An Accidental Date with a Billionaire

by Diane Alberts

  She swallowed hard, meeting his stare.

  For the first time, she didn’t sneer at him with disinterest or anger. She almost had a light of understanding in her eyes. Almost. “I try to do the same.”

  “I can’t imagine you have much to make up for in this world,” he said honestly.

  She turned away. “Well, you’d be wrong again.”

  His grip on the wheel shifted. Who was Sam, and what had she done in the past that haunted her? He wanted—no, needed—to know. “Seems like a common theme today.”

  “Probably common for you,” she teased.

  Holy shit, was she screwing with him?

  He laughed, trying to match her lighter tone. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “I usually am,” she added playfully.

  The light finally turned green, and he pulled into the intersection, chuckling.

  “Go straight.”

  He eyed the area they were in.

  It was dilapidated, with broken windows and boarded-up doors. People huddled on stoops, watching his car as it passed, and he tightened his grip on the wheel.

  “You okay?” she asked, a smile playing at her lips.

  He forced himself to relax. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

  “Are you nervous?”

  Shaking his head, he stared straight ahead. “There’s a difference between being nervous and alert. I’m alert.”

  She snort-laughed. How the hell did she make that sound so adorable? “Okay.” She smoothed her hair again. “Turn left at the next street.”

  Up ahead was a lot of activity. A house was framed out, and people hustled around the woodwork, dressed in similar clothing to his. A few of them had Habitat for Humanity shirts on, and her choice of attire and the toolbox in his back seat made a hell of a lot of sense. “Is this where we’re going?”

  “Yes.” She cocked her head and studied him, her nose crinkling up adorably as she did so. “Is that a problem?”

  He had the distinct impression she’d really like it to be one. Unfortunately for her, if that was what she wanted, she would be disappointed. “No, not at all.”

  Pulling into the closest spot, he eyed the progress, mentally deciding where to best lend a hand. Out of all the places he could have expected his “date” to take him, this was pretty much the last scenario in his head. Most women wanted lavish dinners and expensive plays.

  But not this one.

  “I’ll show you what to do and how to hold a hammer,” she said, patting his shoulder as if trying to comfort him. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

  Laughing, he slid his key out of the ignition. “No need.”

  “There’s no shame in admitting you need help,” she said, pushing her hair behind her ear.

  He fought back a grin. “I agree, but I can hold a hammer.”

  “But can you use it?”

  He locked eyes with her. “Oh, I can use it, all right.”

  Her cheeks reddened, and she crossed her arms defensively. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Cheeks bright red now, she refused to turn toward him. She was so pretty, sitting there with her long brown hair pulled up in a no-frills ponytail. She didn’t have an ounce of makeup on, as if she’d purposely dressed to not impress, and yet she had the opposite effect on him.

  “Let’s go. They’re waiting for us,” she muttered, opening her car door.

  He rushed around to the side of the car, trying to beat her to the toolbox, but damn, the woman moved quickly. By the time he reached her, she was already closing the door and switching the toolbox to her right hand. “Let me carry that—”

  “I’ve got it,” she said, tipping her nose into the air.

  Reaching for it anyway, his fingers brushed hers before she jerked back. “But—”

  “I said, I’ve got it.”

  Holding his hands up in surrender, he backed off. “Okay.”

  She stiffened even more. “You ready?”

  “Yeah, hold on.” He walked to his trunk, popping it open. Without saying a word, he pulled out the toolbox he always kept in his trunk, just in case. Old habits died hard. After closing the trunk, he nodded at her. “Now I’m ready.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You keep a toolbox in your car?”

  “Always.” He forced a smile despite her constant contempt toward him. “When I was in college, I worked construction.”

  She opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out.

  “My mom was on her own. She did her best to raise me and get me to college. She always worried about my future, so I secretly went out, got a job in construction, and used the cash to pay for college. She thought I got a scholarship, but the truth was I paid it all so she could stop worrying about me.” He locked eyes with her. “Like I said, I wasn’t born with a silver spoon.”

  After what had to have been a million years, she cleared her throat and stepped closer to him. “I…I guess not.”

  Someone passed by, and he waved. “Hey, Taylor.”

  “Max, what’s up?”

  The other man came over and clapped him on the back. “I didn’t know you still did these things. How long’s it been since we’ve seen each other? Four years?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Taylor said, shame rushing over him. Had it been that long since he helped out? What happened to the time? What had happened to him? “Back now, though.”

  “Glad of it.” Max walked backward, pointing to the left. “We could use some of your help with the framing. No one over there knows what they’re doing—not like you do.”

  Taylor grinned. “I’ll be right there.” When he turned back to Sam, she looked like she’d swallowed nails. “You okay?” he asked, trying not to smile.

  She fisted her hands. “You’ve…helped out before?”

  He nodded.

  “Then why didn’t you have clothes to wear? And why haven’t I seen you?” she asked in a rush.

  He rubbed his jaw. “I got rid of the jeans I used to wear here when I got tar all over them and told myself I’d buy more before coming back. I can’t believe it’s been four years already…shit.”

  “I…” She cleared her throat. “I see.”

  As people shuffled from one task to another around them, he shifted the toolbox to his other hand. Surprisingly, he was eager to get to work. It had been too long since he built something with his hands. “Were you coming here back then?”

  “I’d have been in my junior year of college, so…” She pursed her lips. That meant she was deep in thought, and he’d give anything to know what was going through her mind. “Yes.”

  Damn. She was five years younger than his thirty-one. “I’m surprised I didn’t see you.”

  She shrugged. “Not like you would have noticed me.”

  “I assure you, I would have noticed you.”

  She didn’t meet his eyes.

  “Can we start over?” he asked slowly, studying her for any kind of reaction.

  Her face remained carefully blank. “What do you mean?”

  “We can pretend we’re meeting here for the first time, and we can just…talk. No preconceived impressions. No awkward conversations about bidding. Just two people, at a construction site, trying to put some good into the world.”

  She hesitated, shifting her grip on her toolbox.

  “Hi, I’m Taylor Jennings.” He held his hand out, waiting.

  The ball was in her court.

  She didn’t move. Didn’t take his hand.

  Well, there went that idea.

  “All right,” he said, pulling back. “Let’s get this over—”

  Moving fast, she caught his hand in hers, shaking it with a firm grip. “Sam Matthews. Nice to meet you.”

  He shook hers back, grinning widely. He couldn’t help it. This victory was even bigger than the one he’d had in the boardroom Friday when he’d managed to peacefully take over a company and reassign half the employees to another recently acqui
red asset of his. Why did it matter so much to him, though, that she accepted his peace offering?

  “Great to meet you.” He let her go, his fingers lingering as he winked. “Now let’s go build some shit. Maybe after we can grab a bite to eat.”

  “I…uh…actually had another stop planned in this date,” she admitted, her cheeks red. “We’re scheduled to help at the soup kitchen downtown at four.”

  He choked on a laugh, dragging his hand through his hair. “Seriously?”

  She nodded.

  “All right,” he said, dipping his voice. “I’m looking forward to spending all day with you, Sam.”

  “Even though it’ll be at these places?” she asked, gesturing behind her.

  “Icing on the cake,” he admitted. “I get to help while spending time with a compassionate woman. What’s not to like?”

  She scrunched her nose up as she turned away, clearly as ready to work as he was.

  “Sam?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for bringing me here.” He swallowed hard. “It’s been too long, and this is a good reminder to fix that.”

  She bit her lip. “You’re welcome.”

  “Hopefully I can return the favor and remind you how to do something, too.”

  She spun on her heel, fully facing him, raising her brows in question. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, holding his arms out. “You’re a mystery I can’t quite solve, but I intend to do my best to figure you out.”

  She let out a small laugh. “Yeah. Okay. Good luck with that.”

  “Thanks.”

  As she walked toward a group of women, he watched her hair swing with each step and couldn’t help but think that around her, he’d need all the luck he could get.

  Chapter Five

  Sam legit couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d done more watching and admiring than actual building, and it was all Taylor’s fault. Why did he have to go and not be a jerk? She liked him better when he seemed like the kind of guy who never thought twice about the world outside of his penthouse. But noooo.

  He had to go and care.

  His muscles flexed as he hammered a nail into the wood, and a trail of sweat rolled down the side of his forehead and into his hair. The jeans he’d bought for their date hugged his butt in all the right places, and he’d rolled his flannel sleeves up to expose muscular forearms with dark brown hair speckled across tanned skin. A backup nail was perched in his mouth as he pounded steel on steel, and in complete honesty, she had to admit there was nothing more attractive in this world than Taylor Jennings using his hammer. He hadn’t lied—he knew how to use it.

  Damn him.

  She was happy he wasn’t a prick, but it made it so much more tempting to forget who he was, and what he represented, for just a night…

  No. She couldn’t do that.

  Lisa, a buddy who always ended up at the same builds as her, waved a hand in front of her face, fanning her. Sam snapped to attention, blinking. “Huh?”

  “I said,” Lisa enunciated, “you need some cooling off. Here you go.”

  Sam’s cheeks flushed, but not from heat—though it was an unseasonably warm fall day in Chicago. “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, sure you are,” she agreed, grinning, “and so is he.”

  Sam forced her expression to remain calm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “That fine-ass man over there you’re drooling over,” Lisa said, pointing at Taylor.

  Sam grabbed her hand, yanking it down. “Don’t point at him.”

  Lisa laughed. “Who is he, anyway?”

  “He’s…he’s kind of my date.”

  Lisa broke the laugh off. “You brought a date to Habitat for Humanity?”

  “It’s a long story,” Sam muttered.

  “I’ve got nothing but time,” Lisa said, picking up a nail. “Tell me all about it.”

  Sam did the same, sighing, because to be honest, she wanted to talk to someone about this. “I went to a charity auction last night—”

  “Big shocker there, you helping charities.”

  Sam ignored that. “—and he was on the stage.”

  “Why am I never invited to these types of things?” Lisa muttered.

  “I bid on him, won, and brought him here to make him eat some humility pie. Turns out, I’m the one who needs it. He’s actually a nice guy, and he’s hot, and he had a toolbox in his car, which is even hotter, and now I can’t take my eyes off him.” Sam pounded on a nail, taking out her frustrations on the poor thing. “And he’s hot. Like, really, really hot.”

  “You already said that,” Lisa pointed out. She pushed her glasses into place with her left index finger.

  “He’s hot enough that it bears mentioning twice.”

  “True.” Lisa chuckled and placed her nail gun against the wood, pulling the trigger smoothly. “How’s Izzy?”

  “I’m not sure,” Sam said, frowning. “I’ve been trying to call her, but she doesn’t answer. I’m hoping it’s because she’s too busy being happy, but with Don…”

  Lisa shuddered. “I hate that guy.”

  “We all do,” Sam agreed. There was just something about him that felt…off. Like everything he said was a lie he carefully orchestrated in order to get ahead in the world, but Izzy didn’t see it. She loved the guy and refused to listen to anyone else.

  “She’d be better off with a guy like that one,” Lisa said, watching Taylor again.

  Sam shook her head. “He’s too risky. Guys who are too handsome usually want to control you.”

  “I’m all right with that. I’ll take him off your hands if you want,” Lisa said, sighing as she watched him.

  Something Sam didn’t want to name churned in her belly.

  “By all means,” she mumbled. “Help yourself.”

  “No use trying,” Lisa said. “He’s been staring at you all day.”

  Sam glanced at him.

  Sure enough, he was checking her out.

  The second they locked eyes, she expected him to turn away, but he smiled at her. He could totally be People’s “Sexiest Man Alive.”

  And he was grinning at her.

  Sam broke the eye contact with Taylor after giving him a small smile back.

  “When’s the last time you brought a guy home?”

  “Uh…” She thought about it. “Like, a year. Maybe?”

  Wow. Had it been that long? What the hell happened? Sure, she didn’t do relationships, but she usually took time to go on the occasional date.

  Lisa shook her head. “Take him home with you. A girl needs to have her fun, Sam.”

  Sam snorted. “No. Not with him.”

  If she went out on a date with someone, it would be with…Stewart, who worked at the coffee shop she always went to and never stopped flirting with her. He was cute, in a guy-next-door kind of way.

  Stewart was safe.

  Sam had a strict rule about life—she didn’t take chances or make bad decisions that would come back to bite her in the butt.

  Taylor had mistake written all over him.

  “Shh, he’s coming,” Lisa said, smacking Sam’s arm.

  Sam didn’t point out that she hadn’t been talking.

  “Hey,” Taylor said from behind her. “Sam, right?”

  She faced him, biting back a groan. He’d lifted his flannel up and swiped his forehead with his shirt, baring a set of abs that looked way too perfect to be real.

  “H-Hey,” she managed to say, tearing her attention away from his abs. So, he was still starting over with her. They were playing that game. “Yep, that’s me.”

  He offered her a sheepish grin. The golden glow of late afternoon played with his hair, highlighting the lighter places to an almost blond color. “I saw you from across the way and couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are when you smile.”

  Her stomach twisted. It would be easy—so frigging easy—for her to
do what Lisa said. The wind blew her hair in front of her face, cutting off her vision, and she was grateful for that. Not seeing him made it easier for her to keep her head on straight. “Thanks. That’s very kind of you to say.”

  “This might be too forward of me, but I was thinking of hitting a soup kitchen after this and serving some food.” He stepped closer, brushing a piece of hair off her cheek. “Would you like to come with me?”

  Playing along, she pressed a hand to her chest and gasped. “But, sir, I barely know you.”

  “We can fix that.” He gave her a once-over that should have set her on fire…along with her imagination. “Come with me.”

  He was so frigging smooth. Ugh. Maybe she should just forget about why she didn’t usually date guys like Taylor. What’s the worst thing that could happen—?

  No, Sam. Bad.

  “All right, I’ll go with you.” She swallowed hard, putting her tools away in her toolbox and closing the lid. “I’ll talk to you later, Lisa?” she called, since her friend had moved to give them privacy.

  Lisa nodded, watching Taylor from under her lashes. “Think about what I said, okay?”

  Her cheeks heated. “Yeah.”

  Taylor offered his arm, his toolbox in his other hand. Even though she didn’t want to touch him and tempt herself, she couldn’t think of a good enough reason not to, so she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. Despite his hard work, he still somehow smelled good. With that silky voice of his, he was a treat for the senses.

  Not that she was interested.

  “I meant what I said earlier.”

  She ripped herself out of her unwanted thoughts. “About what?”

  “Thank you for bringing me here. I feel bad it’s been so long.” He sighed, his forehead wrinkled. “It’s just hard sometimes. I work over fifty hours a week, and by the time I’m done—I forget how important it is to give back. Being a Big Brother to a kid isn’t enough.”

  “You have a brother?”