What had she been thinking, inviting Gavin back to her place? That’s right, she hadn’t been thinking, or at least her brain hadn’t been. Fuck, the way he’d spun her around on that dance floor, the sway of his hips, the thrust of his pelvis, the naughty glint in those sexy dark blue eyes. It was freaking foreplay, and he knew it. She’d been out of breath and wet by the time the song had ended, her breasts straining against the tight dress, desperate to be free. So that’s why she’d invited him home. Not one brain cell had taken part in that decision; it’d been all libido.

As soon as the song ended and her mother gave her her blessing to flee, she’d been out the door, only he’d caught her. He always caught her. Heather figured if she made it out of the restaurant without Gavin noticing her, he wouldn’t be able to find her and she could go home to take care of the hollow ache between her legs with her favorite vibrator. But nooooo, his ninja skills seemed to have been honed over the years, and he was on her like a dirty shirt, begging her to sit and listen to whatever spiel he figured would make her forgive him. Well, she would tell him and anyone else who would listen right now, nothing he could say would make her ever take him back, ever forgive him for breaking her heart and ending things the way he did, nothing.

But despite her conviction to never forgive Gavin McAllister, the low-down, selfish bastard, their dancing had turned her on something fierce. And as luck, or lack thereof, would have it, she was also single and hadn’t been with a man in ages.

Fuck, was it coming up on a year? Yeah, must be.

So as she drove home, glancing far too much in the rearview mirror at him following behind her, she decided she was going to get the closure he never gave her. Get the breakup sex he owed her. Get her rocks off, have some orgasms and then kick his ass to the curb and never look back.

She hit the button for the door to her parking garage, and slowly it lifted. There were a few visitor spots, so Gavin grabbed one. She was out of her car first, walking around the back and admiring the sleek lines of his Audi RS7. Quite the rental. Last time she’d traveled anywhere, she’d been happy with the Ford Focus the rental company gave her. She didn’t want to even think about how much that Audi was costing him per day. More than her mortgage probably.

“Nice car,” she said smoothly, the click of her heels on the pavement drowning out the thud of her pulse in her ears.

He followed her to the elevator. “Thanks. It’s a rental. But I have the same year and model back home, so it’s a familiar drive.”

Holy shit! What the hell did Gavin McAllister do for a living to be able to afford an Audi RS7, Ferrari and sexy motorcycle?

He ran a big hand through his thick, dark hair. Damn it, why did he have to go and be even sexier than she remembered? Why couldn’t he have gained two hundred pounds, suffered from severe hair loss and adult cystic acne? That would have made things a lot easier. But no, he was handsomer than ever. Good thing he was still a crappy person on the inside. That would make tossing him out after sex a lot easier.

The elevator doors opened. They both stepped inside. Heather slid her key card into the slot, and the car began to rise.

“Nice. You in the penthouse or something?” he asked, rocking back on his heels and admiring the bright gold mirrored walls of the elevator car.

She shook her head. “No. Fifth floor of twelve. But the level of security in this place was appealing.”

“Cool. Yeah, I have a key card to my place too.”

She wanted to ask if he was in the penthouse of his condo, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea that she was interested in him or his life. No. She wanted his body. She wanted his cock and perhaps his tongue and that was it. Once she got those things, had her merry way with them, he was going to be out the door. This needed to be quick, and this needed to be easy. There would be no pillow talk, no breakfast. Quick and easy breakup sex ten years later, that was all this was going to be.

So instead of asking the burning questions that seemed to be mounting rapidly in her brain, she put her head down and stared at her shoes.

The elevator dinged, and the door opened. She stepped out first and took a left.

“This is a nice building. Have you lived here long?”

Her pace was brisk. There was no time for chitchat. She needed him naked and gone before sunrise.

“A couple of years. It was a brand new building. I’m the first owner of my unit.”

“Sweet. I can’t wait to see it.”

She slid the key into the lock and opened the door. Immediately she threw the overhead lights on in the kitchen, followed by one in the living room. Heather loved her condo. It was bright, east-facing, so it got lots of morning sun. Had a big balcony where she grew vegetables and flowers, two bedrooms, two bathrooms and a walk-in closet she could call a third bedroom and rent out if times ever got tough. She kept things minimal with very few knickknacks, and everything had a place and a purpose. She liked the clean look of white, so besides the odd pop of scarlet or dark gray, pretty much everything was white or another neutral shade.

“This is a really great place,” Gavin said, toeing off his shoes and hanging up his coat near the door. He wandered into her living room and gazed out the big picture window that showcased the Space Needle all lit up. “Wow, quite the view.”

She hung up her purse and coat. “I know. I love it. Though I haven’t been up to the top of that thing in ages.”

“Remember when we went up there for my birthday?”

Heather snorted and made her way into the kitchen. She opened up the cupboard with all the liquor and pulled out a bottle of scotch. “Hard to forget that cold January night. A lot happened.”

He spun around with a big grin on his face, his saunter practiced and carefree as he approached her in the kitchen. “Yes, a lot did happen. A lot of wonderful things.”

She poured them each two fingers of scotch, then slid one glass across the island to him. “Yes, well, as much fun as me getting my cherry popped in your twin bed on your birthday was, we’re not sixteen anymore, and things have changed.”

She tossed back the scotch like it was 7UP, then poured another two fingers.

“A lot has changed, you’re right.” He took a sip, eyeing her over the rim of his glass.

This time, Heather just took a sip. She rested the glass down on the island. “I’ll be right back.” Without even looking at him, she took off to the powder room just off the kitchen. A quick makeup check to ensure there were no raccoon eyes, followed by a wet wash cloth to her lady parts, and she was good to go. Steeling herself for a night of meaningless sex with her ex, she tossed back her shoulders and plastered on her best sexy smile before opening the door. “So, are we fucking or what? Because I need to get the hell out of this dress. It’s way too tight after all those empanadas.”

Gavin’s chin nearly hit the floor. “I, uh … that’s not why I came over here, Hettie. I really do want to talk to you.”

She rolled her eyes as she went on the hunt for the zipper of her dress. “I don’t want to talk. I want to fuck. You owe me breakup sex. Hard to have it when you get dumped over the phone.” She found the zipper on the side of her dress and began to pull it down. Before she knew what was happening, Gavin had raced over and his hand was on hers, halting her efforts to undress.

“If you take your dress off, I won’t be able to concentrate on what I have to tell you. Please,” he reached for her hand, “can we just go sit in the living room and talk?”

She shot him a look that said, “this better be good,” before grabbing her scotch and letting him lead her around the island and into the living room. She took up residence on her cream-colored leather couch. The cashmere cushions behind her were silky soft, and she snuggled right in, curling her legs up under her.

Gavin sat beside her but gave them enough space that their legs weren’t touching and his incredible manly scent wasn’t driving her bonkers. The scotch was already working its magic into her limbs; a tingling warmth seeped out through her belly, warming her extremities and easing her overactive imagination. He took a sip of his drink before resting it on her zebrawood end table. He used a coaster, which surprised her—in a good way.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face her. “I owe you more than an apology. I owe you an explanation. I owe you, well, fuck, I owe you my life. You, your parents, you all saved me. And I didn’t go about showing my appreciation in the right way. I should never have ended things with you over the phone.”

Her breath caught audibly, and his head shot up.

“Shit, sorry. I mean, I should never have ended things with you at all, but certainly not over the phone.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, he closed his eyes for a moment.

His fingers made a raspy sound against his scruffy close-shaved beard, and all Heather could think about was about the sweet, sweet pain of whisker burn. On her lips, her cheeks, her neck, her nipples, her …

Removing his hand, he opened his eyes. They were tired, but clear and bright with resolution. He continued on. “A lot happened that first year I moved to New York. A lot that I didn’t tell anybody about. And when it all happened, I was really lost, and trying to manage a long-distance relationship just added to the mess of things. I didn’t want to break up with you. But I was young and stupid, and I figured it would be easier ending it before I made a mistake, like got drunk one night and cheated on you.”

“So you dumped me so you could go party and fuck without the guilt of a girlfriend back home?”

“Yes.” Her eyes went wide. He shook his head emphatically. “Wait, no. But yes. All my friends were single, partying, hooking up. In some ways I felt like it was something you just needed to do, get out of your system before you have to grow up, get a job and settle down. So, yeah, to build on the horrible image you already have of me, that’s part of the reason why I ended things.”

Heather reached for her scotch and took a long, healthy sip. It went down smooth and easy. Her father always did know how to pick good scotch. She rolled the last sip around on her tongue for a few moments, considering Gavin’s words.

They hurt.

They hurt a lot.

But there was some truth to them as well. She’d felt left out at college, too. While Gavin had gone off to Columbia on a full math scholarship, Heather had stuck around Washington state, attending the local college and getting a degree in accounting. She’d made friends quickly at school and went to parties most weekends, but despite how much she loved Gavin, she’d been envious of the girls dancing and making out, hooking up and dating. It seemed like a rite of passage. So she understood where Gavin was coming from, because after he’d dumped her and she allowed herself some time to grieve, she’d started dating and hooking up, partying and dancing. She experienced college to its fullest and had countless great memories to show for it.

Maybe they had been too young to be so committed. Maybe breaking up was the right thing?

“Shortly after Christmas that first year,” Gavin continued, “I received a letter in the mail to tell me my father had died.”

Heather nearly choked on the scotch. “Your dad? But I thought he … ”

Gavin nodded. “Nobody knew where he’d taken off to. Went out for diapers and never came back. That’s the story my mom stuck to for years. But anyway, I received a letter saying that he died. I also received a check. Because turns out as terrible as he was at being a dad, he was just that apt at being a businessman. He’d accumulated over forty million dollars, and ten of those were on the check to me.”

Now Heather’s chin nearly dropped to her lap. “Ten million dollars?”

“Yeah. I also apparently have three half-siblings. Great business man, shitty dad, can’t figure out a condom to save his life. That’s Randall McAllister for you.”

“Did he give them any money?”

“It was split four ways, so we each got ten mil.”

“Have you met them?”

“I’ve met one,” he said softly. “My older brother, Tate, lives in Tahiti. He owns a bunch of resorts there as well as holds shares in hotels around the world. He started bringing me in on the deals, too. We both own substantial shares in the Windward Pacific downtown. The guy’s a billionaire. I have another brother who I’ve only spoken to on the phone or communicated with through emails. And we have a sister out there, too, but we haven’t been able to track her down.”

Holy shit. He hadn’t told her any of this, none. Did her dad know? Her mother? Had they all been keeping Gavin’s millionaire status a secret from her? Did he break up with her because he thought she was a gold digger and would spend all his money? The mere thought tasted acrid on her tongue. No, he knew her better than that, knew she didn’t care about that kind of thing. She’d loved him when he was a poor orphan. She would have loved him as a millionaire too.

Heather was up and off the couch in a matter of seconds. She snatched the scotch bottle from the counter and brought it back over to the couch. After topping them both up, she sat back into the cushions. “Okay, so you’re loaded now.” She paused. “Wait, so the Harley Davidson and Ferrari are yours?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Now it was his turn to pause. A crooked grin caught on his lips. “How do you know I own a Harley and a Ferrari? Been snooping around on Google?”

Her face was hot. Shit! Stupid scotch causing her to not have an adequate working filter. How the hell was she going to get out of this one?

Rolling her eyes, she tipped back her glass and took a sip. “My mother may have shown me a photo or two of you in passing.” She scoffed for good measure. “So, is that what you came here to tell me, that you’re Richie Rich now?”

He took another sip before answering. “Not just that. I want you to know everything. The whole story. So, after I inherited the money from my dad, my life started spinning out of control. I suddenly could afford anything I wanted. I spent and spent and spent. Went on trips, rented a sweet apartment right across from Central Park. I lived the life of Riley for a good six months. Even though inside I was a mess. It wasn’t until Tate got ahold of me about a year later—he flew to New York to meet up, and when he saw how I was living, he knocked some sense into me. He wasn’t living in Tahiti at the time. He was living in South Korea running a hotel there. But he was saving his money, investing well. He had his eye on a rundown resort in Tahiti and was waiting for the price to drop just a little lower. When it did, he swooped in, bought it and turned it into one of the most luxurious resorts in the world.”

Heather shook her head. Where the hell was Gavin going with this? Why was he blathering on about his billionaire big brother? Did Gavin live in Tahiti now, too? Was that going to be the big revelation?

“Okay … ” she said, not wanting the story to end, but more to just get to the point. She was still eager to get to that breakup sex, and the more scotch she pumped into her bloodstream, the more she wanted Gavin naked and inside her.

“Anyway, Tate didn’t like the road I was on. Said I’d be broke in less than two years at the rate I was spending. So, he guided me with some investments. We bought up some real estate properties together, chose some good-looking stocks to put some coin into, then we sat back and watched my money grow. I gave up my apartment, moved back in with roommates, and I lived the life of a college student. I also found a passion. Playing the stock market became my new obsession. Watching the numbers spike and plummet became the best kind of high. I no longer cared about parties; I lived for the adrenaline rush of the New York Stock exchange every morning. It was better than coffee.”

“That sounds like a horrible life,” she said, with a head shake and sneer. “Money isn’t everything.”

A soft smile coasted across his face. “You’re right, it’s not. I flew to Tahiti a few months ago to see my brother. He’s married and expecting a baby. He’s a completely new man. Happier than I’ve ever seen him, at peace and in love.”

“Good for him,” she said quietly. “I’m glad he realized there is more to life than just money.”

He nodded. “And he helped me realize it, too. He said I struggle to find a balance. He says Parker, his wife, is what balances him out. I was obsessed with spending and partying, then I became obsessed with making money and the stock market. Tate helped me see that I was wasting my life away obsessing over money and stocks. And truth was, I wasn’t even happy in my job anymore. But I have an addictive personality, and like an alcoholic, I’d become dependent on it, and I saw no way out. I couldn’t just get up one day and not check the Dow Jones. It’d become as a part of me as breathing.”

She frowned. “That’s really sad.”

“Isn’t it? But Tate helped me realize there is more to life than that. He sent me to a therapist while I was on the island, and she helped me realize that I’ve been so scared of turning into my dad and letting people down, I never let anyone get close enough to be able to let them down.” His lips dipped into a frown. “Besides you, that is. I haven’t let anyone else get close enough since you.”

Affected by his words but not willing to let him see it, Heather hid her face with her glass and took a long drink. Jesus, this was information overload.

He must have taken her silence as an invitation to continue. “The therapist asked me what kinds of things make me happy, because we’d identified when I went to see her that I couldn’t have been further from happy. She told me to close my eyes and think about the happiest moments in my life. Then she asked me who was there and what we were doing. All I saw when I closed my eyes was you. The two of us, dancing, laughing, kissing, making love. In every truly happy memory I have, you are front and center.”

Heather sat there frozen.

Gavin pressed on. “I’ve quit my job. I actually quit it six months ago and have since been setting up a nonprofit organization that helps families without adequate funding or access to medical care get the help they need. It also helps people who can’t afford expensive medications and prescriptions get what they need. I want to do something worthwhile with my money, with myself and my time. Tate figures by Christmas next year, if our real estate investments pay off the way he thinks they should, I’ll be a billionaire or just shy of one.”

Heather’s mouth fell open and all the air left her lungs.

Billionaire?