Billionaires Don't Like Nice Girls (A BWWM Romance)

by Mia Caldwell

  Sylvie smiled and pulled the small card out of her pocket. She read the card silently, giggled, then said, “Oh Meg, this is a good one. It says, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, unlike you. I’ll take you anyway. Love, Kent.’”

  Both women chortled. Phae eyed them disdainfully.

  “Yep, pretty good,” Meg agreed. “My favorite is the one with all the little red roses shaped into hearts. You know, the one that says, ‘Be my crotchety Valentine.’”

  “Yeah,” Sylvie said, “but I also thought that other one was great, where he wrote, ‘Phae, you walk in beauty like a really stormy night.’”

  They laughed louder, ignoring Phae’s censorious glare.

  “And then, the one that went, ‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways … If you weren’t so mean I’d be able to think of something here. Love, Kent.’” Sylvie fanned herself as tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh, he’s got you, Phae.”

  “Enough,” Phae said, standing up. “Let’s rinse that hair, Aunt Meg.”

  Meg smiled sympathetically. “I know this is hard on you Phae-phae. And I know you’re embarrassed. But you shouldn’t be. Everybody thinks it’s wonderfully romantic.”

  “Yeah, and it’s good for business. We’ve been swamped thanks to his antics. How many times have you been in this week, Meg?” Sylvie asked.

  “I can answer that,” Phae said. “Three.”

  “Surely not that many,” Meg said.

  “Well, at least you’re getting your hair done. Some of these jokers have only been coming in to get a few laughs at my expense and then they just leave,” Phae grumbled.

  “Not true,” Sylvie said. “We’ve made more money this week than ever before.”

  “Whatever,” Phae said, lowering Meg back down into the sink. “But if one more corny fool comes in here and places an order for flowers with the old, ‘Oh, I thought this was must be a florist,’ joke, I won’t be held responsible for what I do.”

  Sylvie sighed as she flipped though her appointment book. “I wonder where Neesa is?”

  Phae turned on the water. “Neesa’s coming in again? Good Lord. If you trim off any more of her hair, she won’t have any left.”

  “That’s what I told her. She said she’d just get a style today.” Sylvie wandered to the front door. “She should have been here ten minutes ago. She wanted to be here for the daily delivery, and she’s never late. I hope nothing’s … oh … my … god … I …”

  Phae stared at Sylvie who was peering out the small square windows in the door. “What’s wrong?”

  Sylvie whirled around. “Nothing. I saw Neesa. I think I’m going to see what’s been keeping her.” And with that, she dashed out the door.

  Phae tried to look out the display window, but the mass of flowers made it impossible to see anything. All she could see through the small window in the door was a few heads bobbing around, a common occurrence in the past week. Half the people in Zeke’s Bend had strolled by at one point or another to gawk at the flowers.

  Phae hurriedly finished rinsing Meg’s hair. After tossing her a clean towel, Phae headed out the door, telling Meg she’d be back in a second.

  She had a bad feeling as she opened the door, a sensation that only worsened as she realized dozens of people were milling around, spilling off the sidewalk and onto the street.

  She craned her neck to see around them. They were circling something. She thought she heard chanting, but the crowd was so loud that she couldn’t be certain.

  Phae shoved her way past several chuckling adults and into the center of the circle. Her eyes widened.

  Three of her teenaged cousins, the most rascally of the Jones clan, Tonio, Neptune and Jackson, were picketing her shop. She blinked. It couldn’t be true. Nope. It was. They were actually picketing her shop.

  The three teens marched in a circle, holding large signs above their heads as they chanted in unison, “Kent will not relent. Kent will not relent. Kent will not relent.”

  Phae shook her head in disbelief as her goofy cousins paraded past. They slowed their march and waved their signs in her face. In professionally printed, bold red letters, the signs carried the same message: “Phae Jones Is Unfair to Repentant Suitors.”

  Tonio broke ranks to tell her quickly, “It’s easier than mowing lawns, and it pays good, too.”

  So much for family loyalty, Phae thought.

  She crossed her arms over her chest when the crowd parted and Kent strolled jauntily into view. He wore a light summer suit and a white, styrofoam skimmer hat with a little sign stuck in front that read, “I Won’t Relent.”

  He grinned broadly as he approached. Gallantly sweeping off his hat, he bowed deeply. “Do you surrender, Ms. Jones?”

  Phae gave him a dismissive glance then turned back to the shop, pushing her way through the nosy spectators.

  Kent called out behind her, “Do you see, ladies and gentlemen, how she refuses my company? Am I wrong to suggest that her treatment of my affections is unfair considering how much time and effort I’ve spent trying to woo her fair hand? What say you, sir? And you, kind madame? Is she not unfair? If you were me, wouldn’t you picket her?”

  Phae ignored the responses flying freely from the tittering crowd. She stomped into the shop and headed straight for the phone. Picketing indeed. She’d see about that.

  Meg looked at her with concern. “What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?”

  “Someone’s going to be,” she answered, “and he’s big, dark-haired and annoying as hell. Oh, and he’s picketing me, the jerk.”

  “What?”

  Phae punched in 911 on the shop phone. “You heard me. Picketing. It’s so stupid.”

  “Hair be damned. I’ve got to see this,” Meg said, wrapping the towel around her head again and heading for the door.

  Phae rolled her eyes and listened to the phone ring. She heard the door jingle, assuming it was caused by Meg leaving.

  Then Meg said, “Uh, I think I’ve changed my mind, Phae-phae. I need to get home. Don’t worry about my hair. I’ll take care of it and bring your towel back later.”

  Phae turned in surprise. Meg was tossing her plastic smock on the counter and snatching up her purse. She rushed out the door with hardly a glance back. Then Phae saw why.

  Kent stood in front of the window, hands clasped casually behind his back as he admired the flowers.

  Phae opened her mouth to speak, but she heard a voice in the phone ask, “911. What’s your emergency?”

  “Um,” Phae struggled to regain her footing. “Um, yes. Hello 911. I’m calling to report illegal assembly in front of a private business. Someone’s doing that … to me. I mean, to my business.”

  Kent softly whistled a tuneless ditty and didn’t appear the least concerned that she was calling the cops on him. Phae wanted to smack him.

  “Illegal assembly?” the operator asked. “Oh, is that you, Phae?”

  Phae recognized the voice then. “Kendra? Is that you?”

  Kendra, another one of Phae’s many cousins, answered, “Sure, it’s me.”

  “I didn’t know you were working in the sheriff’s office.”

  “Only this month. I’m filling in for Freda. She had her baby last night.”

  Phae sighed. Now was not the time for this sort of thing. “Well, good for her. And you, too, I guess. Anyway, I need you to tell James to get over to my shop. There’s an illegal gathering over here.”

  “A what? Oh, right,” Kendra said. “James told me you’d probably call.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “It is, though. I’ve got it written down right here, and he told me to read it to you. He writes that Kent applied for and got all the permits he needs to do everything he’s doing. He can assemble, picket, sell souvenirs, disperse refreshments and have a parade.”

  “What?” Phae screeched, surprising herself that her voice could go so high. “What?” she repeated, deeper and more restrained this time.

  “That�
�s all it says, cousin,” Kendra said. “Is your billionaire really throwing you a parade? You are so lucky, girl! I mean, damn.”

  “Oh for God’s sake. He’s not a billionaire. And he’s definitely not mine.” She blew out a loud breath. “Say hey to your folks.”

  “Will do. Later.”

  Phae ended the call. “There’s got to be some kind of law against what you’ve been doing,” she told Kent.

  He stopped his annoying whistling and reached into the breast pocket of his lightweight summer blazer. He pulled out several slips of paper and held them out to her.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Permits to assemble, have a concession booth, sell trinkets, have a parade. The works.”

  Phae crammed her phone in her jeans pocket and stalked toward him. “Let me see those.”

  She snatched the papers and scanned them. As far as she could tell, they were for real. And signed by her Aunt Trinny, the city clerk. What a traitor.

  “See? It’s all there. I can pretty much do whatever I want,” Kent said, brushing past her. He sat in one of the hydraulic chairs.

  Phae crumpled up the permits and tossed them at Kent. “Fine. Do what you want. I obviously can’t stop you from making complete fools out of both of us.”

  “I don’t want to make a fool out of you, Phae. I want to make love to you. You simply won’t oblige me.”

  Tamping down the butterfly flutters in her belly caused by his seductive tone, she looked at him levelly. “I don’t get you. You think I’m a loser and a lunatic, and yet you insist that you want me. How could you want someone you don’t respect?”

  “I respect you.”

  “No, you respect who you want me to be, not who I actually am.”

  “I don’t quite follow that. No matter,” he said. “Let’s chalk this up to chemistry, then. Your atoms are chatting up my atoms, and they must be saying something highly arousing.”

  “You’ve got it backwards, science boy. It’s your atoms that are doing all the talking, and mine are sick of the chatter.”

  Kent chuckled, a deep rumbling reverberation. “Maybe I want you because I can’t resist a snappy comeback.”

  “Or maybe you just want me because you can’t have me.”

  “Let’s get naked, and after I’ve had you, you can ask me if I still want you. I bet I will.”

  “Hilarious. In your dreams.”

  “That’s right,” he said quickly. “Every night you’re in my dreams. But enough of that. I’m here to arrange a time and place for our peace talks.”

  “Sorry. Not interested.” Phae walked to her work station and began rearranging the products there.

  “Too bad, Phae. Here I’ve made an effort to end this war and all you want to do is continue fighting. Guess this means I’ll have to haul out the big guns.”

  Phae ignored him, hard though it was.

  “What?” he asked. “You want to know what the big guns are?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “But you wanted to. The big guns is that I’ve arranged for the local high school band to come serenade you. They’re due at two. The director, Quint, assured me they know a number of romantic ditties. He’s related to you, isn’t he? Cousin twice removed or something. Of course, who isn’t related to you in one way or other? Your Aunt Trinny said to tell you hi, by the way.”

  “Are you going to be here while the band plays?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Because you deserve what’s coming to you. I’m sure Quint jumped at the chance to practice in front of a crowd. He can’t get one any other way. I’m going to stay in here, where the screeches and whines those teenagers drag out of those tortured instruments will at least be muted. Can’t wait to watch those chuckleheads in the crowd run away.”

  “They’re that bad?” Kent frowned. “In that case, let me renew my offer of peace talks with more urgency. If you agree to accompany me to nearby Rollinsburg this evening for a nice dinner and some dancing, I’ll call off the band recital and save everyone in Zeke’s Bend from unnecessary torture. You can’t resist helping the town’s citizens, remember? Think of the poor children whose eardrums will be damaged simply because of your blood lust.”

  Phae dropped into the other chair. “Forget it. I don’t want anything to do with you. As for my gossipy friends and neighbors out there, you can bet that as soon as they see that band coming they’ll run away like their butts are on fire.”

  “I bet you’re wrong. They can’t resist a spectacle, or haven’t you noticed?”

  She suspected he might be right, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She shrugged.

  “Come on,” Kent whispered seductively. “Be a good girl and join me for a little wining and dining. I promise I won’t say or do anything too promiscuous.”

  “If you think these tactics are getting you anywhere, you’re wrong. Look what you’ve done to my shop.” She waved her hand at the flowers. “It’s a mess. And those cards. They’re hardly what I’d call romantic.”

  He waggled an eyebrow. “It’s getting to you, isn’t it? You love it and you know it. You won’t be able to resist me much longer, so why don’t you give in now and let me take you?”

  “Stop that!” She sprang to her feet. “You’re driving me nuts. You don’t get it. I’ve declared my independence and nothing you can do or say will change my mind. You don’t respect me or my life. We could sleep together for the next thirty years, but that wouldn’t change the basic fact that you think I’m a loser. So stop this crap and find some other poor woman to terrorize.”

  Kent rose slowly from his chair and began to slowly approach her, a lazy grin on his face. “I accept.”

  She backed away from him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I accept your challenge that we sleep together for the next thirty years. If, at the end of that time, you still think I don’t respect you, I’ll leave you alone and bother someone else. Let’s get started right now.” He continued his advance, purposeful, relentless.

  Damn. Phae felt herself being drawn into his sexual gaze. She blinked hard and shook herself in an attempt to clear her head. Her retreat was halted when she bumped ungracefully into the back wall.

  “Stop it,” she said weakly. “You twist my words. Quit looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re going to do something … something you shouldn’t do.”

  He placed his hands on the wall on either side of her, effectively trapping her. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Like the hat says, darlin’, I won’t relent.”

  She shivered at the touch of his warm breath. She struggled to find the will to fight him when he gently nibbled on her earlobe, but found her strength of conviction had made a cowardly escape from the battlefield along with her ability to reason. She was defenseless.

  “You smell like a garden of sweet flowers.” He nuzzled her neck, his lips and tongue tasting her tenderly.

  “It’s not me. It’s the room,” she murmured, trying not to moan.

  “Mmm-mmm,” was his only response. He licked up the side of her neck.

  Phae stared at the ceiling and desperately tried to think of something cutting to say that would break his spell. The only picture that came into her mind was one of Kent, his finely toned body in naked splendor, the smooth skin of his chest glowing in candlelight, his hair glistening, his strong, tanned hands reaching for her.

  “You can’t resist it, Phae,” he said. “You want me. And I want you so badly that I can hardly look at you without imagining you naked underneath me, writhing and moaning, calling my name as I make you come again and again.”

  He stroked the back of her neck with fingertips that trailed tingles in their wake. “You’re shivering. I am too. Let’s walk through that door, into your apartment, and I’ll give you the kind of pleasure you’ve only dreamed about. Let me show you how much I want you.”

  Kissing alo
ng her jawline, he inched closer to her lips. “Feel me, Phae. Feel my need.” He reached for her hand.

  Chapter 20

  LOCKED IN HIS SENSUAL GAZE, she stood half-boneless as he gently pulled her hand toward his pants. They moaned in unison as she touched him, her hand flat against his rock hardness.

  “Five little steps and we’ll be in your apartment. Nod, and we’ll be there,” he said.

  She couldn’t fight him anymore. The war was over. She’d lost. Screw it. She took a big gulp of air and began to nod.

  The bells over the shop door jangled loudly. Kent immediately broke away from Phae, cursing softly under his breath.

  It was Sylvie. She looked at them in surprise, then in speculation, then with a glance down at Kent’s package, and with a smug little smile. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt anything, did we Neesa?”

  Neesa peeked around her, and saw the situation for what it was. “Mmm-hmm. So that’s how it is? Gotta go.”

  As they turned to leave, Phae found her voice again. “No, don’t!”

  Sylvie, Neesa and Kent stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “I’m serious,” Phae said, shoving Kent toward the door. “He was just leaving, anyway.”

  “No I wasn’t,” he said, digging in his heels. “You nodded and I’m holding you to it.”

  Phae gave up pushing and crossed her arms over her chest. “It was an almost-nod. Doesn’t count. Besides, you cheated.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I think we should give you two some privacy,” Sylvie said, trying to inch her way backwards out the front door.

  “If you two leave, I’ll never forgive you.” Phae looked at Kent. “You fight unfairly, Kent Holmes, and you know it.”

  “This isn’t a game, Phae. This is war. And you know all is fair in love and—”

  Phae breezed past him and sat down in a chair. “Leave. Go on. Do your best, or your worst, or your stupidest. Whatever. Bring in a hundred piece orchestra to serenade me for a month. Bankrupt yourself with florist bills. Do whatever you’re going to do, but know that it won’t work.”