“Hello,” I said, trying to keep my voice low even as the other diners turned to glare at me.
I ignored them and kept my attention focused on the girl across from me. Something about her seemed so familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Hey.” Scott sounded breathless. “Are you at the restaurant?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Your date can’t make it. She’s in the hospital,” Scott said, and I could hear the pounding of his feet on a treadmill.
I watched as the girl read something on her phone. At first, she’d seemed excited, but then her face fell. What had made her so upset?
“I know,” I said, eager to get off the phone. Now that I knew she was telling the truth, I owed her an apology.
I disconnected the call after Scott said we’d have to reschedule. “Looks like you were telling the truth…” I trailed off, realizing I didn’t know her name. She’d never introduced herself, and I hadn’t been polite enough to ask.
“Staci,” she said. “Staci Wildwood.”
“My agent just called to let me know that the woman who was supposed to be my date is in the hospital.”
She smirked, and a small dimple appeared in her cheek. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
“I apologize. So…it looks like both our dates stood us up.”
“He didn’t stand me up,” she said defensively, confirming my suspicions. “He had to reschedule.”
“Reschedule your non-date,” I said in a dry tone. “Let me guess,” I mused, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. “Something came up at work.”
She scowled at me, but it only made me laugh. It was like watching a kitten attempt to growl like a lion. Adorable.
“Are you always such a cynic?” she asked.
“Not always.”
“Hmm. Somehow, I find that difficult to believe. Now—” she moved to stand, and I scrambled to do the same. “If you’ll excuse me. I have…well,” she huffed, clearly exasperated. “I’ll think of something.”
I wanted to laugh, but I actually felt kind of bad for the way I’d treated her. She turned to leave, and I grabbed her wrist before I could stop myself. “Wait.”
She whipped around to face me. Her hair swirled about her face, and her eyes were wide with surprise. I quickly retracted my hand, but my skin continued to tingle from where I’d touched her. I wiped my palm against my pants, hoping to rid myself of the feeling.
“Stay,” I said, ignoring the curious glances of nearby diners.
I only hoped they weren’t capturing this on their cameras. Sometimes I really hated modern technology. Which was ironic, considering I’d made a mint off an app.
“Why?” Her blue eyes blazed as she peered up at me. “So, you can insult me some more?”
She looked sweet, but she certainly had a bit of heat too. I liked it. I liked that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. I liked that she didn’t seem to care who I was. It was actually quite refreshing.
“Let me make it up to you,” I said. “I’ve already ordered a bottle of champagne. And the food is quite delicious. Order whatever you’d like; it’s on me.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “I, um, thanks. But I can’t have champagne.”
“That’s fine,” I said, wondering why she’d phrased it that way. Not that she didn’t want champagne or shouldn’t have it, but that she couldn’t. “I prefer not to drink during the season anyway.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and I could tell she was considering it. I leaned in, gratified when she mimicked my movement. This close, I could see the blue of her iris. And I realized they weren’t as dark as I’d initially thought, but more of a cornflower blue.
I lowered my voice, sensing that she needed more convincing. “If you won’t stay for dinner, at least have desert with me. The molten chocolate lava cake is amazing.”
“Chocolate lava cake?” she asked, clearly intrigued by the idea.
I nodded. “Melted chocolate flows out of a rich, decadent cake. Served with a raspberry sauce and homemade vanilla ice cream.”
She blinked at me a few times, and I had to laugh. “That does sound pretty amazing.”
“It’s settled then,” I said, gesturing to the waiter. He took our order and removed our wine glasses before disappearing once more.
Staci glanced around as if suddenly remembering her surroundings. She placed her napkin on her lap and sat up a little straighter.
“Are you sure this is okay?” she whispered. “I’m a bit underdressed.”
“Are you?” I asked. “I think I’m the one who’s overdressed. You know, I was going to wear my tennis shoes, but they clashed with my suit,” I joked.
She laughed, and the simple action lit up her entire being. She was beautiful, but when she laughed, she was stunning.
“So, what were your big plans for the evening?” I asked. “You know, before fate intervened.”
She scoffed. “Before fate intervened?”
“Yes,” I said with a serious tone. “Don’t you believe in fate?”
“I do, actually. But I don’t get the feeling you’re of the same opinion.”
The corners of my mouth tilted, and I was surprised she could read me so well. I also liked the fact that she didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by me. Nor did she seem to care one bit that I was celebrity or a billionaire.
“You probably believe in love at first sight too,” I said.
“I’d certainly like to believe it’s possible.” She seemed so hopeful. So young. Too young for me certainly.
“Have you ever been in love?” I asked as the dessert arrived.
One dish.
Two spoons.
This was a bad idea.
Staci seemed hesitant to dig in. I picked up one of the forks and cut into it so the chocolate sauce would ooze out.
“Oh wow.” Her eyes were glued to the chocolatey flow, and I wondered if it was possible to be jealous of a dessert. She was clearly more taken by the idea of it than me.
“Pretty amazing, right?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm.” After that she didn’t hesitate to dig in.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said after she’d taken a few bites.
“Mm. What?” she asked, finally glancing up from the dessert.
“Have you ever been in love?” I shouldn’t have asked it the first time, let alone a second. But something about this girl had me breaking all kinds of rules.
I told myself it was because she was different. She wasn’t like most women I interacted with. She seemed genuine and sweet. And I’d probably never see her again after tonight.
With her attention focused on the dessert, she said, “No,” in a soft voice. She peered up at me from beneath her lashes, and it was nearly my undoing. “Have you?”
“Yes.”
Why had I said that? I didn’t talk about it—her—ever. And certainly not with a woman I’d just met.
But something about Staci disarmed me, told me she was trustworthy. It was the same gut feeling I’d sometimes get on the field just before a play. And since it was usually right, I’d learned to go with it.
“So…back to your big plans,” I said.
“Why are you so interested in my big plans?” she asked, though I sensed her amusement.
I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s rare I share a dessert with a woman I’m not on a date with. So, I find myself curious.” I leaned forward. “That, and I’m wondering if you have a boyfriend who’s going to come and try to punch me for our little date or use it for leverage to get an autographed jersey or one of my reserved tickets.”
Her laughter had a musical quality, like wind chimes. And I felt something in my heart ease merely from being in her presence. I wasn’t entirely sure whether she was laughing more at my question or me. Either way, I didn’t mind. I’d made her laugh, and that was all that mattered.
“Well—” she sighed, her earlier happiness suddenly dim
. “If you must know, I was supposed to go out with Will. He was taking me to a jazz club.”
I frowned, and I wasn’t sure whether I was more opposed to the idea of going to a jazz club or the fact that another guy was taking her out. What is wrong with me?
“He’s not my boyfriend, though,” she said. “Just like this isn’t a date.” She gestured between us.
“But you want him to be,” I said.
She laughed nervously, twisting her napkin in her hands. “I do. But… Oh, why am I even telling you this?” She huffed.
Her innocence was refreshing. Again, that word. But when it came to Staci, it fit.
“Because I asked?” I smirked, taking another bite of the dessert.
I’d only eat a few, just so she’d feel like we were sharing it. I could tell from her soft smile and contented sighs that she was thoroughly enjoying the chocolate creation. Besides, the season was still in full swing, and I had to limit my sugar intake.
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “True. But we only just met.”
“Every friend was once a stranger,” I said, though I wanted to be more than her friend. And that idea scared me.
She paused mid-bite as if struck by my words. Suddenly, she seemed withdrawn, sad even. And I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. Or even what to do to fix it.
“What?” I asked. “Did I say the wrong thing?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. It just reminded me a lot of something my dad used to say.”
“Used to?” I asked.
“He, um—” She swallowed. “He died.”
Died.
Just like Melissa.
And it was a potent reminder of why I didn’t let people in. Because when you did, someone inevitably got hurt.
Chapter Seven
Staci
“How was the jazz club?” Ellie asked when I returned home from dessert with Brandon. She and Amy were watching a movie with Mama in the upstairs living room.
I plopped down on the couch. “We didn’t go.”
Though Will worked as an accountant by day, he was passionate about music. He played guitar and sang, and when I’d watched some of the videos he’d posted online, I was impressed. He was talented.
“Shh,” Amy hissed, shooting daggers at me with her eyes. Which prompted Mama to glare at her. “Sorry.”
Ellie stood from the couch, and I followed her downstairs to the kitchen. “What happened? You were so excited about it.”
“I know.” I pouted, thinking of how excited I had been to experience a jazz club, even if I wasn’t entirely sure if it was a date or not. “Will had to cancel.” I grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the fridge.
Ellie frowned. “Then where were you all this time?”
“You know how Aunt Karen was going to the opera to court a new client?” Ellie nodded. “Well, she rushed in before they were supposed to leave and said she had to get a hold of some bigshot football player. He’d participated in a bachelor auction, and his date was in the hospital.”
Aunt Karen had come in my room in a panic, her ballgown swirling about her. She couldn’t reach her assistant or Brandon’s agent, and she needed someone to tell him his date wasn’t coming. She would’ve done it herself, but there wasn’t time. So, the task fell to me.
“Oh my gosh.” Ellie covered her mouth with her hands. “Is the woman okay?”
“I think so,” I said with a frown. “Or at least, I hope she will be. But she clearly couldn’t make it.”
Ellie furrowed her brows. “So, Aunt Karen sent you to be his date instead?”
I laughed. “Um, no. She asked me to tell him what had happened.”
She leaned her forearms on the counter. “What was the bigshot football player like?”
“He was…interesting,” I said, finally settling on the word.
“Interesting how?” Ellie asked.
I sighed. “I don’t know. He wasn’t what I expected. He was intense.”
I remembered the moment our eyes met. It was as if he were propelling me across the room toward him.
“Was he handsome?”
I nodded, transported back to the moment we’d met. He’d stood, the candlelight casting a beautiful sheen on his impeccably tailored suit. From his squared shoulders to the narrowed waist, everything about him was perfection. His hair was mussed, giving him a boyish appearance. And the mischievous glint in his eyes hinted at adventure. He was beguiling.
“That’s all I’m going to get?” she asked. “With Will you were gushing over everything from the color of his eyes to the smell of his cologne.”
I shrugged. “Brandon is handsome, but he’s no Will.” He hadn’t literally swept me off my feet. In fact, he’d been rather rude.
“Hmm. I’m sure he’s not,” she said, but I had a feeling I was missing something. “What did you say his name was again?”
“Brandon James. He plays for the Eagles.”
She typed something on her phone, then turned it to me. “Is this him?” An image of Brandon was on the screen.
I nodded. “Yep.”
She turned her attention back to the phone. “He’s very handsome. And—wow—one of the highest paid tight ends in the country.”
“Whatever that is,” I quipped, taking a sip of my water.
“Though he donates his entire twelve-million-dollar salary to a different charity every year.”
I coughed a few times, nearly choking on my water. “What?”
“I guess when you’re a billionaire, a measly twelve million is a drop in the bucket,” she said with a wry grin.
“That’s insane. He…he’s worth what?”
“Billions,” she said, but her attention remained focused on the screen. “My, my, he’s quite the player, isn’t he?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, moving over so I could see what she was looking at.
She scrolled through photo after photo of Brandon, all with different women. They were all beautiful, refined, elegant. And older than me. I didn’t know why it bothered me, but it did.
“It says he rarely dates any woman longer than a month. There’s even a hashtag named ‘Brandon’s Flavor of the Month.’”
I frowned just as my phone vibrated in my pocket. But then I saw the message waiting for me, and my face lit up with a smile.
Will: Hey, beautiful. Sorry about tonight.
Me: It’s okay. I had a work thing come up too.
Will: Are you free tomorrow afternoon?
I did a little happy dance.
Ellie shook her head, even though she was smiling. “Let me guess—Will?”
“Yep,” I said, my eyes never leaving the screen. “He asked if I’m free tomorrow because he wants to record a video together and post it online. Ahh!” I jumped up and down. “This is so awesome!”
Ever since I’d binge-watched Charlotte’s makeup tutorials, I’d been dying to make a video of my own. But one that focused on music. I’d mentioned it to Will, and now he was going to help me make it happen.
Ellie laughed, but then her expression turned serious as did her tone. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“What?” I asked. “The video?”
“Yeah,” Ellie said, glancing up from her phone.
“Why?” I shrugged. “Cousin Charlotte does them all the time.”
“Yeah, but… just be careful what you post online. You can’t erase it. Okay?”
“Okay, Mom.” I elbowed her side, but her attention was already focused on her screen.
Her eyes went wide. “Oh my.”
“What’s wrong? We don’t have anything on the calendar tomorrow, right?” I asked, knowing there was school and work. After I dropped Amy off at home, I should be free.
“No, um…” She wouldn’t look up from her screen. “You didn’t happen to meet Brandon at Leith’s tonight, did you?”
“Yeah?” My forehead creased. “Why?”
“It’s all over the internet.”
>
“What?” I squawked, angling to get a better look at her phone. “What are you talking about?”
I read the snippet on the screen. “Mysterious blonde spotted at dinner with Brandon James at the upscale restaurant, Leith’s.” And that was one of a number of posts about it.
Luckily, you couldn’t get a clear view of my face in any of the photos, but it was still me. And I was shocked that someone had taken a photo of us while we were trying to enjoy our dessert at such a nice restaurant. It was rude. It was an invasion of privacy.
I briefly felt bad for Brandon. What must it be like to be watched all the time? To have your every move speculated upon? And it made me wonder—how many of the women he was pictured with had he been on a date with versus just friends? Clearly, the situation could easily be taken out of context. Ours certainly had.
“Wow, that restaurant is expensive,” Ellie said, punctuating each syllable of expensive. “Are you sure it wasn’t a date? I mean, I assume he paid for your meal because I know you don’t have that kind of cash from your internship.”
We both knew my internship at Aunt Karen’s event planning company was more about resume building and networking than making money. I’d started looking for a second job, hoping to help lessen some of Ellie’s burden. But I hadn’t found anything yet. Apart from my job at the record store and a high school degree, I didn’t have many skills.
“We only ordered dessert, and it was amazing. It was this molten chocolate—"
“Lava cake,” she said, finishing my sentence.
“Yeah.” I frowned at her. “How’d you know?”
“I’m looking at the menu.” She grinned.
“Oh.” I laughed, my shoulders relaxing. “I was afraid maybe that had been posted on the internet too.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Not yet.”
I almost wished I’d taken a picture of the dessert. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten, hands down. And what an experience.
Despite how amazing it tasted, I hadn’t failed to notice that Brandon only took a few, small bites. I wondered if he wasn’t a fan of desserts—or more disturbingly, chocolate. But he’d been the one to suggest the dish. I even remembered him talking it up as being delicious, which lead me to believe he’d ordered it before and liked it. Weird.
Catching the Billionaire Page 5