Taking Control (Babysitting a Billionaire #3)

He rolled to his feet, raked a hand through his hair—it was growing longer—he hadn’t had it cut since they’d met again, and now it tousled over his forehead. Naked, he was spectacular, and she didn’t try to look away. Would she ever see him like this again? The thought that this might be the last time was like a black cloud engulfing her mind. But that only made her more determined to get out before she went beyond the point of turning back.

He picked up his clothes, and dragged them on, sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes, and then his gaze fixed on something on her wall.

She followed the look and her breath caught in her throat. Declan rose slowly to his feet and took a step closer, then reached out and unhooked the frame from the wall, examined it closely.

“My father gave you this?”

“That day I went to see him. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He gave her a look as if to say she was crazy. “You’ve had this for over ten years, you put it on your goddamned bedroom wall, and you say it doesn’t matter.”

She had no clue how to answer. Unfortunately Declan wasn’t quite so reticent.

He shook his head. “I can’t believe he gave you this.” He waved the check in her face.

“He was doing what he thought was right for you.”

He gritted his teeth. “How the fucking hell dare you defend him?” He pulled the frame apart, took out the check, and tucked it into his back pocket. “Just make sure you’re there tomorrow night. Or I’ll come looking.”

And he was gone.





Chapter Twelve


Declan hovered outside the bedroom door, unsure whether to go back in. But his brain was about to explode. And he needed out of there before that happened, causing who knew what damage.

Except for that one brief interlude with Jess, all his life, he’d kept his emotions under rigid control. Not allowed himself to feel, done his goddamned fucking duty. Done what his father expected of him.

Now that control was slipping away.

She’d been seventeen years old and pregnant with his baby. And he’d walked away. She’d had a miscarriage and endured it alone. Because he’d been too much of a pussy to go after what he wanted.

He couldn’t believe his own father had given Jess money to leave him alone. Except who was he kidding? His father was a ruthless bastard. Always had been. But it was hardly his father’s fault—well not all of it. He’d been the one to walk. But he wouldn’t do that a second time, no matter what she believed she wanted.

She made him feel alive. She was the only thing that ever had and his life since had been gray and meaningless. A performance he put on for the rest of the world. Only Jess saw through it.

She’d been right the other night when she’d told him he needed to change. He just wasn’t sure how. Maybe he needed to take a leap into the unknown. And he’d be happy to do that with Jess at his side.

He glanced back at the door, but then turned away.

He’d told her he loved her.

He’d never said that to any woman except Jess.

And she said it didn’t matter. But it was all that mattered. And she meant what she said. She really planned to finish this thing between them.

He had to leave, give her some space. Think about what he could do to make her give him a chance. Maybe he should steal a car. Take her joyriding. Get them both locked up. Or maybe not.

But right now she had worked herself up, put an insurmountable barrier between them, which she wouldn’t let him pass. He could only hope that she would think about his words.

He had one more day to persuade her.

He headed out, slamming the front door behind him. The night was cold and he shivered as Steve fell into step behind him.

“Is she all right?” he asked, his voice expressionless. Declan had gotten the distinct impression that Jess’s colleagues didn’t approve of their relationship.

“Why the hell wouldn’t she be all right?” he snarled. What did they think he was going to do to her? Break her heart?

Steve shrugged. “She’s been different since this job. We just don’t want her hurt.”

He stopped and swung around. “And you think I’ll do that?” He fisted his hands at his side, resisting the urge to punch the other man.

Steve shrugged again, then obviously decided he’d said enough. “You want me to call for a car?”

“No.” He didn’t want to head home. He wanted a drink. He started walking, heading toward the center of town, and then into the first bar he found.

He ordered a scotch, drank it in one swallow, then ordered another and took it to a dark corner. Drank that. When he raised his glass, the barman came over, this time he filled the glass and left the bottle on the table.

She hadn’t actually said she didn’t love him.

Maybe he needed to give her some concrete evidence that he really did care, and this time he meant it to last. The scotch was a warm buzz in his brain now.

He pushed himself to his feet and headed over to where Steve waited and watched.