Her Billionaire Rancher Boss Read online

  She wanted to go sit next to him, to tease him until he started laughing as unreservedly as the rest of them. But he looked content enough, and it would seem odd. They weren’t friends—Liliana and Penny were her friends.

  Liliana and Luke finished their story with a flourish, Luke going over to talk with Penny’s boyfriend when the laughter died down.

  Liliana sidled up next to Pilar, a beer clutched in her hand. “Javier couldn’t come?”

  She’d never actually seen her brother today to ask if he could. “No, he’s busy with schoolwork.”

  “Has he registered for classes yet?” Easy for Liliana to assume that everyone would do as she had and just slide into college right from high school.

  “No, not yet,” she said. “But there’s still time.”

  There wasn’t.

  “Not much,” Liliana said, frowning.

  And what the hell am I supposed to do about it? But she couldn’t yell at Liliana—the other woman was only trying to make small talk. And Pilar couldn’t hog-tie Javier and force him to go to college.

  She only wished things could be that easy.

  “It’s his decision.” And soon, she’d have to find a way to let go of that responsibility for Javier. But hopefully she could convince him to enroll before she had to do that.

  She flicked a glance toward Benedict, who was still watching everyone. When had he let go of Josh? Or had he ever? Was responsibility—failed responsibility—even now gnawing at his gut?

  Judging by his reaction to Josh’s request to see him, it definitely was. There had been only fleeting opportunities for a private moment with Benedict this past week, thanks to an unusually busy schedule for him. And she hadn’t had a chance today to ask how yesterday’s visit had gone.

  His posture was relaxed, his smile unstrained—but he was holding himself apart from everyone.

  “How did Benedict take the news that you’re leaving?” Liliana asked in an arch tone.

  Pilar gave Liliana a sharp look, but the other girl only took a swig of her beer. “Fine. He’s upset that he’ll have to get used to a new assistant, but he’ll adjust.”

  Liliana laughed, disbelief coloring her mirth. “I’ll just bet he took it fine.”

  “Why would you say that?” Did Liliana suspect something was going on?

  “Because he’s been crazy about you from the start.” Blunt and direct.

  “What?” No. No, Liliana was wrong. It was only an affair between them. Any crazy, inconvenient emotions were all on Pilar’s side.

  “Come on. All we hear is Pilar did this, Pilar did that, Pilar and I worked on this, Pilar and I worked on that. He never talks about work off the clock unless you’re somehow involved.”

  “But… he’s my boss. He’s never”—at least not before—“never done anything to suggest…”

  To suggest that he had deeper feelings for her. It had all been cool efficiency from him.

  Until she’d given him her resignation.

  “Of course he wouldn’t,” Liliana said. “Benedict suffers in silence. And you’ve got Javier—he wouldn’t want to make things complicated for you. I always thought that once Javier was on his own…”

  “Thought what?”

  “That Benedict would make his move.”

  Well, the other girl was wrong about that. Benedict had made his move before. And crazy about her? No, that couldn’t be right. He only talked about her because they spent all day together.

  She looked over at him, only to catch him staring at her. When their eyes met, his lips tipped in a small, secret smile. One that spoke of intimate secrets, of moments shared only between the two of them. The kind of smile that held volumes.

  Shit. He was crazy about her. And he’d hidden it all this time.

  When he’d said that he’d been attracted to her from the very beginning… Her cheeks heated as his words took on new meaning.

  He’s been crazy about you from the start.

  Was she crazy about him?

  She didn’t know. All those years, she’d been so focused on Javier, on getting him through adolescence safely, making sure that his future was assured. Her only thought beyond that was a vague plan to leave Cabrillo behind, to stop being the Merrill family charity case.

  She smiled back, just as small, just as secret, because she just couldn’t help it.

  If Benedict had been anyone other than who he was—then yeah, she probably would have been crazy about him too.

  Or maybe she already was.

  The oven timer chimed, breaking the moment between them.

  “Soup’s on,” Liliana yelled to the room at large.

  About fifteen minutes later, they were all digging into lasagna, crusty bread, and a Caesar salad. Liliana was a great cook, which Pilar never would have guessed when she first met Liliana in high school.

  Benedict was at the head of the table with Pilar at his right hand. Their knees were probably only inches apart under the table. She could slip her foot out of her shoe and slide it into his lap. She calculated the angles of how to do it. It would have to be her right foot, and she’d probably have to kind of cross her legs to do it—and make sure no one noticed what she was doing—but watching Benedict’s efforts to keep it together while she did so would be priceless. And if she only reached his calf, he’d still jump.

  She slipped her foot out of her ballet flat and—

  “Did you hear that Josh is coming home soon?” Liliana asked her.

  The tension at the table rose, Benedict going stiffest of all.

  So much for her plan to play footsie. “I did,” she said carefully, tucking her foot back into her shoe. “That’s good news.”

  She meant it. Josh had done his time, and if he was ready to shape up, then great.

  Benedict made a scornful noise. “Yeah, well, we’ll see if prison actually reformed him.”

  Maybe yesterday’s visit wasn’t a smashing success. If only she’d had the chance to ask Benedict about it before this—she wasn’t going to get anything meaningful out of him in front of his siblings. Not with the impenetrable-eldest-sibling role he played.

  Luke set down his fork, his hands curling into fists. Uh-oh. “Maybe we should wait until he gets back before we decide to write him off?”

  Whoa. She’d never seen Luke be anything but charming. He looked ready to fight.

  Benedict’s jaw tightened. “He’s got a hell of a lot of proving to do to convince me that he’s changed. Remember what he did?”

  The visit had been bad then. And if Josh hadn’t reformed, wasn’t ready to be something other than a drunken waste—it wasn’t a good thing he’d be getting out.

  Benedict was right. Josh did have to prove himself. So why was Luke being belligerent?

  “I know what he did,” Luke said tightly. “And he’s served his time. Maybe you should go a little easy on him instead of deciding to ride his ass from the get-go.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Maybe instead of lighting into Benedict, Luke could remember who the one at fault was here.

  Everyone else was staring wide-eyed, limbs tense. Apparently Luke snapping at his elder brother was a surprise for everyone.

  As for Benedict, his expression was coldly furious and… wounded. As if Luke had betrayed him by saying that.

  Which Luke kind of had.

  The silence stretched as the brothers stared each other down. Someone had to rescue the conversation here.

  “How’s your shoulder?” Pilar asked Penny’s boyfriend. What was his name again?

  “All right,” he answered. He moved it in the socket. “See? Can’t lift it any higher than this”—he stopped at about shoulder height—“but it’s getting better. Penny helps me with my exercises.”

  He slid Penny a secret smile and she went pink all over. Yeah, those two were completely twitterpated.

  He’s been crazy about you from the start.

  She slid Benedict a glance of her own. His expression had eased, wasn’t so tight a
nd angry, but now he looked resigned. And there was gratitude deep in the melancholy blue of his eyes.

  He knew what she’d done, appreciated it—but seemed saddened by it.

  She looked back to her plate, unable to carry the weight of his emotions and her own. The conversation went on about the boyfriend’s shoulder without her as she concentrated on eating. And ignoring Benedict and how he made her feel.

  Something pressed against her leg. His leg.

  She looked up to find him smiling rather ruefully at her. He leaned close, dropped his voice—and kept his leg against hers. “I meant to ask: do you want to go for a ride after dinner?”

  The sun was shining, the rain had turned everything green and bright and bursting—it sounded awesome. And finally, finally she could get him alone.

  But— “I didn’t bring any jeans.”

  Liliana, who’d been listening in, looked her up and down. “I don’t think I have anything to fit you.”

  Nope. Liliana was tall and skinny, and Pilar… wasn’t. She wasn’t even going to try squeezing into Liliana’s jeans. No contortion existed that would let her do that.

  Benedict cleared his throat in an almost shy way. “I’ve, uh, got some jeans. Women’s jeans,” he said at her look. “They ought to fit you.”

  Liliana asked the question Pilar wanted to. “Why do you have women’s jeans?” Only a lot louder.

  Silence followed that. So much for keeping things discreet and quiet.

  Benedict cleared his throat and assumed a rather impassive expression. “When I invited Pilar to dinner, I forgot to ask if she wanted to go for a ride after. And when I remembered, I decided to buy some jeans. Just in case.” He made it sound reasonable, but color was creeping up his cheeks nonetheless.

  It was adorable.

  “I haven’t ridden in years,” she said, as reasonable as he. “Thank you so much for thinking of it.”

  She thought she heard Liliana snicker but wasn’t certain.

  Benedict’s answering smile was all she could really take in just then. Along with the pressure of his leg, hidden from everyone except her and him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was a good thing Benedict had thought to buy her some jeans, because the day was absolutely perfect for a ride. Not too hot, with a breeze blowing in from the west, the air bursting with the scent of flowers—it made Pilar happy in a deep way she hadn’t been in a very long time.

  Benedict was right—taking a nice long ride was a good way to clear your head.

  They rode side by side on a trail that wound along the creek. The gurgle of the water joined the call of the birds in a song of spring. Neither Benedict nor Pilar said much as they rode. The silence between them must have been as comfortable for him as it was for her.

  The hills were bright green, with stretches of flowers providing splashes of color in the chaparral. It looked as if an impressionist painter had taken his brush to the countryside.

  They came to a stand of oaks. The ground beneath was littered with leaves and acorns, and in the middle was a flat boulder, perfect for sitting. She could imagine him and his siblings coming out here to play all the time—it was that kind of spot.

  “Want to stop here for a bit?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  She went to sit on the rock as he tied the horses to a low-hanging branch. The sense of spring bursting out was lessened here, pushed back by the seasonless aspect of the oaks. The rock was hard and cold, sitting in the shade as it was. But when Benedict turned to her, his gaze held all the heat she would need.

  He held a blanket in his hand as he stalked toward her. He snapped it out with a flick of his wrist, then crooked a finger at her. “Come here,” he growled.

  Oooh, caveman time. Nice.

  She sauntered over, trying for slow and sassy. “Yes? Did you need something?”

  He snared her about her waist and pulled her in close to him. God, but his body felt good pressed against hers.

  “Aren’t we supposed to be having an affair?” he asked.

  “Are we?” She grinned. “Because so far you’ve been more talk than action.”

  That got him well and riled. He kissed her hard, no little peck on the corner of her mouth. And he kept on kissing her, his tongue stroking deep within her mouth even as he lowered her to the blanket. Once there, he rubbed his face into her neck, his stubble raking deliciously across her skin, making her shudder.

  “You’re going to leave a red mark,” she protested halfheartedly.

  He lifted his head, pinned her with his intent expression. “I want to. I want everyone to see.”

  Definitely caveman time.

  An illicit thrill went through her at the thought of wearing the mark of what they were doing, the whole town seeing it. It wasn’t quiet or discreet—but she loved it.

  She pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him deeply. She wanted him to mark all of her, to drive her as wild as he had in all her imaginings.

  “Naked,” he muttered against her mouth. “I need you naked.”

  Sounded good to her.

  She helped him remove her shirt, boots, and jeans, managing to unbutton his shirt as she did. But when she reached for the top button of his jeans, he grabbed her wrist. Then the other. And held them over her head.

  Stretched before him, completely exposed to his darkened gaze, she could only shiver as he looked her over in silence.

  His free hand settled at her waist, then slid up to cup her breast. Something in his gaze opened and spilled light into the dark desire in his eyes. “I’ve imagined this for so long,” he said huskily. “You naked, beneath me.”

  She tried to wriggle free of his grip, but his hand only tightened.

  “Stay like that,” he ordered.

  She went beyond shivering at his tone—she quivered.

  He released her then, secure in the knowledge that she would obey. Both of his hands went to work at her breasts. He plucked and shaped her nipples with his thumb and forefinger, then slid his hand up to take them in the webbing of his thumbs, his fingers curling into her flesh as he did. As if he couldn’t bear not to have as much of her breast in his hand as he could.

  And then he lowered his head and brushed his face across her breasts, dragging his stubble across the flesh, marking her there as well.

  It was all delicious fire, the rub of his rough skin against her delicate parts. She groaned and tried to lift her hips, but his own kept her firmly anchored. “Please,” she begged.

  “Please what?” he drawled, all dark, dominant male.

  She snaked a leg around his, the denim of his jeans rough against her inner thigh. She lifted her hips again, rubbing herself against his crotch, feeling her dampness spreading through the fabric.

  But she kept her hands above her head, just like she’d been told.

  His smile dripped with the promise of torment to come. “We’ll get there.” His hands slid to her belly, made an arc along the soft swell of it, traveling from hip to hip. “I love this,” he said almost reverently.

  Her desire dimmed. “No one likes that part of my belly.”

  He raised his head, did that eyebrow thing. “I didn’t say I like it. I love it.”

  And with that she was an inferno again.

  He lowered his head, rubbing his face across her belly, digging the scratchiness of his beard stubble into the softness there. He kissed and suckled at the part he said he loved, and then he sank his teeth in. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to say Mine.

  She pulsed at every touch, every brush of his skin. Her clit ached. He had to touch there soon or she might die. Really, truly die. She was certain.

  He set his hands at her knees and pushed, opening her to his gaze. His eyes were the dark of twilight, his mouth pursed as if seeing a treasure for the first time. He held this adoring pose for several long moments, but she didn’t want to squirm or hide from it. She wanted to bask in it—so she did.

  His head dipped low and she held her breath
. He kissed the inside of one thigh, then softly exhaled on the damp spot he’d left. She clenched around nothing. God, he needed to hurry. She needed his fingers in her pussy, or better yet, his cock.

  He repeated the action on her other thigh and she groaned, lifting her hips greedily. He set a hand on her hipbone and pushed her back down. The pressure felt good, but not good enough.

  “Patience,” he rasped. “I’m gonna savor this first time. Next time we go fast. And hard.”

  A weird sobbing, begging noise came from her, one she’d never imagined she could make, but she was so goddamn desperate that she didn’t care.

  He brushed the seam of her thigh, that frontier between her leg and her sex, and every nerve ending lit up, sparks dancing under her skin. He slid both hands under her ass, cupping the globes, fingers going tight as if he couldn’t believe the bounty he’d found. And then he was lifting her hips, positioning her…

  Finally, he was going to put his attention where she needed it.

  The first touch of his mouth was light, tentative—more of a nudge than anything else. Then a deep inhale, as if he were savoring her. His tongue traced her folds lightly, then more definitively.

  She couldn’t help herself; she lowered her hands to clutch at his hair, to keep him right where she needed him. As if on cue, his mouth turned hungry, devouring. His tongue flicked at her clit, his lips closing on it, and she tried to close her thighs, to hold that sensation tight. But his hands kept her wide open, made her wallow in what he was doing to her.

  She scored her nails along his scalp, lifted her hips, and he sucked harder, making fire race along her nerves. The pleasure built to a dizzying peak, stars exploding behind her eyes—and she hadn’t even climaxed yet.

  His fingers tightened on her thighs, his kisses becoming insistent, demanding, pushing her toward that fall that was coming. She gave in to his demands, letting the peak break over her, moaning as it rolled throughout her body, made all of her shake with it.

  As she slowly sank back into reality, she was aware of him gently kissing her sex, her clit still pulsing with her release. God, but that felt good, to be lavished with caresses even after. She tugged at his hair, bringing his mouth to hers, tasting herself on his tongue. His erection rubbed insistently between them, reminding her that it was his turn now.