The Lucky Billionaire (Destination Billionaire Romance)

by Lewis, Jeanette

  “Sorta. But he doesn’t really strike me as Mr. Chaps and Spurs.” The thought of Ty in a cowboy hat and a pair of chaps made her insides shiver.

  “I’d go for Armani; cover the basics,” Angela advised. “Okay, enough about moneybags. What’s going on here?” She fluttered her fingers at her eyes.

  “What do you mean?” Holland squinted at Angela. Her eyeliner swooped from the corners of her eyes in dramatic wings and her purple mascara was perfect, as usual.

  “No, your eyes, you weirdo. You’ve been crying.”

  Holland pressed her fingertips to the tender skin beneath her eyes. “No, I haven’t,” she said defensively.

  Angela snorted. “Give me a little credit.”

  “Okay, fine. Yes, I’ve been crying. What of it?”

  “What did Mr. Dreamboat say?” Angela pressed.

  Holland lifted her shoulders helplessly. “Exactly what I thought he’d say.” She dropped her tone to imitate a male voice. “I really like you, but I’m leaving for six weeks. Let’s talk about this when I get back.”

  “Well, he does kind of have a point,” Angela said reluctantly. “Why start something you won’t be able to finish?”

  Holland fiddled with the glass container of pens on the reception desk. “I know. I guess it was just the way he said it. Kind of . . . dismissive. Like I’m silly for worrying about it.” The memory of last night’s conversation with Carson pressed like lead on her chest.

  Carson. Angela called him Mr. Dreamboat, and she wasn’t far off. He was tall, blond, and tan. An impossibly good-looking man in a town full of impossibly good-looking men. They’d met two months ago at the beach—Holland’s happy place. It had been a long day at work, and she’d gone to unwind and watch the sunset. Carson was just coming out of the waves, surfboard tucked under one arm, water dripping from his hair and his black wet suit. The sun setting over the Pacific cast him into silhouette as he’d approached.

  He’d dropped the surfboard at her side and peeled the wet suit down to his waist, revealing a bronzed chest with golden glimmers of hair over a set of seriously sculpted pecs and a six-pack. The guy had muscles for days, and Holland had felt a guilty dart of shame for being so shallow even as her traitorous body responded, fluttery heart, dry mouth, shaking knees . . . the works.

  He’d flashed his movie star smile, and then flopped onto Holland’s blanket. “Those look good. Mind if I steal one?” he said, giving the container of sushi rolls she held a sensual glance. He turned his baby blue eyes on her, and she was a goner.

  “Sure.” She’d handed him the tray. “Help yourself.”

  They’d spent the rest of the evening talking. Carson was a trust funder and devoted surfer. He lived in Long Beach to be near the waves but traveled all over the world in search of adventure. Holland learned early on that he was planning to spend the summer riding mountain bikes in the Sawtooth Mountains, but that didn’t stop her from falling in love with him.

  “Did you ask him to stay?” Angela demanded, pulling Holland back to the present.

  “Yes . . . well, maybe not in those exact words.”

  “No offense, but Carson isn’t the brightest bulb in the box. Maybe you need to spell it out.”

  Holland’s defense of Carson’s intelligence was interrupted by the ding of the elevator. A courier from Michael Kors arrived with a selection of belts ordered by Lance, another of the firm’s stylists. Angela signed for the belts and went to deliver them to Lance while Holland went back to her office to prepare for her next appointment.

  That afternoon, Holland turned her attention back to Ty Epperson. Wake Up LA had posted the interview online, and Holland watched it several times, hoping each time she clicked the play button that it would somehow magically get better. It didn’t. She scribbled notes while she watched and soon had several pages worth of suggestions and ideas. She texted Ty to set up their meeting the next day, hoping he’d be a good sport. There was definitely potential there; it would just take some work . . . and a whole lot of money.

  * * *

  Ty stood in the hotel bathroom, examining his chin. The beard was getting a little out of hand.

  Before winning the lottery, Ty had never considered himself very lucky. He’d never even played the lottery before, just bought the ticket on a whim one day when he was filling up his pickup. No one was more surprised than he was when he’d actually won.

  But if he’d been lucky to win the lottery, he’d been even luckier to find Holland. Maybe it was his own inexperience coming through, because he’d expected an image consultant to be phony and shallow, someone to be endured with as much patience as possible. But Holland was, simply put, adorable. She was a tiny little thing who barely reached his chin, with a killer smile and loads of infectious energy. Her mossy green eyes flashed with what was obviously barely concealed sass, but he’d picked up on a hint of sadness too. He was no expert, but he was willing to bet Holland had been crying not long before their appointment.

  He shot a handful of shaving foam into his hand and began rubbing it over his jaw. Did she have a boyfriend, and if so, was he the reason for the tears? Misty would know how to find out without sounding like a complete idiot. But did he want to enlist her help and put up with the inevitable teasing? Misty was usually pretty good at butting in unasked anyway, so maybe the point was moot.

  His sister gaped at him twenty minutes later when he showed up in her room. “What did you do?” she yelped, staring at his clean chin. “Holland is going to kill you!”

  “What?” Ty said, his hand going defensively to his jaw. “I thought she’d like to start with a clean slate.”

  “She’s developing your look based on the pictures she took today,” Misty said, rolling her eyes. “Now you’ve messed the whole thing up.”

  “Just because I shaved?” Ty frowned. “I figured that would be her first suggestion. I’m just trying to be helpful.”

  “Baloney. When a country boy wants to impress a girl, he shaves. You like her.”

  Ty could feel himself blushing and wished he’d kept the whiskers for camouflage if nothing else. “You’re full of it. Are we going to dinner or what?”

  Misty looped her purse over her shoulder. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this just because I’m hungry.”

  * * *

  Holland’s commute from her office to home in Simi Valley took almost ninety minutes. She spent much of the time replaying the last conversation with Carson in her head. Maybe Angela was right; maybe she needed to spell things out.

  “Before I forget, I talked to Joy today, and they’ll be here in two weeks,” Holland’s mother said later over dinner of grilled chicken breast and garlic couscous.

  Holland nodded, but had lost her appetite. Her younger sister had three boys under the age of five, and during the summer they came from Oklahoma to take advantage of the Southern California park passes their parents gave the children every Christmas. Joy was the younger sister. At twenty-five, she was married with three kids, while Holland was a year older and still living at home. Their parents were proud of Joy; she was a success, while Holland hopefully she’d find a nice man someday soon.

  Moving out would be ideal, if she could afford it. An associate image consultant didn’t make that much, and housing in California was about a million times more expensive than it was in Lawton, Oklahoma. Not everyone could be married to an electrician who was willing to stay behind and work while his family was off playing at the theme parks.

  That evening, after Holland cleaned up the kitchen, she took her phone into the backyard and took a seat on the wooden garden bench among her mother’s flowering hydrangeas. There was a pit in her stomach as she pulled up Carson’s number.

  “Hey, baby,” he answered on the second ring. “What’s up?”

  “I was just wondering . . .” Her confidence deserted her. “I mean . . . I know we talked about it and everything already, but do you have to go?”

  There was a pause before his long
sigh. “You’re acting like I’m leaving for good,” Carson said. “It’s just a couple of months.”

  “I know.” She began picking the petals off the nearest hydrangea. “It just seems so long. I’m going to miss you.”

  “You’ll be okay. We can text and IM, and I’ll be back before you know it. Besides, you know how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”

  “I know,” she said in a small voice. “I’m sorry, I’m not being very supportive. I just . . . I really care about you. I guess I feel like things are just starting, and now you’re leaving.”

  “Holland . . .” His voice was like butter. “You know I’m going to miss you like crazy. But it’s just for the summer, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  They hung up, and it was only later when she was on the brink of falling asleep that she realized he hadn’t said he cared about her, too.

  3

  “You shaved!” Holland said in surprise when Ty showed up the next morning.

  “Yeah. Uh . . . sorry.” Ty ran his hand along his jaw. “I hope I didn’t mess you up too much.”

  The facial hair had been a look of its own—in an unkempt cowboy kind of way. But clean shaven, he looked much more professional, more likely to be found in a boardroom heading up a large foundation. She’d noticed his good bone structure yesterday, but without the whiskers, his cheekbones and strong jawline took center stage. Along with those sexy eyes, of course.

  “Where’s Misty?” she asked, anxious for a distraction.

  “Sleeping in,” Ty replied. “But she wants to join us for the shopping trip.”

  “How do you know there will be a shopping trip?” Holland asked. She couldn’t help smiling.

  He shot her a grin. “We do get reality TV even in Idaho. Isn’t there always a shopping trip? Besides, Misty assured me that my sorry excuse for a wardrobe would be the first thing you’d recommend I ditch.”

  Holland liked Misty more and more. “She’s absolutely right. Well, after the whiskers, that is.”

  Ty leaned back in the chair. “I knew it,” he grinned triumphantly. “After we’re done here, we’ll have to swing by the hotel to get Misty. We’re at the Holiday Inn by the airport. Sorry, it’s a little out of the way.”

  “It’s no problem. But why is a billionaire staying at a Holiday Inn?”

  Ty blinked. “I guess because it’s convenient to the airport. Why? Where should I stay?”

  She gave an exasperated little huff. “Hello? LA is full of luxury hotels. Or what about a beachfront condo or a penthouse suite downtown? Anywhere but a Holiday Inn.”

  Ty flushed a little. “Sorry. I must seem like a real hayseed to you. I guess I didn’t really think about going anywhere else. We’ve always stayed at places like the Holiday Inn, and I’ve never had any complaints.”

  Was this guy for real? Any man she knew who had just won a fortune would be spending it as fast as he could. Maybe he was sinking all his money into his company.

  “I’m only teasing,” Holland said, feeling bad for making him uncomfortable. “You can stay wherever you want. But clothes, though, that’s a must.” She pointed to the rip in his jeans where the edge of his knee was beginning to poke through. His long legs were probably muscular from all the farm work. She quickly looked away.

  “You’re the boss,” Ty said.

  “How about we let Misty sleep a little bit longer?” Holland said. “I want to go over your interview techniques first.” She’d already pulled up the video from the TV station’s website, and she spun her laptop around on the desk to face him. “Here’s your interview from yesterday. Why don’t we watch it, and then we can talk about what needs improvement?”

  Ty picked at the hole in his jeans. “I was hoping I’d never have to see that,” he muttered. “But I guess I need to learn somehow, right?”

  Holland moved to the chair at his side and tapped the screen to start the video. She’d already watched the interview half a dozen times while taking notes, but it was much harder to watch with Ty sitting beside her. There was no doubt it was rough. He winced several times as he watched himself stumble through Janelle’s questions. When it was finally over, Holland closed the browser, knowing he’d probably feel more comfortable without the screenshot staring him in the face.

  “Well, it could have been better,” she said, striving for diplomacy.

  “You don’t have to sugarcoat it,” Ty said with a rueful grin. “I know it was a disaster.”

  “Let’s talk about what went wrong,” Holland said in an impersonal tone. She’d had to deliver hard truths to clients many times and had learned it was easiest if she stayed businesslike. “What questions did you give Janelle?”

  Ty gave her a blank look. “Questions?”

  “What questions did you send her ahead of time so she knew what you wanted to discuss?”

  “I . . . didn’t. The producer asked us when we got there if we had a list of questions, and so I told him I wanted to talk about the foundation. I didn’t know I was supposed to provide the interview questions.”

  “That’s standard procedure,” Holland said. “How else can you practice beforehand?”

  “Obviously I didn’t.” Ty gestured to the laptop. “Yeah, I can see how that would have been a big help.” He sighed ruefully.

  Seeing his pain made her heart ache. “I’m sorry,” Holland said, her professionalism slipping.

  There was self-recrimination in his eyes but also a bit of amusement. Ty began to chuckle. “You’ve got to be kidding me. No wonder it went so bad.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here,” Holland pointed out.

  “Man! What a hick from the sticks I turned out to be,” Ty said, shaking his head. “I guess we’re all lucky I didn’t show up with a pet chicken tucked under my arm.”

  “You have a pet chicken?” Holland giggled, picturing it.

  “Well, no,” he admitted, throwing her a mischievous grin. “But be honest, you wouldn’t have put it past me, huh?”

  “You threw yourself willy-nilly into regional TV without even an interview prep. I’m not sure yet whether that’s incredibly brave or incredibly foolish.”

  “How about giving me the benefit of the doubt and calling it brave?” Ty suggested, giving her a small grin.

  Their eyes met, and Holland’s stomach tickled. “At least we know where to start,” she said, trying to concentrate on her notes. “What do you want people to know about your foundation?”

  Ty rubbed a palm over his jaw as if he wasn’t quite comfortable yet with the smooth skin there. “Did you know that the federal government owns most of the western states, including more than fifty percent of the land in Idaho?”

  “But that’s good, right?” Holland asked. “Aren’t government-owned lands used for national parks and other kinds of public benefit?”

  “A very, very small part of federally owned land is accessible to or used by the public,” Ty answered. “What it boils down to is that someone behind a desk in Washington is deciding what happens to land they’ve probably never even seen. I think control should be given to the states, to the people who have a vested interest in it.”

  “How are you hoping to accomplish that?” Holland asked, scribbling on her notepad.

  “I hate the term ‘raise awareness,’ but that’s kind of the first step,” Ty said. He’d turned to face her, eyes lighting up as he spoke. “I think a lot of people don’t really know what’s going on. Last year my dad and I delivered a trailer of sheep to a ranch in Nevada, and our route took us across federally owned land. Three hours in, we found that a portion of the road had been washed out in a flash flood and was closed. So we had to take a four-hour detour with a trailer full of hungry, tired sheep.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the government’s fault,” Holland pointed out.

  “No, but it wasn’t new damage,” Ty said. “So either no one knew about it, no one cared, or they didn’t have money to fix it.”

  “If anything, that sou
nds like a reason to increase funding.”

  “Or, how about reducing the layers of bureaucracy and see how much money that saves?” Ty said. “All I’m saying is it should be up to the people who are close to the land, who can see problems, and fix them quickly without having to go through several agencies or fill out a bunch of forms.”

  “And your foundation wants to do that?”

  “I want to get a group of like-minded people together and see what we can do.”

  Holland flipped through the pages of notes she’d taken. “I think there’s a lot here we can work with. I’ll write some interview questions, and we can practice them tomorrow. Sound good?”

  His eyes filled with relief, and he nodded. “Thanks. I didn’t even realize all the prep work I needed to do. Pretty stupid, huh?” His hopeful expression went straight to Holland’s heart. She might not care too much about land in Idaho, but Ty obviously did. She’d do her best to help him.

  “Maybe a bit naive,” Holland admitted. “But not stupid. If you’re not around this kind of thing, it’s hard to know what to expect.”

  Ty checked his watch. “I’ll bet Misty is awake, if you think that’s enough about the interview for now.”

  Holland grinned. “That means it’s time for some retail therapy.”

  * * *

  Ty had been worried about dragging Misty clear to California at this stage of her pregnancy, but she’d insisted. And aside from needing a little more rest than usual—and eating more than usual—the trip seemed to have been good for her. At least she looked happier than she had in months, and there was more spring in her step than he’d seen in a long time.

  She was waiting in front of the hotel when he and Holland pulled up in the rental car.

  “Here, take the front.” Holland started to open her door.

  “Nope, I’m fine,” Misty declared as she climbed in the back. “You’re the navigator, you get shotgun.”

  Ty followed Holland’s directions, and soon they were pulling into The Grove shopping center.