Czytaj książkę: «Second Chance With Her Billionaire»

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN WYATT MONTGOMERY walked through the door, Summer Bishop took three steps forward and stopped next to the first single man she saw. The man looked over at her, smiled, and she resisted the smile that courted her own lips. He was perfect. About her height, a pleasing enough face, and he wasn’t standing next to anyone else.

He turned then, offering her a glass of champagne from his tray. All desire to smile vanished. The man was a waiter.

Heat crawled up her neck, but she refused the embarrassment. It simply wouldn’t do. Embarrassment wouldn’t get her through this weekend. Though she was sure it would make an appearance, she didn’t have to pay attention to it.

Not when she spoke with her ex-husband. Certainly not when she pretended a man she didn’t know was her date so she could avoid said ex-husband.

Fortunately, Wyatt didn’t know she’d been trying to avoid looking like a lonely loser. Yet when she felt his gaze on her, she could have sworn he did. She took a glass of champagne from the waiter’s tray—why the hell not?—and downed it in one gulp. Then she returned the empty glass to the tray with a quick nod of thanks, before trying to focus on what her parents were saying.

But she couldn’t.

It was as if Wyatt had issued a wordless bet the instant he walked into her parents’ party. Her skin was hot, prickly, as if he knew she was desperately avoiding his gaze and was taunting her from across the room. Look at me, he seemed to be saying to her, stop pretending I’m not here. His voice was annoyingly smooth, even in her thoughts. It reminded her of all the times he’d whispered things in her ear that had—

Don’t you dare, Summer Bishop.

Adhering to the voice in her head that was kindly warning her against drooling over her ex-husband’s seductive prowess, she tried, again, to focus on her parents. They exchanged adoring looks. Told the family and friends who were there to celebrate their vow renewal on their thirtieth wedding anniversary about their love for one another. Their loyalty to one another.

She took a deep breath. Tried to control how the champagne now felt as if it were burning a hole in her stomach.

When that didn’t work, she slipped back, behind the waiter, and then past two more people, then four, until finally she was at the glass sliding doors that led to the patio. Grass stretched out from the end of the patio to the edge of the cliff the lodge had been built on.

Whatever she felt about being forced to attend the weekend celebration for her parents’ anniversary, she couldn’t deny they’d picked an amazing place to have it at. Granted, it was in the small town of Wilderness, six hours away from her home of Cape Town. But the cliff overlooked the most gorgeous beach, with a path a few metres away from her leading down. It was almost worth it.

Summer walked until she could see the white-brown beach sand. It called out to her, the crash of the waves on the shore chiming in. She wished she could answer. Wished she could strip off the dress she’d chosen to wear to the celebration she wanted nothing to do with and walk into the ocean.

She settled for dragging in a full breath of the salty air.

‘Daydreaming of running away?’ a voice came from behind her.

The goosebumps were because of the sea breeze, Summer told herself, before straightening her shoulders and turning.

‘Wyatt,’ she said steadily, as if her insides didn’t feel as though they were disintegrating at the sight of him. ‘How pleasant to see you again.’

Those sensual lips curved into a smile that seemed decidedly feline.

‘Pleasant?’ he repeated, cocking his head.

She tried not to notice how the wind was mussing his hair. Or that the top button of his shirt was open, revealing tantalising brown skin that sent an irrational image of her licking it flashing through her mind.

‘Not quite the word I would use,’ he continued. She stared at him for a second before remembering she needed to have a sassy response.

‘Okay,’ she said, trying to recover when she thought there might have been a saltiness on her tongue from the skin she’d licked in her imagination, ‘how about it’s a surprise to see you again?’

‘But it’s not a surprise,’ he replied quite logically, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘We knew this was coming.’

‘Unfortunately,’ she muttered.

He quirked a brow, then chuckled softly to himself. ‘You couldn’t get out of it.’

‘I—’ She broke off before she could give herself away. ‘I didn’t try,’ she lied.

Again that not quite genuine smile returned to his lips. ‘I’m disappointed. I thought an occasion that would force you to see your ex-husband for the first time in two years would at least warrant an escape attempt.’

‘It’s my parents’ thirtieth anniversary,’ she said, repeating what her twin sister, Autumn, had told Summer when she’d complained about having to attend.

‘It’s been eight years,’ Autumn had said. ‘We’ve moved on.’

Autumn’s voice had softened, which had been the worst part for Summer. Not that she couldn’t skip the weekend celebration. Not because of the reasons she wanted to escape it. It was the sympathy. With Autumn, when they dared speak about their family dynamics at all, it was always the sympathy.

But Summer’s feelings about her family, her parents, didn’t warrant sympathy. They were valid. Autumn just didn’t know the entire truth of it. Eight years later, Summer still couldn’t share that truth. Not with her sister, and not with the man she’d once loved.

A familiar resentment bubbled inside her.

Summer released a shaky breath and met Wyatt’s eyes. She did a quick intake of air at the intensity as their gazes clashed. It felt as if that air had stumbled on its way to her lungs. Tension crackled around them; she was almost positive she felt the ground shift beneath her.

No. This wasn’t a natural disaster. Rather, it was a natural effect of seeing the man she’d walked away from two years before. An after-effect, she corrected, of the passion that had resulted in a hunger that had never quite been sated between them. It didn’t matter how hard they’d tried. Or how often.

‘Did you try?’ she asked, desperate to distract herself. ‘To get out of this?’

‘No,’ he said simply.

Automatically, her insides twisted and turned. Reminded her of how she’d felt all throughout their short marriage.

She knew what that simple ‘no’ meant. It spoke of Wyatt’s loyalty to Summer’s father. Trevor Bishop had chosen Wyatt to be his protégé while Wyatt had still been in university. Without any reason to, Wyatt had claimed when he’d told her the story, and despite his less than stellar academic record. But Trevor had seen something in Wyatt. He’d trained that something until it had become the discipline Wyatt was now known for. Once Wyatt and Summer had started dating, Trevor had begun to nurture it.

Summer had listened to Wyatt’s recollection of it when they’d started dating. Had smiled and asked questions even though it had left a bitter taste in her mouth. She should have known right then and there that there could be no future for them. Wyatt clearly idealised Trevor. But it had been too late when Summer realised Wyatt didn’t only idealise him; he wanted to be like him. Wyatt wanted to be like Trevor and follow in his footsteps.

She couldn’t tell Wyatt why that was a problem. Oh, she’d planned to. But she’d been caught up in the whirlwind of falling in love, and, honestly, was it so wrong that she didn’t want her father to ruin that, too?

She should have let him though. Then she might not have found herself on her honeymoon, listening to Wyatt recount his experiences with his own parents, realising once again she’d have to lie for her father.

She might have still been married, too.

* * *

Wyatt didn’t believe in fate. At least he hadn’t, until he’d met Trevor Bishop.

The foundation for that belief had been laid when he’d actually attended the university class Trevor had been guest lecturing at. At that point, Wyatt’s attendance record had been similar to his academic record: he’d done the bare minimum to pass.

Wyatt thought about that version of himself in a very distant way. He knew it was him, but he couldn’t relate to that boy any more. The boy who’d been full of hurt and anger at parents who’d abandoned him. The boy who’d had no purpose. Perhaps that was why meeting Trevor Bishop that day had been so significant. If he hadn’t, that boy would have become a hurt and angry man.

That was not the man Wyatt was today.

Or so he’d thought until now, seeing his ex-wife for the first time since they’d signed their divorce papers.

Her arms were at her sides, her hands curled into fists, her expression painfully tight. All signs she didn’t want to be there. Proof she’d been lying when she said she hadn’t tried to get out of this event, too. She hated being there. The only reason he could think of as to why was him.

Hurt curled in his belly; anger simmered in his veins.

It made no sense then that his eyes had immediately been drawn to her when he’d arrived minutes earlier. Or that he’d followed her outside, away from the crowd of people who would have protected him from the pain, the anger.

Yet there he was, desperately pretending seeing her again didn’t stir up emotions he’d rather not feel.

‘Why would I try to get out of this?’ he asked, his voice deliberately pleasant. She’d started it, hadn’t she? ‘It’s an all-expenses-paid vacation to a beautiful lodge along the beach of one of South Africa’s most beautiful places.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she replied dryly. ‘I’d forgotten about your meagre wealth.’ Her eyebrow lifted. ‘I’d forgotten how poorly travelled you are.’

He resisted the smile, though he accepted the jibe. She was right. He didn’t need anyone to pay for anything for him these days. It was a stark contrast to his childhood. To the days after his father had left and his mother had drunk herself into oblivion. When he’d had to steal his schoolmates’ lunches for food or wear his father’s clothes when his had grown too small.

That kid could never have imagined having the money Wyatt had today. Nor would he have imagined the trips Wyatt now took as the right-hand man of the CEO of Bishop Enterprises. He flew all over the world to secure deals for the import/export company.

His life had changed dramatically. All because fate had urged him to attend class on the day Trevor Bishop had been there.

Then again, fate had brought him Summer, too. Look how that had turned out.

‘Let’s put it down to the respect I have for my ex-father-in-law, then, shall we?’

‘Yes,’ she said after a moment. ‘Let’s.’

Her eyes met his, and he thought he saw a flash of vulnerability there. It quickly slipped behind a cool expression, which he was grateful for. A long time ago he’d cared about what was behind that cool expression. Hell, he’d thought he’d seen exactly what was behind that cool expression.

Because it was almost identical to the expressions he’d worn. The ones that said, I’m pretending, but you’ll never know why. Or, I’m hiding something, and you’ll never know what.

Back then he’d thought he knew why Summer was pretending. What she was hiding. She was the strong and powerful heiress of the Bishop empire; she had to act that way. She was hiding that she didn’t want to.

Except now he wasn’t so sure he’d known anything about her after all. Or was he just sour that she knew enough about him to think he wasn’t worth the woman behind the mask any more?

Whatever it was, when she deemed him worthy to see the real her, it made him lose his ability to reason. He’d proposed spontaneously; married her within weeks of that proposal.

He should have signed the divorce papers at the same time and saved himself some trouble.

‘Where is Autumn?’ he asked, trying to get his mind off the memories. ‘I thought she’d be here.’

Not that he noticed anyone after he saw Summer.

‘She will be.’ Summer clenched her jaw, then relaxed it. Forcibly, he thought. ‘She’s putting the final touches on a cake for a wedding tomorrow. Then she’ll have to get it to the actual wedding, so she’ll only be here on Sunday. Conveniently,’ she added, distinctly softer than her other words.

For some reason, it amused him.

‘Pity.’

‘It is.’ She narrowed her eyes.

‘What?’

‘You’re using that dry tone that tells me you’re making fun of me.’

‘I’d never make fun of you.’

‘You did it again.’

‘Summer, I’m not responsible for the way you interpret my tone.’

He smiled easily at her, mostly because he knew she’d find it irritating. He really missed irritating her.

‘As obstinate as ever, I see.’

‘As sensitive as ever, I see.’

‘I am not—’ Summer broke off when his smile widened. ‘I should have tried harder to get out of this.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, not acknowledging her confirmation that she had tried to skip the event. ‘It would have saved you a lot of trouble.’

Her expression went blank, her eyes shifting to the doors of the dining hall they’d come out of before resting on him again.

‘Did you come out here specifically to annoy me, Wyatt?’

Since he couldn’t tell her the real reasons he’d followed her—he didn’t fully know what they were—Wyatt said, ‘I did. I’m happy to see I’m succeeding.’

She shook her head and looked up, and for the first time he noticed her hair wasn’t loose. Usually, she wore her curls wild and free; today, her hair was tied back into a stern bun. Sleek, sure, but tamed to within an inch of its life. It bothered him.

Or maybe what bothered him was the hunger that was restless in his body. As if his cells had been starved and were now being offered a feast. Which was, he supposed, not untrue. For two years, his eyes had been starved of the beauty of her face. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to sate their hunger, despite the anger; despite the hurt.

So he allowed them to sweep over the oval slope of her brown eyes; the curve of her cheekbones; the dusting of freckles on the skin of her cheeks. He let them check whether the slight scar at her temple was still there, and if her lips were still pink and full and perfect for kissing.

He stopped himself then, because thinking about kissing and Summer at the same time was taking it too far. The prickling of his body told him so, as did the way those pink, full lips of hers parted. Which made him realise his eyes had dropped to her lips and had stayed there. That he was now showing her his hunger; revealing to her his feasting.

Though he warned himself not to, his eyes lifted to hers, and their gazes locked. A stampede could have passed them, the animals hurling themselves off the edge of the cliff, and he wouldn’t have noticed. He would have just kept looking into Summer’s eyes. He would have kept trying to see if his tainted past had been worth sacrificing that pull between them, especially when it still seemed to be alive and kicking.

He stepped back at the unexpected thought. When he realised it took him closer to the cliff, he took a step to the side. In his current state, being close to anything that might put him at risk of falling wasn’t a good idea.

So run away from Summer, then, a voice in his head told him.

He swallowed.