Page 39 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Part 4

Kase

“Tomorrow night”ends up being early this morning. I spent all yesterday thinking about it and decided we could both use a day away from the city. Once the babysitter arrived, I woke Alana up to mild protest.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. Pack a day bag. Warm weather,” I tell her and leave the room to pack my own bag.

An hour later, we’re at LaGuardia Airport, and soon after that, sitting in first class on a flight to Miami. Spring hasn’t brought much warmth to the city yet, so I thought a day in tropical heat would do us both some good.

“Wow, you don’t do anything half-ass, do you?” Alana feels the cushiony arm rests of the Boeing 757 and accepts the glass of champagne from the airline steward with a big, lofty smile.

“Especially you.” I lean into her shoulder, caressing her arm.

Goose bumps erupt all over them, as she gives me a mock-shocked look. “That’s for freaking sure. I can’t believe I’m on a plane to Florida, Kase. What are we going to do when we get there?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Oh, come on. You probably have a whole PowerPoint planned out with notes in the margins. Everything from cuisine to activities to emergency contact information.” She chuckles and sips her drink.

“I’m serious. I don’t.” I lean back in my seat and close my eyes. “Feels kind of nice, actually. Aside from our hotel, we have the whole day, tonight, and most of tomorrow.”

“Where are we staying? Not that I know anything about Miami.”

“Right on Ocean Drive. South Beach. It’s a warm eighty-five degrees and nothing but sunny skies.”

She’s so quiet, I have to look at her to make sure she’s still breathing. Her eyes are wide with disbelief. “Kase, when you asked me out on a date, I thought you meant like, the MoMA or something. A walk through Central Park.”

“Are you disappointed?” And now I’m wondering if this was too much, too soon. To me, a day’s jaunt to Miami Beach isn’t a big deal, but I can see how it would seem that way to her.

“Are you crazy? No way! This…” She leans back, sighs, and looks at me when I rest my hand on hers. I don’t want to think about what any of this means. I don’t want to overanalyze. I just want to have a good time. It is what it is. “This is awesome.”

“It is,” I agree and within minutes, we’re taxiing down a dirty, half-melted snowy runway, heading for land of sun, surf, and sand.

* * *

Miami Beachin March might be packed with tourists, spring breakers, and locals all out for a romp around the barrier island, but for me and Alana, it’s a day away from reality. I’ve needed this. She’s needed this. We’ve both been under too much stress lately, and nothing says “leave your worries behind” like laying on the sand in Lummus Park, listening to the great Atlantic Ocean swishing against the shore. Drinks in hand, we listen to a local band of steel drums playing something vaguely resembling Beethoven.

“You know what the best part of this is?” I ask Alana, lowering my eyewear to peer at her through the brilliance reflecting off the sand.

“That we’re in freakin’ Miami Beach?” She giggles.

“That you’re in a yellow-and-black bikini.”

She scoffs. “A super-extensive bikini you had to buy for me in a tourist shop because I didn’t own one.” When Alana laughs, there’s this lightness I can’t explain. It’s fun and flirty and reminds me of a little girl whose daddy has just told her she’s the most breathtaking princess in the world. And while I’ve been with women exotic enough to resemble human orchids, Alana is the kind of homegrown sunflower you find in your own backyard.

The big, bright blooming kind you want to stare at all day.

“It was my pleasure, Alana. And if I’m lucky, maybe you’ll let me take it off you later.” It’s the rum floater in my drink talking, but I don’t need any help wanting Alana. Every day, I’m baffled by her. Why does she captivate me so? Aside from being intelligent, sexy as fuck, beautiful, stubborn, and hardworking, that is?

Her hazel eyes capture the sunlight and appear green today. Her desire for me is clear from the way she bites the inside of her lip as she thinks of a witty response. She doesn’t have one, though, and I’m glad. I like rendering her speechless. I like her innocence and lack of flirt game. She’s like no other woman I’ve ever been with. She’s too good for me is what she is.

And holy balls of Babylon, the girl can get freaky.

I. Never. Expected. That.

I’m a big, dumb guy at heart and yeah, I’ll admit it—I want more of that dirty, awesome sex. If that is how she is at age twenty-one, what’s going to happen when Alana unlocks her full potential in her thirties? Or her forties even? She’s going to be one of those full-fledged sexy-as-fuck MILFs. The thought of her being a mother and still retaining her sexuality long after having kids turns me hard right here on the beach.

And because I can’t, or don’t want to, imagine her having anybody’s children but mine, I strain inside my shorts because there’s nothing hotter in this world than a woman who still turns you on after many years, has had your babies, and belongs to you.

Holy shit. I nearly slap myself back to center.

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