The Billionaire Bachelor (Billionaire Bad Boys Book 1)

by Jessica Lemmon

  “You bet, Mer.”

  He swayed away and Reese sipped his drink while she waited for his judgment. None came.

  “How’s your stereotypically feminine cocktail?”

  Ah, there it was.

  “Fruity. How’s your exhaustingly cliché manly drink?”

  He took a long draw from the glass, the whiskey rolling over his tongue, his throat bobbing in the most irritatingly tantalizing way as he swallowed.

  “It’s always what I expect,” he said over the music. He dipped his chin at her cocktail. “Yours is to the discretion and capabilities of the bartender. Mine never wavers.”

  “Do you enjoy getting what you expect, Crane?” She cocked her head. “The expected can be boring.”

  His features darkened, and in those shadows she saw a man who’d experienced the unexpected once upon a time, and it bit him in the ass. Then the shadows receded and that cocksure, bored mask she’d grown used to slid into place.

  What are you hiding, Reese Crane?

  “Reliability isn’t boring,” he stated.

  Was it a business failure he’d been turning over in his head, or one of the personal variety?

  “Structured childhood?” she guessed.

  He shrugged one of his big shoulders. “Yes and no. Dad is ex-military, so he has a side of him that is structured. Mom was more of a free spirit.”

  Was. He’d mentioned his mother at dinner too. Merina wondered how long ago he’d lost her. How much her loss affected her sons and her husband. She imagined the pain of losing someone that beloved would linger a lifetime.

  “You?” He sipped his drink. She wished she could crack open his head and see what he was thinking. His controlled facial expressions hid his thoughts.

  “My parents are traditional. They believe in working hard, but they also know money is a tool to provide comfort, not the end-all be-all of existence.”

  “Do you think my family worships at the altar of the almighty dollar?”

  “Not…on purpose,” she said with a smile. The challenging glint in his eye told her he knew she was teasing him.

  Between them, heat flared. It was the same spark she’d felt each time she was around him. Given her spiking pulse and heated neck, she’d assumed it was rage. Now she was questioning whether the attraction was real. Sure, she was being purposefully receptive to him, but there was something else going on.

  Who knew the first time she felt that long-gone spark it would be with a man she shouldn’t even like? He was impossible not to admire…which was upsetting.

  Palpable heat snapped the air between them as he leaned closer.

  “Parents are out of the way,” Reese said. “What do you want to share next? Schooling? Favorite color? Hobbies?”

  “That’s pretty dry.” She took a drink of her cosmo and savored the sweet, tart flavor before swallowing. The soft green, blue, and pink lighting pulsed with the beat of the song the DJ, hovering from the ceiling, was currently spinning.

  They sat in silence while she thought. Dating wasn’t something she did often. She was too busy. Busy at the hotel, busy helping her parents, busy being busy with nothing at all. If she stopped for a single second, worry crept in. Worry that she was wasting her life working like a hamster in a wheel, which was why she often didn’t stop long enough to think about it.

  Dangerous, those thoughts.

  There was a very big discussion she and Reese needed to have. And what better place to have it than here, buried under a heavy bass beat?

  “What about the emotional hurtles we have to leap?” she asked. “You’re a good two feet away from me.”

  “Maybe I’m shy,” he said after gauging the distance on the couch between them. “Or maybe”—he moved closer, lifting his body and bringing it within a foot of hers—“I’m worried I’ll frighten you away.”

  His dark blue eyes sparkled in the club’s lighting. She felt something when he scooted closer, but frightened wasn’t her dominant emotion.

  Intrigued. Interested. Fascinated. There were some words.

  “I don’t spook easily.” Her voice dipped.

  “No?” He came closer, so close his jeans brushed her bare knee. He abandoned his drink on the low table in front of him and then did the same with hers, freeing the hand she now didn’t know what to do with.

  Sifting her hair through his fingers, he leaned closer, firm, but full lips parting as her heart thundered against her breast. Her face went hot. Her throat constricted. This close, he was as powerful as a transformer, causing a buzz she felt in every last one of her neglected erogenous zones.

  An inch from her mouth, Reese bit out, “We’ve been made.”

  Not…what she expected. She blinked, surprised.

  “Reporter,” he said.

  She started to ask where, but a flash among many flashes came from the direction of the crowd below. Then Reese did something that made her heart lift. He grinned. A natural, easy, toothy grin, paired with a flick of his eyes like he was checking her out.

  With his hand, he cupped her nape. Just a light brush before he leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Showtime.”

  A shiver raced down her spine at the feel of his warm breath against her skin.

  “First kiss. Don’t screw it up.” He pressed his lips to her jaw and for a scant moment she forgot about the reporter snapping away down there. She was too overtaken by the rough scrape of his facial hair on her softer skin, the smell of him enveloping her.

  She shut her eyes. This time the flashes of light came from behind her eyelids when his mouth closed over hers. It wasn’t hard to lean into him. Her hand grabbed hold of his suit jacket before she realized. And when he slanted his mouth and just the tip of his tongue touched to her bottom lip, she whimpered.

  He pulled back too soon. His eyes were heated, his hand moving from her neck and brushing her bared shoulder.

  Okay. Kissing Reese Crane was not going to be a hardship.

  “Not bad,” he said, his easygoing smile likely for the paparazzi below.

  A pang of disappointment tingled in her breastbone. She shouldn’t care that he was acting. This wasn’t real. She didn’t want it to be real.

  His fingers continued playing in her hair. He was still close. “We’ll discuss timing on the engagement announcement at dinner tonight.”

  “Dinner?” She blinked.

  “And dessert.”

  “Dessert?” She’d turned into a parrot, squawking his every utterance back at him.

  “Though I’m tempted to have my dessert now.” He leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers for a quick kiss. Stubble abraded her chin. She reached up and stroked his face, unsure now if the flashing was the club lighting or if this moment would also show up on the Internet tomorrow morning.

  “Okay,” she whispered, then ran a fingernail down his jawline. “Dinner and dessert.”

  * * *

  Reese felt as if he was vibrating when she scraped his jaw, then his lower lip with her finger. Every inch of him—including the several aching ones in his pants—wanted to take her by the back of the head and kiss her until they were both panting. The need was so visceral, so…animal, he sat back some. The idea behind the kiss was to give the reporter some fodder. Penelope may have asked they do a little PDA, not maul Merina in full view of downtown Chicago.

  He pulled her hair back into place, all those silken, honey-colored strands falling softly against her shoulders. Everything about her was soft and warm and inviting, except for when she spoke. Then she was barbed and feisty. Both sides did it for him, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Though, this relationship came with a safety net. They could fight all they wanted, and she couldn’t go anywhere until the deed was done.

  So to speak.

  He wasn’t sure how they’d survive a six-month marriage without further exploring the heat that had flared between them. As first kisses went, that one was the most memorable. Hell, he couldn’t recall a single kiss in the past
that made him as interested in more. With Merina, “more” wasn’t guaranteed. Even though a wedding was.

  He turned his head to see if the reporter was gone. She wasn’t, but she was no longer aiming her camera at them. She was scrolling through her phone, a smile on her face. He went out with her once, years and years ago. Couldn’t remember her name now, but she didn’t appear the least bit heartbroken. She looked like she was mentally counting the extra zeroes in her paycheck after she sold those photos.

  “Oh God,” Merina uttered.

  “What?” He was on alert, scoping out the club for more reporters or photographers.

  “You dated her too.”

  “What?” Was she psychic or had his thoughts shown so clearly on his face? Either possibility presented problems. He worked hard to keep his feelings buried. It helped with the media and business to be poker-faced. Only his father and brothers knew him well enough to call bullshit. “Why would you say that?”

  She shook her head and didn’t reward him with an answer.

  “How am I going to keep up with your long, long, long list of ladies?” She pressed her fingertips between her breasts and his eyes dipped to her cleavage. “If I were the one sleeping with half the men in the city, I would be painted as the slutty girl and they’d say you were slumming.”

  “Merina.” He shook his head. There was a double standard, but he had to call her on that untruth. “No one in their right mind would ever accuse you of being slutty.” She was too bright, too poised. Nothing like the one-night-only women he’d been seeing since Gwyneth had incinerated what they had together.

  “Wanna bet?” She snagged his tie and tugged, not hard, just enough to see if he’d come the rest of the way. He did, too intrigued not to.

  “Sure. I have a few bucks.”

  “I can’t shake your hand because we’d look too businessy, so I had to improvise and go with a tie-tug.”

  “Good thinking.”

  She grinned in response before her eyes slipped to his mouth. All he could think of was taking her lips captive again.

  “Five dollars says I’m painted as one of your ninnies by night’s end,” she said.

  “You’re on.”

  “You’re going down, Crane,” and then she answered his fantasy by crushing her lips against his and smothering the life out of his brain.

  * * *

  REESE CRANE, TAMED?

  Merina had never been so glad to lose five dollars. The headline on the blog Monday morning didn’t paint her as a hussy, but instead painted Reese as losing a manly peg or two to the siren who wooed him away from all other women. Two dates had been enough for the media to jump to conclusions.

  Reese had sent her the headline this morning in a text message reading, Pay up.

  She wondered how he liked being called “tame” and guessed he didn’t, which put a bigger smile on her face.

  “Well, you’re smiley today,” her mother announced as she entered the kitchen via the curved staircase. “And up early.”

  Merina closed her laptop, not caring to share with her mother how much publicity her “dates” with Reese Crane were garnering.

  “I noticed you were home early from your date last Friday.” Jolie poured herself a cup of coffee. “Warmer?”

  “I’m good.” She sipped her half-full cup and debated what to tell her mom about the date, but she didn’t have long to think it through when Jolie sat down across from her with her own mug.

  After they left Posh, she and Reese went to dinner at a restaurant Merina couldn’t remember the name of. Some fancy place with soft lighting and artful blocks of wood acting as tables. Dinner was incredible, and the conversation flowed rather than being forced. It seemed their first for-public kiss had set them both at ease. The evening ended by ten, and he walked her to her door, dropping a kiss on her lips that made her want more.

  She wasn’t sure what to do with that, so she decided to count it in the plus column for their ruse. It was unlikely but possible there was a paparazzo in the bushes. Better safe than sorry.

  She hadn’t seen him since and was now mentally readying herself for seeing him tonight. She hoped the meeting-like atmosphere would help quell some of her nerves.

  Penelope had requested getting together at Reese’s house. At the idea of seeing Reese’s private lair, Merina felt fifty shades of nervous. Who knew what lurked behind his gargantuan mostly-unused Lake Shore Drive home? When she received the address via e-mail from Bobbie, Merina Googled it. The aerial view alone was drool-worthy. There was a pool out back. Fountains out front. Three manicured acres surrounded the building. The fifteen-thousand-square-foot house was sold to Reese nine years ago. She’d tried digging up a few pictures of the interior but only found one of the foyer and double staircase sweeping up each side and a small half bath in who knew what part of the house.

  “Your father told me not to ask at the risk of being nosy, but…I have to,” Jolie said.

  Slowly, Merina lowered her mug.

  “Why in heaven’s name are you dating the man who only a few days ago you called a ‘corporate tyrant’? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have eyes and I can see he’s terribly attractive.” Her mother’s lips pursed. “The whole family is. Those three boys got the best of their mother and Big Crane.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Merina had met Tag once before. He was the youngest brother and despite not having an affinity for long hair, she’d been completely taken by his charm and easy smile. Fun-loving Tag was more her style, but she’d received a proposal from the brother who was dark and closed off and irritating.

  Until Reese was kissing her. Then he was none of those things. He was delicious and warm and tasted like spice cake. Or maybe that was the scotch.

  “We just…hit it off,” Merina said, lifting her mug so she wouldn’t have to say more.

  “Are you seeing more of him?” Her mother’s eyebrows crawled up her forehead.

  At the mention of “more,” she again imagined loosening his tie. Why she was so focused on that one article of clothing, she had no idea. Maybe because she’d never seen him without one.

  Merina cleared her throat. “I’m seeing him tonight, actually.”

  “Tonight.” Her mother sighed. “Mer, you do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” She was marrying a billionaire to gain possession of her family’s hotel.

  “I worry, sweetheart.” Her mother’s brow creased further. “Since Corbin—”

  “Mom.” Merina shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about Corbin. Like, ever. It was an embarrassing smudge on an otherwise perfect record. A time when she was blinded by love, or what she thought was love, when the writing was so clearly written on the wall even a blind man could have spotted it.

  “Are you and Dad going into the office late?” Merina stood and rinsed her mug in the sink.

  “Probably this afternoon. Your father isn’t feeling well.”

  Merina’s heart hit the floor. She grasped the counter and waited for bad news. Since his heart attack, she worried he might have another. He didn’t eat as healthy as he should and wore stress like a second skin.

  “Just a sore throat. Not his heart. He’s fine, Mer.” Her mother waved a hand but Merina found herself unsure if she could trust her mother’s word.

  Lately, they had both been doing a lot of lying to each other.

  * * *

  By seven o’clock, Reese was shaking the hands of a few board members after an impromptu meeting. Their focus now? The restaurants and bars in Crane Hotels nationwide. The bar profits were on a downward turn. In their words, they smelled smoke but didn’t see fire. They weren’t alarmed yet.

  Yet being the operative word. This was Tag’s area of expertise and he’d want to get an early stranglehold on it, a tactic Reese was in full support of. Once these vultures left the room, he’d tell his brother just that.

  Bob Barber shook his hand next, a smile on his aging face. “Sometimes these things shake
out and there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Sure,” Reese said, but Bob’s words were meaningless. The forty-minute meeting where they discussed numbers was what mattered. After they closed their leather binders and started talking about drinks downtown, whatever they said was null and void. He refused to feel good about it, but at the same time, this was not his problem.

  At least they hadn’t brought up his new relationship. He supposed a few more appearances in their vicinity would make them notice.

  “Shit,” Tag said from behind him after the last board member was out the door.

  Reese turned to his brother. Tag scrubbed a hand over his beard. He was frowning. Tag rarely frowned.

  “According to them, you have time.”

  “I don’t want to wait until things go tits up.” Tag folded his arms over his chest. Stubborn pride ran in the Crane genes.

  “We’re in agreement.”

  “I’d like it if they go back to ignoring me.”

  “Welcome to the club.” Reese clapped his younger brother on the back. “Don’t worry. Once they hear about the engagement, you’ll fade into the background.”

  “Let’s hope.” Tag stood. “Come out with me. Been a while since we threw back a few beers.”

  “Like eight years,” Reese said, his tone droll.

  Tag chuckled. “Around that.”

  In truth, he’d love nothing more than to kick back with Tag for a while. He and his brother had a shorthand that didn’t require a lot of unnecessary chatter.

  “Can’t,” Reese answered. “I’m seeing Merina tonight, so my drinks will be had with her. And Penelope Brand.”

  “The cute blonde.”

  “No.”

  “Not interested.” His brother held out both hands like he was surrendering. “She’s a brand of crazy I don’t dig.” He swept his legal pad off the boardroom table and walked toward the door. “Tell Merina I said hi.”

  “Will do. And, Tag?”

  His brother poked his head back into the room.

  “Rain check on the drinks.”

  “I’ll hold you to it, brother.” Tag’s lips lifted into a smile. Then he was gone.