The Billionaire Bad Boy Plan

by Michelle Love

  As I pull the kids out of the pit, I think about what I could be doing right now instead of wrestling them and dodging incoming, tiny, plastic balls. I could be sitting across a small table, sipping some fancy little drink while staring into the green-brown eyes of one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.

  Instead, I’m pulling some very stinky socks onto a pair of stinky little feet and cramming them into a pair of stinky tennis shoes.

  Why did I tell him no?

  Chapter 8

  JUDE

  Well, that was a bit rude!

  I didn’t think she’d be so abrupt. I didn’t think she’d give into me either. But I’m laying the groundwork.

  You have to keep your target aware that you are still there. Still on the hunt for them. The key is to let them in on what your plan is so they have a fighting chance at making an escape. It’s no fun if there’s no challenge at all.

  With that little phone call, I let Mercy know a few things. One, that I have her number. I have access to her when I want it. Two, that she’s on my radar. And three, that I’m not about to give up.

  Now those things are settling into her brain. This is when she’ll try to come up with her own plan to stay hidden away from me. Maybe she’ll think about going on vacation for a week or two and hope I’ll lose interest in that amount of time or move on to some other quarry.

  Maybe she’ll fake an illness and stay at home, leaving her phone turned off so she can rest. Or maybe she’ll do something smart, like turn the tables on me and become the hunter herself.

  That happened to me once when we were tracking a mountain lion in Wyoming. It was only when we saw the tracks behind us did we figure out we had gone from being the hunters to being the hunted.

  The only thing is, that didn’t stop me from taking the prize in the end. It just meant we had to have a battle and I happened to win that one. So even that tactic will not stop me from getting what I want.

  Loud bangs fall on my door, making me jump. “Jude, are you ready yet?” Ariel calls out from the other side. “I’m dying of thirst out here. I need a drink and you to hang onto while I drink and dance. Come on. If you play your cards right, I’ll sleep in here with you when we get back.”

  My stomach twists on itself and I stifle a gag. “I’m not going,” I say as I go to open the door.

  When I open the door, she looks me up and down and realizes I haven’t changed like she told me to and her face goes red in a flash. “Jude, damn it! I came all the way out here from New York to hang out with you. It’s been months since I’ve seen you. You seem to be staying to yourself far too much. I came here for you not myself. Which is not a thing I usually do. Now come on. I guess you can go like that. I mean you look okay.” She grabs my hand and attempts to pull me.

  With one hand on her shoulder, I push her gently away from me. “Go ask Rose to go with you. I’m not going, Ariel.”

  The sound of feet pounding the stairs has us both looking toward them and my youngest brother’s filthy body emerges from them. “Hey,” he says with a wave.

  “What happened to you?” Ariel asks him with wide eyes.

  “Nothing,” he says as he stops and looks from me to her. “I was riding out on the bike track. You look pretty, Ariel. Where are you two headed?”

  “Out,” she says as she looks at me. “Only, Mr. Stubborn here is refusing to go along with me.”

  “Hell, I’ll go with you,” Ram says as he looks at me. “Is that okay, Jude?”

  With a nod, I say, “It’s fine with me. Ariel and I are not a thing, Ram.”

  Ariel’s head jerks as she narrows her eyes at me. “You don’t need to say it like that, Jude. You and I have been intimate after all. It’s not entirely out of the realm of things that we could be together.”

  “It is too,” I say with a little laugh. “Anyway, there’s your date for the evening.” I hand her the vouchers. I’ve put Mercy’s cell number on my phone so I won’t need to hold onto the card any longer.

  Ram kicks up his heels then shoots down the hallway to his suite. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  “Wear a tux, Ram, please,” she calls out to him.

  He laughs as he goes into his room. I let her in on what’s about to happen but only a little of it or she won’t accept him as her escort for tonight. “He won’t be wearing a tux or a suit. He’s a blue jeans and boots kind of kid. And you’ll want to make sure he eats at dinner. He can drink a lot more than most men can but he has to have food on his stomach first to be able to handle it.”

  “I’m not about to be his babysitter. I’m not into raising children, Jude. How old is he again?”

  “He just turned twenty-one, last month,” I say and watch her bite her lip.

  She makes a humming sound and looks down the hallway as she says, “Would it upset you if I spent the entire night with him, Jude?”

  A snort comes out of me. “No. I don’t know how much clearer I can be with you, Ariel. I’m not looking for a relationship. That’s not me. Be with whoever you want.”

  Her brown eyes move up to mine as she says, “Really, Jude? I mean you’ve never thought about me and you and making a thing out of us?”

  With a shake of my head, I tell her, “No. Sorry, Ariel. It’s not a thing I’ve ever thought about.”

  “Not even when you held me in your arms after we had sex?” she asks.

  I hate when women do this shit!

  “Not even then, Ariel. Look, I’m just not ready to settle down. And I have to be honest with you. You’re not what I’m looking for in a girlfriend. I like down home women with down home style. I like manners and I like nice behavior. I can’t stand people who treat other people badly. Get it now?”

  She nods and runs her hand over my cheek. “You want a country bumpkin and I’m a New York lady who will never fully capture your attention. Okay. I get it now. Will I stop vying for your attention? No!” She gives my face a little slap and walks away, shaking her little ass as she goes. “See you on the morrow, Jude. You have a nice night yanking your wanky all alone.”

  Stepping back into my bedroom, I shake my head as the woman is just so clueless. There are plenty of rich East Coast assholes who she’d get along with well. Why does she want a country boy like me?

  Settling back on my bed, I pick up my phone and see it’s nine o’clock. So I think it’s still early enough to send a little text to my intended. -In bed yet?-

  I wait and pick up the remote to the television. Then I see my screen light up on the phone and pick it up to see she has replied. I wasn’t sure she would.

  Her test says, -Not yet. I had some things to do when I got home. I hope you have a nice night with Miss Harmsworth, goodnight.-

  Man, she’s really getting under my skin. I text back, -I’m not going out with her. I won’t be going out with her anymore, as a matter of fact. Her ways don’t suit me. Your ways are something I’d like to know more about. How about you call me and we can talk over the phone?-

  And now I wait and wonder if she will call me. Bet she will!

  Part 2 Smoke

  A Billionaire, Bad Boy, Romance

  By Michelle Love

  Chapter 1

  MERCY

  The phone sits on the bed next to me as I watch television with the sound low so I don’t wake the kids who climbed into my bed after their baths and fell asleep after their long day.

  It’s been thirty minutes since I got a text from Jude Hurst, asking me to call him. I haven’t responded at all. I hope he gets the hint.

  I don’t want to get into the specifics with him about why I’m not a viable candidate for his harem of women I’m sure he has. The kids make it a bit problematic.

  He surely will move on and stop this nonsense with me soon. He has to. I don’t know how long I can hold out.

  His voice, alone, makes me wet. Add in his gorgeous face, hot body, and that charm. Well, let’s just say, I am only human. A human who has other humans to think about now.


  I foresee an office full of flowers when I go back to work on Monday. Perhaps a few boxes of expensive chocolates and maybe a bottle of wine to inebriate me into giving into him. He underestimates my resolve in keeping men at a distance for the foreseeable future.

  I suppose when the kids get grown, I can date. That’s merely sixteen years away. I’ll only be forty-two then. Whoa! No way!

  I can’t wait until I’m forty-two to start dating! That’s just crazy!

  Now I’m back to looking at the damn phone and wondering what the hell I’m doing. How do single moms know when they can have a life again? How old do the kids need to be before introducing a new person into their little family pack?

  I wish there was a solid plan all single parents could follow. That would be so helpful. But there isn’t and I’m not prone to following advice since our situation is fairly unique.

  There are plenty of nights when the kids sleep in their own beds. But there are also plenty of nights when one of us needs the support and comfort of the others. Even me from time to time.

  Thinking about my lost family is a thing I try not to do. It always brings me heartache and pain. And not in that cathartic way our therapist talks about.

  It’s in a way that leaves me weak. It leaves me on edge and wondering if I can really do all that I need to do.

  My niece and nephew have no one else. Their father was an only child and his parents had him when they were older. Both of his parents died before he married my sister. There are no other relatives that we have who are near the age where they could care for the kids.

  I am it for them. If I don’t keep myself on the straight and narrow, then they’ll have no one. No one to hold them when they miss their parents and grandparents who they were very close to as well. No one to know what kinds of little things make them happy. No one to love them the way only a family member can.

  Gazing at my phone, I know I’d be all over that man if I was still a single woman with no kids. But I am, so I can’t be. I suppose I could talk to him and let him know what my problem is.

  I have a feeling he wouldn’t care. It’s not that I think kids would scare a man off. I’ve seen plenty of men take on women with their own kids. It’s not unheard of.

  It’s just that I think a man would complicate our lives at this point. We’re still kind of a mess. There are still nightmares all three of us have on occasion. There are still odd times when one of us bursts into tears for reasons others would never understand.

  I try very hard never to fall apart in front of the kids. I do fall apart, though. Mostly after they’ve fallen asleep and I’m in the shower to drown out my cries. I do have my weak moments. What man would understand that? What man would want to be a part of this mess?

  Not the ultra-wealthy, Jude Hurst. I know it. He might not, but I do. If I let him, he’ll take what he wants from me and that’s it. And that man could completely steal my heart. I know he could.

  My heart has pounded with only a few words from him. What would happen if I got an actual taste of him? If I felt his hands all over my body, what would happen then?

  The light from my cell phone screen shines. I have the phone on vibrate so any incoming calls won’t wake the kids. And I see it’s him calling. I guess he decided not to leave it up to me.

  But I won’t answer. I can’t answer. I shouldn’t answer.

  The light fades as he’s hung up. And now I find my heart really pounding. What if he needed something? What if he’s in trouble?

  I shake my head with the stupid thoughts. I’m nothing to him. He’d never call me in the event of an actual emergency. I’m being stupid and making shit up to make an excuse for why I need to call him back and make sure he’s alright.

  The screen lights up again and it seems he’s sent me a text. I pick the phone up and see he’s sent, -Pick the phone up when I call you back in five minutes, please.-

  Okay, so now I know he’s fine and I can stop lying to myself that he needs anything other than a booty call. So I text back, -I’m asleep. Don’t call.-

  Not even a second passes by then he’s texted back, -Bullshit! Answer your damn phone when I call you in four minutes.-

  Well, now he’s cussing at me!

  I can’t accept being treated that way, anyway. Thank goodness he’s making this easy for me. So I text back, -No.-

  There’s nothing coming back. I thought there would be something coming right back. A vague threat of him showing up at my door. Or the promise of a special night with him. Something to tell me he is not giving up. But nothing is coming back.

  Maybe he has given up. Maybe he understands now that I am a woman who means what she says. No matter how ludicrous it might be that I do not want to go have drinks with a man who is gorgeous and loaded as well as completely charming in his own right.

  No, I’m a woman who has her reasons for her actions. All the things I do are calculated for the risks involved. And Jude Hurst is a risk. A huge risk. A risk that is so not worth taking.

  What am I saying? He is completely worth the risks involved but I don’t have the freedom to take that risk. Not any freedom at all. I’m held accountable for two little lives after all.

  Why did he have to look at me the way he did? Why did he have to touch my cheek with the back of his soft hand? Why did he have to look into my eyes with those mischievous eyes of his?

  I swear the man has little secrets that must be wonderful because his eyes dance when he looks at you. When he looked at me, anyway. When he took that picture earlier today and posted it to his profile he had that look.

  I wonder why he did that.

  Quickly, I open up Facebook and stalk his page again. And I find another interesting thing there. Before, when I checked his relationship status, it said single. Now it says, it’s complicated and guess whose name is under that status?

  Mine!

  I cannot believe he’s added me to his social media profile. So I do a friend request.

  It’s not because I want anything to do with him. It’s simply because he’s seen fit to put my name up there with his and we’ve yet to even have a simple discussion. He’s so presumptuous!

  An instant later he has accepted my friend request and has sent me a direct message full of kissy-faces.

  Then my phone starts vibrating as he’s calling me.

  Well, now what do I do?

  Chapter 2

  JUDE

  After three rings I’m feeling a bit tempted to hang up and send her a barrage of direct messages. But then something happens.

  “Hello,” she says in a whisper.

  “Hey,” I say as I’m kind of caught off guard. “Why are you whispering? Is someone there with you? Because that guy, Dave, said you didn’t have any man in your life.”

  “Um, no. No one’s here. I just don’t want to talk loud and bother the neighbors who may be sleeping is why I’m whispering.” I hear a shuffling sound then she says in a normal tone of voice, “So why did you think it would be okay to put my name on your Facebook profile, Mr. Hurst?”

  “Why were you stalking me, Miss Noland?” I wait to see how she’ll take that because I think she might take it kind of badly.

  “I make it my business to know as much as I can about men who want to go out with me. So I use the resources society affords me to do that,” comes her viable answer.

  “Oh,” I say as I was preparing myself to get bitched out. “That’s smart of you, Mercy. Very smart. You seem like a smart woman.”

  “I am,” she says with not one word after that.

  She just states a fact and stops, so I ask, “Are you always so professional?”

  “Of course not,” she says, sounding very professional. “I know how to act appropriately in many kinds of ways. Our relationship is a business one so I will remain on a professional level with you, Mr. Hurst.”

  “I am never going to your spa as a client again, Mercy. So you can lose that tone with me.”

  “Look, I know you’
re probably a very nice man. I’m just not available right now. It’s nothing about you. I’m not trying to play hard to get in order to entice you. I’m merely unavailable. Can you understand that, Jude?”

  She called me by my name! Now this is progress!

  “Why don’t you tell me why you are unavailable, and I will tell you if I can understand that or not. And thank you for finally saying my name. It sounds sweet coming out of your mouth,” I say and lay back on my pillows.

  Talking to her as I lay in bed reminds me of my high school days. Talking to a girl on the phone before I was old enough to simply bring them home with me or stay at their place or take them to a hotel room. It takes me back to simpler times.

  “I just am. I don’t like to talk about myself. You can understand that, can’t you?” she asks with a sweet lilt to her slight southern accent.

  “Did you grow up here in Dallas?” I ask her as I just have to put a place to that accent she has.

  “No, I grew up in a tiny town called Utopia. It’s in the southern part of central Texas. Have you ever heard of it?” she asks.

  I settle into the pillows and reach over to pick up the beer I’ve been nursing as I’ve been waiting for her to call me. To be honest I had to give up and call her. Not a thing I usually do once I’ve put out a text to call me.

  I have a lot of pride after all!

  “I have heard of it. So when did you move to Dallas?” I ask and take a sip of the beer, finding it warm now and get up to go get me a cold one from the mini-fridge in my bedroom.

  “My parents and I moved here a little over four years ago. My older sister had gotten married and moved here with her husband. They met in college. They both went to The University of Texas. She was a cheerleader and he was a football player and they fell in love very quickly. Anyway, they got married after they graduated and when she became pregnant, we all felt like we wanted to be closer to them. To enjoy the baby, you know.”

  “I do,” I say. “Who doesn’t want to enjoy the new baby in the family? So that brought you here to our fair city then. And how long do you plan to live here?”