One Lucky Bastard

  One Lucky Bastard

  Copyright © July 2010 by Abby Wood, published by Loose Id LLC under the title Twice Her Age.

  Copyright © July 2013 by Abby Wood, republished with the title One Lucky Bastard

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Abby Wood. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  One Lucky Bastard

  A May-December Romance

  Chapter One

  The click of her high-heeled boots against the concrete floor of the parking garage echoed an ominous warning. She inhaled through her nose and pulled the edges of her soft pink blouse together more. It did no good to get excited over a blind date.

  “Remember, I’m not asking you to fall in love with the guy.” Cheryl bumped her hip against Debbie’s hip. “Just have a little fun.”

  She ran her fingers under her eyes and hoped she didn’t have raccoon patches. All she wanted to do is go home and curl up on the end of the couch. Thank God it was Friday and she had the weekend to recover. Here she was, twenty-five years old, and the two-year-old tots at the preschool where she worked ran her ragged most days.

  “I think you’ll really like him. He works with Gary.” Cheryl gave a little hop and walked backward so they could talk face-to-face. “Did I tell you he’s taking me away next weekend? Our first real commitment that this is the real deal we’re fooling around with.”

  Debbie raised her brows and smiled. “Yeah, so you said. I’m happy for you.”

  “But…?” Cheryl dropped back beside her and continued walking.

  She sighed. “Look, Cher, I’m not too sure about tonight. I’m not big on blind dates. They never work out.”

  Not only that, the men her friends picked out for her never did a damn thing for her. She wasn’t interested in partying at the bar or going to their houses to sit back and count how many times they could yell at the referee on television about the bad job he was doing on the football game.

  “Here’s the deal. If this guy is a creep…I’m out of here.” She pulled back her shoulders and waited for the pedestrian light to change. “I’ll just call a cab to take me home, so it doesn’t mean you have to stop your night with Gary.”

  Her friend shook her head and stepped off the curb. “Fine, but I think this guy is right up your alley.”

  “That’d be a surprise,” she muttered.

  Cheryl opened the door to McAllister’s Bar and Restaurant, a high-class lounge on Fifth Avenue, and let Debbie enter first. “I’m going to run to the little girls’ room before the guys get here.”

  She nodded. “I’ll wait in the bar for you. Grab me when they get here.”

  “Don’t disappear on me.” Her best friend narrowed her eyes. “You promised.”

  Debbie smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Waving her hand, she motioned for her to go. “I’ll give him the five-minute test. Go. Go!”

  Smiling at the hostess standing guard over the customers waiting for their turn for an available table in the restaurant, she slipped up the stairs into the bar. She squeezed between the bodies standing around drinking, mingling, and approached the bar.

  The bartender shot her a wink and held up one finger, signaling he’d be right over to take her order. She laid her clutch on the bar and slid atop a stool to wait. One little glass of Irish cream and she’d find the strength to go through with dinner. After that, no promises.

  The good-looking bartender with his short-cropped hair and black tie danced over and leaned across the counter. “What can I get you, beautiful?”

  “Irish cream caramel on ice, please.”

  “Make that two, and I’ll pay for the lady’s drink.” A low, husky voice over her shoulder raised the hair at the back of her neck.

  The bartender nodded. “Comin’ up.”

  The man stood close enough that his body brushed the back of her hair, and a shiver raced up her spine. A whiff of cologne came off him, and she closed her eyes to inhale. Drakkar.

  Microorgasmic by his scent alone, she feared facing the man and dashing her pleasure with reality. Probably an out-of-shape divorcé whose main goal it was to see how many phone numbers he could get in a single night.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  She sighed and glimpsed a strong masculine hand pointing at the bar stool to his left. She shook her head. Get ready for the lame-ass pick-up line. One, two, three…

  The man sat down and remained silent. Although, the heat from his gaze warmed her skin. She squirmed on the stool. His lack of conversation piqued her curiosity. If he bought her a drink, wasn’t he going to try to flirt a little?

  The bartender returned with two small tumblers filled with rich, creamy-colored liquid swimming in ice. She smiled and picked up the glass. The least she could do was acknowledge the man.

  “Thank you for the drink.” She turned, and the sip she was preparing to take never met her lips.

  Dark haired with a sprinkle of silver at the temples, the man wore sexy like a second skin. Black slacks with a white silk dress shirt against his tan skin screamed sophisticated…and dangerous. She pegged him at forty-eight, maybe fifty years old, because of the lines at the outside edges of his dark brown eyes.

  He lifted the corner of his mouth, a very tantalizing mouth with full lips, and showed a hint of a teasing manner. “Go ahead, take another sip.”

  She raised the glass and let the ice-cold liquor coat her tongue. Her eyelids fluttered at the rich, decadent taste. Between the allure of the older man, the cologne he wore, and the taste of her favorite drink, she’d be surprised if she could concentrate on any type of social conversation.

  “Again.” He lifted his glass, daring her to follow his order.

  Her nipples hardened under the almost see-through blouse. His gaze swept down and settled on her reaction to him. Not wanting to disappoint, she savored another mouthful. Holding it on her tongue, she moaned softly. Oh God, this is wicked.

  “Good?” His lips curved as he stared at her mouth.

  She shuddered under his gaze. “Y-yes. Delicious.”

  “Are you here with someone?”

  She gazed at the way he raised his arm and brought his drink to his mouth. He held the glass under his nose, inhaling the sweet aroma before gently setting the rim against his lower lip. Her lower stomach quivered, and she found herself leaning forward, closer, to take in the way the tumbler caressed his lips before he swallowed.

  He smiled. The lines at the corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “I take it you’re here by yourself?”

  “I came with a girlfriend, but she’s meeting her boyfriend for dinner.” She glanced across the bar. “I decided to have a drink before joining them.”

  “Excellent. I’d love to share your company, and maybe we can get to know one another?” He gazed around the room. “I’m glad I decided to stop in and have a drink before heading home.”

  Nodding, she smiled. Could he be more perfect?

  “Deb.”

  She slowly turned around and found Cheryl standing in the bar, frowning. Wrinkling her nose, Debbie knew her friend wasn’t going to like hearing that she changed her mind. She’d go a year without dates to continue sitti
ng at the bar with the promise of seeing Mr. Sexy again, if only to soak in his presence for a little longer.

  “The guys are here, and there’s a table ready for us.” Her friend glanced over at the man beside her and quickly ignored him. “Get your ass off the stool, girlfriend, and let’s go.”

  Debbie sucked her bottom lip in and caught it between her teeth. “I—”

  “She’s staying here.”

  Cheryl’s head shifted on her neck, and her eyes widened. “Excuse me? I don’t believe I was talking to you.” She pivoted and turned her back on him. “Why is this old dude telling you what to do? What’s going on, Debbie? I thought you said you’d give the guy Gary’s bringing with him a chance.”

  “I…I changed my mind.” She gave a short laugh. “I’m sorry. Things have changed.” Looking over at the man, she smiled. “Go on without me, Cheryl. I’ll make this up to you. I swear.”

  Cheryl leaned in and whispered in her ear, “He’s twice your age. Are you drunk?”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “Not at all. For the first time, I’m doing exactly what I want.”

  Cheryl gazed at both of them, scrunched up her face, and shook her head. “Freaking unbelievable.”

  Her friend walked off without a backward glance. She swallowed. She’d make Cheryl understand later.

  They’d known each other since college, but it was hard for her to explain to Cheryl about her attraction to older men or her lack of desire for someone her own age. It wasn’t like she went out of her way to turn younger men down. She didn’t understand the whole dynamic of finding herself drawn to men twice her age herself half the time.

  Debbie swiveled back around. The man held out his hand. Her hand automatically lifted. Her fingers were swallowed up in the size of his gentle hold.

  “Mick…Mick Reed.” He turned over her hand, brought her palm up to his lips, and kissed the sensitive skin.

  Oh. My. God. I want to fuck this man.

  “Deb…Debbie Kordall.”

  He set her hand on the counter of the bar and nodded with that knowing smile. “Finish your drink, Debbie Kordall. I’ve got plans for you.”

  She raised the glass. Her hand shook. The ice rattled against the sides.

  After swallowing, she hurried to lick her upper lip. “Plans?”

  Mick tipped back his head and finished his drink. Leaning forward, he removed a wallet from his back pocket and set a twenty-dollar bill on the bar under his empty glass. “Do you like water?”

  “Mm…” She lowered her gaze. His slacks hugged his thighs, showcasing hard, powerful muscles that screamed to have a woman’s hands on them. “To drink, swim, or play in?”

  He chuckled. “None of the above.”

  “I guess it would depend on what that means then.” The heat of his stare forced her to swallow the rest of her drink. She set it down on the bar. Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head. “I can’t stop…there’s something about you.”

  He curled his lip and leaned closer. “Tell me.”

  Deb shook her head and gazed down at her hands. God, should she really follow him and find out what he planned?

  Not sure if the alcohol made her freer with her thoughts or the man himself, she leaned toward him. Nose to nose, she whispered, “I want you.”

  He blinked, and without losing eye contact, he stood up and leaned over. “I know.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She raised her brows and bit down on her lip. “Do you mind if I find my girlfriend, see if she’ll listen to me, and explain that I’m leaving with you?”

  “No, of course.” He cupped her cheek and strummed his thumb over her lips. “Tell her we’ll be at the Betlow Marina, slot forty-two and I’ll make sure you get home safely. I can even give her references to call, if she wants to check me out.”

  “I don’t think I have to go that far.” She grinned. “Thank you.”

  Standing up, she gazed up at him. “I’ll hurry.”

  “No rush. We’ve got all night.” He winked.

  Chapter Two

  After throwing the third and final mooring rope up on the top deck, Mick leaped onto the yacht. He set about preparing to shove the Crystal Belle away from the dock and out to sea. In his quest to take Debbie out on the open waters, he kept close watch out of his peripheral vision at the way she sat back and let him do his job. It’d do no good to lose her interest now, when she’d behaved so beautifully at the bar.

  Tall and confident, she’d strolled through McAllister’s Bar in complete control. Her long legs loose, her shoulders back, and that lengthy blonde-streaked hair beckoned him with each womanly toss of her head. Young and moldable, she presented everything he wanted in a lover.

  Those baby blue eyes begged for attention. He could almost smell her arousal. She hid nothing from him. Not her desire, her curiosity, or the way her body hummed in his presence. One little touch from him and she’d scream out his name in pleasure. He was sure of it.

  This time of night, the water lay crystal black butting up against the dark sky. With no other boats out running, he had the waterway to himself and enough privacy for Debbie to forget everything else but the feelings they shared. Lifting his head, he studied how fresh and youthful she appeared peering out over the water. An urge to protect, care for, and guide her through life swept over him.

  Damn. She’s perfect.

  Even more important, his cock pressed stiff against the inside of his pants, wanting to show her how wonderful they could be together. Moreover, he was just the man to teach her how fulfilling a relationship with him would be. He could give her everything and she would want for nothing.

  He shut off the yacht’s engine and pushed the button to drop the anchor. Far enough away from shore, he’d let the boat float with the movement of the water. It was time to spend some time with the lovely Debbie in the moonlight. With romance, kisses, and wine, he’d show her the stars.

  After grabbing a bottle of wine and a blanket from belowdecks, he returned topside. “Scoot over, love. Let me squeeze in here with you.” He set the bottle between the seat cushion and his hip, opened the blanket, and tucked it around her legs. “That’ll keep you warm.”

  “Thank you.” She sighed. “It’s so beautiful out here.” She glanced up and smiled. “Did you know this is my first time out on the water? I’ve never been out on a boat before.”

  “But it won’t be your last.” He twisted off the lid of the wine. “Open up.”

  She sat up straighter and opened her mouth. He lifted the bottle to her plush lips. His cock pulsed at the vision she created. She appeared so willing and eager, he found himself in a constant state of arousal.

  The soft slope of her neck was exposed to the moonlight. White, creamy satin from her delicate chin down to her cleavage brought his attention to how lovely her flawless skin must feel to the touch. Her body appeared so smooth and silky, he hoped to taste every bare inch sometime tonight.

  Her lips pliant and willing to accept anything he offered, he lifted the bottle to her mouth again. He’d like nothing more than to have her between his legs, on her knees, taking the head of his cock into her pouty little mouth.

  The sway of the yacht caught him off guard, and wine dribbled down her chin. She raised her hand to catch the trail of liquid. He stopped her.

  “Let me.” He leaned over and ran his lips, his tongue, along the curve of her bottom lip. He groaned. “Delicious.”

  “You’re awful sure of yourself. How do you know there will be a next time?” She lowered her gaze. “We’ve just met.”

  “A person knows when they are compatible with the opposite sex, don’t you think? The moment you turned on the bar stool and thanked me for the drink, I knew I wanted to spend time with you.” He picked up her hand and laid it on his chest. “It takes a special woman to grab my interest the way you did.” Mick stroked the length of her thigh.

  She sighed, and her legs under the blanket quivered beneath his hand. “Oh God, this i
s too good to be true.”

  “What are you doing for the next…oh, thirty years or so?” He trailed his mouth around her ear, gathered the soft lobe between his teeth, and nipped.

  “Years?” She sucked in a breath.

  He chuckled under his breath at how shaky her voice had become. An innocent kitten, so easy to manage, yet so loving and willing to please. “Yes. Years. I don’t think tonight is going to be enough time to enjoy everything we have to offer each other.” He sat back. “You fascinate me.”

  She raised a hand to the delicate skin above her collarbone. “We’ve just met. I don’t know anything about you.”

  Mick nodded. “I’m forty-nine years old. A semiretired CEO of a handful of companies that I have other people run on a daily basis. I own my own home, the yacht, and a house in Hawaii. I don’t play games. I want you.” He kissed her lips. “Trust me, love.”

  She inhaled through her nose and blew out a big breath through her puckered lips. “I can’t just—”

  “You can.” He lifted the bottle of wine to his lips, drank, and stretched his legs out in front of him. “You will.”

  She laughed self-consciously. “You can’t be so sure that I’ll jump into a relationship with you. I have a job, my apartment, bills to pay…” She threw up her hands. “My own life. I can’t—I’ve just met you. We might lead two different lifestyles.”

  “Trust me, love. I’ve lived more years than you have. I know exactly what I want. I think you knew that the moment I bought you a drink at the bar. You’re independent, but I saw the way you appraised me and concluded that I was a man who could take care of you, show you the pleasures of life, cherish you. I know, because it’s the way I feel about you.”

  “But I can’t—” She sat back and gazed up at him with huge trusting eyes.

  “You say that word too much. You should strike the word can’t from your vocabulary. Instead, say you can.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Come with me. Let me show you something.”

  Frowning, she moved the blanket off her legs and let him pull her to her feet. He led her to the front of the yacht, where the bow came to a point. He positioned her over the water and set her hands up on the polished wooden bar.