The Secret (Billionaire's Beach Book 6) Page 10

  “You…I…” She wet her lips with her tongue. “We’re still, um, going for dinner?”

  “For starters,” he said. “Dessert will be back at the house.”

  “I don’t have anything made—”

  “Baby,” he said, and the amused look in his eyes made her shiver all over again. “This sweetness we’ll be making together.”

  Her knees went soft. With her free hand, she groped for the edge of the countertop to keep herself upright. “Okay. Yes.”

  There was no other answer.

  “Now go out there and get rid of our uninvited guests.”

  “Me?” she squeaked.

  “I’ve got to believe that’s covered in the curriculum of the Continental Butler Academy,” he said, then strode off in the direction of the second floor.

  To his bedroom, she supposed. Where her panties were under his pillow.

  Oh my God. She was really thinking of doing this. Of going out with Ethan, of coming home with Ethan, of pinning down what exactly he’d meant and how serious he’d been when he said those words.

  You should marry me.

  But first she had to earn her butler paycheck. Squaring her shoulders, she strolled out onto the beachside terrace and down to the beach, where Margo Neal watched her daughter play with Wells.

  The boy looked up as she neared. “Charlie!”

  “Hey, pal.” She smiled at him and then addressed the woman while holding out her hand. “Ms. Neal? I’m Charlie Emerson, butler for the Archer household.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Margo Neal said. Her handshake was brisk.

  Charlie smiled at the little girl, still absorbed with her sand play. “Leah, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” her mother said. “She’s having so much fun with Wells.”

  “I’m happy to hear it,” Charlie said, then glanced at her watch. “But only five more minutes, buddy, before you need to get going on your homework.”

  “It’s Friday,” Wells said. “No homework on Fridays.”

  Drat. “There’s still your reading,” she said, thinking fast. “We’re committed to not lagging on your page count.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I guess. Cuz I’m going to Jake’s house for an overnight.”

  She nodded, as if she’d already known how the babysitting issue had been handled. Ethan had thought of everything.

  “So Ethan’s free for the evening?” Margo asked.

  “I couldn’t really say.” Prim as any butler. Charlie’s instructors would be proud of her.

  The other woman nodded, as if appreciating her circumspection. “I suppose you’re paid to keep his privacy.”

  “Just so,” Charlie answered, channeling her half-Brit friend Sara. Then she glanced at her watch again. “Wells, say goodbye to Leah and Ms. Neal. It’s time to go inside.”

  The boy clambered to his feet and started picking up the sand toys and putting them in the waiting basket. Without being asked. Charlie wanted to crow. Leah helped too, and soon Charlie led the way up the steps and through the house to the front door.

  Ethan wasn’t anywhere to be seen, though Margo Neal’s head swiveled left and right, clearly hoping to catch sight of him again. She paused on the threshold, gave Charlie a brief smile of goodbye then pulled Wells in for a hug.

  “It’s been so nice to spend time with you, Wells,” she gushed as she released him. “I think we’re going to get to know each other very well, very soon.”

  When she pulled the boy in for another embrace, Charlie wasn’t surprised that he quickly detached himself to press against Charlie’s side. Wells was a gregarious child, but one that didn’t want friendships forced on him. She put her arm around his shoulders, a gesture both protective and affectionate.

  Margo Neal seemed to take that in, because her gaze traveled to Charlie’s face and her eyebrows rose. Her nose even twitched, as if she was sniffing the way the wind was blowing.

  It’s exactly as it seems, Margo. This little guy is not for you.

  Maybe Charlie was still muddled about Ethan’s intentions and what was best for the Archer men, but she was completely clear on one thing.

  For better or worse, she couldn’t bear the idea of Wells being mothered by any woman other than her.

  Chapter 7

  Ethan helped Charlie into the passenger seat of his BMW 6 Series convertible—date night meant a date car, so the Range Rover remained in the garage—then skirted the front bumper to slide into his place behind the wheel. He glanced over to see her nervously smoothing the skirt of her striped dress. His gaze ran over the skin left bared by the vee neck and the thin straps, her throat, neck, and shoulders a golden, summer brown.

  She smelled like summer too, and it made his mouth water.

  He’d hardly had a thought that wasn’t about her taste, her smell, the feel of her, since she’d caught him in the shower and he’d caught her on her escape out his bedroom door. It had been a bold move to continue stroking himself well-aware she was a witness, but she’d been in his masturbation fantasy, and then she’d been just a feet away in real life.

  Ethan had gone for it, his inner urges unstoppable.

  “You look beautiful as always,” he said to her now. “I don’t know how you manage to blend ladylike and sexy, but you do.”

  Instead of smiling at the compliment, she made a face. “If I could figure out how to drop the ladylike and just do the sexy sometimes, believe me, I would.” Then she sighed. “Emmaline’s tried, but it never takes.”

  Ethan frowned. “I like them both combined. Merged together in your own unique way.”

  “That’s nice of you to say.” She threw him a quick smile.

  Which only made clear she didn’t believe him. And that she was still very nervous.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’ve not dated much,” she confessed, sliding a glance his way. “Beyond the afternoon with Roland…I can’t remember the last time I went out with a man.”

  Hmm. So his efficient, capable butler was not as confident when she had left her domestic manager-mode behind. Then he frowned again. “Wait—what about all those men my age ‘and more’ you claimed to have dated?”

  She squirmed in her seat. “Oh. You remembered that.”

  Little fraud. He pinned her with a mock-stern look. “What else have you fibbed to me about in the last year?”

  Her body tensed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  And he didn’t know why he’d started down this road. Tonight his purpose was to make her comfortable with him and the idea of them entering into a partnership. A marriage. The kind built on respect and companionship instead of love—the sort he had to offer and that she’d said she wanted. Instead, now he’d somehow put her on edge.

  Shit. He watched her tongue dart out to nervously lick her lips.

  And bowing to impulse, because that delectable mouth should be his—and because their relationship could be built on respect, companionship, and a combustible sexual attraction—he leaned toward her and cupped his palm around her nape.

  She sucked in a sharp breath, and he took it as an invitation to slide his tongue inside her mouth.

  God. He closed his eyes. It was like her pussy had been last night—sweet and hot and wet. Maybe he should have taken her to bed before heading for dinner, working out her nerves between the sheets so he’d have a compliant, blissed-out little butler by the time they made their way to the restaurant.

  Sliding his hand into the bodice of her dress, he covered one of her breasts lightly, feeling the instant stab of her nipple jutting into his palm. He groaned, his cock rising to attention at her immediate response. His tongue drove deeper into her mouth. Yeah, bed.

  Then an alarm pinged, a tinny sound he didn’t recognize.

  Breaking the kiss, he glanced around then down at Charlie, who had swollen lips and a wash of pink over her cheekbones. Beautiful. And sheepish, as she lifted her arm to show him the watch wrapped around her wrist.

  �
�I set a reminder. So we’re not late for our reservations.”

  “Of course you did,” he said, grinning. Then he lifted his hand from her breast as he pressed a short kiss on the pretty mouth of his oh-so-efficient butler. “I suppose we’ll go then.”

  When he started the car, she huffed out a little vexed sound and wiggled in her seat again.

  “Problem?” he asked, grinning once more.

  She slid him a dirty look.

  “What?” he asked, all innocent. “That kiss didn’t settle your nerves?”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she didn’t deign to reply. Her obvious frustration drew out another laugh, and as he took off down the freeway, with the top down and the wind in his hair, well-being settled on his shoulders like the warmth of summer.

  It remained there as he braked in the restaurant’s valet line and tossed his keys to the attendant. Then he took Charlie’s hand in his to lead her through the double doors.

  When the hostess seated them at a cozy corner table by a window, the rays of the setting sun cast a glow on his date’s face like the blush of the very well-kissed. He smiled, just drinking her in. After a moment, she eyed him suspiciously, then self-consciously smoothed her hair.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m having a gigil,” he said, still smiling.

  Her lips twitched. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

  “It’s a Filipino word that describes the impulse to pinch or squeeze something—someone—that is irresistibly cute.” Reaching out, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding her face just so for a light kiss.

  When he pulled back, she put out her hand to brush it over his hair.

  “Cafuné,” she murmured. “It’s Brazilian for, well, this.” She did it again.

  He smiled. “You touch Wells like that all the time.” With a casual affection that always warmed his belly.

  Charlie’s fingers hesitated. “It’s not that exactly. Cafuné means the act of running your fingers through a lover’s hair.”

  As her hand slid away, he caught it and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Is that what we’re to be then, Charlie? Lovers?”

  She tugged, and he released her. “Have you been studying up on foreign phrases that have no English equivalent?”

  “I may have,” he admitted.

  “Because you thought this might be awkward?” She indicated the two of them. “A dinner out with just us?”

  “Because I wanted to see you smile.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking adorably nonplused.

  “I have another. Seigneur-terraces—it’s not an internet find, though. I heard it in Paris.”

  She tilted her head, lifted her brows.

  “Literally it means ‘lords of the terrace’ but it refers to people who sit at café tables for hours spending little or no money.”

  The corners of her mouth tilted up. Yes, there was the smile. She was relaxing now.

  “That’s new to me,” she said. “But I have a French one too. L’esprit de l’escalier—that feeling you get when you know just the perfect comeback a little too late.”

  Their server interrupted the shared linguistics lesson, but they found plenty to talk about through drinks, appetizers, and their entrées. She circled back to words when he filled her wine glass for a second time.

  “I’ve never asked…where does the name Wells come from?”

  “Michelle’s mother’s maiden name.”

  The sun had gone and their table was bathed only in the glow from a candle at its center. The low light cast mysterious shadows over Charlie’s face, and he took her hand, needing her touch.

  “Were you going to use it for a girl’s name too, or did you have something else picked out?”

  “Audrey, her mother’s first name.”

  Charlie hesitated now, and he could sense a return of her nerves. He played with her fingers, trying to get her relaxed again. “Is there something else you wanted to ask? About the adoption maybe?”

  “No. I’m just glad it was you. For Wells, I mean. That you and Michelle were the ones who adopted him.”

  He squeezed her hand. “It was our privilege and continues to be mine.”

  Charlie’s downcast eyes hid what he might see of her expression in the dim light.

  She cleared her throat. “We should talk about his birthday party. We’ve only—”

  “Let’s talk about you instead.”

  Her gaze jerked up. “Me?”

  “We don’t want to be one of those couples who get away for an evening and can’t stop talking about the kids. At least not yet, when I don’t know you nearly as well as I want to.”

  Oh, he’d spooked her now―his capable butler’s fingers quivered in his hold.

  “You’ve seen my resume.”

  “I’ve seen a listing of where you worked and your time spent at butler school. Now I want to understand what brought you to the places you went. I want you to tell me what you’ve always wanted and what you’ve forever dreamed about. ”

  The server came by with dessert menus. Charlie shook her head and Ethan ordered a slice of cheesecake and coffee for both of them. Subtext: We’re sitting here until you share something of yourself with me.

  Yes, the idea of rushing out of there and driving Charlie home and into his bed had desire throbbing low and slow in his veins. But he wanted to know more about the woman sitting across from him than her easy way with his son and the power of the sexual dynamic that was growing between them.

  There was that guarded heart of hers and why she protected her privacy with such fierceness.

  For a marriage to work, there needed to be honesty.

  He waited until the dessert had been served and she took a sip from her cup of fragrant brew. She glanced at him over the rim, the candlelight flickering in her eyes, another mask to her mysteries.

  Instead of pressing her again, he forked up a bit of cheesecake and held it toward her mouth. She froze, looking warily at the morsel as if it might bite back.

  Oh, baby, he thought. You’re so skittish.

  “Open,” he whispered. “Let me in, Charlie.”

  Another second’s hesitation, then she leaned closer and her bow-shaped lips obeyed. He fed her, satisfaction surging through him. His cock stirred. Patience, he reminded himself.

  He watched her chew and swallow then take another sip of her coffee, all the while not trying to hide the intensity of his gaze.

  She carefully set the cup back in her saucer and linked her fingers on the table. “Growing up, my mother often warned that if I didn’t watch myself I’d just end up as some man’s servant.”

  His eyebrows rose. “So you set out to prove her right?”

  A little smile curved her delectable lips. “I was young. And I had good reasons to rebel.”

  He’d leave those for now. “So, you left home…”

  “Her house, not home,” Charlie corrected quickly. “And the rest is really what you already know. I went to a summer program at the butler school and from there worked at a small boutique hotel in Beverly Hills where there was a butler assigned to every floor.”

  “Then you were working in Santa Barbara.”

  She nodded. “For an older couple I met at the hotel. I stayed with them until they decided to retire to Mexico. Then back to the Continental Butler Academy for the full-year program.”

  “And after that a return to Southern California.”

  Another nod. “The butler school has contacts with elite placement agencies all over the world. I said I was interested in working in a household with children and…”

  “Then you were referred to me. It’s been eleven months now.”

  She looked surprised.

  “Hey, I can count.” He forked up another bite of cheesecake and swallowed it down, then portioned off another morsel for her. This time she leaned in without thinking first.

  “And obviously for about ten-and-a-half of those months I was deceiving myself
that I only admired my butler because of her talents in running my home and tending my child,” he continued. “The truth is, you make me horny as hell, Charlie. I can’t wait to get you in my bed and do all sorts of intimate things to you that will make you blush.”

  Her body jerked and she choked, then hastily grabbed up her glass for a swallow of water.

  He tried to hold back his amusement. “Are you all right?” he asked politely.

  “Yes.” She looked at him. “But you could warn a woman…”

  He smiled. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

  “So…you’re truly serious about this? About us. And…about marriage.”

  “I am.” He kept his gaze on her face. “I think we could do well together.”

  “There’s no guarantee…”

  “Not about anything in life,” Ethan said, and took her hand in his.

  Her cool fingers curled into his palm, and he felt as if he was holding the fragile blossom of a rose.

  Charlie nibbled on her lower lip. “I usually avoid trying something if I don’t know how it will conclude. I’m not much of a gambler.”

  “I can’t agree with you on that, Charlie. You went to butler school twice. You’ve worked for the hotel and two families. Every move was an opportunity for success—”

  “Or failure,” she finished for him.

  He stilled, nodded, and then just looked at her without speaking. What else could he do but wait on her decision? Patience.

  But he wanted her. In his bed. In his life. Permanently.

  After a long hesitation, she sucked in a breath, let it out. “All right. I…yes.”

  Satisfaction surged in him, and his fingers tightened on hers possessively. Mine, an inner voice cheered, and the covetous thought surprised him, spiking his blood with a shot of pure adrenaline. Mine.

  They drove home with the car’s top up and the heater creating a cocoon of warmth around them. No words were spoken, but anticipation hummed in the air. He stole glances at her, but the dashboard’s glow didn’t give away her expression.

  All right, she’d said.

  He’d make it so. Right. Every second of it.

  Hand-in-hand, they entered the house. He directed them toward the kitchen to turn off the lights that were on.