking them up and cocking back my arm.

  He tilted his head, calculating whether I was mean enough to do just that. He must have decided I was, and I let out a small sigh of relief. He hadn’t called my bluff.

  “I’m sorry.” He hung his head with drama.

  “Be more specific,” I ordered, still in my matron’s persona.

  “I’m sorry for punching Katie in the hallway and for calling you pathetic.”

  “That’s it? Haven’t you forgotten another little detail?”

  “Like what?” He was being stubborn.

  “Like what you said about my bathing suit bottom?”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t lying.”

  My hand flew to the back of my suit as I frantically felt for a hole in my bottoms. He grinned and while I was off guard, he ran toward me and grabbed the remaining two juice boxes out of my hand. He ran toward Katie, holding one out to her.

  “Dougie!” I shouted, angry with myself for being duped.

  “Yes?” he called out in a sing-song as he hurled one of the boxes into the ocean and quickly popped the spout on the other and drank it down. He dropped the empty carton at his feet and, with a smirk, headed toward me.

  Katie had stood up as she watched the juice box sail over her head into the waves. She walked toward me now and looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. I couldn’t argue with her. She peeled off her life jacket, let it fall to the sand and began walking back toward Utopia. Dougie dropped his jacket and followed her.

  “You two come back here and carry your life jackets, cooler and chair!” I shouted after them.

  Dougie kept walking but held up his middle finger over his head at me. There was nothing left for me to do but run and collect everything, including my laptop, and follow them like a pack mule.

  As we came closer to Utopia, I noticed a crowd of people in front of the entrance. They’d gathered around a limousine. The door of the resort opened and Brayden sailed out, motioning to his security detail to hold back the crowd. He personally opened the limousine door and handed out a gorgeous woman in a black dress, her Louis Vuitton shoes making her legs appear like a ballerina’s. I could hear her bell-like laughter at whatever Brayden said as he ushered her inside on his arm.

  Dougie stopped long enough to turn and look at me. “I’ll bet she doesn’t have a hole in her ass,” he pronounced and continued inside.

  God, I hated my life.

  Chapter 6

  Brayden

  Emily Davis,
the well-known ballet dancer, was due at any minute. I was watching her limo pull up through the door when I spotted Harper and her two charges trudging toward the Utopia entrance. Harper looked adorable, if a little dated, in a faded red bikini, but she was carrying two orange life jackets, a purple cooler, a lime-green beach chair and a computer case. The kids’ arms were empty but they wore expressions of arrogance as they approached. I felt for Harper and hoped she chose another entrance. Emily was liable to be a showstopper and Harper would feel, well, dowdy. It broke my heart.

  True to what I’d expected, Emily was wearing a mini black number and her famous legs were in full display. She was nothing but presentation and while I played the part, I hated it. Harper had paused, and I hoped the kids would give her a break. Naturally, they didn’t, and she was forced to follow them into the hotel lobby in our wake.

  I deposited the stunning Ms. Davis among her fans in the tea room and excused myself. I rang Harper’s room.

  “Hello?” she answered and I could hear the misery in her voice.

  “This is room service calling. Anything I can bring up for you? Me?” I joked.

  “Brayden, I’m not in the mood.”

  “I’m sorry. I saw you come back from the beach and I don’t blame you. Why don’t you drown the little freaks?”

  “Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind, except that I know the boy would drag me under with him,” she said dryly and I was glad to hear her sense of humor was returning.

  “Say, I have some responsibilities to see to for a new guest.”

  “Yeah, I saw her.”

  “Well, I was calling to ask you to meet me for drinks again tonight at the Cabana. I’d like to do a reset on our last talk—it didn’t go the way I’d planned.”

  “If you’re thinking you’ll get me into bed this time, don’t bother, Brayden.”

  “Not at all. It felt so good to be with you again last night, Harper. I hadn’t realized how much I missed you. C’mon and be a sport and just meet me to talk?”

  There was a pause before she agreed. “Same time?” she asked.

  “I’ll come up to your room and get you,” I suggested and she agreed before we hung up. Now I had something to look forward to that would make my day spent waiting on a prima ballerina bearable.

  I was headed back to the tea room when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and looked down to see Ripley Bonham standing there, an expectant look on his face. “May I help you?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing,” he replied, and I couldn’t get the image of a worm out of my mind.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry?”

  “I thought you might like me to help you with your special guest? I know you’re busy and these are my people. I could take her off your hands.”

  What the hell is this stupid fuck talking about?

  “You’ve got me at a disadvantage, Ripley. Are you a personal friend of Ms. Davis?”

  He looked downward and scuffed the point of his shoe against the patterned carpet. “I know of her, of course.”

  The last thing I was going to do was hand off Emily Davis, one of the up and coming stars in the world of ballet, to a knucklehead wannabe like Bonham. Emily had a fan base of some of the wealthiest and most snobbish arts aficionados in the world and would be the perfect drawing card for the kind of guests I wanted. People unlike Ripley Bonham. I held my temper, though. I didn’t want a scene.

  “Ripley, I appreciate your offer but her schedule is already set by her people and my job is just to make her comfortable during her stay with us. If it looks like help is needed, I’ll be sure to drop your name,” I offered.

  He nodded with excitement. “Very well! I’ll be on call, you know where to find me!” He was drooling, the ass.

  He stayed behind me as I entered the tea room, and I nodded to one of my security detail to get rid of him. They understood completely and escorted him like a king out to the pool where an overflow of like admirers posed and waited to be introduced like so many peacocks holding champagne flutes. How does Harper put up with his shit?

  Just thinking of her made me want to drop everything, including the lovely Ms. Davis, and spirit her away to a shared afternoon at our spot at the beach. I wondered what I was doing in that life. How did Harper manage to keep such a hold on me, considering she’d never graced my bed? I imagined that I got a whiff of her cologne and turned quickly to see if she was in the crowd behind me. She wasn’t. It was probably the last place she’d be; just not her style. Nor mine, to be truthful.

  Emily Davis was holding court from her table in the tea room. Nearby, there was a linen-covered table with a tea service and crystal platters of finger sandwiches, fruit and petit fours. Women seemed to like those things. Colorful little pretties that looked elegant when you nibbled on them but had no calories. Give me a prime rib and baked potato anytime.

  A potted palm was strategically positioned just behind her and with her magnificently long legs crossed at the knee, she was a photo op from almost any angle. She knew how to play the game, or perhaps it was her handlers who had it in hand. Either way, she was probably originally a cowgirl from Oklahoma who won some local talent contest and her life turned into a fairy tale at that point. I didn’t care, she wasn’t my style. I was into ringlets and jade eyes and breasts that I could bury my dick between. Speaking of… I had to get Harper off my mind or Ms. Ballerina would be getting an eyeful.

  The afternoon dragged. Twice, Ripley Bonham showed up next to me like a salivating dog. I glared at my security guy, and he spoke into his shoulder mic before quickly herding Bonham into another holding pen. The man was like flypaper! Is he fucking insane? Maybe even dangerous?

  Finally, her limo reappeared and the ballerina was whisked off to her performance in downtown Miami. At least I was free of the responsibility for her for the time being. I went up to the condo I used when not going home and showered and changed into something a little more casual.

  I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I shaved. My eyes looked lively, and I wondered what had made the difference? I didn’t need to wonder. She was waiting for me upstairs at that very moment.

  I tapped on Harper’s door, and she opened it. She was wearing a pair of black leather pants and a pink and black striped tunic with a low neck. When I looked at her, I felt a sense of overwhelming relief, like I’d come home to where I belonged. She was smiling in welcome and it made me feel even better. I wanted to pick her up and carry her, like a teddy bear, so I could feel her warm flesh against me and wrap my arms around her without ever letting go. She made me feel so… well, so me.

  As she closed her door, I turned and saw the weasel Bonham peering out his door at us. He’d opened it an inch, not to investigate strange noises from the hallway, but to spy on me; on us. I felt the urge to kick his door completely open and knock his block off. As I held Harper’s hand down the hallway, I asked myself just why in the hell I even let the guy in the place? I had all the money I needed. I certainly didn’t need him, and he was a nobody. A body taking up rooms that could be given over to better people. But he would take Harper with him, and then I couldn’t keep an eye on her. It didn’t sit well, and I was moody as we went downstairs. Harper kept looking up at me with doubt in her eyes. I squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. This seemed to satisfy her, at least until we were seated in the Cabana.

  “So, what’s up?” she asked immediately as Bert disappeared to get our drinks.

  “What do you mean?”

  She tilted her head and called my bullshit without a word.

  “That Bonham guy,” I began. “I don’t know how you can work for him.”

  Bert set her drink before her, and she stirred the Manhattan with the sword-pierced cherry before raising it to her lips and licking the droplet from her finger. I felt my own sword spring upward hard and I shifted, trying to arrange it and still sit comfortably on the padded chair.

  “You do what you have to do,” she explained and I got
it.

  “He’s been on my back all day like a fly on cow dung, and I don’t know what the hell his problem is.”

  She kept her eyes low and had gone back to stirring her drink with the small red straw mixer. She said nothing.

  “What are the kids like?”

  “Exactly like the parents,” she filled in and it was pretty much as I’d expected.

  “Harper, look at me. Is this what you want to be doing for the next forty years?”

  “Of course not!” Her vehemence surprised me. Her eyes had turned moss green as tears pooled in them. I didn’t get what had just happened, but I knew it wasn’t good.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Brayden, I’ve gotten myself in a mess. I should be off in a dark closet by myself somewhere.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Oh, never mind.”

  “Hey,” I said and reached for her hand. She didn’t pull it away. I held it with one hand and stroked the back with my other index finger. “It’s me, Brayden, remember? Tell me.”

  She wagged her head from one side to the other, and I could feel that she was getting upset. “So, I graduated with a degree in computer science and got this job, right out of the chute at Cleve-Mobil, a guy named Steve Tabbott.”

  My gut tightened. I prepared myself for what I was afraid to hear.

  “I did some coding but it was boring stuff. Nothing challenging. Tabbott asked me out, and I dated him a few times but it was like being with the king of nerds. He had no sensitivity whatsoever. He had numbers for blood. We were kind of an item and that was fine until he absconded with the company funds and left everyone hanging. I became Bonnie to his Clyde even though I had nothing to do with it, and I got dumped the same as everyone else. Well, tech is a close environment. Everyone knows everyone. So, without my knowing anything about it, he managed to ruin my reputation. I couldn’t find a job anywhere in Cleveland and I lost everything. I was on the job boards online and saw the nanny job back here at home. They were footing the expenses, and I could stay here at your awesome resort. Course, back then, I didn’t know you owned it. So, one thing led to another and here I am, nanny to two of the worst kids who could have ever been created. I wasn’t even terribly crazy about kids to begin with but I thought I could sort of just keep an eye on them and with the rest of my time, I’d code an online dating site.”