The Billionaire's Longshot: Betting on You Series: Book Three (11 page)

His initial thought that the situation could be defused with a bit of humor was yet another poor choice. If he’d any smarts at all, he would apologize and honor her wishes, take her home. She was pissed off, but not as much as he expected.
Maybe it’s more of a disappointment?
He wasn’t sure.

Understanding a woman’s psyche wasn’t something he had mastered. She said to take her home, but her tone hadn’t been demanding, and a pillow toss wasn’t a slap in the face. No, he took it as more of a challenge to make things right. He wasn’t ready to declare love, but he also wasn’t ready for her to leave yet, any more than she wanted to go. “The sun has already set, and it’s unwise to sail at night. We’ll have to discuss this in the morning.”

Jill looked him over as though she could read his thoughts. “Fine. Which one of us gets the couch?” she asked dryly.

Ross rose from the bed, walked to where she was standing, kissed her lightly on her forehead, and said as he left the cabin, “Sweet dreams.”

‡

I
t wasn’t surprising
Jill had a restless night’s sleep, but it wasn’t anger that haunted her. The passion he ignited yesterday had subsided, but hadn’t entirely vanished.
How could I still want him after what he said?
Maybe it’s because his words didn’t match his actions. When he realized she was a virgin, he became amazingly gentle, making sure sex would be a treasured memory, not something filled with regret. A man who would do that wasn’t as indifferent to her feelings as he made himself out to be. She also couldn’t put all the blame on him. He hadn’t forced her. She may have been a virgin, but she wasn’t innocent. Each touch was welcomed; she wanted him as much as he had wanted her. At any time she could have stopped it, informing him of her innocence, but she chose not to.
That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for being stupid afterward
.

She could hear clanking noises in the other room. Staying in bed was one option, but the aroma of coffee was too tempting. Besides she would have to face him eventually, and to her, there was no time like the present. She wrapped the sheet snuggly around her, realizing her clothes were in the other room.

Ross was standing at the stove with his back to her, his hair still wet, likely from an early morning swim. He was cracking eggs and making toast. Ever so quietly she settled herself on the couch and watched. If she made her presence known now, she’d probably get stuck helping.

When he turned, he didn’t seem surprised to see her. He was holding two plates, ready for eating. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

He placed the plate on the table by the couch. “How do you take your coffee?”

Really? We’re going to be this pleasant now?
So be it, she could play this game as well. Besides in only a few hours they would be back on land, each going their own way. “Cream and sugar, thank you.”

When he returned with the coffee, he sat so close to her they were touching. The heat of his body could be felt through the thin sheet. Her body instantly reacted. Jill would’ve moved over, but she was already at the end. Another inch and she would be sitting on the floor. Instead she steadied her hand the best she could, took the plate, and quietly ate breakfast. Maybe she was extra hungry after last night’s lovemaking.
But damn the man can cook.
It wasn’t the food that was amazing; it was the fact he took the time to cook for her. She couldn’t remember anyone besides her parents doing that. Not even Donna. Only one thing could top this—breakfast in bed.
That would have been asking for trouble, sweet delicious trouble.
Even though it had been amazing, she wasn’t ready emotionally or physically for a repeat performance. There were so many things she still needed to sort out. She would stick to pleasantries only. Placing her fork on the empty plate, she opened her mouth to thank him for the wonderful food. Clamping it shut, she decided against it. This morning she would let him stew a bit longer. She could thank him once they were back on solid ground. Maybe then they could also discuss what was happening between them. How could she expect him to have any answers when she was going through her own internal battle, even as they sat quietly together?

“You missed an amazing sunrise this morning,” he said as he collected the dishes. “You’ll need to be up earlier tomorrow if you would like to see it.”

“Tomorrow?”
I will be home then.

He didn’t answer, only continued to clean the little mess that remained.

She stood and asked again, more loudly, “What do you mean tomorrow?”

With his back to her he said, “I made an agreement for a week-long cruise. I intend to keep it.”

She hadn’t heard correctly.
One week?
There was no way was she staying on this boat another day, let alone an entire week. She thought she’d made that perfectly clear last night. Her voice shook as she said, “Ross, you promised to take me home today.”

“No, you requested it; I never said yes.”

Anger flooded through her. “I am leaving today.”

“You may do so with the next passing boat.”

Next boat? What does that mean?
He couldn’t. She bolted to the deck and scanned the horizon. Nothing but water as far as the eye could see. Then it hit her: they were not adrift throughout the night. He purposely put them on a course where there would be no ships.
Damn him.
She entered the cabin again, and grabbing her bag, searched but couldn’t find her phone.

“Where is it?” she demanded.

“The boat was a bit rocky last night. I believe it may have slipped off the deck.”

Too upset for words she turned, ran back to the confines of his room, and slammed the door.
On the one hand he tells me he never would have slept with me if he’d known I was a virgin. But then he traps me here for a week? What is with that? I can’t be without contact for a week. What if someone calls from the fundraiser, wanting to book me for something else? How will I post the event’s success on Instagram and our Facebook page? How will I bank the checks?
If she was going to be trapped here for a week, she was going to make it a week from hell for him.

Last night when
he called Jon to let him know he and Jill were taking a week-long excursion, he had hoped Jon wouldn’t ask to speak to her. Otherwise she probably would’ve told them to send the Coast Guard. That was when he decided it was best to hide the cell phones, for a while anyway. Once she calmed down he would give hers back to her.
Hopefully that won’t be too long.

He put the last of the dishes away and made his way to deck. Since he had nothing better to do, he might as well catch up on work. Pulling his laptop from the bulkhead, he began to review the latest design changes for his most difficult customer.
Can’t the guy make up his mind?
He laughed to himself.
I probably shouldn’t talk.
Ever since he met Jill he couldn’t keep a straight thought. He thought after sleeping with her his head would clear, but it only made it worse. Jill had a way of getting him to do things he never would have done before: having the fundraiser at his family home and apparently kidnapping. Yeah, he needed to figure out what it was about her, and quickly, before he did something stupid. He shook his head in disbelief.
Yeah, probably too late for that, Whitman.

‡

I
t was almost
nightfall, and she still had not come up to deck. How long was she going to keep herself locked in that room? It wasn’t going to change anything. She might as well come and get some fresh air.
If she really hates it, or hates me, maybe I should take her back.
But taking her in this state would guarantee she wouldn’t speak to him again. Staying on the boat until they resolve what happened and come to some sort of understanding was the only viable option. She would eventually come to her senses and see that as well.

Sitting alone, his patience was running thin. If she wouldn’t come up, then he was going down. He approached the door and was about to bang on it, demanding she open it up. Using better judgment, he chose to tap lightly. “Jill, you are about to miss a beautiful sunset,” he said softly. No response. “I really would like it if you would join me on the deck. We could watch it together.” He tried to coax her to at least open the door.

“I might be tempted to push you overboard,” she said firmly.

He laughed softly.
At least she’s speaking to me; that’s an improvement.
“I’m willing to take the risk. Come on. See what I see. I promise you’ll love it.” She didn’t open the door. “You can even go right back and lock yourself away if you want afterward. I promise I won’t try to stop you.”

“Your word isn’t worth much at this moment,” she said.

I deserve that.
“I’ll be waiting up top if you change your mind.” He walked away, not feeling as confident as before. Maybe he had gone too far. He thought if they spent a week together it would give him, no
them
, time to figure out exactly what was going on between them. As he sat at the bow, his legs dangling over the edge, he contemplated turning the boat around, taking her home, and ending this before it went any further. The damage was already done, but it could get worse if she kept herself locked away. Five, ten, now fifteen minutes and he was still alone. The sun was about to set. What normally was his favorite part of the day, seemed to have lost its luster.

Shades of red and orange danced off the scattered clouds when he felt her beside him. There were about ten minutes of sun left before it would be dark. He wasn’t about to ruin this moment for her with any conversation. Together they sat, watching the sun bouncing off the water as it slowly vanished from sight. The clear, evening sky had been replaced with more stars than one could imagine and the moonlight lantern cast just enough light to guide their way. He went to move, but she stopped him and asked, “Why?”

It was only one simple word, but somehow the answer was not. “I’m not sure. I only know I want be with you.”

Silence seemed to go on for an eternity. “You could’ve asked.”

“Would you have said yes?”

Softy, she answered, “We’ll never know. Good night, Ross.”

She was already below deck when he said into the night air, “Sweet dreams, Jill.”

Jill lay in
bed. It was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat. She got out of bed and searched his room for something to read. In his nightstand drawer she located a journal.
Maybe it’s blank, or his appointment book.
Jill wasn’t one who normally snooped, but somehow found herself making an exception. Once opened it became evident it wasn’t business notes. These were his most personal thoughts. Would it hold the answers to her questions? Why he seemed incapable of sharing his true feelings? Most probably, yes. She wanted answers to all her questions, but this was not the way. She closed the book and slipped it back into the drawer.

If it was meant for her to know, he would tell her in his own time, when he was ready. At this point she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Rolling over she punched the pillow in frustration.
Doing the right thing sucks.

‡