Seduction on the Sand (The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay #2)(10)
Author: Roxanne St. Claire

Instead, he reached over her head for his own glass. “Why, thank you for offering, I’d love a glass of water.”

She tried to duck away to let him get it, which was damn near impossible because he was so big and filled her kitchen with all his body and…hands.

Enough with the hands, Frankie!

“I still don’t completely buy this you-want-to-live-on-a-farm business,” she said.

“I don’t either,” he admitted. “That’s why I’d like to try it.”

“They have dude ranches for that kind of thing.”

He filled his water glass, smiling.

“What?” she asked, seeing the smirk.

“You’re not a dude, that’s all.”

“Oh, God.” She leaned against the counter, half-laughing, half-sighing. “You really think you can flirt me out of my land? That you can woo me with cute jokes and a drop-dead smile and a sudden interest in goats?”

He turned. “Drop-dead? I like that.”

“Then why don’t you?”

He just laughed and looked down at Ozzie. “She totally likes me, don’t you think?”

The little traitor barked twice and wagged his tail.

“He speaks English,” she said.

“Obviously.” Elliott crouched down. “Talk some sense into your mom, will ya, bud?”

He barked twice again.

“What’s that mean?” Elliott asked.

“Go away.”

He laughed again, an easy, playful, masculine laugh that sounded…good. There’d been no laughing in this little trailer for three months. No flirtatious banter, no combustible chemistry, no sexy side glances, no…man. No laughter, no music, no connection, no…romance.

And yet she’d thought she was content here. Nearly content, anyway. Almost content. Wasn’t she?

He put the glass to his lips, giving her only his profile. He drained the whole glass, his Adam’s apple bobbling, like he’d walked miles through the desert. Well, he had trudged up here from far enough away that she’d never heard the car.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Good God, the man was a specimen and a half of perfection. And protection. A thick bicep with the shadow of a vein running through, strong forearms dusted with dark hair. Then she was back to his hand, curled around the glass, all tanned, long, powerful.

But she didn’t really know anything about him at all.

From behind the glass, she saw him smile.

“What?”

“You have a camera?” he asked, lowering the glass. “’Cause it would be easier to take a picture, Francesca.”

She felt a warm rush to her cheeks at the use of her full name. And being caught staring. “You’re standing in front of me gulping like a hog.” She forced herself to turn, leaning on the sink and looking away. “How’d you get so”—built—“rich?”

He chuckled as if he knew exactly what her real thought had been. “Told you already. Dumb luck.”

She gave a scoffing grunt, pushing off the sink to go back into the living room. He followed, with Ozzie practically crawling up his jeans, of course. “Not buying it. Nobody’s that lucky.”

“I am.” He sat in Nonno’s old recliner, the first man—the first human—to sit there in three months. Pushing back, he popped the footrest with a loud snap. “Haven’t been in one of these for a long time.”

“No La-Z-Boys in the mansion?”

He grinned, getting comfortable and, of course, making room for Ozzie on his lap. “I might have to change that.”

Didn’t deny he owned a mansion, she noticed.

“Anyway, to answer your question, I bought a very valuable piece of property.” He crossed his feet and looked at her from under thick lashes. “I paid forty-six thousand dollars for about six acres of land in western Massachusetts.”

“And selling that made you rich?”

“Nope. I never sold the land and never will.”

She eyed him, curious, watching his smile grow and his dark eyes dance.

“But the first time I put a shovel in the ground, I hit some stone. Beautiful gold stone.”

She gasped. “You struck gold in Massachusetts?”

“Close enough. Goshen stone. Rare and desirable, and the amount I had on my land—land that I bought as a favor to my cousin who really needed to sell, I might add—netted over two billion dollars.”

“Wow.” It was the best she could do because, wow. That was lucky.

“I know,” he agreed. “So I might be arrogant about a lot of things, but not my money-making skills. I literally fell into wealth, so it doesn’t really change who I am, just how I live. And, yes, I gave my cousin a cut.”

He searched her face, probably looking for the usual drool women have to wipe when they learn his net worth. A flicker of discomfort registered on his expression when she imagined what he saw instead. “I mean, I live well,” he said slowly. “I have a—”

“Yacht.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Sure, I have a pleasure boat.”

“And a private jet.”

“It makes travel easier.”

“Multiple expensive homes.”

He lifted one shoulder. “I like to stay in my own place if I can.”

“Butlers and staff and, of course, some ridiculous collection like art or horses or…”

“Rare cars,” he supplied. “I’m not going to apologize for how I live. I told you I was in the right place at the right time.”

But, still, she knew all she had to know about him. He worshipped at the money altar, and she despised people like that. She learned at a tender age that when you put money in front of everyone else, the ultimate price is too high. Her parents paid that price, and it still hurt her to think about it. You can’t love people and money at the same time or with the same intensity. One wins out, everytime.

“Look.” She took a steadying breath. “I really appreciate your concern for my safety and your interest in goats and whatever else you’re going to dream up to persuade me to give you access to…me. But I don’t think this is going to work out.”

He didn’t move, except for his infernal petting of her dog.  “It’s the money, isn’t it?” he finally asked.

She scowled at the question, not believing she was quite that transparent.

“You have issues with money,” he explained.

Well, yes, she was that transparent. “Who doesn’t?”