Page 28 of Starting Over with Her Billionaire Boss

Kinsley nodded and walked the last few steps to the stairs, where he patiently waited for her to ascend first. Stepping into the jet, everything seemed to have a shine. Wood was freshly polished. Seats looked brand-new. A delicious vanilla scent filled her nose, instantly relaxing her. A single rose was set in a sturdy-looking vase, while a few pieces of artwork hung on a wall alongside what Kinsley imagined was a family photo.

“Excuse me, miss,” a middle-aged man spoke up from her side, “please have a seat over here.”

“Lars, that won’t be necessary,” Her boss’s baritone voice, deep and smooth, spoke up from behind her. “Kinsley will join me in my suite.”Suite?“At least for dinner,” he added.

“As you wish.” Lars smiled. “Right this way, miss.” Lars walked toward the rear of the jet and stopped outside of a door, holding out an arm to direct her within. Mr. Westerhouse followed right behind her.

The suite was small, although spacious for being on a jet. There were two seats facing a table, a television on a wall, and a decent-sized bed against the opposite wall of the aircraft.

“Why couldn’t I sit out there?” Kinsley’s question was a mix of curiosity and restraint. A part of her longed to imagine herself in this beautiful bed with Daegan, while another part warned her against such temptations.

Daegan opened up a small closet door Kinsley hadn’t noticed. He paused, putting his carry-on and hers—which she hadn’t recalled giving to him—onto the floor of the closet. “You’re more than welcome to.” He seemed a little dismissive, hard to read. “I just figured you would be more comfortable in here, at least until we get up in the air. And, I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had dinner yet. I figured we could dine together.” He met her gaze. “Enjoy each other’s company a little.”

“Yeah, I mean,” Kinsley fumbled for the right words, “this is fine.” She could ignore the excitement brewing within her core, just like she did in those early days at the office.

Daegan kicked off his shoes without meeting her eyes, leaving Kinsley to wonder if she’d said something wrong.

Great.Kinsley walked over to the closet and did the same with her shoes.

Within a few minutes, they were sipping champagne as the jet taxied. Their chairs faced one another, but Kinsley refused to look away from the window.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered as she peered out into the night.

“Just wait until we’re in the air.” His voice was soft and smooth in a way it rarely was around anyone else.

He was right, as Mr. Westerhouse so often was. The scenery upon take-off was beautiful, as was the view from above. Kinsley always enjoyed the view while flying, but having it from the privacy of Daegan’s jet was even better. There were no children screaming or teens listening to music without headphones. The soft hum of the jet’s engines and the gentle sway as they ascended was a peace she didn’t know existed.

Mr. Westerhouse lifted his glass, his fingers curled around the stem, the bubbles dancing with the same excitement that sparkled through her. Realizing she was staring, Kinsley quickly turned back to the window. Her heart fluttered as she triedto remind herself why she had to stay away from him. But it was hard when he looked so relaxed, so normal. The facade of the billionaire was melting away, and all that was left was Mr. Westerhouse—the man who volunteered in a community shelter, who missed his father, who stuck up for her in company meetings and ensured her time was respected.

But he was still the man who cared more about the house she owned than any feelings she did or didn’t have.

Once they reached cruising altitude, they were served a meal that impressed her even more. He could have made her fly commercial; instead, he was treating her to all of this.

“I’ve never had good food on a plane before,” Kinsley raised her voice over the loud jet engines as she cut through her roast.

“I try to make it an enjoyable experience.” Mr. Westerhouse smiled back. “A good meal helps keep you going. It at least makes me feel like there is some normalcy.”

As she savored it, she realized that the “enjoyable experience” was more than just the food. Mr. Westerhouse looked…normal. He looked like an everyday guy in some comfortable clothes, eating his asparagus. He just happened to be a billionaire eating it on his private jet. It was Kinsley’s first time seeing him in something other than a suit.And I don’t mind it one bit.

After an hour and a half in the air and a second glass of champagne, Mr. Westerhouse walked over to the closet and opened his carry-on bag. “Would you like the bed tonight? One of the chairs becomes a flat bed.”

“I couldn’t possibly steal your bed,” she teased, her voice lighter than usual. The champagne had loosened her up, but the desire she felt was all her own.

“Well, I want you to be comfortable.” He slowly took off his shirt and stuffed it into his carry-on. When he turned around, Kinsley could see every fine line that caressed his body. Hischest was all hard planes and smooth skin, each movement making the muscles in his shoulders and arms flex with a quiet power. Kinsley didn’t dare to even breathe, unable to tear her eyes away. He was fit, far more than she’d imagined—and far more tempting than she was ready to admit. Perhaps it was the alcohol.Or perhaps he’s just this sexy.

“I am comfortable,” she whispered, unsure if he could hear her over the sound of the engines. Eyes locked onto his chest, her pulse quickened, heat rising to her cheeks as she fought to look away. Taking her last sip of champagne for the evening, she allowed her eyes to indulge in him; she’d deal with the guilt later.

Being this close to him was risky in more ways than one. It wasn’t just the heat of his body or the way his muscles flexed—it was the fear of letting herself get too close. She’d worked hard to protect herself, to keep people at a distance so she wouldn’t get hurt again. Falling for her boss could shatter all of that. But resisting Mr. Westerhouse, here in this small, private space, felt like an impossible battle.

“Kinsley?” It didn’t sound like the first time he’d asked. How long had she been staring? “Then I need you to hop off the chair and get into bed, so I can make that into a pull-out.”

“No.” The word slipped out before she could stop it. Her heart raced as she met his gaze, knowing exactly what she was suggesting.

Silence.

“No?” Mr. Westerhouse arched an eyebrow, his brown eyes connecting with hers. “What do you meanno?” He leaned back slightly, but the intensity in his gaze didn’t waver, as though he was daring her to clarify.

“It’s a big bed,” she said, willing her voice to stay steady. Was she really suggesting this? For a second, she thought about changing her mind. But something in his steady gaze made Kinsley dig her heels in. She wasn’t backing down from herdecision to share a bed, nor was she backing down about her decision to never sell her home. Sharing the bed was a line she shouldn’t cross, yet she found herself daring him to cross it with her. “There’s plenty of room for us both. Besides, I’m sure that lay-flat seat won’t be comfortable for either of us.”

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