Give Me More--A Sexy Billionaire Romance A.C. Arthur (the giving tree read aloud .TXT) 📖

“I think you know.”

She shook her head.

“Okay, look, neither of us was ever known to give in to our circumstances. So why are we tiptoeing around each other now?”

“What would happen when it ends?” she asked.

He had and hadn’t come up with an answer, or rather he hadn’t come up with an answer he wanted to accept.

“Let’s have dinner tonight,” he said. “Not a meeting to discuss the story. Just dinner at seven, you and me. I’ll make all the arrangements.”

She looked skeptical. “Are we going to talk about this at dinner?”

He shook his head. “We’re going to have a nice meal like we used to do. I miss that.” He’d also missed times like this, when they were just doing stuff together. Sure, he wasn’t going to like the sand that was already sneaking into places he didn’t want to think about, but he wasn’t going to lie about enjoying being with her.

“Yeah,” she said with a slow nod. “I do, too. But I’d really like to win this sandcastle contest first.”

They both grinned. Competitiveness, ambition, tenacity—all traits they shared. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”

And do it they did. An hour later they were being crowned the winners for their underwater castle with all the intricate aquatic life that Grace had managed to design. RJ let her take the gift shop sandcastle they were awarded as a prize. When she went off to an interview with Major and Maurice, he returned to his room to make plans for tonight.

Grace stepped up onto the yacht, the balmy evening breeze blowing her hair and the light material of her full skirt.

“Good evening,” RJ said as he stood from the table at the far end of the deck.

“Good evening,” she replied. “We’re having dinner here?”

“Yes.” He came closer and took her hand, leading her toward the table. “Dinner and a sunset sail. You still like to watch the sunset, don’t you?”

“I love to,” she answered softly. She’d dated RJ for a year and a half and in that time, she’d been on the Gold private jet and had attended numerous A-list parties, from LA to Milan. RJ had given her pearls for her birthday, couture gowns for Christmas, and commissioned artwork for their first anniversary. She’d been privy to fine things, but she’d never been on a private yacht to watch the sun set in Saint Lucia.

“I heard it was beautiful out here on the water, so I wanted to make sure you had a chance to see it before you leave.” He held out a chair for her and she sat down.

It was silly—her legs were a little wobbly and butterflies danced in her stomach as if this were her first date. Not just with RJ, but ever.

“You look really nice,” she said, fighting for some semblance of calm. And it was true. He’d changed from the swim trunks and tank top and now wore dark brown linen pants and a matching button-front shirt.

“Not nearly as nice as you,” he replied.

She glanced down at the hunter-green wrap dress she wore. A good portion of her leg was visible through the side slit and she eased the material over to cover it, suddenly feeling more than a little exposed.

“What are you doing?” she asked when she looked at him again. “This seems like more than just dinner.”

The table was covered with a white cloth, and plates with gold rims were set next to sparkling silverware and crystal glasses. A bottle of wine was sitting inside a silver ice bucket; two long white candles were lit and centered.

Everything was set almost identically to the way it had been the night he’d proposed to her.

“What is this? Why’d you do all this?” She was already standing to leave, but RJ stood, too, touching a hand to her arm to hold her still.

“It’s just dinner,” he said. “I wanted it to be special, but if you don’t like it, all you have to do is say the word and we can go back to the café or order something to your room. I really just wanted to have some time with you tonight, away from everyone else.”

He sounded earnest and his hand on her arm loosened so that if she did really want to leave, she knew he wouldn’t stop her. “I’m fine with an evening sail.” Over RJ’s shoulder she glimpsed a guy dressed in all white. He gave a hand signal to someone she couldn’t see and the yacht began to move.

After a few seconds, she said, “You created this to look like that night at the restaurant. The night you proposed.”

He dropped his hand from her arm and slipped it into his front pocket. “You’re right,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t been able to move forward since that night, Grace.” He shook his head. “Yeah, I’ve gotten up every day and I’ve gone about my business doing my job, and being with my family, but that’s it.”

She took a step back from him, realizing now that in addition to wanting to do something special, this dinner was an attempt to find closure. “Don’t say you haven’t moved on, because you’ve dated, RJ. I’ve seen pictures of you in the tabloids with dates.” But not girlfriends. There’d only been about three or four times that she could recall that there’d ever been any mention of RJ with a date, and those few times were usually during some big high-profile function on the company’s behalf. She’d told herself to let it go at the time, but now, tonight, it felt like they were both still holding on to everything that did or didn’t happen in the last ten years.

“And I’m sure you’ve dated, too, although thank all that’s holy I didn’t have to see any pictures of that.”

His tone was grim and she knew why. RJ wasn’t a jealous man, but he did protect what he deemed to be his, and those he cared for deeply. Seeing him in pictures with those women,