Roses from a Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance (Lone Star Billionaires, #2)

by Farr, Beverly

  For an instant, I wished that Winnie’s babies would be my babies, but that was impossible. She was engaged to Shawn, getting married in six weeks. And it was madness for me to be falling in love with woman in less than a day. It must be the lack of sleep. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  She asked quietly, “What about you? Do you want kids?”

  “Someday,” I said. If I could ever find a woman I liked as much as Winnie to be their mother, I thought.

  As we left the hospital, I asked Winnie if she wanted to get something to eat.

  She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I’m more tired than hungry. What time is it anyway?”

  “Nearly three a.m.”

  She smiled. “Great. That means we only have eight more hours until the handcuffs can come off.”

  Was she so eager to get rid of me? I said, “I’ll talk to Ramon and arrange a flight back. But first, a nap I think.”

  She looked at the chairs in the hospital lobby. “Where? Here? If so, I’ll need a chiropractic visit as well.”

  “We’ll get a room.”

  She looked uncomfortable. “A hotel room? Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  I said, “Yes, because I’m exhausted, and I think you are, too. There are eight Nilsson properties in New York City. All we have to do is walk into one. And if you’re worried about propriety, we can ask a concierge to stand on duty while we sleep.”

  Winnie blushed. “I didn’t think you were going to make a pass at me.”

  I was glad she trusted me, but I wasn’t so sure I trusted myself. I yawned. It was a good thing I was too tired to seduce her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WINNIE

  I didn’t expect to fall asleep so quickly, but as soon as I was horizontal on top of a huge king-sized bed, I was out.

  Sometime later, I heard a buzzing sound and I groaned.

  “Wake-up, sleeping beauty,” a male voice teased.

  That wasn’t Shawn. Immediately I woke and sat up straight like one of those Jack-in-the-boxes I had when I was a child. For an instant I couldn’t remember where I was, but I was dressed, thank goodness.

  I looked right into Philip Nilsson’s beautiful blue eyes and everything came back to me – standing in for Bernice at the mixer. Handcuffs. The Alamo. Buying Shoes. Flying to New York. Seeing Jenna. The baby.

  It made my head swim.

  “You all right?” Philip asked.

  I rubbed my face and wondered if I had even washed my make-up off the night before. I probably looked like a racoon. My hair had fallen out of the twist and hung in lanky strings over my eyes.

  He said, “I’ve ordered breakfast and our driver will be here in an hour. Can you be ready that soon?”

  I nodded, still too sleepy to think clearly. “I’m sorry, but I need to use the bathroom again.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  As strange as it was, I was getting used to him being constantly next to me. We politely took care of the necessities, and then I saw my reflection in the massive bathroom mirror. I groaned again. I looked like something the cat dragged in.

  Philip stood beside me while I washed my face.

  I didn’t have a complete arsenal of make-up in my purse, but I had a few emergency items – cover-up, powder, mascara and lipstick. I decided to go for a more natural look.

  I brushed my hair and pulled it back into a ponytail rather than a French twist because I didn’t have hairspray. I smiled at my reflection. Not bad, I thought although I did wish there was a way to steam or iron my clothes. My suit was definitely rumpled, and my blouse stuck to me, but with the handcuffs there was no way to change clothes above our waists. And with Philip next to me, I wasn’t going to change anything below our waists, even if I had a change of clothes, which I didn’t. I felt a moment of sympathy for the other participants in the activity. I wondered how Teams One, Two, Three and Five were doing.

  The first thing I wanted to do once we were free was to take a long hot shower and change into clean clothes.

  As I watched, Philip washed his face with one hand and shaved with an electric razor. I was surprised by now neat he was. He carefully rinsed his old whisker bits down the sink rather than leaving them in a film of shaving cream like Shawn did.

  I supposed those nannies must have taught Philip well.

  “Are we ready now?” Philip asked as he straightened his tie.

  Ready for what, I wondered, then realized that he meant ready for breakfast. We sat for a few minutes at a table with a crisp linen table cloth and enormous cloth napkins. Breakfast was a complete buffet on a large cart with waffles, toast, eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, and an assortment of fresh fruits as well as yogurt and granola.

  “Good heavens,” I said as I surveyed the feast. “How hungry do you think I am?”

  “I had no idea. I decided it was best to be prepared.”

  I supposed he was being a Boy Scout again, but I hated to think of the waste of food.

  We ate on a terrace, looking out on downtown New York City. The Nilsson Hotel was on Time’s Square. “This is a beautiful hotel,” I told Philip. “I should come back when I have time to really appreciate it.”

  He sipped his coffee and looked at me thoughtfully. “You should do that. I’ll give you a pass for a complimentary week stay for you and Shawn. At this, or at any one of our hotels. It can be part of your honeymoon.”

  His comment brought me back to reality.

  That’s right. I was getting married soon. I would be going on a honeymoon with Shawn. That’s what I wanted.

  If I wasn’t careful, I could get caught up in the fairy tale world of private planes and five-star hotels and forget who I really was.

  And as nice as Philip was, he was my boss. In less than five hours, we would be unhandcuffed and go our separate ways.

  I said, “That’s very kind of you. And with the contest money, we can afford the plane fare.”

  Philip then looked down at his food and so did I. Talking about Shawn made me feel guilty. With all of the excitement the night before, I hadn’t called him when I had said I would.

  And now I was eating breakfast with another man.

  Shawn was probably worrying about me. I checked my phone and saw that there was a text from Gwen, but nothing from Shawn.

  Where are you girl? Gwen had texted earlier that morning, around one a.m.

  I’m fine, I typed in the phone. Will explain later.

  She responded with a happy face.

  “Everything okay at home?” Philip asked.

  “Yes,” I said and set my phone aside on the table next to my plate. “That was just my roommate freaking out because I didn’t come home last night. We try to watch out for each other.”

  “You have a roommate?” He sounded surprised.

  “Yes. Her name is Gwen and she’s going to be one of my bridesmaids.”

  “You don’t live with your fiancé?”

  I wasn’t surprised by the question. In today’s world, everyone assumed that people who were engaged were living together. I said, “Not yet. Not until we’re married.” I hadn’t had sex with Shawn either, but I wasn’t going to tell Philip that. I said, “I guess I’m what you’d call an old-fashioned girl. Do you think that’s weird?”

  He smiled at me. “No, I think it’s refreshing.”

  THE FLIGHT HOME WAS inconsequential. While we flew, I edited our film footage down to two minutes, emphasizing the humor of my breaking a shoe and the drama of a baby being born. Philip prepared a few words to say about what we had learned from the exercise. We were driven straight to the San Antonio Nilsson Hotel, and we arrived just in time for the big presentation. Two other teams had managed to last the full twenty-four hours. One team had lasted twelve, and one had quit before six.

  That surprised me, but I supposed the success rate might depend on the personalities of the people involved.

  Philip had turned out to be a very pleasant companion – po
lite and considerate. It occurred to me that I might not want to be handcuffed to Shawn, but that seemed disloyal, so I turned my attention back to people in the large conference room.

  The crowd clapped their support and approval. I noticed that there were some people in the back of the room filming us, but I supposed that was part of Nilsson’s publicity.

  The coordinator made a big production out of unlocking us. Philip made a face and rubbed his wrist in a dramatic gesture which made the crowd laugh.

  As for me, I felt oddly bereft when the handcuffs were removed. I was going to have to say good-bye to Philip now, and it was unlikely that we’d ever meet again.

  And strange as it was, I felt that we’d become true friends.

  I stood by Philip as they played our video on a large wall sized screen. Then Philip spoke about learning to appreciate another’s perspective and the need to accommodate another’s wishes, and not only when you are stuck together. He was an excellent public speaker. He was articulate and funny, and he paused at appropriate times for a laugh or for the audience to hear what he was saying.

  Part of me was awed that I had spent twenty-four hours with this amazing man.

  As Philip came to his conclusion, he looked at me, smiled, and said, “It was one of the best days of my life.”

  My heart warmed to hear that. “Thank you,” I mouthed, and the audience cheered.

  The presenter asked if I had anything to say. “I think Mr. Nilsson has said it all,” I said politely. “But I agree, it was a great learning experience.”

  The audience clapped and then it was Team Five’s time to report.

  Afterwards, we each received our reward checks, although Philip declined his, which also entertained the crowd. I wanted to say good-bye to Philip, but he was surrounded by other Nilsson employees. I guess everyone wanted to network with the Vice President. I didn’t blame them.

  Get over it, Winnie, I told myself. You had your fifteen minutes of fame, but they’re over now. Time to get back to work.

  I called Bernice to let her know that my scheduled leave was starting earlier than planned. “Go do what you have to do,” she said graciously. She’d known that I was going to take some time off when she hired me to be her assistant, so she wasn’t surprised. She said, “And best wishes for your sister and the baby.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I walked to the parking garage where my ancient Toyota was parked. I planned to go home, pack for my trip to see Jenna, and swing by Alamo Beans to see Shawn. Philip’s assistant Ramon had arranged for a ride for me to the airport as well as a first-class seat for a flight to New York City. After that, I had a week’s worth of nights at the Nilsson hotel closest to the hospital, if I wanted to use them. This was in addition to the pass Philip had given me for my honeymoon.

  Philip Nilsson was one of the kindest, most generous men I’d ever met.

  When I reached down to unlock my car, I was surprised to see a two people with cameras following me. “Excuse me, Winnie,” one of the men called out. “It’s Winnie, right?”

  I frowned. “What is this about?”

  “Did you spend last night with Philip Nilsson at his Time’s Square hotel?”

  Were these paparazzi? “That’s none of your business,” I said sharply and climbed into the car as quickly as I could.

  “Are you his new girlfriend?” the man shouted as I drove away.

  Good heavens, what was that all about?

  I glanced at my rear-view mirror and was glad to see that no one was following me.

  I sighed. I knew that the media liked to hound celebrities, but I’d never thought of Philip as being a celebrity, although with his fortune, I supposed he could be.

  I wanted to tell the reporter that no, I wasn’t his girlfriend. I was his employee and we’d spent the day together as a team building exercise, nothing more. And although technically we had spent a few hours together at a hotel, it wasn’t the whole night, and we’d been completely dressed, lying on top of a bedspread.

  There had definitely been no hanky panky as his question implied.

  I decided that it would be best to go see Shawn first before going home to my apartment,

  Alamo Beans was a small restaurant with a cute décor. There were rough looking brick walls, thick rustic pillars, and a black cement floor. It was lunchtime, so there were a lot of patrons wearing suits, eating their vegetarian lunch. The hostess Guadalupe greeted me with concern. “Hey Winnie, are you doing okay?” She wore a white peasant blouse and black suspenders – an edgy look.

  “I’m fine,” I told her. I think she wasn’t used to seeing me with so little make-up and wrinkled clothes. “Is Shawn in?”

  “Sure. He’s in the back.”

  Shawn had a little office behind the kitchen. Sometimes I teased him and called it his cave. When he worked there, he didn’t want to come out.

  He saw me and came out into the kitchen to talk. Shawn wasn’t quite as tall as Philip, but he was good-looking with longish hair tied back in a ponytail. Today he wore a snug black t-shirt and jeans. He kissed the air by my cheek and said, “Winnie. What are you doing here? I thought you were going to be in New York. Is Jenna all right?”

  “She’s fine,” I assured him. “And I only came back to get my clothes and this!” I showed him the check from Nilsson with a flourish. “Ta Da!

  He frowned, looking at the numbers. “Is this a paycheck?”

  “No, I won a contest at work.”

  “That’s great,” he said. “We need a new oven.”

  I said, “I thought we could use it for a honeymoon.”

  He smiled. “Oh, no, Babe. I told you I didn’t have time for that. We can take a trip together next year.”

  I saw one of the cooks roll his eyes at that comment, and I knew that unless I put my foot down now, Shawn and I would never have a honeymoon. He’d spend all his time trying to make Alamo Beans a success.

  “Let’s talk,” I said.

  “We’ll talk later. It’s lunchtime.”

  All around us the cooks were working at top speed and the wait staff were taking trays of food to the tables.

  “Please,” I said. “We really need to talk. I feel like we haven’t talked for weeks.”

  “All right,” Shawn said with ill grace. “We can talk outside. Let’s go.”

  I followed him back through the restaurant and out onto a patio where there were a few more tables where customers could sit and eat outside.

  Shawn stood near the parking lot and folded his arms. “So talk,” he said. “And make it quick.”

  I felt a moment’s unease. When had Shawn fallen into the habit of bossing me around, like he bossed his employees? I reached out and touched his arm. I said, “We’re getting married in less than six weeks. I just want to know that you love me.”

  He stiffened. “This isn’t the right place for me to get all romantic.”

  Shawn did not approve of public displays of affection at work. “You don’t have to kiss me,” I said. “I just want to hear it. That you love me, and you can’t wait until we’re married.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I love you. I can’t wait until we’re married. Are you satisfied now? Because I’ve got a restaurant full of customers who need to be fed.”

  Not that full, I thought rudely, but I knew what he meant.

  I said, “Okay.” I knew he was in a hurry, and I appreciated that he said the words I needed to hear, even if I had to ask for them. I said, “I just wanted to tell you about the contest at work. It was weird. I had to be handcuffed to another employee for twenty-four hours, but we did it, and we both won a prize.”

  “That’s great,” Shawn said quickly, and I wondered if he had really heard me. “Can I go back to the kitchen now?”

  “Sure.” As we walked past one of tables were people were sitting, one of the customers said, “Handcuffs? OMG, you’re the girl with the billionaire on Gossip Deluxe!”

  Gossip Deluxe was an online entertainment news service
that had questionable stories, similar to grocery store tabloids. Everything they divulged was either shocking or a scandal.

  Shawn stopped. “What’s that?”

  The young woman scrolled through the Google newsfeed on her phone. “Here it is,” she said and showed us an article entitled: Sexy Times for the Billionaire and his mystery Girl Friend? There was a grainy picture of Philip and me at the airport and a close-up shot of us wearing handcuffs and holding hands. The beginning text read, “Multi-billionaire Philip Nilsson was seen with a mystery woman at the San Antonio airport and they were handcuffed together. Philip has yet to confirm or deny that this woman is his new girlfriend.”

  “That’s terrible,” I said. People were so unkind, thinking the worst.

  “Is that you?” Shawn demanded.

  “Yes, but it’s not what it looks like. It was a mixer activity at work. A team building exercise.”

  “If that’s the case, where is the rest of the team?”

  “It was just us two in our team. But there were four other teams as well.”

  Shawn said, “Did you go to New York with this billionaire?”

  Shawn’s voice was getting louder and patrons were looking at us with disapproval or concern. I said, “Yes, but I think we should talk about this privately.”

  Shawn held his arms out wide. “I don’t have anything to hide,” he said in a loud voice. “But maybe you do.”

  I knew Shawn was angry, but did he want to humiliate me?

  I said quietly, “I know it looks questionable, but I promise you, cross my heart, that nothing happened between us.”

  Please believe me, I thought.

  I did have a twinge of conscience, though, when I remembered that we had used the bathroom together. But that had been a necessity and certainly nothing inappropriate happened.

  Shawn said, “Are you saying you didn’t have sex with him?”

  “Yes. I mean yes, I didn’t have sex.”

  “Did you kiss him?”

  “No.”

  Shawn folded his arms in front of himself defensively. “Babe, I don’t believe you. You’re hiding something. You must have done something to be paid two thousand dollars.”