Riley slapped her hands on her hips and tossed her hair. ‘I can either pay for stuff and you can refund me, except that I suspect that I don’t have as big a credit limit on my card as you do on yours.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s too much like hard work. Just take one of mine.’ He reached for his wallet, yanked out the first card and held it out to Riley. ‘The code is eight, nine, double four. I’ve got to go.’
‘You can’t give me this card!’ Riley protested, her apple half eaten and forgotten in her hand. ‘James, this is one of those fancy cards with no limit. I could buy a friggin’ country with this card!’
James grinned. ‘Since I have mines in most countries, I don’t need the country itself so don’t bother. But buy my sister a kick-ass wedding present with it.’
‘His and hers yachts? His and hers Indian Ocean islands? His and hers super cars?’ Riley called after him as he walked towards the door. ‘James, please give me an idea of how much I can spend—this is crazy.’
James tossed her a grin over his shoulder. ‘I do that every year with the windows...and you’ve never managed to stick to it yet. So I’m not going to waste my breath.’
As he shut the door behind him, James heard the thud of the apple hitting the door roughly where his head had been.
He chuckled quietly. Riley had always had one hell of an arm.
* * *
Riley Taylor: I’ve asked you three times over the past week to look at the mood boards so that I can get to work on your apartment.
James Moreau: Too busy and important. ;-)
Riley Taylor: *Snort* Too uninterested is more like it. I’m running out of time; the Christmas party is next week. Maybe I should just go ahead and do it without your input.
James Moreau: Great idea, do that. Going on a two-day trip to see an operation in Mexico. Don’t go mad with colour.
Riley read the series of instant messages she and James had exchanged a few days ago and shoved her mobile in the back pocket of her jeans. If James didn’t like what she’d done with his place then she had the proof that he’d said that she could go ahead and do it her way.
He was due home any minute and she bit her lip, wondering what he’d think of the changes she’d made. The white couches were gone; she’d replaced them with deep brown leather sofas that suited James’s long frame and no-fuss personality. She’d scattered rich autumn-coloured Persian rugs on the floor and she’d found a stunningly rendered painting of a herd of African cattle which she knew James would love and she’d placed it above the fireplace.
The throw cushions echoed the coppers and gold in the carpets and the painting; the effect was African-inspired, bold and masculine and changed the whole feel of the room.
She’d gone a bit nuts in his bedroom as well, Riley thought. She’d taken one of her favourite photographs of Bon Chance—a black-and-white image of the vines, the stately house and the towering mountain behind it—and supersized the image, framing it in solid black. His white wingback chair remained but now had an azure-blue throw over it and the solid black bedding was broken up with azure and white cushions.
She’d be mortified if he hated it. Any of it. Riley glanced at her watch and went to stand at the windows, looking out on the faded light. Waiting for him to arrive was worse than waiting to find out whether people liked her window displays or not.
Far, far worse. This was his home...
‘God, Riley.’
Riley spun around, her heart in her throat. She hadn’t heard him arrive and there he stood, his normally inscrutable face openly surprised.
But was that a good surprised or a bad surprised? She couldn’t tell.
Every muscle in her body tensed as he dropped his small suitcase and laptop bag to the floor, pushing back his suit jacket to place his hands on his hips. ‘Like it, hate it?’ she eventually asked when he just stood there, saying nothing.
‘You constantly surprise me,’ James said. ‘I love it.’
Riley hauled in a much needed breath as pleasure skittered through her system. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah. I’m not just saying this but it’s what I would’ve chosen for myself, if I knew what to look for. It’s...amazing.’
James’s smile, open and honest, blew away her last doubts and she held out her hand to him. ‘Glad you like it but maybe you should see the bedroom before you say anything more.’
Immediately his warm fingers tangled with hers as she led him down the passageway. ‘As long as you have put a mirror on the ceiling and a whip on the wall, I’ll love it.’
She snorted. ‘Dream on. I did, however, take your plasma off the wall.’
His mouth fell open in shock and disappointment and Riley rolled her eyes. ‘You are so easy...’ She opened the door and motioned him inside. ‘The TV is still on the wall so don’t be too scared. You’ll get used to the pink in no time at all.’
More shock. So, so easy.
Riley watched his face again and while there was pleasure in his expression—she could see that he liked it—she knew that James didn’t care enough about the new bedding and colour scheme for him to wax eloquent about it. For all his wealth, he was a pretty down-to-earth guy.
She knew from Morgan that James never ever brought women back to his apartment, so his bedroom was just a place to sleep, it didn’t need to look fantastic. But at least he tried. ‘It’s nice...not so white. I like the black, those pillow things will just end up on the floor...oh, honey.’
Yeah, that was the reaction she wanted, the reaction she knew she’d get when he saw the photograph. She wasn’t the greatest photographer but it was another form of art and she’d explored it and that photograph was one of the best she’d ever taken. ‘That is seriously... I’m not sure what to say.’
‘It’s an early Christmas present...it is nice, isn’t it?’
‘It’s freakin’ fantastic.’ James finally took his eyes off the photograph and looked at her and the expression in his eyes had the potential to stop her heart. He was looking at her in a way that every woman should be looked at, just once in her life. As if the sun and moon and stars rose with her and only her.
James lifted his hands to cradle her face and he lowered his head to brush his lips across hers. ‘Thank you...for doing this. Thank you for the thought you put into this. Thank you for my early Christmas present.’
‘Pleasure,’ Riley said against his lips. She expected him to step away and then his lips covered hers in a kiss that shot electricity to her toes. She opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t sure what, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside and she was lost. She was vaguely aware that his hands left her face so that his arms could haul her closer to him and then she was pressed up and against him, his arm easily holding her against his hard, muscular frame. This was heaven, she thought, and hell. Heaven because there was nothing better than being kissed by James, hell because she knew they had to stop before they went too far.
They couldn’t sleep together again, she told herself. She wasn’t going to do that again. But she could just kiss him, just for a little while longer.
His stubble tickled as he touched his lips to her cheekbone, nibbled her jawbone. His fingers found her breast and through the material of her shirt he massaged her nipple and teased it into an excited peak. She felt her panties dampen and when he started fumbling with the buttons on her shirt she knew that she had to stop because if he kissed her one more time, if he touched her there she would be lost...again.
Riley pushed her hands against his chest. ‘James, stop.’
It took a couple more kisses and the zip of her jeans was down before James got the message. He glowered down at her. ‘We’re really stopping?’
‘Yes.’
He dropped an F-bomb into the heavy silence that followed her answer. ‘Why?’
Riley pulled up her zip and straightened her shirt. ‘Because we’re not doing this again. Because we’re not going to have another one-night stand. Because I’m slowly getting my friend back and I don’t want to lose him again! Because I’m leaving... Pick a reason, James. Any of them work.’
‘They all suck,’ James muttered, his eyes tightly closed. ‘If I don’t get sex soon I swear I am going to die.’
He was James Moreau—surely he got sex all the time? While the thought of him being with anyone else made her feel physically ill, she wasn’t stupid. James was a good-looking, rich, charming man who could get all the sex he wanted whenever he wanted it and she couldn’t imagine him abstaining for any length of time.
He opened his eyes to glare at her. ‘Do you know how long five months actually is when you’re not having sex?’
‘Um...five months?’
‘Far too bloody long.’
Then a bank-load of pennies dropped—five months was when they were last at Bon Chance together. ‘You haven’t had sex since...me?’
James held her eyes and nodded.
Well...hell.
Except that she wasn’t idiot enough to believe him. ‘According to the entertainment pages, I wouldn’t have thought so. Your social life has been as hectic as ever.’ Riley grimaced at her waspish tone.
‘You know better than to believe anything you read in the press, Riley. I haven’t had sex with anyone since you,’ he said, emphasising every word.
‘Liar,’ Riley whispered.
‘Truth.’
Not knowing what to think, she waved at his trousers. ‘When that subsides, you’ll thank me.’
‘Trust me, I won’t,’ James grumbled.
‘It’s for the best, James.’ Riley managed a small smile. ‘I’m glad you like what I’ve done with your place but I think I’m going to go now.’
As in right now...while my legs are still receiving messages from my brain.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘THAT WAS SUCH FUN. I haven’t skated for years.’
Riley, her face bright pink with exercise and cold, shoved her hand into the crook of James’s arm as they walked past the magnificent giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, its two glorious trumpeting angels on either side. Her lips twitched from trying to keep her laugh from bubbling out. ‘Your style was...interesting.’
James looked down at her. ‘Oh, you like the way that I grip the railing? Jeez, a snail could’ve passed me.’
‘Three-year-olds did,’ Riley pointed out. ‘It’s so nice to know that you suck at something, Moreau. You always do everything so well that it’s a relief to know that you aren’t perfect.’
‘Far from it, Ri.’ James knew that her words held merit. And they should since he’d worked hard to perfect the facade he presented to the world—rich, fun, charming, unavailable, and he knew exactly how to project whatever the situation required. Very few people had ever managed to peek behind the mask and he liked it that way. Except that Riley did and always had.
There was little room for failure in his life and it felt odd to feel as relaxed, as comfortable with Riley as he did, the other party in one of his two personal failures. It was all such a long time ago and he’d been young and she’d been even younger and a part of him thought he could almost forgive the stupid kids they’d been. It didn’t mean that love was on the cards for him—until he understood the concept, he’d avoid it—but he was happy to be with her, to have her friendship again, even if he did live his life semi-erect these days since sex with Riley was pretty much all he fantasised about.
She was too good a friend and too talented an employee to lose.
‘I need to get home, Jay,’ Riley said as they stopped at a traffic light, her gloved hand now in his bare one. ‘Whistle for a taxi for me?’
James turned to face her. ‘Come home with me. I have a surprise for you.’
Riley sent him her patented what-are-you-up-to-now? look. ‘A good surprise or a bad surprise?’
‘A good surprise, oh, cynical one. And, to sweeten the pot, I’ll tell you that I’ve received a case of Bon Chance’s Merlot—’
‘My Merlot?’ Riley almost danced on the spot. ‘The 2004?’
‘Yep,’ James confirmed. ‘But you’ll have to come to my place to drink it. And you’ll have to do a bit of work.’
‘Jeez, I’ve decorated your apartment, I’ve bought your Christmas gifts and I’ve organised your Christmas party,’ she complained good-naturedly. ‘What else do you want me to do?’
‘You’ll see,’ James said cryptically. ‘You haven’t bought Morgan and Noah’s wedding present yet; is that why you’re hanging onto my credit card?’
She looked at him from under those long, long lashes. ‘Mmm. I suppose I should tell you that I used it at a number of Madison Avenue stores today. Thanks for my new winter wardrobe, by the way.’
James shook his head and grinned. ‘Liar.’
Riley sucked in her cheeks to keep herself from smiling. ‘How can you tell?’
James placed his hand on the back of her neck. ‘Firstly, you can’t lie worth a damn. Secondly, you’re not the type to allow any man to buy your clothes and thirdly, you would consider using my card for your benefit stealing. And you’re the most honest person I know. And lastly...’
‘What?’
James laughed down at her. ‘No banking alerts.’
Riley shrugged and gave him a shoulder bump as they crossed the street. ‘So, did you look at those portfolios I gave you?’
He pretended not to know what she was talking about because he hadn’t looked at anything to do with the possible candidates to replace her. He had no intention of ever looking at anyone to replace her. ‘What portfolios?’
‘Dammit, Moreau. You told me to look for someone to replace me; I found six people, all of whom would do a stupendous job as window designer.’
‘Is your portfolio in there?’
‘James...’ Riley said in warning.
‘Then not interested.’ He dropped a kiss on her nose and sent her a grin. ‘Stop fighting with me; you’re going to spoil your surprise.’
‘You are the most annoying human being alive,’ Riley muttered.
James shrugged, knowing that she wouldn’t feel like that for long.
* * *
‘A CHRISTMAS TREE? You bought me a Christmas tree?’
‘The American tradition is to decorate it on Christmas Eve but I thought that it would be fun to have one up for the Christmas party, and it’s your favourite thing to do at Christmastime.’
‘That and singing carols.’
‘Which you are amazingly bad at.’
Riley pulled a tongue at him and then her eyes went back to the massive bare fir tree that stood in the corner of James’s apartment, dropping slivers of green onto his expensive floor. As soon as James took her coat she walked over to the tree and touched its branches.
‘As a little girl, your favourite part of Christmas was doing this—decorating the tree. I remember that you’d start sketching designs in mid-November and by the first of December you’d have the one in your house decorated and you’d start nagging us to get ours done.’ James shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels. ‘When we finally gave in to you, you became a bossyboots, ordering us about and dictating where to place the ornaments and how to place them.’
Riley grinned. ‘I did. I love putting up the tree.’
James gestured to it. ‘It’s all yours; decorate away. Ornaments are in the boxes.’
Riley sank to her haunches and reached for the nearest box and opened the lid. Inside were exquisite hand-blown glass ornaments, crystal angels and perfectly wrapped miniature boxes. ‘James, these are beautiful. Where did you get them?’
He shrugged. ‘Sorry, no idea. I wish I’d had the time to track them down myself but, you know, mining company to run. I called Mum’s personal shopper and told her that I wanted the nicest, artiest, most unusual ornaments she could find.’
‘The bill is going to be enormous,’ Riley warned him, cradling a golden glass ball with a jewelled angel on it. ‘They’re exquisite.’
‘And they’re yours, by the way. For the tree now, for all your Christmas trees in the future. Your early Christmas present.’
Riley stared at him, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. What an utterly perfect gift, she thought. The tree, the ornaments, the fact that he knew her so incredibly well. How was she ever going to get on that plane just over a week from now—how would she do that? And how could he let her go when there was so much emotion shimmering between them, so much fun to be had?
James, say something to make me think that you believe in me, believe in us, she silently begged him. Something that will wipe away the confusion and tell me that there is more to the James and Riley story than massive attraction and a blossoming friendship.
James just rubbed the back of his neck and softly shook his head. ‘I’ll get you that wine.’
Riley blinked back tears as she started to unpack the boxes filled with the fragile, exquisite works of art. Decorating this tree would take the longest time, she decided, because she couldn’t help inspecting each ornament, marvelling at the craftsmanship, the artistry.
‘What about some Christmas carols later?’ James asked, putting her glass of wine on the floor next to her knee. He ran his hand over her hair. ‘I don’t have any Christmas songs on my iPod but I thought that, after supper, maybe I could play a couple on my guitar and test how rusty I actually am.’
Riley grinned at him, delighted. ‘I haven’t heard you play for...jeez...ten, twelve years! That would be amazing. And I could sing...’
Christmas With a Billionaire: Billionaire Under the MistletoeSnowed in With Her BossA Diamond for Christmas Page 22