Taming The Billionaire. Dani Wade
* *
Tate was glad Willow had disappeared by the time he came out of his dressing room. The tremor in his hands as he’d washed up and dressed had startled him.
The desire had hit him hard and fast.
Not since he’d been an untried youth had he been near a woman he had to have. His casual liaisons focused more on one-night stands to scratch an itch. He could appreciate a beautiful woman, even desire one. But urgency was definitely a thing of the past for him.
Yet his body’s response to Willow had been all-consuming. If it hadn’t been awkward enough to curb him, they would still be in his big bed—a whole lot more naked than they’d been upon awakening.
He breathed through the sudden surge of his body, waiting until his response died down before making his way out the door and downstairs. Instead of the sound of crashing thunder, the rooms now echoed with the rumble of waves beneath the house. The sound was muted as he moved down the hall to the kitchen.
There he found Willow bent over, inspecting the contents of the fridge. His body pulsed, responding to the sight of feminine curves encased in still-damp jeans.
His body was happy. His brain was not. This response was downright unsettling.
“What are you doing?” he asked, a little too gruff.
He felt bad about his tone when she jumped, bumping her ginger head into the lower edge of the freezer door. Her low moan made it worse, because it brought to mind things he shouldn’t be thinking about around her. He’d never had sex with anyone in Sabatini House since he’d become an adult. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her that he hadn’t slept with anyone. Though why those words had come out in that moment, he had no idea.
Just say what you need to say and get out of here.
But words escaped him as she turned to face him. Seeing her in full sunlight was like living color compared with the black-and-white of last night. Willow had the classic pale skin of a redhead with just a fine dusting of freckles across her cheeks. She had emerald-green eyes, which was what he favored for the female characters he wrote about, but in person hers were so vibrant. She was tall for a woman, just as he’d noticed last night, but now he could see all the sexy curves he hadn’t had a chance to truly savor this morning.
He cleared his throat, glancing out the window behind her to steady himself. Which wasn’t as effective as looking seaside. That would have reminded him of exactly why this woman was off-limits to a man like him. But at least the view of the barren hill leading to the gates below calmed the resurgence of desire that thrummed through his veins.
As if his silence was an invitation, Willow jumped right in. “I’m just checking to see what the inventory is like.” Crossing to the island, she picked up a pen and tapped it against the pad of paper lying there. “The landline is still out, but when we can get through, here are some places I’ll call about the roof and repairs—with your permission, of course.”
Though he’d prefer to direct this discussion himself, focusing on action was a very good idea right now. “Why wait? I’ll get the satellite phone from my office.”
She raised a brow. “Murdoch didn’t mention that you had a satellite phone.”
“I prefer to forget I have it. My editor, Charles, insisted I get it because he got tired of my being out of reach and ignoring his emails. The landline goes down all the time out here. I only use it to call him and my agent and for emergencies.”
He could tell by her face that this little explanation puzzled her, but Tate wasn’t going out of his way to explain his eccentricities. That was the way he operated. She could take it or leave it.
He glanced over the list. “These two,” he said, pointing to a couple of companies he’d worked with in the past. She had good taste. “I’ll get your luggage while you put in the calls.”
“What? So you were serious—”
“If you haven’t slapped me yet, I guess we’re pretty close to compatible. And it saves me the time of searching for a housekeeper to hold me over for just two months.”
Willow started a little happy dance on her side of the island. Tate did his best to ignore the sway of soft body parts.
This decision was probably a mistake, but it was expedient. And after accosting her in his sleep he felt obligated to be rather generous.
“So let me know when they arrive, and I’ll show them around.”
“I can handle it,” she quickly countered.
Tate adopted his sternest expression. “But I know the house, so I will. Got it?”
“Yeeesss...” The drawn-out word made it clear she didn’t understand, but she would soon enough.
“I’ll give you a chance to clean up, then we’ll go over a few things,” he said, eager for a break from his unrelenting response to her presence.
“We can now,” she said, eagerness practically vibrating off her in waves. “I’m good.”
Maybe getting it over with was a good choice. Like ripping a bandage off a particularly sensitive patch of skin.
“Let’s start with the rules.”
She blinked, as if trying to comprehend what he was saying.
“What did Murdoch tell you?”
Her smile opened her face up, revealing a pleasure that sunk straight into Tate’s darkened heart. He couldn’t catch his breath for a moment. Luckily she didn’t notice as she bent over to pull a notebook from her backpack. Guess she wasn’t a designer purse kind of girl.
“He gave me a whole notebook on house procedures. Let’s see, gate and alarm codes, chore schedule, your favorite foods...”
But no real rules? Somehow at this point he wasn’t surprised. Yesterday he would have been. Not today.
But Tate was a big believer in start how you mean to go on...
“Rule number one. I am not to be disturbed.”
That seemed pretty self-explanatory, but Willow still asked, “You mean when you’re writing?”
Tate refused to show the jolt of surprise that shot through him. “So Murdoch told you what I do for a living?”
“Actually, the fact that you’re an author is pretty well-known and speculated on in Savannah. Though no one has been able to crack the answer to what you actually write.”
“And Murdoch didn’t share that.”
The solemn shake of her head didn’t dampen the curiosity in her expression. But he wasn’t about to satisfy her with an answer. Instead he ignored the whole line of questioning.
“Actually, when I’m in my office at all, I’m not to be disturbed. I’ll come down at the set mealtimes I’m sure Murdoch gave you.”
Willow quickly moved on. “What about mail? Do you want your mail when it comes, or for me to wait for a meal and give it to you then?”
As she opened her mouth to say something else, Tate raised his hand for her to stop. “Do. Not. Disturb. Understand?”
He could see another question brewing in those green eyes, but he forged ahead. “Rule number two. No talking about me or anything that happens here or that you see here outside of these premises.”
“What about with my family?”
That wasn’t an issue Tate had ever run into with Murdoch. He and his family had been estranged for the first ten years he had worked here, but even after the reconciliation Murdoch hadn’t shared important details of his job with them. He’d simply gotten into the habit of keeping Tate’s issues private.
But Willow’s family might be a different story.
“I