Tempting: A Cinderella Billionaire Story

by Sophie Brooks

  The voice came again. “Yes, there’s a broken vase up in the drawing room… I don’t know, I didn’t see anyone.” There was a pause. “Well, can’t you spare anyone? Or just send one of the caterers up. What? Oh, all right. Fine.”

  Quiet footsteps retreated as I looked up at the man leaning over me. We heard some noises in the other room, but they were fainter now. Zorro leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Meet Jeeves, the Disgruntled Butler.”

  Stifling a giggle, I looked away. Then both of us were grinning a moment later when we heard from the other room, “I’m a butler, not a janitor.”

  This made me laugh more, and I could see the tall man hovering over me close his lips firmly to keep himself from laughing out loud. He was doing a better job than I was. A small gasping breath escaped me, and I knew I was seconds away from revealing our position. He shook his head sternly as he looked down at me, but he still had an impish bad boy smirk on his face. Shaking his head, he put his index finger to my lips. I knew that he just meant to quiet me, but my body reacted without conscious thought, and I kissed his finger lightly.

  Why had I done that? Blushing, I bowed my head, but then his thumb tapped under my chin, pulling my head up to look at him. He smiled at me as he traced his finger over my lower lip, and I couldn’t help it. I opened my mouth and swirled my tongue around his fingertip. What was I doing? And why was I still doing it?

  There was just something intoxicating about being this close to him. Being in his arms in the ballroom had been amazing, but we hadn’t been as close as we were now. Here, he was pressed up against me, the heat from his body seeping into mine. Which made my body give off quite a bit of heat, too, especially further down.

  His free hand grazed across my shoulder, pushing aside the strands of curls hanging down from the wig. He rubbed the muscles at the back of my neck with his strong fingers and the resulting goosebumps down my spine counteracted the heat from his body in a delicious way.

  Why did he have this effect on me? Yeah, he was good looking, and yeah, I hadn’t dated much since my divorce, but it wasn’t as if I lived like a nun. Well… okay, maybe a little bit like a nun, but at least I got to wear better clothes. Especially tonight.

  And sure, pretty much any woman would be attracted to the man standing in front of me, with his tall form, his broad chest and shoulders, and his muscled arms. Plus he looked damn cute in his mask with that goatee decorating his jawline. But somehow, my reaction to him was more than the sum of how he looked and what he’d said to me. It was as if something inside me knew that this just might be the beginning of something wonderful. Logically, that made no sense. But I was convinced of it anyway.

  “Mmm…” I moaned as his hand kneaded my shoulder. In response to my sound, he pushed his finger a little farther into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around it, using movements I hadn’t tried in years. But I hadn’t forgotten.

  A sound from the other room reached us, and Zorro stilled, then carefully pulled back the curtain a little. Signaling for me to wait, he eased away from me, and I nearly groaned at the loss of contact as he left.

  After a long moment, he returned. “He’s gone. We can make our escape now.”

  He held out his hand and I was all too happy to take it. The last thing I wanted to do was to fall on my face in front of him. Plus there was something about his large palm and firm grasp that thrilled me deep inside.

  Once I was free of the curtain, he led me toward the next room, still holding my hand. Theatrically, he peered into the parlor before we crept out. He moved stealthily, his other hand on the hilt of his sword as if he might be called up to do battle at any moment. Clearly, he was in Zorro mode. And he had a sense of humor—I liked that.

  Laughing softly, I crept after him, being careful to make as little noise as possible to prolong the game. But when we were almost to the hallway, I saw a shadow fall across the floor. In an instant, Zorro had me pressed up against the wall behind the door, his body right next to mine. We weren’t totally hidden, but the man—the butler again, apparently—wasn’t looking in our direction when he walked into the room. He was doing something at the table where I’d knocked over the vase. His back was to us, but he’d certainly see us when he turned around to leave again.

  But I’d underestimated the man in black. He dug in his pocket, and for a moment I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his hips pressing against mine. Then he leaned back and held out his hand, showing me a silver coin. Turning slightly, he drew his hand back as far as he could in the cramped space and he threw the quarter in a high arc into the next room.

  At the small noise, the butler rushed into the room we’d been in before. It had worked—score one for Zorro. He grabbed my hand and I followed him into the hallway “Nice move,” I said as soon as we were out of earshot.

  “That was nothing. Just wait until I slay a dragon for you. Then you’ll be putty in my hands.”

  The sexy wink he gave me made heat flare up between my legs again. “I don’t think that Zorro slays dragons.”

  “Well, if he doesn’t, he should.” He took my hand and tucked it under his arm. “Better stay close to me. We escaped the Snooty Butler, but there are other evils about. I have to protect you.”

  He was so cute when he was being playful. I was a sucker for men who could make me laugh as well as swoon. So I played along. “What other evil?”

  He paused at the top of the grand stairwell. At the entrance to the ballroom couples danced, including a few women dressed as I was. They must’ve been part of Michelle’s troop.

  “Just as I suspected,” my companion said. “This place is swarming with pirates. We can’t go that way. Not if I’m going to keep you safe. I know another way down.”

  Giggling, I let him lead me down the hallway. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done anything goofy and fun like this. Or the last time I’d been so excited about a man I'd just met.

  We went down a back staircase I hadn’t known about, made a right, and then a left, and then to my horror, we were headed past a doorway to the kitchen. “Not that way,” I whispered, tugging him back.

  “Why not?”

  “Zombies,” I said solemnly, and he grinned and reversed course.

  At the next hallway, he poked his head into a room and motioned me to stay put. Thirty seconds later, he emerged with a bottle under his arm and a wink for me.

  Twice more we ran into different groups. Zorro decided that one group was full of spies and the other group consisted of people who texted while crossing the street. “At night,” he added.

  “While wearing dark clothes?” I asked.

  “Exactly. Can’t let you be exposed to creatures that would do such an inconsiderate thing.”

  “My hero,” I said, batting my eyelashes at him. “Ooh, let’s go in there.”

  A room at the end of a long hall was filled with plants, some hanging from the ceiling, some in large pots, some growing directly out of stoned-off areas on the floor. Some sort of combination conservatory/greenhouse.

  Zorro immediately closed the door after us and locked it. “See if you can find anything to barricade the door with,” he called over his shoulder.

  I laughed. Again. When was the last time I’d laughed this much? “I think we’re safe here.”

  “Good,” he said, and then he walked along the little path toward the back of the conservatory. There were several chairs and a small fountain in the corner of the room. But instead of sitting, he set the bottle down and turned back to me. “So, pirates. Spies. Zombies. Rude texters. Clearly, I saved your life many times over back there,” he said, tilting my chin upward with one long, curved finger.

  “Clearly,” I said breathlessly. The nearness of his body was overwhelming. The scent of the plants retreated and all I could smell was his spiced, masculine cologne. All I wanted to touch was his large, hard body.

  “So, does that mean I get to kiss you?”

  No. Yes. I don’t know. My body and my mind w
ere at war with each other. I didn’t know this man. I’d only spent an hour with him. And yet… something about him really got to me. Or maybe it was everything about him. His strong jawline and that sexy goatee. His jacked body that I was dying to run my hands over. The sense of mischief that sparkled in his eyes. He was so damn tempting. But I’d never lived my life by giving into temptation. Even when I really wanted to.

  So I knew what my answer was. Or at least I knew what it was supposed to be. But when I opened my mouth, the words that came out were not the same ones my brain had decided on.

  “I’m pretty sure it does,” I whispered.

  Blake

  Her rich, chocolate eyes gleamed at me from behind the mask. It was strange, I could see almost nothing of her. The white curls weren’t hers, the mask covered half her face. But still… I couldn’t stop glancing at the flush of red on her chest. The delicate curve of her waist felt so tiny under my hands. And her lips… those perfect, heart-shaped lips, parted slightly as she looked up at me. She wanted this as much as I did. Maybe we were both crazy, to want a stranger. But I hoped we wouldn’t stay strangers for long.

  I moved in, easing her back until she was against the wall of the greenhouse, or whatever this room was supposed to be. I hadn’t quite figured it out, but it didn’t matter. We were alone. It was dark. She was right here in front of me, waiting, wanting. Her eyes closed as I lowered my head.

  My lips met hers and she wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me in close. I pressed against her, wishing there were fewer layers between us. But I could still feel her pert breasts push against my chest, her delicate hand in my hair as I tormented her with my lips.

  Nibbling, sucking, and then pressing firm, I teased her mouth open. Her lips tasted every bit as sweet as they looked, but I wanted more. More of her. All of her. My arms circled her waist. Normally, I’d let my hands roam lower, squeezing and releasing what I was sure was a delectable ass, but with all the fabric in her skirt, it was impossible. Her mouth was magic enough.

  For now.

  With one last teasing stroke of my tongue, I pulled back, tugging on her bottom lip as I went. Her eyes were still closed, a faint flush on her cheeks under the drawn-on whiskers I’d smudged a little. When she opened her eyes, her swollen lips curved into a satisfied little smile that shot straight through my body, making me instantly hard. I stepped back, not sure if she’d be able to feel my erection through all those layers but not wanting to chance it. I’d just met this girl, and I definitely didn’t want to scare her away.

  “That was nice,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.

  Nice was an understatement, but I’d let it go for now. “It was okay…” I said with a wink to let her know I didn’t mean it. “But practice makes perfect, so we’d better do that again, soon. But first, I want to know everything about you.”

  Her smile slipped a little at my statement. Maybe she was hoping we’d kiss again? If so, she was definitely my kind of woman. But there would be plenty of time for that. Instead, I led her over to the white, wrought-iron patio furniture, and we sat down on a little loveseat. It almost took a degree in engineering to get us both onto it. First my sword got in the way, and I had to unbuckle the sheath. Then her endless skirts took up the entire seat. After much fumbling and rearranging, I ended up sitting on several layers of ruffles and fabric, holding them down so that they didn’t pop up and smack her in the face.

  I liked it—it was almost like I was pinning her down. As I hoped I would do in the very near future. After we got settled, I fished out the corkscrew I’d swiped and opened the bottle of wine. Too bad I hadn’t been able to grab any glasses, but I’d been in hurry with pretend zombies down the hallway and a beautiful woman waiting for me.

  With my thigh pressed up against her and my arm around her shoulders, we passed the bottle of red wine back and forth while we talked.

  Sitting there in the dark sipping red wine, I learned that she’d married young and gotten divorced after less than a year. And I didn’t know the whole story, but I wanted to kill the jackass who left her. Who hurt her. Which was pretty hypocritical considering I’d left a trail of broken hearts in my past. But at least I’d never been a big enough asshole to marry a girl and then leave her. I’d never do that to anyone—that was one of the reasons I never wanted to get married.

  The way Sarah spoke about love and loss made me know that she’d fallen harder than I ever had. Not that I didn’t care about the women I’d dated, but I’d never actually been in love. I doubted I ever would—there was just something missing inside of me. The women in my life, my mother included, quickly learned that they could count on me for monetary support but not much else.

  Sarah was only twenty-four, and I’d be turning thirty in a few months, but she’d already lost both parents. Her mother died when she was a child and her father more recently. I held her hand as she talked a little about them, but then I let go when she asked me about my family. It was not my favorite subject.

  “My father’s gone, too,” I said.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and she took the hand I’d just moved away. “Were you close?”

  That was an excellent question. I’d always thought we were. But probably not the kind of closeness she’d shared with people she loved. “I looked up to him. He was an excellent businessman. When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to be just like him.”

  “And did you?”

  “Pretty much,” I said, but I was eager to change the subject. I had grown up to be like my old man—both the good parts of him and the bad.

  “I loved my dad so much. Especially when I was a little girl. I thought he knew everything. He’d tell me stories… fairy tales, and mythology… for a long time, I thought he invented all those stories. Later I realized he was sharing tales that had been passed down for generations to me. It made me feel connected, to him, to people in the past, to everyone. Did your dad do things like that?”

  My father would have thought all of that a waste of time. As I normally would… except the way she explained it, how it was about being connected to people of the past, made it sound more appealing than just boring old morality tales.

  “My father was always too busy taking the business world by storm.”

  “And your mother?”

  “We… well, I sometimes feel I hardly ever got to see her.” Sarah nodded to show she understood. She probably thought I meant that my mother had been one of those women who’d spend her time doing “society wife” things. Benefits. Charity events. She used to host things like this. But the bigger problem was that I was my father’s son. Just because I didn’t like the bastard much didn’t mean I hadn’t turned out like him. “I guess I just had more in common with my father.” Unfortunately.

  Sarah was looking up at me curiously. “Which family members are you close to?”

  I didn’t want her to think I was emotionally stunted—whether or not it was true—so I thought for a minute. “My grandfather. He was really great. He got me this wine once.”

  “What?” she said, pausing with the bottle halfway to her lips. Instead, she lifted it and stared at the label.

  “It’s a 1995 Latour. My grandfather got me my first bottle when I graduated from college. Actually, that was a 1996, but the ’95 is good, too.”

  She was staring at me now. “It’s really good. So… rich. I don’t even have the vocabulary to describe how good it is. Is it a really expensive bottle of wine?”

  I thought about that for a moment. I wasn’t sure what her idea of really expensive was. She had to be well-off to be attending this ball, but still, there was regular levels of well-off and then there was my family. “Moderately,” I said, hedging.

  “Then we shouldn’t have taken it,” she said with genuine concern in her voice. My little mouse had a conscience.

  “Sure, we should. They owe us for letting their butler chase us across the house.”

  But she wasn’t appeased. “First their vase, now the
wine. I have to go tell someone what I did.” She tried to get up, but of course I was sitting on her skirt.

  “It’s okay," I said, putting my hand around her shoulder, trying to get her to stay still. “This is a party. People are supposed to be enjoying wine like this.”

  “But the vase…”

  “It was an accident. And besides, if it were a priceless antique, I doubt it would have been left out during the ball.”

  “But they—I’m sure they don’t expect rich, fancy people to steal things.”

  “No, but they do expect rich, fancy people who are drinking and dancing to eventually wander upstairs to make out. And when that happens, things get broken. Like vases. Or hearts.”

  She let out a rueful chuckle at that. “I still feel bad, though.”

  “Don’t. They’ll never miss the vase or the wine. Let’s just enjoy it.”

  She looked up at me, and even in the dark light she looked beautiful, her petite body turned toward mine, her delicate shoulders covered in soft, touchable silk fabric.

  Aware of my staring, she gave a little questioning smile. “What?”

  “You look beautiful in that dress.”

  She frowned in disbelief, which was interesting. Most beautiful women I met were all too aware of their looks. “There are a dozen other women here tonight wearing the same dress.”

  “I don’t get it. Is your contest entree ‘A Day at the Zoo’ or something? But then, why dress up like an English countess?”

  “We’re supposed to be Noah’s Ark.”

  “In Victorian dresses? What idiot thought up that?”

  She grinned at that, but didn’t say anything.

  “Well, your dress is gorgeous, but no offense, it’s not very comfortable,” I said, shifting my hips and feeling the ruffles underneath my legs.

  “You should try wearing it,” she responded immediately.

  “I don’t think it’s quite my style. Besides, you’ve already taken the mouse, and clearly that’s the best animal.”