Only A Night With A Billionaire (Only Us Billionaire Romance Book 2) Read online

  Penelope shifted, stretched a little, then her eyes blinked open and she jerked back.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “For a moment I forgot.” Her voice was drowsy but nervous.

  He hadn’t even though he’d tried. He’d dreamed of the fall, the crash, and the fear that something had happened to her when she wasn’t conscious. It replayed in his waking mind like a movie.

  “I promise when we get to the castle you can take a long bath, get a massage, sit in front of the fire, bake cookies.”

  “That sounds good. What will we do in the meantime?”

  “Let’s eat some of these cookies. We have to keep our energy up. Then we’ll check the caboose again.” He passed her a packet.

  Heavy clouds had moved in, visible through the overhead window. “And we should act fast in case it snows again.”

  They emerged from their den of blankets and pillows. Penelope kept one wrapped around her shoulders. Oliver took a swig of water and then poked around in the sleeping compartment, searching for gloves, a hat, and anything else to protect himself from the elements. He found a knit cap, a set of gloves and a set of mittens, along with a wool sweater that would fit Penelope.

  An idea came to mind, but he hoped they’d be discovered by day’s end and wouldn’t need to use it.

  Penelope stacked the books and swept away some of the glass. “I found toothpaste and a first aid kit.”

  “How’s your head?”

  “It hurts but I’m okay. We should put some ointment on those scratches.” She sanitized her hands and then opened the tube.

  Oliver stepped closer, allowing her to care for him. He steadied his breathing as she gently applied it to his wounds. Their eyes met and the connection that sparked had everything and nothing to do with the way the crash bound them together. His breath faltered and he wanted to sweep her into his arms but it wasn’t the right time. “I’m going to check the caboose again.”

  “Can I come with you?” she asked.

  He nodded and passed her the mittens. They bundled up as best they could—they’d been traveling in comfort and didn’t have their coats or any other warm items on hand at the time of the crash.

  Oliver squinted against the blinding white of the snow as they emerged from the rail car. He took Penelope’s hand in his as he led her to the caboose. Her mittened hand felt so small in his, reminding him of how fragile they were, lost in the wilderness.

  Before they lowered inside the caboose, he took a moment to survey the surroundings. The wind was fierce and could cause snowdrifts to shift. But everything looked much the same: they were in a ravine. There might have been a way out but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to risk leaving the shelter they had if there ended up being a cliff or impassable terrain beyond where he could see.

  He lowered into the caboose and Penelope followed. He caught her in his arms as she slid through the door, which was positioned more like the top of a manhole cover. Their bodies were pressed together for a moment. The need for warmth brought them close the night before but something more pulsed between them.

  Her exhale was ragged like she felt the same way.

  His throat was thick, filled with the desire to kiss her but let it pass. He was grateful for her in his arms. They’d made it through the first day and they would continue. Before that, they needed to do a solid sweep of the caboose for supplies. There were numerous compartments, some obstructed by debris and items that had come loose. The caboose was mostly used as storage or area for porters to wait while in service to the guests on the train.

  Oliver found a toolbox for small repairs. There was a broken radio, cleaning supplies, and a few spare uniforms.

  Penelope, perched on part of a bench that balanced at a precarious angle, called to him. “I think I found an emergency safety kit and—” She held up two thin, red cylinders.

  “Flares.”

  “There are more things, but because of the way the caboose crashed, I can’t reach them. Part of the cabinet was crushed.”

  Oliver scrambled over to the other side of the caboose and tried to pry open the other end of the cabinet. It was jammed shut. He took the hammer from the toolkit and smashed it open, but it was full of snow, having collapsed from the outside in.

  Climbing out of the caboose was far more difficult than dropping in, given there were few foot or handholds. Penelope climbed onto Oliver’s shoulders and then hefted herself out. He worked up a sweat, using the wall to repel himself up and then through the opening. The good thing was the exertion warmed him up. The bad was that he was starved. There were more packets of cookies and snacks but he didn’t want to run low before they were rescued.

  Snow started to fall and on any other occasion, it would’ve been beautiful. It dotted Penelope’s long, dark hair, her lashes, and shoulders. She was beautiful: the girl with the big heart, looking out for animals, the baker who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty, the belle of the ball, and his snow queen. His bride-to-be. Warmth shot through him, filling him, threatening to melt the surrounding snow and ice.

  He stepped closer to her, taking her hands in his and meeting her eyes. “We’re going to get through this. I promise.”

  “I know.” The way she gazed at him made him wonder what she saw, what she felt. He hadn’t wanted to endure the silly courting rituals and he certainly didn’t want an arranged marriage. It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t. Yet, the stirring he felt in his chest made him wonder what he felt. What if? Or perhaps his thoughts were clouded by the current situation.

  Her lips parted as if to say something. Then she glanced toward the sky.

  “We should probably set off a flare before it starts coming down too hard. But we shouldn’t be out in this any longer than necessary and we have to do what we can to conserve body heat.” He gestured they go back into what was left of the grand suite carriage.

  Working together, Oliver and Penelope dragged the mattress out of the sleeping compartment and into the main part of the carriage. It flopped onto what was once the wall, covering the broken glass of the window. They piled pillows and some blankets on top, making a nest of sorts to create a barrier between them and the cold ground.

  “I wish I’d thought of this yesterday. We should be slightly warmer now.”

  They both bundled up in as many articles of clothing as they could find. Penelope chuckled at Oliver’s assortment of mismatched clothing: the sweater he’d been wearing, over which he’d put on a button-down shirt, a porter’s jacket, and vest he’d found in the sleeping compartment. She somehow looked adorable in the wool sweater she wore layered over at least three shirts and the pair of porter’s slacks over her regular pants.

  Penelope gathered several books but once they were back under their huddle of blankets it was too dark to read. Hand and boot warmers were in the emergency kit and they each used one but the heat didn’t last long.

  “I suppose now we wait out the storm,” Oliver said, gravitating closer.

  “And for the royal rescuers to find us.”

  “I once spent the day shadowing them.”

  “On a real rescue?”

  “No, just routine surveillance. The outer lands of Concordia are divided into sections and the rescue teams check them regularly for people and stranded animals but also changes in terrain, downed trees, and other obstructions. They also drill rescue methods weekly. For instance, rappelling into ravines like this one, climbing peaks, crossing rivers, and so on.”

  “They’ll find us soon, then.”

  Oliver nodded but like the previous night, it was up to him to distract her from anxious thoughts. He knew well enough the scenarios the mind could create when merely surviving was in question. He cleared his throat. “Tell me, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

  She went still and then he felt her cheeks lift with a smile. “Actually, there aren’t too many.”

  “Pick one. Tell me the bits you left out about your adventures in America.”


  “Once, a friend and I were determined to stay up all night so we went to a twenty-four-hour café. We polished off an entire lemon meringue pie. I’ve tried to recreate the recipe countless times and could never get it right.” She paused as though lost in thought.

  “That’s not too crazy.”

  “How about you?”

  “I went through a slightly rebellious phase my first year at university but what can you expect? I was an orphan and made to perform princely duties instead of having a childhood. Do you know I was never allowed to splash in puddles? Get chocolate stains on my shirt or say the word, well, I can’t say it now. It starts with the letter P.”

  “Can you give me a hint?”

  “It rhymes with goo.” He chuckled.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

  “There was the time I asked the King of Nespoli if he had any toilet paper. Ava dared me.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Then another time I stuffed my mouth full of marshmallows and had to sing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star with my mouth full.”

  “That sounds about as wild as my lemon meringue night.”

  “In that case, I challenge you to a sing along with a mouthful of marshmallows, my good woman. Also, I was mostly naked.”

  “Oh.” She went still and her heart thudded against his.

  At those words and her response, he was keenly aware of how close they were: their very clothed bodies tangled together for heat. The wind blew steadily outside but it also felt like it swooped and dove inside his belly.

  “Are there more?”

  “I could keep you up all night telling you stories, no pie necessary.”

  “Pie is always necessary.”

  “Then I owe you when we get out of this,” he blurted. Then, not wanting to draw attention to their predicament, quickly said, “On spring holiday I ran around the island of Malta wearing half a gorilla suit and beating my chest, shouting, ‘Bring me the bananas, bring me the bananas.’”

  “Dare I ask why?”

  “It was another dare. Um, I also went skinny dipping on that trip. Ah, and I had three-hundred anchovy pizzas delivered to the palace once. Another time I showed up at this girl’s econ class, um, wearing only my birthday suit under my winter parka—another Ava dare. I think she wanted to embarrass me. Thankfully, I chickened out.”

  “Why did you do that to begin with?”

  “I was foolish. Stupid.”

  “In love?” she asked.

  “No. Definitely not in love.” As the words fell from his mouth, his heart skipped then trotted, then galloped even though it didn’t have far to go. No distance at all. The girl he wanted was in his arms.

  “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.

  “Can I get back to you on that?” he asked, swallowing. “How about you?”

  “I’ve had many, many crushes.”

  “Many, many?”

  “Okay, only three and one of them was on—”

  His arm was around her shoulder and the other her waist. Hers were tucked between them and she wiggled them out, gripping his sides. Their feet rubbed together to keep warm. A pleasing thought came over him: he wanted to wake up like this, minus the being stranded part, but with her, every day for the rest of his life.

  “One of my crushes was on you,” she said.

  “Me? Golly. I’m blushing. I thought it was your roommate who had the poster?”

  He felt her head shifting from side to side.

  “Does that mean you’d kiss my picture every night before bed?” He couldn’t resist the grin that bloomed.

  Her head lifted and lowered in a nod.

  “I should be flattered. That means we’ve practically kissed. But how could you lie to me, Penelope? Why didn’t you just tell me you were the one who did that?” he joked.

  She stiffened.

  “That’s a really big deal. If I’d known, I could’ve saved us a lot of trouble and just cut to the chase.” He hoped she heard the jesting in his voice. “Wait. You said you had a crush on me. Past tense.” He hoped it had rekindled because he definitely had a crush on her. He didn’t realize it until then or perhaps didn’t want to admit that the matchmaking hadn’t been a ridiculous and old-fashioned custom. That he broke his no-royals rule.

  “You seemed like a snob and I gave up the crush.”

  “Do you think crushes are the kind of things that can come back if properly encouraged? You know, if I cleared up some of those rumors about me being a prat and wiped the slate clean?”

  “Perhaps…”

  He went on to fill the time, as they snuggled together, hoping for rescue, with stories of his not-so-crazy past and demonstrating he wasn’t a snob and had given up doing crazy dares—unless it was issued by his sister. Those he couldn’t back out of. He gave Penelope a reassuring squeeze. “My wildest nights involve cuddling with a beautiful girl, fully clothed, under a heap of blankets, in a blizzard.”

  “Fair enough. What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?” she asked.

  “What? Those weren’t brave enough for you. Might I remind you I was naked for at least three of them.”

  She giggled.

  He scrubbed his hand down his face, feeling the scruff growing in since he hadn’t shaved since the previous day. The bravest thing might be marrying her but another story came to mind. “It was summer and I was visiting a seaside town down south. There was a long wharf and we went on it to celebrate the opening of a new entertainment and tourist district. Investors and the community had revitalized what had been a derelict area. There was a live band, balloons, lots of food. Children ran around. Times like those I felt part of something rather than the prince on the outside, you know? Anyway, I gazed off toward the water then heard something plop. I rushed to the rail and a balloon floated toward me. A child had fallen from the wharf. I didn’t think. I dove in.”

  “Did you save the child?”

  “Not without help. The waves were strong. Several of the royal guards followed me, having realized I went over the side, then a boat came. It was a group effort but I say it was brave because I didn’t think before I acted. Now, if you were to ask about courage, that’s a different matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a famous quote that goes something like courage is being afraid but doing the thing anyway.”

  “Then what’s the most courageous thing you’ve ever done?”

  Oliver leaned in. The dim light through the cracks in the blanket shone on Penelope’s features. Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks were smooth. Her lips were soft. He wanted nothing more than to feel them against his.

  Chapter 19

  Penny

  Oliver’s eyes burned into Penny’s with something she hadn’t seen there before. Wild desire blazed between them. His gaze drifted to her lips and his lids became heavy. She lifted her chin, as though straining to be closer to him even though they were wrapped together tight under the blankets, fighting off the winter chill and the danger surrounding them. It had occurred to her more than once that they might not be rescued. They might not make it until the morning.

  Her eyes drifted close and she felt his breath on her cheek. It was like a summer breeze and nothing like the wind outside the flimsy walls of the train car. She wanted to escape to a tropical island or the one in the Mediterranean he mentioned where he’d dashed through the streets wearing little more than a gorilla suit. She wanted the bananas, the coconuts, the fresh fruit in stands, the bouquets of flowers, the sunshine, the sand, and freedom. Mostly, she wanted him.

  Instead, she was freezing, terrified.

  But Oliver made it better.

  It wasn’t a crush past tense. It was reignited. Alive in her chest. She wanted his lips on hers. She wanted to marry him. She wanted it all. She could pretend to be Penelope a little longer if only to experience what felt like a crush and more, much more.

  Oliver’s lips connected to hers. They were warm, but his nose was cold. His to
uch was gentle, but she felt the yearning beneath it. He squeezed her closer as the kiss continued and it was like feathers brushed across her skin. She turned weightless. But not like she was plunging into a ravine, rather gliding and soaring through an endless sky.

  Given their limited range of motion, his hands remained fixed around her, like a promise not to let go. She pushed the thoughts of the inevitable further from her mind. She couldn’t consider it. Not yet. Instead, she immersed herself in the details of the kiss: distractions far worthier than Oliver’s word puzzles. The soft scratch of his scruff, filling in since he hadn’t been able to shave. The lift of his cheeks as though he intermittently smiled, delighted by what they were doing. The brush of his lashes on his face when she snuck a peek. The way his heart thudded against hers. The pull of his muscles as they strained against their confinement in the layers of clothing and in the blanket tent.

  “Penelope,” he breathed when they parted for a moment.

  “Yes, Oliver.” The way she felt when he said her name made her doubt they’d need to worry about the dropping temperature. She was molten.

  “It turns out getting stranded was worth it.”

  “You don’t think this was inevitable?” she asked as he kissed behind her ear, her neck, her chin, and returned to her lips. Ripples of delight spread across her skin and in every direction.

  “Perhaps but we’re alone. Just us.”

  His words reminded her of reality and the flying feeling crash-landed in her belly.

  But Oliver deepened the kiss as though he realized exactly where her thoughts went. This time he was hungrier, filled with the kind of passion of a man who was always told what to do, had to routinely fulfill expectations, and was rarely alone. He abandoned polite modesty as a growl sounded low in his throat. There was nothing refined about the way his lips ground against hers.