One Night With a Billionaire - By VickiLewis Thompson Page 0,21

now returning? Or was it an intruder?

He got out of bed, pulled on his briefs, and grabbed a robe out of the armoire. His security system was top-notch, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be breached by a clever thief hoping to steal the Monet hanging in the hallway. And an intruder would be a threat to more than his art collection. Melanie was sleeping in a bedroom nearby.

Stepping silently into the hall, poised for action, he waited for whoever was climbing the stairs. They were breathing hard from the exertion. It could be Melanie, but why would she go downstairs in the middle of the night?

Belatedly he realized that if this was an intruder, he had no weapon but his fists. No baseball bat or tire iron. A vase, two centuries old and valued in the high six figures, sat on a table in the hall. He picked it up.

As a shadowy figure rose from the stairwell, he started forward, vase raised. Melanie screamed a split second after he recognized her. Something sailed past his head and thudded against the wall as she yelled again, this time sounding like a samurai warrior. She cocked her arm as if to throw something else at him.

“Melanie! It’s me!” He set down the vase and backed up, palms facing her, heart racing. Jesus. She’d scared the hell out of him, and obviously he’d returned the favor.

“Drew?” Her voice shook and she lowered her arm.

“Yeah.” He sucked in a breath.

“Oh, God.” She clutched the banister. “I was hungry, but I didn’t want to wake anybody.”

Three floors below, footsteps pounded up the servants’ stairway. It sounded like a minor stampede.

“Guess that didn’t work out,” she said.

“Monsieur Eldridge?” a man called from below. “Q’est-ce que c’est? Désirez-vous la police?”

“No, Henri, no police.” Drew walked to the head of the stairs and peered over the banister at Henri, who stood below in his nightshirt. Henri also served as his houseman. “Mademoiselle had a scare. All’s well.”

“Ah. Bonne nuit.” After some murmured conversations, Henri and the other servants retreated down the stairs and closed their bedroom doors.

“I feel terrible.” Melanie climbed the remaining steps to stand before him. “Some guest I am, raiding the refrigerator and rousing the entire household.”

“I should have guessed it was you, but all I could think was that someone had broken in, so I—”

“Rushed to defend the castle. That’s so you.”

It was true he seemed to go into protector mode whenever she was concerned. “Are you still hungry, or did I scare that idea straight out of your head?”

She hesitated, as if taking inventory. “Still hungry. My heart rate is almost back to normal, which means I can now hear my tummy growling. But I threw the wedge of cheese when I saw you coming, so no telling what shape it’s in. Thank God you said something before I hit you with the Perrier.”

“Or I bashed you with a priceless vase.” Now that the crisis was over and nobody was hurt, he could see the funny side of it. “Let’s get a little light on the situation.” Stepping over to the wall, he hit a switch and glass sconces flickered to life. He loved those crazy things, which he’d found in Venice.

“Pretty!”

And so was she. No, not just pretty. Beautiful. His glance swept over glossy curls tousled from sleep, a freckled face still pink from embarrassment, and gray eyes that reflected the dancing light of the sconces. “Glad you like them.” He couldn’t stop gazing at her.

His attention drifted to her rosy mouth. Last time they’d been alone, she’d kissed him. He could still feel the softness of her lips as they’d brushed his, and he wanted that again.

Her loose pants, T-shirt, and hoodie shouldn’t look sexy on her, but they did. Maybe it was her bare feet and pink toenails that aroused him so much, or his suspicion that she wore nothing under her shirt. That would explain why she’d added the hoodie, because the house wasn’t cold enough to justify it.

But she’d left the sweatshirt unzipped. It hung open now, allowing him to see the slight tightening of the T-shirt where it stretched over what appeared to be her unbound breasts. The house wasn’t cold enough to make her nipples pucker, either, but it looked like they had.

He looked into her eyes, and what he saw there sent heat surging through his veins. Lust settled heavily between his legs, and the knit briefs stretched as he grew hard. “Melanie, I