The Billionaire's Muse Complete Series Box Set

by M. S. Parker

  Reb nodded, plucking at a few strings. “That’s one of my favorites too.” His gaze flicked to me. “One of the first songs I ever wrote but fits my life now more than ever.”

  I ignored the warmth that spread through me at his look. It didn’t mean anything.

  Still, as he began to sing, I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to have someone like him singing to me. The lyrics of the song weren’t romantic, but I still felt them. He meant every word, and that had nothing to do with trying to look professional.

  “He’s amazing.”

  I glanced over at Candra as she came to stand next to me. I didn’t want to agree with her, but there was no way around it. She was right.

  “The kids seem to like him,” I said, hating myself for how non-committal it sounded.

  “They do.”

  Reb finished up the song, and another kid piped up with a suggestion. They came, one right after the other, and he kept playing. He didn’t complain, not even when one quiet looking girl shyly requested a song that was definitely not one of Reb’s. Instead, he gave the kids a silly grin and began playing the cute, bouncy pop song.

  After a couple hours, Candra pushed herself off the wall and interrupted, “Who’s ready for their mid-morning snack?”

  A chorus of cheers answered the question. Three kids hung back as the others rushed to the window where fruit and bottled water waited. One was Tyler, the boy who’d been scolded for his language, and he was hanging on Reb’s every word. Another was the girl who’d asked for the pop song, and she looked like she was torn between wanting to talk to him and wanting to disappear. The third was a small, skinny boy who was trying to hide behind Tyler.

  Curious to see how Reb would handle his little admirers, I waited and watched.

  “Are you going to teach us how to play the guitar?” Tyler asked. “I’d be awesome.”

  “I bet you would,” Reb said. He clapped a hand on Tyler’s shoulder, then looked at the other two. “Hi.”

  The girl’s cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head. “Hi.”

  “She’s Mags,” Tyler said. He smacked the other boy on the shoulder. “He’s Larry.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Had he seriously just said nice to meet you to three kids who hadn’t quite hit puberty? And now he was talking to them like he was their friend. Joking with them. Asking them questions about school and the things they liked to do. He told Larry to be proud of his photographic memory. Told Mags that she should just be herself. He sat with the kids as they ate their snacks and there wasn’t a single trace of insincerity in anything he said.

  Was it possible that this was who Reb really was? That he was a decent guy who loved kids? That the alcohol and bad decision making was a fluke?

  No. I made myself look away, ignore what I was seeing. I couldn’t afford to think that he was different. One morning spent with kids didn’t make him a good guy.

  I needed to remember that, and everything would be fine.

  Thirteen

  Reb

  I hadn’t been dreading the community service itself – being sober again wasn’t that great – but I hadn’t expected to enjoy myself. I’d been looking forward to seeing Paige, even though I knew she was off limits, but when I walked into that community center and Tyler had yelled my name…I hadn’t felt anything like that in a long time.

  As I followed Tyler, Mags, and Larry over to where the rest of the kids were sitting, I realized that I was having fun. I’d loved performing unplugged, singing songs as the kids called them out. Hell, I’d even liked singing that pop song because it’d made Mags smile.

  “So, how many of you think you might like to learn how to read and write music?” I asked.

  Hands shot up, and I immediately started thinking of all the ways to best teach them how to read music. I’d never thought of myself as a teacher, but in that moment, I could see it. Showing the kids how to love music the way I did.

  “Do you write all your own songs?” Tyler asked.

  I nodded. “I do.”

  “Not all musicians do though, right?” Larry asked.

  “Right,” I said. “Sometimes, people are good at playing instruments or singing, and sometimes they’re good at writing music and lyrics, but not always both.”

  “But you do both,” Mags said.

  I nodded again. “I do.”

  I didn’t tell them that it’d been a while since I’d written anything. That the songs I’d sung this morning had been written years and months before. In my opinion, the quality had been going downhill too. The studio had been threatening to send in writers for me, to create an album that would take the charts by storm. Only the fact that I’d had it put into my contract that I had veto power on album content had kept them from doing it. If things were going to suck, I’d own it.

  It was one of the reasons Chester had been on my ass. Fucking up my image would’ve been bad enough if I’d had a new album out or one coming out, but that could’ve been spun positively. The fact that they had to keep asking me when I was going to get into the studio and finally record something meant they hadn’t been feeling very friendly toward me when the shit hit the fan.

  But that was why I had Paige. She was going to fix all of that.

  I forced my mind off of Paige as Candra announced it was time to move into the teaching music part of the morning. It was funny. I’d spent so much time drinking over the past few months because I wanted to forget, to get out of my head, and I hadn’t been able to turn to music like I had in the past. Then I met Paige, and she became another thing I couldn’t get out of my head, no matter how hard I tried.

  Until I came here, stone cold sober for the first time since the beginning of summer, and found that I could focus on the music again. Playing it, at least. I still couldn’t find it in me to focus on writing it, but I’d take what I could get.

  “All right, listen up!”

  Paige’s friend, Candra, clapped her hands and waited until everyone’s attention was on her.

  “That’s all for our special guest today.” She held up her hands when several of the kids protested. “Please make sure to thank him for spending time with us, and then it’s time for team sports.”

  We were done already? I looked at the clock and was surprised to see that it was nearly three in the afternoon. How had the time flown by so fast?

  I didn’t have a chance to think about it too much, however, because the kids were all coming over to say their goodbyes. Unsurprisingly, Tyler, Mags, and Larry all hung back, waiting until the others cleared out before they approached.

  “Do you really have to go?” Tyler asked. “You’re the first cool person we’ve ever had here.”

  The mutinous look on his face reminded me of my niece, Josie, when my sister would tell her she couldn’t do something. Annette always blamed me for that.

  “I think Ms. Hammel has some things planned for you guys to do now,” I said.

  “Team sports.” Larry made a face. “No one ever wants us on their team, so we always play together.”

  “And we always lose,” Mags added.

  I glanced up to see Paige coming toward me, but as much as I wanted to try and get some alone time with her, I wanted to see these kids smile more. “How about if I play on your team?”

  Their faces lit up.

  “For real?” Mags asked, grabbing my hand.

  I nodded. “For real.” I smiled as they cheered. “So, what are we playing?”

  “Soccer,” Tyler said. “Come on!”

  I followed the kids over to the area where an indoor soccer pitch had been set up, and Paige came after me. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” I said as we went.

  “Who’s babysitting? I love soccer.”

  Before I could strike up a conversation, we heard Tyler arguing with some kids who’d come in only a few minutes ago.

  “You aren’t our boss!” He glared up at a bigger kid without a trace of intimidation on
his face. “Ms. Hammel says everyone who wants to play can.”

  “Well, nobody wants you on their team,” the kid said, his face twisted into the kind of scowl bullies seemed to perfect.

  “I do,” I said, raising my hands. “So why don’t Tyler and I have our own team, and we play against you and whoever you want on your team. Sounds like that’ll be fair.”

  The kid’s hands curled into fists, and I wondered if all my good work today was going to get thrown away by a kid with a bad temper. I wouldn’t hit him back, obviously, but I had no doubt the media could make it my fault.

  “We got Mags and Larry,” Tyler said. “That’s four of us.”

  “I got eight,” the kid said. “But the old guy should be able to make up the difference, right?”

  Old?

  “Five against eight sounds fair to me,” Paige spoke up. She pulled her hair back from her face and called over to Candra, “Hey, let me borrow your shoes.”

  “You’re gonna play soccer?” It was hard to say who was more skeptical, Tyler, or the smart-mouthed teenager leering at Paige.

  She grinned at the older kid as she swapped out her dress shoes for a pair of sneakers. “No, I’m going to kick your ass at soccer.”

  I stared at her while the kids started shouting out positions to the others on the team. She stood up and caught me with my mouth hanging open like an idiot.

  “What?”

  “I just – I mean…” I stammered, “shit. I’m just surprised is all.”

  “That makes two of us,” she said. The moment stretched out, then broke as she bent over to stretch. “You better be good at this, Union. I don’t want to have to explain to the journalists over there why you’re disappointing the kids.”

  I glanced toward the front doors, seeing the crowd for the first time. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be annoyed that Paige had called them here, or proud that she’d believed in me enough to bring in the media without really knowing how things were going to go, but either way I was now terrified. Partly because I knew if I made the smallest mistake, that’s all anyone would focus on, but also because I didn’t want to disappoint the kids. More than that, I didn’t want to disappoint Paige.

  Fourteen

  Paige

  I hadn’t played soccer since intermural my sophomore year of college, but even with work, I’d managed to stay in shape. Reb, however, had spent the last few months drinking more than exercising, and while his body still looked fit as hell, he definitely wasn’t a soccer player.

  I sent the ball over to Mags with a neat little kick, then watched as she sent it sailing right into the make-shift goal.

  “Yes!” She threw her hands into the air.

  “Nice shot!” I held up my hand, and she slapped hers against it. “You’re a natural.”

  She flushed, her eyes darting toward Reb. I didn’t have to know her well to know that she had a crush on my musician.

  No. No, not my musician. Reb wasn’t mine.

  And he sure as hell wasn’t the reason why my face was suddenly hotter than it had been from physical exertion alone.

  “Ringer,” Reb said as he stopped behind me. He bent over, putting his hands on his knees. “You’ve played before.”

  “A little,” I admitted with a grin. “Well, maybe more than a little.”

  “I’m glad you’re on my side.” He straightened, lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.

  I tried not to stare at his stomach, and I definitely tried not to think about running my tongue over every one of those ridges.

  I jumped a little when a whistle blew, and we looked over to see a large man waving the kids in for whatever was next on their schedule, his dark mocha skin gleaming with sweat.

  “We have to go,” Tyler said. “But this was the most fun I’ve ever had here.”

  Reb fist bumped him. “I had fun too.” As the kids ran off, he added, “But I have a feeling it’s going to come back to bite me in the ass in the morning.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked as I waved a goodbye to Mags and Larry. “I think this is going to play well in the press.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Reb said. He put his hands on the small of his back and leaned back, groaning as he stretched.

  My stomach twisted, and I wondered if he made that sound during sex. “What did you mean then?” I asked, hoping to get my mind off of sex and Reb. That would end nowhere good.

  “I’m a bit more out of shape than I realized.” He leaned to the left, grimacing as those muscles engaged. “I’m going to be stiff tomorrow.”

  The comment was innocuous enough, but I still couldn’t stop my mind from changing it into something dirty.

  Dammit.

  “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

  I frowned as I looked over at him. “I didn’t have anything scheduled for you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It’s not.” He came over to stand in front of me. “I want to know what you’re doing tonight.”

  “That’s a bad idea,” I said, shaking my head. “Whatever it is you’re thinking, it’s a bad idea.”

  “Really?” He gave me that grin again, like he knew that alone could make me wet. Then again, with as many women as he’d been with, he probably knew exactly what that smile did.

  “Reb, you’re my client. This is my job.”

  “And you promised me a reward if I behaved myself today,” he reminded me.

  “I did not.” I scowled at him. “You said reward. I said–”

  “That you’d make sure I ‘got something for my troubles.’”

  Shit.

  I released a long breath. “Look, Reb–”

  He held up a hand. “A friend of mine is having an art show. He’s a photographer. My friends and I always go to showings and openings and all that, but this year, they have girlfriends. Well, one’s married. Still hard to get used to…shit. Look, do you want to come with me?”

  I almost laughed at the rambling, but he looked so earnest. Nothing like the drunk guy I first met. He’d gone from heated innuendo to a near-childlike eagerness, and I couldn’t bring myself to treat him the same way I would have if he’d been drunk or lecherous.

  “I suppose that would be okay,” I said slowly. Spending time with him outside of work wasn’t exactly professional, but going to some photography gallery was a lot better than any of the ‘rewards’ I’d been thinking he’d want.

  “Don’t sound so thrilled,” Reb said wryly. “If you don’t want to go–”

  “I do,” I cut him off. “I do.”

  His expression softened, and he reached out his hand. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me again, but instead, he plucked a leaf from my hair. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

  I was going to tell him that I’d meet him at the gallery, but he walked away before I could say anything, leaving me with no choice but to stare at his ass as he went.

  Really. No choice.

  Reb hadn’t given me a dress code, but I’d done a quick internet search for photography shows and found only one happening in the area tonight. It was for a photographer named Alix Wexler. Everything I saw told me this was black tie. Fortunately, the little black dress I’d worn for my college graduation a few months ago would work.

  A part of me still felt underdressed as I walked into the gallery, my arm linked with Reb’s. The faces I recognized here were some of the tops in their fields.

  Dinah Weston was a prominent prosecutor who’d taken down a whole precinct of corrupt cops.

  Stanley and Patty Driver owned some of the most prominent racehorses in the country, including three Kentucky Derby champions and two Breeders’ Cup champions.

  Erik Sanders was one of the wealthiest men under thirty in the city, and if the gossip columns I’d recently read were accurate, the beautiful blonde on his arm was Tanya Lacey, an employee of Branch Publishing and the woman responsible for an upcoming release that was getting rave reviews.

  And we were walking ri
ght toward them.

  Shit.

  “Erik, Tanya,” Reb greeted them both with a familiarity that said they knew each other from more than just a passing greeting at fundraisers.

  Were they two of his friends?

  Fuck.

  Working for a large PR firm in a city like New York, I’d always expected to rub elbows with some of the upper crust, but it was one thing to meet them under professional circumstances, and something else altogether to be on the arm of someone like Reb, especially since it looked like we were anything other than working together.

  “This is Paige Ryce,” Reb said. “Paige, meet Erik Sanders and Tanya Lacey.”

  I held out a hand before either of them could initiate another type of greeting. I didn’t know if they were huggers, but I did know that I didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already were. Which, in hindsight, probably meant that I shouldn’t have tried to shake their hands since they both looked like they were trying to hold back amusement that seemed to be directed more at Reb than me.

  “Paige is the PR rep I told you about,” Reb said. “She’s amazing.”

  I couldn’t stop a blush, and it only got worse when Erik raised an eyebrow, a questioning look in his bright blue eyes. Before I could decide whether or not I wanted him to say something, a handsome blond man approached. On his arm was a delicately beautiful woman who appeared to feel as out of place as I did.

  “Reb.” The man clasped Reb’s hand and gave one of those half-hugs that only some men could pull off.

  “Paige, this is Jace Randell and Savannah Birch.”

  I wasn’t really into the art world, but even I had heard of Jace Randell, especially since rumor had it that he’d found a muse who inspired his newest series, sculptures rather than paintings. Sybil had tried to get tickets to the opening night of his show, but there’d been none to spare.

  “Nice to meet you,” Savannah said with a smile.