Positively Pricked: A Billionaire Loathing-to-Love Romance

by Sabrina Stark

  As if I could forget.

  I sighed. "But according to Paisley, the house was squashed days ago. How long have you known?"

  "I dunno," she said. "A few days?"

  "You're kidding, right?"

  "Uh, not really."

  "But I've talked to you almost every day. And you never thought to mention it?"

  "Well, yeah," she said. "I thought about it."

  I made a sound of frustration. "But you didn't actually do it?"

  "I would've, but seriously, what could you do, anyway?"

  I resisted the urge to bang my forehead on the steering wheel. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe come home and figure things out?"

  "Figure what out?" she said. "It's not like you can put the house back together."

  "Yeah, no kidding."

  Her voice picked up steam. "And I don’t know why you're so mad at me. I didn't squash your house."

  "Oh, I thought it wasn't my house."

  "You know what I mean."

  I just had to ask, "But why on Earth didn't you tell me?"

  "Because I didn't want to ruin your trip."

  "What?"

  "Yeah," she said. "It sounded like you and Zane were really hitting it off."

  Not anymore.

  Through gritted teeth, I said, "It wasn't a vacation. It was a work trip."

  "Oh, please," she said. "You know he just agreed to those interviews as an excuse to drag you away with him."

  Funny, he'd practically admitted as much. But that wasn't the point.

  In a tone of forced cheer, Charlotte said, "So, did you have a nice trip?"

  "No," I snapped. "I didn't."

  Not in the end, anyway.

  She hesitated. "So, where are you now?"

  "A gas station." I sighed. "Don't ask."

  "So you're staying at a gas station?"

  "No. I'm meeting someone at a gas station."

  "Who?"

  "Kayla."

  "Kayla who? I don't know any Kayla."

  "Yeah, me neither," I muttered. "And she's already late."

  But just then, I spotted a little red sports car pulling into the lot. In the driver's seat, sure enough, sat the same young woman who'd been sobbing on the front lawn. "Anyway, she's here, so I've gotta go."

  And with that, I ended the call without saying goodbye. Of course, I instantly felt like crap.

  Sure, I was still angry, but I also realized that Charlotte's heart was probably in the right place.

  Unfortunately, good intentions were no guarantee of a good outcome, as I soon discovered for myself – the hard way.

  Chapter 67

  Kayla was all smiles as she leaned her head out of her driver's side window to call out, "Hang on. I'll just grab my purse."

  I tried to smile back.

  Well, at least she wasn't crying anymore.

  And I knew why. Against my better judgment, I'd agreed to let her pop into the house for just a few minutes to make sure that her things were still there and unmolested – by me, apparently.

  Our plan was simple enough. We'd leave her car at the gas station and take mine to the house, where she could take a quick look around to ease her mind. Afterward, I'd drive her back.

  Simple and quick.

  In theory, anyway.

  In spite of my nervousness, I tried to look on the bright side. I was doing a good deed, right?

  And yet, when she emerged from her car, I felt my eyebrows furrow. Her clothes – or rather, lack of clothes – made me wonder what exactly she was thinking.

  She was wearing a skimpy red bikini, with a black something-or-other that might be considered a skirt, if only it weren't so short and so sheer that it was mostly transparent.

  On her feet were sassy white sandals with thick, chunky heels. Over her left shoulder was draped a long white purse with long leather fringes. As she opened my passenger's side door, she said, "You are such a life-saver."

  I bit my lip. No, I was an idiot.

  I hadn't even checked with Zane, but he had given me permission in a roundabout way. After all, he did say that if someone's name was on a box, they could have it. And I'd seen plenty of boxes with Kayla's name.

  Still, I wasn't going to take any chances. "I hate to ask," I said, "but I can see your driver's license?"

  Her smile vanished. "What?"

  "Your driver's license," I repeated. "I just want to make sure that your name matches the name on the boxes."

  "Why?" she said. "I'm not taking anything. I'm just making sure everything's still there."

  "I know, but…" How to explain? "Zane left pretty clear instructions."

  She gave an irritated sigh. "Oh, whatever." She pulled out her purse, and began digging through it. "It totally figures. He is such a prick."

  It was then that the strangest thing happened. I felt my hands clench around the steering wheel, almost like her statement actually bothered me. But it couldn't bother me, because she had a point.

  Zane was a prick.

  Most of the time, anyway.

  I pulled my hands off the wheel and tried not to think about it.

  As for Kayla, she pulled out her driver's license and thrust it out in my direction. I took it from her hand and pulled it close to study the details.

  Yup. It was all there. Kayla Hunt, 241 Longwood Drive – just like I'd seen on a whole bunch of moving boxes.

  When I returned the license, she said, "So, are you satisfied?"

  Not really. "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

  Kayla glanced around. "Hey, I don't wanna be rude, but I'm kind of on a schedule here." She glanced down. "Pool party and all. Do you think we could get going?"

  Well, that explained the clothes.

  About leaving, she didn't have to ask me twice. The sooner we finished, the better.

  Ten minutes later, we rolled through the gate without a hitch. When we reached the house, I pulled the car straight into the attached garage, cut the engine, and shut the garage door behind us.

  The door was barely down before Kayla scrambled out of the car and into the house. Over her shoulder, she called, "I'm gonna check upstairs first, okay?"

  I didn't want to be nosy. This was, after all, her stuff. But I did feel a certain responsibility for anything that might go wrong, so I scrambled after her, feeling more like a security guard than any kind of helper.

  But if she minded, she didn't show it. Silently, I trailed behind her as she wandered from room to room, first upstairs, and then back to the main floor, where she took a quick look around and even opened a few boxes for good measure.

  When we reached the final room – a small den near the front of the house – she said, "Well, it looks like it's all here."

  "See?" I said, feeling the first hint of relief. "You didn't have anything to worry about."

  She gave me an apologetic smile. "Sorry if I was kind of bitchy." She looked heavenward and said. "But Zane is such a prick."

  And there it was again. That twinge of annoyance.

  Damn it.

  I made a noncommittal shrug, but said nothing in reply.

  But Kayla was on a roll. She leaned against a Victorian roll-top desk and said, "Do you know, he's been giving me grief right from the start? God, I hate that guy."

  This posed a troubling question. Did I hate him? No. Definitely not. In truth, I felt quite the opposite.

  This wasn't good.

  Across from me, Kayla was saying, "And don't get me started on the furniture."

  I looked around. That's right. The furniture. The reminder was the perfect cold splash for the annoyingly warm feelings that kept creeping into my heart.

  How could I keep forgetting? Zane hadn't only kicked them out. He'd kept their furniture, too.

  Kayla gave an epic eye-roll. "You should've seen him on the night we moved. He was all like, 'Put it back. It's not yours.' And I was like, 'Fuck you, asshole.'"

  I blinked. "Wait, what?"

  She gave me a look. "What, you never heard the word
'asshole' before?"

  "Uh…"

  "Or was it the 'fuck' that bothered you?"

  I gave a confused shake of my head. "It wasn't either one. I'm just trying to understand. If the furniture's not yours, whose is it?"

  "It is ours." She glanced away. "Or, at least, it should've been."

  "You mean yours and your dad's?"

  She frowned. "What does my dad have to do with this?"

  I froze. Oh, crap.

  Still, hoping for the best, I said, "Because… he lived here, too?"

  She gave me a look. "No, he didn't."

  Uh-oh. This wasn't what I wanted to hear. Still, I summoned up a hopeful smile. "But we are talking about Bob, right?"

  "Bob?" She laughed like I'd just said something funny. "He's not my dad."

  "He's not?"

  "No." Her laugh turned into a giggle. "But he does like it when I call him Daddy."

  Chapter 68

  I stood very still. She calls him Daddy?

  I almost didn't know what to say. "Wait, so Bob doesn't have a daughter?"

  "Oh, he totally does." Kayla looked heavenward. "But she is such a crybaby."

  I felt my gaze narrow. "Is that so?"

  "Totally," Kayla said. "She's like the most spoiled girl I know. Thank God she doesn't live with us."

  "She doesn't?" I said. "So where does she live?"

  "Right now? She's a senior at Purdue."

  "The university?"

  "No. The chicken plant."

  "Huh?"

  "I’m kidding," she said. "Of course, the university. She's like older than me, so you'd think she'd be past the whole crying thing, you know?"

  What could I say to that?

  Hell, what could I say to any of this?

  Fortunately, I was spared the need of making a reply when my cell phone rang in my pocket. I yanked it out and glanced at the display, only to feel the color drain from my face.

  It was him. Zane.

  I glanced in the general direction of his estate. If I didn't answer, would he come over in person?

  Now?

  Yikes.

  I said to Kayla, "Can you excuse me for a moment?" And then, without waiting for an answer, I practically dove for the nearby powder room and slammed the door shut behind me. I answered with a hushed, "Hello?"

  Zane said, "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  "I'm coming over."

  "What, why?"

  "Because you sound scared."

  "I'm not scared." I forced a laugh. "You just caught me by surprise, that's all."

  He was quiet for a long moment. "All right."

  Did he believe me? From his tone, I couldn’t be sure.

  But I hadn't been lying. True, I was surprised that he called, and yeah, maybe a little nervous, but that wasn't the same as scared.

  I forced a smile into my voice. "Seriously, everything's fine."

  "Uh-huh." And yet, he didn't sound convinced. "So, where'd you go?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "An hour ago, you left. But the alarm wasn't engaged."

  I stifled a curse. He was right. In all the confusion, I'd totally forgot. "Oh, jeez. Sorry about that. I dashed out for a minute."

  "You were gone thirty."

  "Was I? How do you know?"

  "I got a report from the guard."

  "Wait, so you're spying on me?"

  "No," he said in a tone of infinite patience. "I'm making sure the house is secure."

  "Oh, because you're worried about the stuff?"

  "Fuck the stuff," he said. "There's only one thing in that house that I'm worried about."

  Something about his tone made me feel just a little bit breathless. "Really?"

  "Yeah, and I'm talking to her."

  My heart fluttered, and I felt myself smile. I wanted to say something, but I had no idea what.

  I was still searching for a decent response when he said, "Listen, I told myself I'd stay away, because you looked like you needed some space. But…" His words trailed off into silence.

  I was dying to know what he'd say next. "But…?"

  "But fuck that. You know what you need?"

  "What?"

  "Me."

  That single word sent my world spinning.

  Yes. Him.

  Holy hell. He was right. I heard myself murmur, "I know."

  With a smile in his voice, he replied, "Yeah?"

  I was still smiling, too. "Definitely." And to my surprise, I realized that I meant it with all my heart. Maybe he was a prick, but now, I could totally see why.

  On the phone, Zane said, "The hell with this. I’m coming over."

  I practically gulped, "Now?"

  "Is that a problem?"

  Was it? Suddenly, I was desperate to see him. We hadn't resolved anything, and I had no idea what he had in mind. And yet, the longing was so strong that I could hardly control myself.

  Still, I forced myself to say, "How about I'll come to your place?" On instinct, I reached out turned on the faucet. "I need to get cleaned up, maybe take a shower or something."

  "Or," he said in a voice that was way too compelling, "you could come over and shower with me."

  I swallowed. I could shower with him. Even now, I could imagine his body all slick and lathered – and his hands – oh, boy – he had nice hands. And the places they could go…

  Already, sweet, warming sensations were creeping upward from my toes, and downward from my face. If I kept on thinking, I knew exactly where all that warmth would settle – right in the middle.

  I murmured, "That sounds really nice."

  A sudden pounding on the door made me jump. A split second later, Kayla's voice carried from the other side. "Hey! You didn't forget I'm here, did you?"

  On the phone, Zane said, "Who's that?"

  Stupidly, I said, "Who's who?"

  "Was that your sister?"

  "Uh, nope." And then, in a rush, I said, "But I've gotta go, so I'll catch you in a bit, okay? Alrighty then. Bye." I disconnected the call before he could say a single word in response.

  I wasn't going to lie to him, but the way I saw it, a little delay would be a very good thing – if nothing else, to give me some time to clean up my mess – and I didn't mean the normal kind.

  No. My mess was still pounding on the door. "Hey!" she called. "You didn't fall in, did you?"

  Into where? The toilet? I stifled a shudder and called out, "I'll be out in a second!" I turned off the faucet and yanked open the door to see Kayla standing like two inches away.

  She said, "You do remember that I'm in a hurry, right?"

  Through gritted teeth, I said, "Oh, I remember, all right."

  "And do you always talk on the phone when you've got company?"

  Company? She wasn't company. I wasn't sure what she was, but I intended to find out. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Gee, I'm ever so sorry."

  "Whatever. I’m just saying, it's pretty rude."

  I stared at her. Speaking of rude…

  "And anyway," she continued, "I need your help."

  "For what?" I asked.

  She glanced around. "As long as I’m here, I figure I might as well grab a few things."

  "You mean from the boxes?"

  She gave a breezy wave of her hand. "Nah, I'll worry about that stuff later. But I wouldn’t mind snagging a few paintings."

  I blinked. "What?"

  "The paintings," she repeated. "They'd go great in our new place."

  I didn't even know what particular paintings she meant, but I did know that if she started ripping stuff off the walls, we were going to have a serious problem.

  I said, "I can't let you do that."

  "Why not?"

  Did I really need to explain? "Because I don't have the authority. I mean, I'm just a house-guest."

  Her mouth tightened. "Yeah. In my house."

  "Look," I said, "I've gotta be honest here. I'm not understanding any of this."

  "What'
s so hard to understand?"

  "Well, like Bob. If he's not your dad, that means he's your…?"

  She looked at me like I was a complete moron. "Husband. You didn't know?"

  I did now.

  In truth, I'd begun to suspect as much. "So, that would make Teddy what? Your stepson?"

  She drew back. "Hell no. That's disgusting."

  I gave her a confused look. "Why? Because he's not your type?"

  "No, because he's my ex."

  Chapter 69

  Woah. I hadn't seen that coming. I stared at Kayla. "Ex-husband? Or...?"

  "Oh, please," she said. "We were never married. I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but he lacks that killer instinct, if you know what I mean."

  Funny, I did know, especially when I compared him to Zane. This reminded me of something Teddy had said on the plane. He'd accused Zane of sleeping with his girlfriend. And worse, Zane hadn't denied it.

  Was Kayla the girlfriend?

  I shuddered at the thought. "So, let me get this straight. You were with Teddy. And now, you're with his stepdad?"

  Her gaze narrowed. "You're giving me a look."

  "I am?"

  "Yeah. And I don't like it."

  "What kind of look?"

  "It's the same look he always gives me."

  "Who?" I asked.

  "The prick. Zane. Have I ever told you, I hate that guy?"

  Through clenched teeth, I said, "You might've mentioned it."

  "And it's all his fault we're not living here anymore." She grimaced. "You should see our new place. It's way worse than this."

  What could I say to that? "Gee, that's too bad."

  "Yeah. Tell me about it." She perked up. "But the paintings might help." She looked around. "Hang on, I'm gonna see which ones I want."

  She could look all she wanted, but grabbing them? Well, that was another matter. I told her, "If you want to make a list, I'll check with Zane."

  "Screw him," she said. "He says no to everything."

  Funny, I could totally see why.

  Barely stopping for breath, she said, "Get this. A couple of months ago, I get so mad that I go down to his fancy office to try to reason with him. And what does he do? He has me tossed out, literally."

  She looked down to her feet. "I even lost a shoe."

  I froze. A shoe? In Zane's office?

  In my mind, I could still see it – that red "fuck-me" shoe that I'd tripped over during my job interview.