by Leslie North
Daniel laughed to himself, quietly unzipping his briefcase. If he moved quickly—and stealthily—Grayson wouldn’t have to even know he’d stopped to check his emails.
“Stay there. Take a load off. I need to find different shoes.” It was a white lie, he supposed. He’d change shoes for the hell of it, but he didn’t need to. What he needed to do was make sure the Korean banker he’d just wined and dined over the weekend was still a shoo-in for the business deal Daniel’s father had been pushing him toward for the past three months. If Daniel didn’t snag this, he’d never hear the end of it. From his father, and from himself.
Just as Daniel sat on the edge of the bed, laptop loaded and ready, he heard a strange clank from the bathroom. Or at least it seemed like it came from there. Daniel paused, listening more intently.
Silence permeated the room once again.
And then he heard the faintest sloshing sound.
Like water.
Like maybe a pipe had burst.
Anxiety streaked through him and he tossed his laptop aside, rushing toward the bathroom. Before he’d even pushed through the door, he’d already calculated a running tally of how much money a burst pipe inside the master bedroom would cost. He could exactly imagine the upcoming days of work, the ruined closet, the forgotten pair of Italian leather shoes in the back of his wardrobe that would be ruined from water damage and mold.
He scanned the master bath wildly as he stepped inside, finding the lights already on. The next thing to catch his eye: the very naked woman in his clawfoot bathtub looking at him with wild green eyes.
Breasts hidden by a layer of bubbles while she wielded a decorative vase, cowering in the corner of the tub.
“Don’t come any closer!” she shrieked, her short, punky hair sticking up at wild angles. Shock made him mute. He didn’t even realize he was stepping toward her until she moved suddenly, water sloshing over the edge of the bathtub and onto the tile.
“I told you, don’t come any closer!” she screamed, standing up, brandishing the vase like a weapon.
Daniel couldn’t believe his eyes. And he wasn’t sure what was more outrageous: the fact that there was a completely naked twenty-something with curves for days basically waiting for him inside his home, or the fact that she was about to spear him to death with a decorative Grecian urn he’d picked up on a work trip years ago.
It was when she kicked at him—coming nowhere close to reaching him, of course, but managing to fling water droplets across him like a warning—when he broke past the shock and found his voice, and his logic.
“Are you my house sitter?” he asked.
Her grip went tighter around the vase but some of the fire went out of her. Still, she kept it at ear level, like she’d swing it at him bat-style if needed. “Maybe. Are you Daniel Trent?”
“Yes.”
Finally she lowered the vase, her chest heaving. He knew the gentlemanly thing to do would be to avoid looking…but he was a billionaire, not a saint. Her entire body shimmered, like she’d bathed in oil prior to the bath, highlighting breasts that looked like perfect handfuls. Dark rose nipples standing at attention. It wasn’t an ideal time to be checking her out, but her standing buck naked in front of him didn’t offer many other options.
“How can I believe you?” she demanded through gritted teeth.
“Do you want to see my ID?” His heart raced, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he was finally putting a face—and a naked body—to the mystery house sitter who had been in charge of his penthouse during all his absences for the past six months. Sometimes, the notes she left behind seemed almost flirty, and he’d found himself wondering on more than one occasion what SitMyHouse.com’s Miss Jackie Stone, Accomplished House sitter and Aspiring Social Worker might actually look like.
And now he knew well enough. All the way down to the tightly trimmed patch of dark hair between her legs.
Jackie set her lips in a determined line, jerking her chin like she was beckoning him to step closer. “Let’s see it.”
As he dug his wallet out of his back pocket, he fumbled to find his driver’s license tucked into the folds. His fingers were shaking. This was ridiculous. Had it been so long since he’d been around a naked woman? This wasn’t even a sexy situation. This was an intrusion—him on her, since he was the one who’d hired her and forgotten to inform her that he’d cut his trip a little short.
“Show me the ID first,” she commanded, her tone hard. He finally managed to rip it out and held it up so she could see. When she indicated that she wanted a closer look, he stepped forward.
But some of her weapon-wielding had gotten the floor wet. And Daniel noticed too late when his foot connected with a slippery patch of tile. He shouted as he pitched forward, headed right for the bathtub.
Jackie shrieked, lunging for the vase again. Daniel caught himself on the edge of the tub before plunging headfirst into the water, but Jackie’s flailing caused her to slip.
She tumbled on top of him, knocking him backwards. He connected with the bathroom tile in a solid thunk, landing on his back, with Jackie’s small, damp hands immediately finding his neck.
“I told you not to touch me!” she said, her thumbs pressing into the sides of his neck.
“I fucking slipped!” he hissed out, grasping at her hands and struggling to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him. All the water from her body was bleeding into him now, soaking his pants, his shirt, everything. He didn’t seriously think that she would do him any harm, but he was impressed, if anything, that she knew exactly where to strike his pressure points to get him to pass out.
She watched him intensely for a few moments, chest heaving while her gaze skated back and forth across his face. Meanwhile, Grayson ran into the bathroom.
“Daniel! Whoa, what the—” Grayson’s eyes went wide, an expression somewhere between shock and amusement tugging at his lips. “Is everything okay?”
On top of him, Jackie squeaked and started to pull back, but Daniel slid an arm around her to hold her in place. As long as she stayed on top of him like this, Grayson wouldn’t get a free show.
“We’re fine, we’re fine,” Daniel said, trying to wave him away. “Sorry, we got excited.”
“Holy shit. My bad. I had no idea that you had a visitor waiting for you…” Grayson’s shit-eating grin was fully activated. “Sorry, miss. I hope I didn’t ruin your surprise. But maybe you were expected—that would explain why Daniel was so eager to get here…”
Daniel pinched his eyes shut, not sure where to begin with the story corrections. “It’s, uh…you know…”
“How about this? I’ll head to the diner now, in your car, and then tell your driver he has the rest of the night off. I’ll let Blake know that something else…came up and you needed to stay home tonight after all.” Grayson tapped a knuckle against the doorframe. “Sound like a plan?”
“Yep. Great.” Daniel waved him off again, everything inside him burning with embarrassment and confusion while Grayson retreated. Once the front door shut, heard only faintly from inside the master bath, Jackie rolled off of him.
“I’m so sorry.” She offered a hand, searing him with those pretty green eyes. “I didn’t mean to cause such a mess.” She gestured to the water all over the floor. “Or give your friend the wrong idea.”
Daniel grunted as he took her hand, allowing her to help him sit up. He rubbed at his face, still unsure whether all of this was real or a jet-lagged hallucination, while Jackie snatched a nearby towel and wrapped it around her.
“It’s my fault,” Daniel said, feeling some clarity return now that she was no longer naked and showcasing the wispy lines of a scripted tattoo on her ribcage. Even though he was dying to know what it spelled. “I wrapped up my business meeting early and then I had to rush so much to get on my new flight that I didn’t even think about alerting you. Honestly, I’ve been so busy at work, I totally forgot that you’d be staying here while I was in Seoul.”
> Jackie nibbled on her bottom lip, some of her mascara collecting beneath the rim of her eyes as she rested against the edge of the bathtub. “You were just in Seoul?”
Daniel nodded, scratching at the back of his neck. After what just happened, Seoul seemed like a lifetime ago. He couldn’t even remember what he was doing ten minutes ago.
“That’s so cool,” Jackie said softly, her gaze bouncing across bathroom floor. “I’d like to go someday. Let me get this place cleaned up. I really didn’t mean to try to attack you.”
“You wouldn’t have gotten far with those karate moves,” Daniel cracked.
Jackie grinned, a dimple flashing. “What are you trying to say? You were scared. Don’t act like you weren’t.”
“I was something, but scared wasn’t it,” Daniel teased back.
Jackie hefted with a laugh. “I’m sorry I accused you of breaking into your own apartment. I guess it would have helped if we’d ever met over the past six months, huh? Just to see what we look like.”
“Yeah, could have saved me a naked bathroom attack,” Daniel said, pushing himself to standing. Once he headed for the towels beneath the sink cupboard, Jackie stopped him.
“Don’t. This is my fault. I’ll clean up. You don’t worry about a thing.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s mostly my fault.” He handed her a towel and grabbed one for himself. “See? We can both do it.”
She smiled wryly at him, knotting her towel in the dip in her breasts before heading over to the bathtub. She pulled the drain, the bubbles creating a vortex as they swirled away.
“I don’t mean to keep you from whatever you have going on,” Jackie said, glancing at him shyly. He thought he caught the faintest tinge of pink in her cheeks. So tough girl Jackie was secretly embarrassed beneath the façade. Somehow, it all added up to an impossibly sexy equation.
Not just because she was all woman, with enough tattoos to make him want to spend a few hours scrutinizing them. But because she’d somehow managed to attract him through little notes over the past six months…and then wasn’t afraid to defend herself in the nude with a Grecian urn.
Little things like that made him think Jackie was the type of woman he could enjoy spending some time with.
But it was a non-option.
Daniel was smart enough to know that he didn’t have the time for anything more than a fling. And Jackie, well…
Jackie was his house sitter. And that’s how she needed to stay.
Grab your copy of The Billionaire’s Pretend Girlfriend
Available June 25, 2020
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
BLURB
Romance novelist Brandy Jackson is not a one-night-stand kind of girl, but with Maximillian Benton, she’s willing to make an exception. Big mistake. Turns out, the charming, handsome man with a sexy British accent is a jerk who’s only interested in laying claim to Landon Castle, the inheritance Brandy received when her beloved grandmother died. But apparently through a cheating attorney, the castle was purchased at auction by Max. When a judge orders them to both live at the castle until the legal matter is resolved, Brandy reluctantly agrees. As big as the castle is, it turns out to be too small for her and Max, who find themselves spending more and more time together. And even though Brandy knows Max isn’t her happily-ever-after, when the heat becomes too much she still gives in to her passion. Bigger mistake. Now she’s pregnant.
Max’s motives for wanting the castle are simple: revenge. A billionaire software designer, Max was swindled by the man who owned the castle, and now it’s sweet payback owning the thing his nemesis loved most. So when his plans are sent awry by a pretty American, he has no choice but to dig in his heels and make sure the castle remains his. Max tries, rather desperately, to ignore his attraction to Brandy and the way his heart expands whenever they’re together. Despite his cynicism about love, he can’t help wondering if Brandy might be different from all the other women he’s met. But when he believes he’s been duped by her sweet smile and sexy body, Max all too readily decides ending what they have is for the best. Happily ever after just isn’t for him. But he can’t shake the feeling he may have lost the best thing in his life…
Grab your copy of The Tycoon’s Pregnant Lover (European Tycoon Book One) from
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
EXCERPT
Chapter One
Max Benton had come to the Grand Abby Hotel in York on business, not pleasure—but that didn’t mean temptation didn’t have a way of happening.
These days, it was almost always business with him. Either he was sprinting to finish coding a security program to faultlessness, or he was enjoying the company of a woman. Tonight, sitting at the hotel bar with his laptop open and an Old Fashioned on his right, he was just settling into the former when the latter walked through the door.
Don’t look, Max warned himself. Look up and it’s over for you. You may as well kiss your deadline goodbye.
He massaged his lower lip thoughtfully with one rough finger, then cursed. He didn’t need to be thinking in terms of kisses. He had seen an incredible pair of legs enter the bar out of the corner of his eye, and he’d immediately barred himself from looking beyond that. The telltale click of heels heralded the woman’s approach. She sat down several stools away and sighed wearily. He didn’t look up. When she placed her order with the bartender in a pleasant, throaty voice, he didn’t look up. But when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed those long, lean legs cross themselves beneath the bar, and that black skirt rise up to expose several more inches of thigh…
He looked. He was helpless not to. He kept his glance brief, drinking in everything he could of his fellow bar patron before turning back to his screen. Suddenly, he became aware of his own heartbeat, his blood pumping in his ears. She was more than he might have expected even in his wildest (and crudest) imaginings—she was a stunner, a knockout, a raven-haired beauty with a body that would make a photographer for Playboy blush. She carried herself casually, as if she wasn’t at all aware of herself or the effect she would have on any watching hot-blooded male, and her unassuming demeanor only made that blood of his run hotter.
She jounced one ankle beneath the bar, cheek pillowed in one softly-closed palm, as she pored over a set of documents she had unearthed from her briefcase. She didn’t appear to notice him there, but appearances could be deceiving. She could be playing the same game he was, both players abiding by unspoken rules.
Max glared at his laptop.
He couldn’t go on like this, not with Venus herself sitting so close to him. A decision had to be made.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Max decided that work, revenge… it could all wait. He could afford one last diversion. He closed his laptop and turned his full attention to the gorgeous specimen sitting farther down the length of the bar. The brunette didn’t disappoint; she looked up at once, perhaps compelled by the forthrightness of his stare. A light pink dusted those impeccably high cheekbones of hers, and he hadn’t even said a word.
This was going to be too easy.
“You’re an American,” he said.
Brandy’s first instinct was toward self-consciousness. Obviously, this lone man sitting at the bar across from her was gorgeous. In fact, she had been surprised to find him alone. His sandy blond hair was swept faultlessly back from his angular face, and his eyes were such a vivid, gorgeous blue, their steady gaze stole the air from her lungs—and any memory of how to breathe along with it.
He had the face of a romance hero, one of the dashing men she wrote about in her books—something she had never expected to encounter in real life. She wondered idly if he was a movie star… one of those rarified beings who was, here and now, staring at her raptly and obviously awaiting her next move. It was a dance, she realized. The question was: did she want him to continue to take the lead?
“How did you guess?” She was all too aware in that moment of how unspectacular her accent was compared to his own. Then aga
in, if she was a foreigner on this side of the pond, might she sound just a little exotic to an Englishman? Maybe a little Hollywood chic?
Or maybe that was too much to hope for.
“I never guess.” He signaled the bartender.
Brandy realized belatedly that he was ordering another drink for her. Cocky. She raised an eyebrow, not quite approving, not quite disapproving. “Not ever?”
“I never make a move that isn’t calculated,” the man replied.
Brandy calculated her own move, then, and moved a few stools closer. “Oh no? Sounds boring.”
“Am I boring you?” The Englishman raised an eyebrow.
She shook her head. “No. Surprising me, yes. I didn’t expect to meet anyone while I stopped over.”
“What are you in town for?”
His questions were so direct, they left her feeling a bit breathless. “I’m here on business,” she managed after a moment. She toyed with her drink, letting her fingertips rove the cool glass, mopping up the beads of water weeping down its sides.
“What sort of business?” The man’s eyes were transfixed on her fingers. In the ensuing silence, he raised his gaze to her face. His eyes were so blue, they burned. Brandy drew her lip between her teeth, desperate for a spark of physical contact, and his eyes followed. She had him hypnotized, she thought. Or had he already mesmerized her?
“Family business.” She didn’t mean to be evasive, but it was a long story, and one she didn’t wish to delve into at this moment. As excited as she was about what the future held for her here in England, at the moment, this man excited her more. He was gazing at her with unabashed hunger, and now that they had actually spoken, she sensed that his interest had been even further piqued. Maybe her curt responses added to a veneer of mystery, or maybe he hadn’t expected her to be a match for his questions.