The Billionaire Playboy Read online

  Forget about it. Everyone's under a lot of stress. That's all it is. With thoughts of Captain O'Brien pushed from his mind, he focused on pounding nails into plywood. He'd done the exact same thing on numerous occasions since starting the Falmouth Foundation, though the media always failed to include that bit in their stories about him. In fact, the media almost never mentioned the foundation when they did a piece on him. And when they did, it was as a side note. That didn’t surprise him; the American public preferred to hear about which actress he'd taken to the new movie premier or which model he'd taken to dinner.

  Jake pounded the last nail into the wood with more force than necessary at the thought of the media vultures that seemed to shadow his every move. “All done with this one,” he said turning to look at the woman next to him. “Anymore?”

  Captain O'Brien put the final nail in the board covering her window then turned to face him before her eyes looked over at the plywood he'd hung. As he watched she ran her gaze over his work and Jake guessed that she expected it to fall at any minute.

  “No. All set here. Thanks for the help.”

  “Where to next?” He saw no reason to stop working now.

  For a minute she stood eyeing him, her lips pressed tightly together. “I need to get back to treating injuries but you can take your pick. The Larsons across the street need help or you can check down the street.”

  Jake looked across the street to where a man wielding a chainsaw worked by himself. It looked like as good a place as any to help. “Across the street it is.”

  He felt the doctor's eyes on his back as he crossed the front lawn to the edge of the street, but he ignored it. Too much work remained for him to worry about one person's opinion of him.

  As Jake approached, a burly man with a long light-brown beard that reminded Jake of a younger version of Santa, killed the engine on his chainsaw.

  “Need some help over here?” Jake stopped in front of the dismembered tree trunk.

  The other man's eyes narrowed for a moment as he studied Jake and he knew the second the younger version of Santa recognized him. The man's eyes grew wide and his eyebrows shot up.

  “Aren't you the President's son?”

  “Please call me Jake.” Jake extended his free hand. “I'm here with the Falmouth Foundation. What can I help with?”

  “Phil Larson,” the other man said accepting Jake's hand. “I could use some help covering up this glass slider. Damn tree went right through. If I don't get it covered today my wife won't sleep in the house.”

  “Let’s get to it then.”

  Chapter 2

  Charlie took the last bite of the strawberry cereal bar she'd snagged from the pantry and hightailed it out of the kitchen before her mom could rope her into helping cook dinner. The bed and breakfast had no paying guests so her mom and brother had opened its doors to anyone who needed a place to stay. Although they still didn’t have electricity back they did have a generator, which meant hot meals and running water.

  While she was proud that her family made such a gesture, she had no plans of helping in her mom's well-ordered kitchen. Cooking wasn't one of her skills. If a meal required much more than putting it on a tray in the oven, she was lost. Her mom knew this, so if she did ask for help, Charlie would find herself either washing and chopping vegetables or taking care of the dirty pots and pans. On a normal day she wouldn't mind helping her mom a little in the kitchen, but not today. Every muscle in her body ached and she suspected she could fall asleep standing up. It'd been a long day doing everything from treating injuries to boarding up broken windows. All she wanted to do right now was lay down because she knew tomorrow she'd be doing it all again.

  Focused more on what tomorrow might bring, Charlie wasn't paying attention as she rounded the corner into the foyer and ran smack dab into a solid wall of muscle. Large male hands instantly gripped her shoulders to steady her, and the scent of pricey cologne mixed with sweat tickled her nose.

  “Sorry about that.” Charlie's face burned as she took a step back. Now that she was no longer on top of the solid wall of muscle she'd almost run over, she found herself standing in front of none other than Prince Charming himself, Jake Sherbrooke. Despite what she thought of him and others like him, she had to admit he'd done his fair share of physical labor today, much to her surprise.

  “If you're here about a room, we're all filled right now,” Charlie said unable to ignore the heat spreading through her body. Even with a sweat-stained face and the large scratch he'd gotten at some point during the day, he still caused her heart rate to accelerate.

  Although she didn't think highly of billionaires who'd done nothing to earn their money but be born to the right parents, she couldn't deny that he was devastatingly handsome. No wonder supermodels and actresses dated the guy. He looked even better in person than he did in photos.

  Jake released her shoulders and took a step back. “My assistant called earlier and reserved a room for me.” His tone remained even and his words were spoken without any hint of an accent.

  Did he practice speaking like that? She'd met people from all over the country and everyone regardless of where they came from had some type of accent, but not him. If she didn't know he'd grown up in New England she'd never be able to guess where he'd spent his childhood from his voice alone.

  “Mr. Sherbrooke your room is all set,” Maureen O'Brien said joining them, her flowered apron still tied around her waist. “We have you in the Hawthorne room. I'll show you up.”

  Charlie remained silent as her mom and Jake Sherbrooke headed up the stairs. The Hawthorne room had been her bedroom before her mom started taking in boarders to help pay the bills. She'd been twelve when her father walked out and for a full year her mom struggled to keep them afloat. Then a friend suggested Maureen take in some college students from Salem State who didn't have a place on campus. Her mom had continued to do that until a few years ago when she and Sean turned the old Victorian into a bed and breakfast.

  Using all the determination she had, Charlie dragged her body up the two flights of stairs to the attic. When the house had originally been built the bedrooms in the attic had been for servants, but since her father left she called the smallest one her bedroom.

  The room looked the same as it had the day she left for college. Her mom never changed anything. Dark blue curtains still framed the one window and a light blue bedspread covered the bed. No one used the room. Her mom insisted that it be kept ready for Charlie's visits even though they were few and far between.

  Stripping off her dirty clothes, she stepped into the shower in the tiny bathroom that separated her bedroom from what had been her brother's room. For a moment she stood under the stream of lukewarm water. The water in that particular bathroom never got hot but, with only a generator to power everything in the house, it was colder than usual. Despite the temperature the water felt wonderful as it cascaded over her tired body, and she took her time washing away the dirt and sweat.

  Warm humid air greeted Charlie a few minutes later as she walked back into her room wrapped in a large faded blue bath towel that had at one time matched the painted walls. Like everything else in the room the towel had been there forever.

  Man, were his eyes blue. Charlie caught a glimpse through the window of the Escalade parked outside as she pulled a clean shirt out of the bureau. She'd never seen eyes quite that blue. They reminded her of the sapphires in the heart-shaped pendant her mom owned. The only good piece of jewelry her mom had, it had belonged to Charlie's great-grandmother.

  Thinking about Jake Sherbrooke's eyes had her thinking about some of the other attributes she'd noticed about him—the well-muscled chest that her hands had felt when she'd run into him in the foyer and the well-defined biceps she'd seen when he'd been working alongside the rest of the town boarding up windows and clearing debris.

  Of course he has a great body; he probably has nothing else to do all day but workout. For a minute Charlie envisioned some of the sailors o
n the base back in Virginia. Sure some had great physiques but not all. Between their work obligations and families many didn't have the time it required. It's not like he has to work like the rest of us, Charlie thought, pulling her shirt over her head. Unlike her, he'd always had everything at his fingertips: the best clothes, the best cars, the best schools. Though her clothes had been clean they'd always come from consignment stores. She hadn't gotten her own car until after graduating from college, which she'd only been able to afford thanks to the Navy. People like him didn't know what the real world was like.

  Charlie started to move away from the window but stopped when she saw movement below. Was she imagining things? After all, she had been standing there thinking about the man and the way he'd looked working today. Taking a step closer to the window she saw her brother and his Irish Wolfhound approaching Jake. After exchanging a few words, the two men started to tackle the large tree limbs covering the front walkway. Despite the fact that he'd already worked for several hours, Jake carried away the limbs once Sean cut them into more manageable pieces with his chainsaw.

  Was he always this hands-on? Although there were plenty of other things she could be doing, Charlie stood at the window combing out her wet shoulder-length hair and watching the two men below. Every once in a while the humming of the chainsaw stopped and her brother moved to tackle another enormous limb or said something to their billionaire guest. Although she couldn't hear anything, Charlie guessed her brother was telling their guest some politically incorrect jokes, the only kind Sean knew, because more than once she saw Jake laughing.

  “Find something useful to do with yourself.” Charlie tossed her hairbrush onto the bureau next to the envelope containing her re-enlistment papers. Picking up the envelope she pulled out the half-completed documents and glanced over them. She'd started to fill them out before leaving Virginia but hadn't finished. At the time uncertainty held her back. She'd hoped some time away from the base and work would help her make a definitive decision. So far it hadn't happened. While she was leaning toward staying with the Navy a tiny part of her wanted to move on with her life.

  As if her eyes had a mind of their own, Charlie glanced out the window when she heard her brother's chainsaw stop once again. “You’re pathetic.” Charlie tossed the documents down and headed toward the bedroom door. Even if her mom put her to work peeling onions it would be a more productive way to spend her time than standing and watching Jake Sherbrooke work. Too bad it wouldn't be as enjoyable.

  A little later Charlie was halfway out of the kitchen carrying a platter covered with homemade biscuits, when Sean burst through the kitchen's side door. Jake followed right behind him gripping his left arm.

  “Need you over here now, Charlie. Jake's bleeding.” Sean's usual confident tone contained a note of concern.

  “I told you. It isn't that bad.”

  For someone injured, Jake didn't sound that concerned to Charlie. Putting the platter down on the counter, she moved toward the kitchen table. “Have a seat and let me take a look. Sean, get me the first aid kit.”

  Without any argument both men complied. And just like she would with any other patient, Charlie moved closer to get a better look at the bloody open wound which ran from just above his wrist to halfway up his outer forearm. Though the cut was long it didn't appear too deep.

  “What happened?” She leaned down for a closer look.

  “An old nail and some shards of glass got me when we were trying to get into that old shed.”

  “When was your last tetanus shot?” Charlie reached for one of the clean wet towels Sean placed on the table along with the first aid kit.

  Damn it. If he'd been paying attention to what he'd been doing rather than thinking about the redhead that was now cleaning the area around the wound, he wouldn't be sitting here now. He'd still be outside doing something useful rather than thinking about all the things he'd like to be doing with the good doctor, who didn't look all too happy at the moment.

  “Beginning of the year.” The barest hint of vanilla teased him every time he inhaled and he knew it wasn't coming from some food in the kitchen. It had to be her shampoo.

  Charlie nodded, her short ponytail swinging with the movement. “You can go to the ER if you want but it's not necessary. The cut isn't too deep. I don't think it will even leave a scar, but we'll have to watch for an infection.”

  There was no way in hell he was going to the ER for a scratch, especially not when the town's residents were already facing some serious injuries. “Just clean and wrap it for me. I'll be fine, Doctor.” It'd been on the tip of his tongue to call her Charlotte, but he caught himself at the last second. She'd introduced herself as Captain Charlotte O'Brien. That told him she didn't want to be on a first-name basis with him, which irked him for some reason although he didn't know why. Maybe because the rest of her family and the people he'd met today had been friendly. Sure he'd gotten a few stares from people but for the most part they'd accepted him into their fold as he worked alongside them. Not true of the good doctor. Her manner had been reserved and aloof from the moment he approached her. He tried to come up with reasons for her attitude, but none came to him.

  “You sure he doesn't need stitches?” Sean asked. He remained next to the table as Charlotte worked.

  Sean didn't strike him as a worrier by nature. Would Sean be this concerned if he was someone other than Jake Sherbrooke? “I trust the good doctor's judgment. It'll be fine.”

  Charlie paused in the wrapping of his arm and looked up at him, surprise evident in her beautiful hazel eyes. This close he, could see the tiny flecks of green in them as well as her incredibly long eyelashes. What would her eyes look like glazed over with desire? Would the green flecks be more pronounced? Would the hazel darken?

  Focus Jake. You’re not here looking for a woman. “It smells delicious in here.” Jake hoped to distract himself from the woman in front of him with some small talk.

  Reaching for a roll of tape, she tore off a long piece and placed it on his arm. Unable to tear his eyes away, Jake watched her every movement. Her hands were slender with long fingers and short neatly trimmed nails. She wore no rings or nail polish, and with no warning the image of her hands on the rest of his body entered his mind.

  “Thanks to our generator we'll all have a hot meal tonight. Ma made enough beef stew to feed a carrier.”

  Charlie's voice drew him back to the kitchen. Disgusted with himself, he pulled his arm away. Most of the time he had better control than this. Fantasizing about a beautiful woman while sitting in her family’s kitchen wasn't something he normally did.

  “Sounds good. Thanks for taking care of my arm. I can finish up from here.”

  Without commenting she handed him the roll of tape and began to clean up the other supplies on the table. She tackled the task just like she seemed to do everything else, efficiently. He wondered if she was like that by nature or because of her Naval training.

  “Are you stationed in Virginia?” Jake tore off one last strip of tape and placed the roll back in the first aid kit. “I noticed a car in the parking lot with Virginia plates,” he said when she threw him a questioning look.

  “Norfolk. At least for now.”

  Jake leaned back in his chair oddly pleased that the cold tone she'd used with him earlier in the day seemed to be thawing out a little. “I'm in Alexandria. Are they planning to transfer you to another base?”

  Charlie studied him without saying a word. For a moment it appeared as if she was going to tell him it was none of his business.

  “My time is up soon. I don't know if I 'm going to re-up or not.”

  “Tough one.” Jake hoped he sounded sincere. If he was in her shoes he'd re-up in a heartbeat.

  She didn't answer but rather shrugged as she washed her hands in the kitchen sink. “Try to keep that clean and dry. I'll check it tomorrow. Supper is being served in the dining room whenever you're ready.” With her final statement she dried her hands and disappeare
d through the swinging door.

  Jake stayed seated for several minutes. The picture of her tall lithe body was branded on his mind. She didn't seem to know the kind of effect she had on men. Under different circumstances he would pursue her with no questions asked, but now wasn't the time or place. Not to mention the fact that she seemed to be indifferent to him.

  When his stomach growled in protest, Jake stood and pushed his thoughts of Charlotte out of his mind. He hadn't eaten anything other than energy bars since breakfast and the freshly baked biscuits he smelled were calling his name.

  ***

  When Jake's alarm went off the next morning at the crack of dawn, his initial instinct was to hit the snooze button, roll over and go back to sleep. Mornings were not his best time of day, especially this early in the morning, but when he glimpsed the ruffled canopy over his head he remembered where he was and more importantly why he was there.

  Grabbing some jeans out of his duffel bag, he pulled them on before searching for a clean t-shirt. Since he'd showered just before hitting the sack the night before, it seemed unnecessary to take another one now. Besides, after the day he expected to have, he knew he would need one later anyway.

  Downstairs he followed the voices to the dining room where Maureen O'Brien had set out cereal, muffins and bagels for breakfast. Jake skipped both and zoned in on the coffee where Charlie stood pouring herself a large mug.