Billionaire on the Loose

by Jessica Clare

  “See you around,” Loch said absently, staring at Taylor from afar. She was talking animatedly to someone after handing them something. She laughed and his cock tightened in response. God, he loved that happy, carefree laugh of hers. It made his entire body light up.

  Determined, he crossed the street, heading toward her.

  Taylor’s back was to him, and as he approached, he studied her. She was talking animatedly, handing out something in tiny plastic cups. People paused, downed the sample, and then said something to her and she marked it down. Was she doing corner surveys for her new job, then? He approached her table from the side as Taylor talked to a woman, and gazed at the sign in front of the table.

  RECIPE TASTE-TESTING! TASTE A DELICIOUS TREAT AND LET YOUR PREFERENCE BE KNOWN! RESEARCH SAMPLES FOR THE UPCOMING COOKBOOK, F IS FOR FLAVOR BY GRETCHEN PETTY-BUCHANAN.

  “So did you like the lemon cake with the chocolate ganache in the middle layer or the lemon crème in the middle layer?” Taylor was asking, absorbed in her writing. She didn’t notice Loch standing nearby. That was fine. He could stare at her for a little longer, absorb every detail of her appearance. Memorize her lovely face and the way she licked her lips absently as she wrote.

  “Chocolate,” the old woman told her, licking her fingers. “The other one was too lemony.”

  “But it’s lemon cake,” Taylor said with a chuckle. “Shouldn’t it be lemony?”

  “Yes, but chocolate makes everything better.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Taylor said, grinning. “I have your vote. Thank you so much.” She wrote a bit more, a lock of hair wishing in front of her face that Loch was dying to brush aside. She looked fantastic—her cheeks were ruddy with health, her smile was bright, and the capri pants she was wearing showed off her fantastic backside in the most mouthwatering of ways. He itched to touch her.

  Instead, he approached the table.

  “Hi there,” Taylor said without looking up. “Would you like to sample our lemon cake? We’re doing A/B testing and I have to warn you that if you have a nut, citrus, or dairy allergy you shouldn’t try any of . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked up.

  The smile on her face died.

  It was like a punch in the gut. Fuck. He’d done that to her.

  “Taylor. Hi.” Loch wanted to caress her cheek, to see the smile return. He wanted the light to come back to her eyes. “It’s me.”

  A flash of hurt crossed her face. “What are you doing here? I’m busy.” She started to write furiously and the lead on her pencil snapped. “Shit.”

  What was he doing here? Wasn’t it obvious? Then again, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe this wasn’t what she wanted at all. He panicked, looking around for an excuse. “I’m here to try one of your samples, I guess.” He glanced down at the table. Little rounded, iced cakes were set out in pink and blue papers on the table, lined up like buttons. “Do I get one of A and one of B?”

  “I’m not sure I want you to have any, but I guess that wouldn’t be fair.” She picked up one of the pink-papered cakes. “Here’s A.”

  He leaned forward.

  She shoved it into his face, missing his mouth and creaming most of his chin.

  “I can’t tell if you meant to do that or if that was just coincidence,” Loch teased, grabbing a napkin off the corner of the table and wiping at his face. He’d act like it didn’t matter if she hated him or not, even though he was dying inside.

  “I meant to do that.” She gave him a challenging look. “So there.”

  He licked a bit of frosting from his fingers, watching her. She was scowling, but she wasn’t crying. Maybe . . . maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. So he said, “A’s pretty delicious.”

  “Want to try B?” Her eyebrows wiggled.

  “Only if I can feed it to myself.”

  “No deal.”

  He gave her a rueful smile and spoke around the aching knot that had reappeared in his throat. “I deserved a cake in the face for how I treated you, but I can’t imagine it’s going to get you many more people here to sample.”

  She cocked her head. “So you’re admitting you were a jerk?”

  “I was thinking prick might have been a more apt term.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m going to agree with you on that one. I do think prick is the better term. I’m glad you’re admitting it.”

  “I treated you wrong. I wanted to talk to you because I cocked things up and I regret it.” Loch wanted to take her hand in his but he forced himself to remain still. I love you. Please don’t hate me. I’m rubbish without you. “I miss you.”

  Her jaw dropped a little. She was silent for a long moment, then licked her lips. “I . . . wasn’t expecting that.”

  Well, she wasn’t telling him to sod off, so this was going well. A tiny bit of hope burst inside his chest. “Can I buy you lunch? We could catch up.” It didn’t matter that he’d just eaten. He’d buy an entire restaurant’s worth of food and not eat a bite as long as he could watch her.

  “Catch up?” She took a step backward and nearly knocked her small folding table over.

  He caught it before it went careening, the samples sliding off to one side. Only one toppled to the ground, and she scooped it up and dumped it into a garbage bag quickly.

  “Well, I say catch up,” he told her, and then rushed ahead, “but I really mean that I want to talk until I get you to forgive me. Until I get you to love me again. I figure it might go best if I ply you with cake and alcohol.”

  She blinked at him, startled, and then giggled. “So this is a groveling lunch.”

  He smiled back, thrilled by that small laugh. It had made his entire world light up again. “It is, in fact, a groveling lunch.”

  She bit her lip, considering her table, then looking over at him. “I’m still mad at you.”

  He ached to hear that. “You have every right to be.”

  “You were a huge dick to me.”

  “I was.”

  Taylor put a hand on her hip. “And you could have talked to me.”

  “I could have. But I was a prick and thought I knew what was best.” He spread his hands helplessly. “By the time I realized it was a bad idea, it was too late.”

  “I’m not sure that means I have to forgive you. I don’t even know if what you did is forgivable.”

  “It might not be, but I’m here, determined to try.” To demonstrate, he got down on his knees on the sidewalk and gave her a supplicating look. “Please go to lunch with me, Taylor.”

  Another giggle escaped her, which she quickly smothered. She glanced around, then waved at him. “Get up. You’re going to make them think these are pot brownies or something.”

  “I’ll get up if you’ll go to lunch with me.” He gestured at the sidewalk. “If not, I’ll roll around on the ground here holding my stomach and pretending your recipes made me sick.”

  “Blackmail?” She mock-gasped. “You play rough, sir.” There was a hint of a smile on her face that was encouraging, and the sparkle had returned to her eyes. But then she shook her head. “I won’t let you buy me lunch.”

  His spirits sank. His world felt like it was crashing around him. “No?”

  “But . . . I will have lunch with you. Once I get done here, that is.”

  Thank God. “I’ll take that.” He got to his feet and dusted off his slacks.

  She made a flicking gesture at him. “Go wander off that way for a bit. I’m going to be here another hour or so and I can’t work with you hovering.”

  He grinned, feeling good enough to tease her. “I shall do as you ask . . . but shouldn’t I try B first?”

  She gave him a warning look, but then handed him one of the B cakes. This one, she didn’t crush on his face.

  It gave him hope. So much hope. Loch gave the icing a long, sultry lick and notice
d her gaze remained on his mouth. “I think I like B.”

  “Mmm?” Her gaze flicked back to his face and then she blinked. “What? Oh. B.” She started to write, then frowned at her broken pencil. “What is it about B that decided you?”

  “Because it wasn’t smushed on my chin.”

  Taylor laughed aloud.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Oh, god, he was back.

  And oh, god, Taylor was still in love with him.

  Her heart fluttered wildly as she handed out cake samples and completed survey after survey (luckily she had a second pencil in her backpack) but her thoughts remained squarely on the man who waited, standing about a hundred feet away and watching her with an intense, almost devouring look.

  It made her squirm.

  She needed to be angry, Taylor reminded herself. He’d used her. Treated her like she didn’t matter. Like she was just another one of his servants hovering around to do his bidding. She’d told herself for the last six weeks that it was good that he was gone, that things should have never gotten past the one-night-stand stage. After all, she didn’t regret the sex. The sex was flat-out amazing. She regretted that she’d risked her heart and gotten it broken.

  But hearts were tricky, silly things. Like right now? Hers was fluttering a mile a minute because he was back.

  He was back, and he’d somehow decided to find her because he wanted to talk. He didn’t like how things had gone down . . . which was good, because she’d hated the way things had gone down. Of course, it was his fault, and she was still angry about it.

  But . . . still.

  She missed him with a powerful intensity. She’d hoped that the ache of his betrayal would have disappeared as time passed. They’d been apart now longer than they’d been together. That should have made a difference, right? It hadn’t, though; she still felt as if part of her had been ripped out and the wound had yet to cauterize.

  Maybe it was a mistake to agree to lunch with him after all that had happened.

  I miss you.

  Fuck, she missed him, too. And in the end, that was what decided her. Because despite everything, she still wanted him back. The ache of losing him hadn’t subsided, and she needed closure in some way or another, or she needed to give him another chance.

  So she passed out cakes and tried not to be impatient when someone chewed a little slower or was a little more thoughtful about their decision. She tried not to shoo people along when they lingered, even though she just wanted to fling the cake at them so they would leave. Eventually, though, she ran out of samples, and so she cleaned off her table, put away her trash, folded up her things, and turned to look at the big, scrumptious, patient man waiting for her. “Still here?” She tried to play it casual but her voice wobbled at the end. Damn it.

  “Always,” Loch replied with a smile. He strolled toward her and took the folding table out from under her arm. “Let me get that.”

  “I have a car parked a few streets over,” she told him. “Gretchen’s letting me borrow it while I work in the city.”

  “That’s nice of her. I had no idea she was writing a cookbook until I saw your banner.” He hefted the table and began to weave through the pedestrians on the sidewalk. “Can I carry anything else?”

  “No, I’ve got it.” Even as she said it, the empty container she’d kept the cake in threatened to fall to the ground. Damn it. She always seemed to lose motor control around him. Came from watching his ass too much, she supposed.

  But it was such a nice ass, even if it was attached to a jerk.

  They went back to her car and put away her stuff. For a moment, Taylor considered jumping into the driver’s seat, pulling away, and forgetting she ever saw Loch. That would be easier, right? But she looked over at him as he fit the table in the back of the car and their eyes met. An excited, hopeful tingle moved through her and she squeezed her thighs together.

  Bad girl parts, she chided her body. Bad, bad girl parts. We don’t want him back unless he grovels.

  That was the thing about girl parts that had been without really great sex for more than six weeks, though. They got super excited at the thought of having really great sex again.

  No! She was going to stand firm against his extreme hotness.

  Once the car was packed, he turned to her again. “Where would you like to go?”

  Your place, her mind immediately blurted, but she forced herself to point mutely at a nearby pizzeria. He nodded and put a hand to the small of her back, guiding her in just like they were on a date.

  This was not helping with her need to tackle him. It was not. Contain yourself, Taylor. He hurt you. He was a dick. He gave no thought to how you felt.

  She ordered a slice of deliciously greasy cheese pizza, and paid for it and a can of soda. She picked up her food while Loch paid for his and sat down at a small table in the back. The place wasn’t fancy—little more than a few cheap tables scooted at the back—but the idea was to eat, not to hang out. This wasn’t the type of place that you lingered over your food. That would either work for her or against her.

  Taylor nibbled on her slice while he sat, and then wiped her fingers on a napkin. “So. You wanted to talk?”

  He nodded. “I . . . You have grease on your mouth.”

  Damn it. She reached up and swiped at one corner of her mouth.

  “Let me,” he murmured. Loch’s fingers brushed over the opposite corner of her mouth, and then his thumb glided over her lower lip in a very sensual, not-anything-to-do-with-grease sort of motion that made her entire body tingle with need. Then he lifted his thumb to his mouth and licked it.

  And lord help her, that shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen.

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “Be happy to lick you anywhere else you want,” he told her softly.

  She pressed her thighs tighter together. “Not until you tell me why you’re here.”

  He nodded. “I should probably start from the beginning, eh?”

  “That’s probably wise.”

  “About a year ago, my cousin, the crown princess of Bellissime, married an actor named Luke Houston.”

  Taylor remembered that. She remembered it popping up in the tabloids, and she’d seen it mentioned on several of the articles when she’d done Google research on him. “Right. And people got upset.”

  “Some people loved it and felt like they were the next coming of Grace Kelly and Prince Ranier.” He shrugged. “There was a small, vocal portion of the population that felt like she should have stepped down from her position as crown princess if she couldn’t devote her entire life to Bellissime. They wanted to put someone else as first in line—namely, me. I was advised to come to the States under the pretense of visiting friends and family members here, and I would participate in Gretchen’s wedding, and I would be firmly out of sight. This would give things time to settle down back home and then I could return. Of course, when I got here, I wasn’t a big fan of New York. I wanted to go home. I resented being forced out of my home and my lifestyle and dropped here.” His gaze settled on her. “And then I met you.”

  She held a breath. “And then you decided that I was a mess and you should marry me to make everyone realize you would be a bad king?”

  “No,” he said slowly. “I met you and suddenly New York got interesting.”

  A happy tingle started in her belly.

  “When I was around you, I wasn’t bored. I wasn’t miserable. You were busy, but you were funny, and welcoming, and interesting. You were never predictable. You always found the good in things, and every time you smiled, it was like the room had filled with sunshine.”

  Her body filled with warmth at his words. She wanted to fling herself across the table at him and press kisses on his face, but she clenched a hand around her paper napkin and forced herself to stay in place
. “But that didn’t stop you from deciding to marry me just to disqualify yourself.”

  Loch nodded. “I was selfish. I wanted the best of both worlds, I supposed. I wanted you to stay because I enjoyed being around you. And I wanted to remove myself from consideration from the throne. I thought if I married you and we had a quick wedding, it would solve all my problems. I’d have the ability to go home and it helped that you were delightful to be around. But I wasn’t thinking farther ahead than going home.” His expression grew grim. “That’s on me. I figured that if the marriage only lasted for six months or a year, no big deal. I never thought about how you might feel if our marriage only lasted a heartbeat. Or how you might feel when I decided I wanted to return to Bellissime and never bothered to ask you. Or how you’d feel about being used as a pawn to keep me off the throne. I should have asked.”

  “Yes, you should have. I would have said yes, you know.”

  He sat back, surprised. “Really?”

  “Of course. You plus hot sex plus traveling? What’s the downside to that?” Taylor shrugged. “Do I seem like the type that takes myself so seriously that I would be offended that you’d suggest it? But you didn’t ask, you just used. And that’s the part that bothers me.”

  His expression became pained, his eyes haunted. “I know.”

  “And you told me you loved me and you lied.” Her voice wobbled. That was the part that hurt the most. “Why even say it if it’s a lie? Why go that far, Loch? That’s the worst.”

  “Here’s the thing.” His voice became soft, and his gaze held hers. “At the time, I thought it was a stretch of the truth. I didn’t realize how much you’d come to mean to me until I lost you. Until that elevator shut in my face and I realized I’d let the best thing that ever happen to me walk away.”

  All the protests she wanted to make lodged in her throat.

  Loch reached across the table to touch her hand. “Say something, Taylor.”

  “I just . . .” She sighed. “The first night we got together, it was great. I figured it was a one-night stand and no big deal. We’re not people that mesh. You’re a jock and I’m a computer nerd, and that’s fine. But then we kept coming together and I started to like you, and I always wondered . . . what does this guy see in me, you know? I couldn’t figure it out.”