Releasing the Billionaire's Passion (4 page)

He ducked into the car and started the engine, not looking at the realtor as he backed up. “You did a great job,” he said to Fiona as she silently sat beside him while they drove away.

“Is it really that awful of a house?” she asked sadly, wishing he wasn’t so observant.

Charles sighed and took her hand, squeezing it gently where it rested on her thigh. “That’s just an opening position, Fiona. The man thought he had the sale completed. He rubbed me wrong so I gave him a list of things that are wrong with the house. But all of them are fixable,” he told her, vowing to ensure that every single one of them was fixed before he let her move into the house. “He’ll now drop the price a bit, I’ll come back with an even lower price and we’ll finish up somewhere in the middle.”

Fiona beamed up at him, thrilled with his brilliance. “So it was all a negotiating tactic? And you love the house just as much as I do?” she asked, actually nervous about his opinion.

Charles stopped at the stop sign and looked down into those brown eyes that never failed to make his body stir almost instantly to life. “I think that you’re sweet to love an inanimate object like a house so much,” he replied, not wanting to tell her how he really felt about the house. In truth, he wanted her in his house, in his bed, and preferably naked for about a week while he explored her every nuance. He finally admitted that this mysterious woman was driving him crazy with the need to be with her.

Charles didn’t drive her back to her apartment. Instead, he brought her to Antoine’s. “What are we doing here?”

Charles handed his keys to the valet as he got out of the car. Walking around to her side, putting a hand to her back again, he led her into the restaurant. “Did you have any breakfast this morning?”

Fiona thought back to her morning and shook her head “No, don’t think that I did. But you don’t have to miss any more of your work day. I can grab a…”

“I’m going to make sure that you eat lunch,” he interrupted, guiding her through the crowd of patrons waiting for a table. “Two, David,” he said to the host who was standing behind a podium.

The host immediately took two menus and led them through the busy restaurant. “Is this table sufficient, Mr. Henson?” the man asked.

Charles nodded quickly, pulling out Fiona’s chair. “Thank you,” Charles said, dismissing the obsequious man before taking his seat on the opposite side of the table. “So how are you going to pay for this house?” he asked.

Fiona hid her reaction to his question behind her menu. “I have a job,” she replied. Several, she thought. But he really wouldn’t approve of any of those jobs, so she kept silent.

“You’re going to have to use your inheritance for this house, Fiona.” He snapped the menu closed and looked at her, waiting for her to come out from behind the menu.

“I won’t,” she told him firmly.

Charles waited patiently. When the waiter arrived to take their orders, he also took their menus. Fiona could no longer hide. “Okay, explain,” he commanded.

Fiona shifted on the upholstered chair, feeling exposed and vulnerable with Charles’ eyes looking at her. She could fake confidence with others, but there was something about Charles that just got to her. She couldn’t lie. She couldn’t even be partially honest with him.

Fiddling under the table with her linen napkin, she tried to explain to Charles why she couldn’t use her inheritance. “My grandfather disapproved of me.”

Charles was surprised. “I knew your grandfather. He was a very straight-laced gentleman but I can’t imagine that he didn’t approve of his only granddaughter,” he replied.

Fiona smiled. “Takes one to know one, right?” But she didn’t wait for his response to her jab. “He was always trying to change me. He wouldn’t allow me to go to homecoming unless I went with one of the boys he’d chosen for me. The year I finally had enough money that I’d made on my own to buy my dress, he forbade me to attend the homecoming dance.”

Charles knew exactly what Fiona had probably done. “You snuck out anyway, didn’t you?”

She smiled shyly, excited for some silly reason simply because he seemed to understand her a bit better than her grandfather had. “Of course I did.”

“And were grounded for the next week?”

“Month,” she corrected with a cringe. “He was furious that I’d had the gumption to violate his sanction. And he was even more furious that I’d bought the dress myself. He didn’t like independent women.”

“So now you refuse to use his money because he wouldn’t let you use it while he was alive?”

She shook her head. “No, I won’t use it because there are so many stipulations that go along with the use of the money. He thought he could finally control me, even after his death.”

Charles was starting to understand. He didn’t approve, but he understood. “So you ignore the money and you can ignore his conditions.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, as the executor of his will, I can pretty much guarantee that the use of your inheritance to pay for a house would be within the bounds of his will. And as for all of the other stipulations, well, they can be gotten around.”

She bit her lip. “It’s the principal of the issue, though. I just can’t do it.”

Charles thought she was being stubborn, but she also looked sexy as hell sitting across from him right now. “Why don’t you look at other houses?” he asked, changing the subject slightly. “And when did you decide to own a house? You seem like the kind that would prefer an apartment.”

Her smile faded slightly and he felt like an ass but had no idea why. “What I meant was…”

She held up her hand. “I know what you meant. But you’re wrong. I’m actually very responsible. And I want to put down roots.”

He rubbed his jaw slightly. “Roots. You mean you want to start a family?”

Fiona laughed, but it came out sounding harsh. “A family,” she sighed, looking down at the table. She couldn’t look at him while talking about having a family because he would never see her as the kind of woman he could marry and have children with. She was the annoying, flighty woman he had to meet with once a month to review her accounts as opposed to a woman responsible enough to raise the next generation of Henson children.

“No. I won’t have children.”

He was surprised and almost angry at her declaration. “You don’t seem like the kind of woman who would go through life without children.”

Her heart ached because she really did want to have kids one day. With him! But that was not to be. “The two bedroom house will work out fine. The second bedroom can be my office…” she stopped abruptly, not wanting to reveal too much. He definitely wouldn’t approve of what she did for a living. “Or a craft room,” she quickly said to cover up her slip. Goodness, if he ever discovered what she did for a living, he might not ever speak with her again.

“Anyway,” she said, picking up her water glass and taking a long sip, “that’s all a long way away.”

Her shrimp etouffee arrived and she tried hard not to make a face when he sliced into his asparagus crepes. The man didn’t even know how to indulge properly, she thought. Oh, the things she could teach him. Her mind went crazy with the ideas as she took a bite of her shrimp.

She hurried through her meal, not wanting to linger with Charles sitting across the table. She wanted to mess up his hair or maybe just reach across the table and kiss his sexy lips. But she resisted. The ideas were completely out of the question. Besides, his hair probably didn’t muss and he most likely didn’t know how to kiss very well. It was just in her fantasies that he kissed like a dream. He probably thought a quick peck on the cheek was adequate affection and she had to stifle a laugh at the idea.

When she took the last mouthful of her soup, she delicately wiped her mouth with her napkin. Charles was finished, of course. “Thank you so much for lunch. You don’t need to drive me home though.”

He looked at her sharply. “I’ll drive you home, Fiona.”

She stood up and put a hand to his shoulder. “No, really. I can just catch the bus from here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped, standing up as well. “I’ll drive you home and we’ll discuss the house issue further.”

She shook her head. “Really. I have to meet Henry and Mack anyway so I’m not going home.” She smiled up at him pertly before she teased, “I’ve got a wonderful threesome for this afternoon! I love these guys! They’re huge boys and need lots of exercise or they get out of control.” With that, she walked out of the elegant restaurant, unaware of the fury entering Charles’ eyes.

Twenty minutes later, she unlocked the door and was almost tumbled over as the two gargantuan great Danes jumped up onto her shoulders, licking her face in their excitement at seeing her. Fiona laughed, delighted with their enthusiasm. “Okay! Okay!” she called out, pushing them off of her and sitting up. “Sit,” she commanded and both dogs bent their hind legs but their tails continued to wag, causing their butts to move back and forth on the tile floor. “I guess you guys need a long walk, don’t ya?” she asked.

Henry almost lost control, licking his face eagerly. But he pulled back, knowing that she would need to get up and get their leashes. “Okay. I hear ya.” She took their leashes from the hook by the door, grabbed the scooper and bags, along with a canvas tote bag filled with treats, balls, and Frisbees. There was no way she could walk these huge dogs enough to wear out their energy. She had to fling the toys into the air and wear them out by having them play catch.

She was only paid to exercise the two dogs for a half hour, but most days she played in the park with them for over an hour. They were great dogs, very sweet and affectionate and she loved seeing their long legs race across the grass to snatch the ball or Frisbee in the air. Most days they made her laugh with their exuberance, but today her mind was more on Charles and his touches, especially the way he’d held her so tightly in the bedroom when she was trying to block him. She’d liked that – way too much!

By the time she brought the boys back to their house, they were exhausted. She poured more water into their bowls, but the two guys just fell onto the floor of the kitchen. As she was leaving, she saw their eyes slowly closing as they relaxed for their afternoon naps.

On the bus ride back to her apartment, she pushed thoughts of Charles out of her mind. She had work to do and had to focus. Her deadline was coming up tomorrow and she wasn’t finished. Her advice column was now being syndicated in five different newspapers, both online and in print. It wasn’t much, but she was proud of the progress she’d made. She’d majored in psychology in college, against her grandfather’s wishes, but she’d turned her education into a great advice column for those with romantic issues. Since she knew exactly what it felt like, she was a great ear to listen to their problems.

So back in her apartment, she forced herself to sit down at her desk and sift through the letters and e-mails, trying to decide which ones she would answer. Each column had to be a good mix of humor and sage advice. When she had the five letters selected, she flipped open her computer and started typing up responses. It took several hours, but by the time she was finished, she was proud of her work. The questions ranged from a cheating boyfriend to a woman who thought she might be a lesbian.

She would read through her answers again tomorrow, probably make a few final edits, and then send it off. Every week, she promised herself that she would not wait to finish her article until the last day. But every week, she found herself sitting here rushing through the task. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the work. She loved it. But sometimes, the letters were so reminiscent of her feelings for Charles that it hurt to read them.

Getting up, she realized that she was hungry. Apparently, her lunch with Charles didn’t fill her up for as long as she’d hoped. But looking into the fridge, there wasn’t anything that interested her. She could run to the grocery store, but that didn’t appeal to her either since it was a rare occasion when her car decided it was going to actually start. The hassle was too much for just a simple grocery store run.

Looking in the freezer, she smiled at the contents, relieved that her dinner plans were now decided. “Ice cream it is!” she said, reaching into her freezer for the half gallon of peach ice cream she’d gotten last week and forgotten about.

Her phone rang as she said, “Goodness, I’m so sorry that I forgot about you!” She’d been referring to her ice cream, actually apologizing to the treat for abandoning it for so long while at the same time lifting the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

There was silence for a moment and Fiona was about to end the call, thinking it was a telemarketer and she had more important things to do, like eat peach ice cream. But something stopped her a moment before she heard, “Fiona?”

The male voice stopped her in her tracks, a major feat since she was heading towards the drawer that held all the spoons. “Charles?” she asked, not sure if she believed that the deep voice speaking to her was the man that had been on her mind all day. Well, most days if she was honest with herself.

“Fiona, who are you apologizing to?” he demanded. “Who did you forget?” He’d called to see if she was home, having thought about her all afternoon in the arms of two big guys that were doing bad things to her. He’d been distracted and furious for hours and now she was talking about someone she’d forgotten?

Fiona looked at the ice cream in her hand and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was so outrageous that she simply couldn’t dream up anything to cover her gaffe. Nor would it do for her to give Charles more ammunition on what a nitwit she was. “Um…well, I was just settling down to dinner. Why do you ask?” She could already hear him rubbing the bridge of his nose like he normally did whenever he was talking to her in his office.