A Billionaire's Redemption - By Cindy Dees Page 0,61
wouldn’t stay that way for long. She would probably bust his balls for not giving the money away to the right cause.
“Drink?” he asked Willa.
She perched on the edge of his sofa in her linen church-lady suit, straight out of the political fund-raiser fashion catalog. He much preferred the hot copper number from two nights ago. She hadn’t looked like some damned virgin in the backless gown. But in this modest getup, he felt dirty for even contemplating sex with her.
Not to mention the damned outfit made her look about fourteen years old and playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes. He had a flashback to when he’d first known her, and how guilty he’d felt about the lecherous thoughts she had inspired in him back then. Since when had he become a dirty old man? He had no business sleeping with someone her age. She ought to be out finding some nice young man her age to settle down with, not wasting her time with an old bastard like him.
“Are you drunk?” she asked when he stumbled on the edge of an area rug.
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
She nodded knowingly. “Be careful. Whiskey makes for some interesting true confessions.”
“Confess something to me so I’m not laying out my guts all by myself,” he retorted.
“I’ve imagined doing some very kinky things with you in bed, over the years.”
He stared disbelievingly, shocked out of his buzz. “No way.”
“Way,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I fantasized about sleeping with you pretty much all the way through high school. And truth be told, through college, too. You thoroughly messed up my social life.”
Son of a— Who’d have guessed? Sweet little Willa Merris had harbored naughty thoughts of an older man? Tsk, tsk.
“Drink?” he asked her.
“No, thanks.” She said that like she could use a little liquid courage. But hey. If she didn’t want it, that was her call.
He made his way to the wet bar where he pulled out a double old-fashioned glass, stabbed it into the ice maker and poured a few fingers of whiskey over the ice. Damned women. Made a man drink politely. Out of a glass instead of straight out of the bottle. He carried his whiskey over to the sofas and sank down cautiously on the one opposite Willa.
“Why are you here?” he asked baldly. He winced at the lack of subtlety in his voice. If he wanted to remain rational, he’d probably had enough to drink.
“To apologize for yesterday. For refusing to take your calls. I overreacted.”
“To what?”
“To you calling Melinda your wife.”
He frowned, confused. Huh? “I’m drawing a blank here. Help me out. What the hell are you talking about?”
“When the police called to tell you they had a video, you called her your wife. Not your ex-wife.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s what had your panties in a wad?” he exclaimed. “The cop on the phone called Melinda my wife and it was easier not to bother correcting him. The FBI analyst made the same mistake, too.”
“What analyst?” Willa asked. She added in quick concern, “Is Melinda all right?”
She sounded like she genuinely gave a damn about Melinda’s safety. He knew plenty of women who would have secretly been rooting for his ex to die horribly, and clear the way for them. Not that Melinda was actually in the way...
...Right? It had been years since they divorced. He was over her, even if he hadn’t gotten into any serious relationships since then. He’d been too busy getting rich and letting the money fill his bed with beautiful women to get serious with anyone. No need to settle down. He had all the time in the world to do the whole commitment and marriage thing. Except now he’d blasted past age forty and his window of opportunity was starting to close. What if he never found the perfect woman? Was he doomed to live out his old age alone and bitter?
Damn, he’d forgotten how maudlin whiskey could make a man. The young beauty seated across from him was certainly ripe for the picking. She would make some man a hell of a wife. She was sweet and smart and a lady in public. And in private, she was another story, entirely. His body stirred with lust at the memory of the wildcat she’d been in his arms two nights ago. Once she had let go of her inhibitions, she’d been all the woman a man could ask for and more. He had to admit, it had made him feel damned good