Just Friends: A Summer Fling With A Billionaire Heir

by Cynthia Dane

  Rachel shut off the water before she completely lost her mind. When she toweled off, she took extra precaution to not touch her erogenous zones. That way led to madness.

  True to his word, Zack had left some clothes by the door. A plain black T-shirt and a pair of small basketball shorts that looked suspiciously like they had belonged to another woman. Well, Rachel wasn’t a small by any means, but the shorts were old and worn-out enough that they had plenty of give around the hips and thighs. She looked ridiculous, but that was probably for the best. Less temptation for Zack.

  Then poor Rachel walked out of the bathroom to find Zack already in bed. Shirtless.

  He lay so casually, flipping through TV channels, that this must have been how he spent most of his nights with his female friends. Oh my God, he better not be naked. He barely acknowledged her presence when she walked out. Who was to say he had completely forgotten she was there and stripped down to his birthday suit?

  “Uh…” Rachel instinctively crossed her arms over the nipples poking through her shirt. “Nice chest, friend.”

  “What?” He put the remote down, leaving the channel on some crime drama Rachel hadn’t seen in years. “I don’t sleep with shirts on. You’re lucky I’ve got boxers on.”

  Too much info. “Do you actually want me to sleep in there with you?”

  “Yup.”

  “Don’t you wanna take a shower now?”

  “Nah. I’ll do it in the morning.”

  Rachel sighed. It was now or never. And by never, that meant grabbing her shit and running with his old, borrowed clothes still on her.

  “Besides,” Zack continued, turning off the TV. “The show’s about to start next door. You don’t wanna miss it. Trust me.” He raised his eyebrows as if he had another secret to tell her. “It ain’t a show I let any woman in on. Only my friends, Rachel.”

  She took a step back. “Uh. What?”

  “Get over here and hope you don’t go deaf in the next minute. Trust me. It’s hilarious.”

  Rachel had no idea what she was getting into. She couldn’t say it made her feel easy.

  Zack clapped the lights off as soon as Rachel had one knee on the bed. “It’s better with the lights off.” She hoped for his sake that he hadn’t realized his double entendre when he said it. He certainly wasn’t apologizing for it!

  She slipped beneath the covers and kept to her side of the bed. Too bad the mattress was so nice, the sheets so exquisite that she instantly closed her eyes and dreamed of going to sleep right away. Who knew I was ever this tired in my life? Who knew that a fantastic bed could bring the sleep out of her? Oh, wouldn’t this be convenient? She could go right to sleep and avoid the awkwardness that way!

  Or something could smack against the wall and wake her right back up.

  “Ah,” Zack said with laughter in his breath. “Here we go. Good ol’ Sunday night.”

  “I…” Rachel had no idea what was happening. Not until another thump shook the wall behind them. An ecstatic moan shortly followed.

  “My neighbor,” Zack explained, “has an active sex life with her boyfriend.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “They’re total sluts for each other.” Zack propped himself up on his arm the moment a masculine grunt filtered through the wall. “Kinda romantic, honestly.”

  Rachel pulled the covers over her head. “You brought me into this room so we could listen to your neighbors have sex?”

  “You don’t get it. It’s hilarious, as long as you don’t want to get any actual sleep on Sunday night. Or any other night of the week they decide to stay over at her place.”

  “Unbelievable.” Rachel couldn’t drown out the sordid sounds of feverish, famished sex no matter how hard she clapped her hands over her ears. I have no idea who is over there, and I don’t want to know! “This is too much like college for my liking.”

  “If it makes you feel better, they’re pretty people.”

  “It doesn’t!”

  “Come on! They’re already reaching the finale. You have to admit they’re quite efficient when they have to be up early in the morning.”

  Rachel leaped out of the bed and ran back toward the bathroom, hands still over her ears. “Not listening!”

  “What do you mean you don’t wanna hear the whiny-ass moan she makes when he nuts in her?”

  Rachel closed the bathroom door behind her. To Zack, she probably looked like a prudish nun who hated anything that had to do with sex. Okay, so I’m not a fan of having the neighbors’ sex sessions sprung on me. But that’s not the only problem. Technically, it wasn’t a problem at all. Maybe with other friends it could’ve been hilarious for a few minutes. But with Zack?

  The man she shared a mutual attraction with, although they both ignored it in favor of a different kind of relationship? Yeah, right. The last thing Rachel needed to do was go out there and listen to sex, sex, sex, while denying how much she wanted to do that same thing with Zack.

  In his bed. In his studio. In his arms.

  “There it is!” Zack’s voice echoed. “They’re done! You can come back out now!”

  Rachel remained frozen against the sink, arms crossed and head pointed downward. I can’t do this. I really need to go home. The past twenty-four hours had been one mess after another. From kissing Zack – and getting kissed back – to coming to his place and being so intimate with him already… what had Rachel been thinking?

  This wasn’t going to work at all!

  “Hey.” Knuckles rapped against the bathroom door. “You okay in there?”

  Rachel opened it an inch. Bad idea. Under no circumstances was gazing upon Zack in nothing but his underwear a good idea.

  “Fine. Forgot to brush my teeth.”

  Zack gave her a disbelieving grin. “Geez, Rachel,” he said, tongue-in-cheek, “a guy might start thinking that you don’t want to be around him.”

  “Only when he says things like nuts.”

  He hissed through his teeth. “Yeah. You know. Guy talk.”

  Rachel opened the door wider. His eyes went straight to her chest before looking back at her face. “Let’s get one thing straight, Zack.” She meant to sound strict. Firm. Unwavering in what she believed was something they must hash out before they could continue this farce of a friendship. “I’m not one of the guys. I’m not your buddy. I’m your friend, but I’m still a woman. We can talk about a lot of stuff we talk about with our other friends, but mind how you say it.”

  He saluted her with two fingers. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She glanced at the cursed wall between the bed and the neighbor’s bedroom. “You sure they’re done in there?”

  “One of them’s already snoring.”

  Rachel pushed past him and approached the bed as if she had planned on sleeping there all night. Might as well see this through now! “You really should look into better soundproofing.” She pulled back the covers and crawled in before Zack fully turned back around, “I would expect way better from luxury apartments that let you remodel one into a studio.”

  Zack got into bed next to her. “You’re right. I should look into that.”

  She grinned. “But you won’t, because you enjoy listening to the neighbors have sex.”

  “It’s like I never left college.”

  They lay side by side, careful to not touch while they stared into the darkness and imagined what it would be like to do more than simply lie there.

  In the morning, Rachel awoke to Zack’s breath blowing against the back of her neck.

  She didn’t tell him to back off.

  Chapter 12

  Rachel left shortly after having a breakfast of toast and eggs in Zack’s personal abode. She said she had a meeting with a client. Just as well, because Zack had a meeting with his father. Sure, his father called it lunch, but Zack knew it was a meeting.

  It probably had nothing to do with business.

  Nevertheless, he would have to dress up well enough to pass off as a billionaire heir in
whatever fancy restaurant his father chose. This meant foregoing the T-shirts and shorts. But it didn’t mean saying goodbye to his favorite pair of sandals.

  He enjoyed the air on his toes while he locked up his apartment. The next door neighbor’s door also closed with a soft click.

  “Did you forget those files for the Brunswick’s?”

  “Nope. Got them right here.”

  “Good, good.” Kathryn Alison let out a harried breath. A few feet away, Zack pocketed his keys while deciding between walking – in this heat, in these clothes – and taking a ride share to his meeting. His bike would muss up his nice clothes, and his car wasn’t worth dragging out of the parking garage for a few blocks. “Oh. Good morning.”

  Zack had hoped they wouldn’t notice him. Probably didn’t recognize me in these clothes. He turned around and flashed the neighbors one of his most charming grins. They often didn’t work on Kathryn.

  They almost always worked on Ian Mathers, the only man who could smile better than Zack and get away with it.

  “Morning!” Zack held up his hand, hoping that it would be good enough for a wave. “Lovely Monday morning, isn’t it? Off to work?”

  Ian kissed his girlfriend on the cheek before sprinting toward the elevator. “I’ll go ahead and get the car started. Later, Feldman!”

  Kathryn, who took her time fixing her ponytail and readjusting her bag strap, waited until her boyfriend had disappeared into the elevator before saying anything else to Zack. “We have a business meeting to get to. Well, he has a business meeting. I’m helping.”

  “Surprised you don’t get married and share the merry load.” Ah, yes, the M word. The perfect word to utter should Zack want to get a rise out of his neighbor. The tabloids and society pages were always speculating when Ian and Kathryn were going to finally tie the knot after two years of intense dating. I should know all about that. I get a show at least once a month. “But I know why you doooon’t.”

  Kathryn rolled her eyes and took one step past him in her nude heels. “Feminism?”

  “Psh. Yeah, right.” Zack followed her to the elevator. “’Cause you’re waiting for a better man to come along and make all your real dreams come true.”

  They were stuck waiting for the elevator Ian hogged on his way down to the parking garage. “Is that what I’m doing? Thought I was taking my time and enjoying my life.”

  Enjoying was right. Zack couldn’t help himself as he leaned down toward her ear and whispered, “Loved the show last night.”

  Kathryn blushed, yet kept her perfect posture as she rebuttoned the bottom part of her white silk blouse. “Did you? All ten minutes of it?”

  “Come oooon, you know you can do way better than him.” The light signaling the next elevator’s arrival finally dinged. “Take me, for instance. I can go for at least fifteen.”

  Kathryn kept a wary eye on him as she stepped into the elevator with a well-dressed woman from one floor up. Zack kept his next comment to himself when he joined them.

  It wasn’t until they reached the lobby that Kathryn finally replied. “Who said only ten minutes was his idea?” She stepped out, her confident gait mesmerizing both Zack and the middle-aged woman who asked for his help stepping out. This is gonna be a long day.

  ***

  Isaiah Feldman had expensive tastes. He wasn’t the biggest spender in his family – that honor had gone to his mother, who singlehandedly bought an entire island back in the ‘90s only to turn around and sell it to the Warren family because her husband had a stroke upon hearing the news from his accountant. Their son had acquired the same luxurious tastes and desires as his mother, but had his father’s financial sensibilities.

  He also knew his youngest son really well. So well that, even though he often begrudged Zack for his lifestyle, he knew better than to pick a place like the country club or the Rooftop Gardens to have lunch with only him. One of those places required closed-toe shoes, and the other required ties. Two things Zack would rather eat than actually wear.

  Instead, Isaiah had forwarded his son the address for a place called Bell Jar’s, which took more than simple Googling to find. Great. In the Monroe building. That meant it was sure to be extra stuffy, because the only family in town that could make the well-established Feldmans feel inferior were the damned Monroes and that deplorable “dynasty” they were hell-bent on building. Or at least that’s what Zack picked up on the grapevine. He made a point of avoiding families that would rather smell their own flatulence than be within fifty feet of Zack in his cargo shorts. So of course the king douche owns the biggest yacht at the marina. One he barely used since marrying the second prettiest blond in the city. (The first was Kathryn, of course, but only because Zack was still nursing that bruised ego from his college days.)

  As expected, Bell Jar’s was a cozy soup and sandwich place that charged way more than any of the help or ingredients were worth. But people didn’t come here for the best taco salad in New England, now did they? No. Zack knew damn well that people like his father made reservations for Monday lunch at Bell Jar’s because of status. They wanted to be seen there, even if they paid extra to reserve one of the private rooms usually held for the Monroes’ business meetings. They must be out of town today.

  Zack found his father sitting at a small table overlooking the grand view of the downtown commercial business district. Daresay it’s better than the view from my apartment. It helped that this side of the building didn’t compete with any other skyscrapers for a view.

  A few of the other diners murmured as he walked by. Most of them were the housewives of the rich gossiping about which island they were flying to next or who was having an affair with their French tutor. Men who weren’t having quiet business meetings were old enough to be Zack’s grandfather. Too bad that man died years ago, from complications of his stroke.

  “There you are.” Isaiah, who had shaken his personal assistants for this personal lunch, stood up from their table and attempted to smile in fatherly pride. “You always look good in a collared shirt, son.”

  Zack pulled out the chair opposite of his father and sat down with only a nod. A waiter appeared before he could start warming his seat. “Don’t suppose they have BLTs here?”

  The waiter helpfully pointed to one of the specials of the day. Instead of a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, however, it was marketed as, “Tender, honey-infused pork, sun-dried tomatoes, and fresh greens.” Whatever. It would do. Even better if it came with sweet potato fries. That should’ve been fancy enough for this place.

  The menus were taken away. Isaiah mentioned that he had already ordered right before Zack walked through the door – which insinuated that he assumed his son would be late, not that he would ever admit that.

  He also wouldn’t admit that anything he asked his son was only a lead up to the real reason he had arranged this meeting. Zack wasn’t dumb. He knew his father’s interest in him stopped at how he affected the family. Zack didn’t have to go into the steel business to still reflect on the Feldman name and image. How many times had his father sat him down to discuss what the flagrant partying on yachts and going out with a different woman every week looked like to the world? I know what both you and Mom fear the most. They never outright said it, but they feared their youngest disaster knocking up some middle-class gold-digger and losing half his fortune to child support, alimony, or both. Unlike his brother, Zack didn’t have the classiest tastes in women.

  Unlike his damned brothers.

  Daniel, the heir-apparent who had been courting the same well-bred New York heiress for the past five years. Evan, the bright-eyed box of new ideas that had made Feldman Steel more than its fair share of money over the past two years. Both of them had solidified their place in the Feldman family. Daniel was on track to responsibly take over the company Stateside and continue the Feldman name with class and sophistication. Evan was ambitious enough to live abroad and bring in more international clients with murmurs of establishing a separate-yet
-parallel company.

  Then there was Zack. The youngest. The laziest. The artist.

  “The least you could do is apply your artistic talents to architecture,” his big brother Daniel had told him. “Buildings need steel, right?”

  “Film is one of the biggest industries,” Evan had cut in. “So many great networking opportunities. Don’t suppose you could turn your talents toward Hollywood, hm?”

  Zack wasn’t interested in architecture or film. He wanted to carve statues and paint pictures. Nobody in the family had time for that.

  So when Zack finished talking about the latest commission he had decided to take on, his father grunted a few meaningless words and changed the subject. “And what about that woman you were dating? That, hm… Penelope. No. Polly. What was her name?”

  Zack cocked a confused eyebrow. “I honestly have no idea who you are talking about.”

  “Piper. Yes. That was it.” Isaiah flung his napkin across his lap when the waiter brought him his clam chowder, made from New England clams caught fresh that very morning. “The professor from the art school.”

  Zack laughed, unable to believe it. “Do you mean Pilar, the woman who taught Latin dance at the community college?” He didn’t wait for his father to scoff. “I haven’t been with her since Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t serious.” Great ass and super limber, though. Zack wondered what she was up to now.

  “I don’t suppose any of your romantic relationships are that serious.”

  The glorified BLT appeared before Zack. “No. Can’t say I’ve found someone worth being serious with yet.”

  “Ah, yes.” Isaiah cleared his throat before dunking his spoon into his soup. “That’s something I wanted to talk to you about, son.”

  Here they went. Again.

  It wasn’t the first time Isaiah sat his son down and attempted to teach him about the wiles of women, particularly how they loved to cling to rich, young men who looked even slightly put together. He loved pointing out the rash of their fellow billionaires who had recently married women with hardly any means. “Not every man can marry an Alice,” he often said. “A lot of them marry Jasmines.”