The Geek's Bad Boy Billionaire

by Talia Hunter

  “I said I’d give you the place to yourself.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She shook her head. “I won’t throw you out, that doesn’t make sense. Two rooms. Two people. It wouldn’t be logical otherwise.”

  “Do you always do the logical thing?”

  A pink flush stained her cheeks. “Obsessively,” she admitted.

  Now it was his turn to hesitate. So far, their reunion hadn’t exactly gone well. Perhaps it would be better to wake up John and Jenna and crash on their sofa. They’d put a good face on, but Blake knew he’d be intruding. What a choice. He could either ruin the no-doubt romantic plans of his best friend and the woman he was about to marry, or share his own suite with a woman who’d made it clear she thought he was bad news.

  He gazed at Caylee, trying to make up his mind. Though she’d turned into a gorgeous woman, he could still see the serious girl who’d captivated him. Her house had been a loud, chaotic mess, and Caylee had rebelled by making sure her room was immaculate, her grades were straight A’s, and her emotions were always in tight control.

  Blake’s house had been much worse. His parents had hated each other, and his life had been an endless series of screaming arguments and slamming doors. He used to escape next door and distract himself by making a game of trying to ruffle Caylee’s quiet composure. That was, until the night he’d called his uncle and begged him to let Blake come live with him.

  His uncle had saved him, helped him turn his life around. And though she didn’t know it, Caylee had been the main reason he hadn’t imploded in the meantime.

  “Don’t tell me,” said Blake. “You’re here for the math conference? You’re a mathematician?”

  “That’s right.”

  It made sense. She’d always seemed to like facts and figures more than people. She’d devour her homework with complete concentration, barely noticing him as he lay on her bed, smoking cigarettes, drinking stolen beer, and watching her study. He’d leave his empty beer cans on the floor of her room, draw dirty pictures inside her textbooks, and flick ash into her drawers. And the whole time, she’d be totally absorbed in her work, figuring out long equations full of Xs and Ys with a tiny frown imprinted between her eyebrows. That was probably why he’d tried so hard to get her attention. If she’d given it easily, he wouldn’t have wanted it so badly.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

  “I’m going to assume you have enough honor that you won’t try to sneak into my room.”

  The idea of spending the night in her room sent heat through his body. It was a delicious thought, even if it did stir memories that were better left buried.

  And then she added, “Really, I’m so tired I think if you did try something I’d sleep right through it.”

  Blake let out an explosive laugh. He’d like to see her try! He had a sudden urge to sweep her up and into his bed, tearing loose those beautiful breasts he’d caught such a tantalizing glimpse of, and making sure she didn’t sleep for hours. He cut off the thought quickly as warmth spread below his belt and the blood pulsed to a part of his anatomy best left sleeping. Shit, what was she doing to him?

  Caylee reddened, a flustered expression on her face. “I don’t know why I said that. I never say things like that.”

  “You’re exhausted.”

  “It’s been an awful day.” She looked confused and tired, and suddenly so fragile that his protective instinct swelled. “There’s a very real chance I’m going to lose my research funding. My only chance to keep it is to impress the chairman of the research foundation by giving a flawless presentation, but the flash drive with my presentation on it, my speech, and all my notes are in my missing suitcase. Not to mention that I’ve got no toiletries, and just the clothes I’ve got on—Oh!” She spread her hands out in a hopeless gesture. “I have no contact lens solution.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she looked utterly defeated. For an instant he thought she might cry again, but then she blinked and the moment was gone. Her back straightened and she gave a tiny shake of her head, shaking the defeat away, a determined look to her mouth.

  Damn if Caylee wasn’t tougher than she looked. She might be a tiny slip of a thing but she had a backbone, that was for sure.

  “I’ll see what I can find in the lobby stores for you to wear, so you won’t die from the heat in the morning. There isn’t much there, mainly sarongs and swim suits, but it’ll be better than what you’ve got on.”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind.” She cocked her head to one side as she examined Blake and he could almost see the calculations going through her head. What did he add up to in her eyes? Could she see the man he’d become, or was she still multiplying in the screwed-up teenager who used to drive her crazy?

  He turned away, shrugging off her examination by heading for the door. He hated reminders of his past and, anyway, if Caylee hadn’t liked him back then, she wasn’t about to start now. Their night together had been a glitch in the matrix. It had been all he could think about for months afterward, but he’d never figured it out. His best guess was that her sister Lana had put her up to it—it was far more her style than Caylee’s—or maybe Caylee had been curious about slumming it with the troublemaker next door.

  Whatever the reason, she’d obviously regretted it. And no matter how badly it hurt, he’d finally realized it was for the best that she’d decided not to contact him afterward. She was college-bound with a bright future. He was struggling to pull his way out of the gutter. Besides, with parents like his, he’d never be the commitment type.

  One of the perks of owning a resort was that he could choose women to date who only wanted a short-term holiday fling. Whenever he was tempted to look for anything more permanent he just had to think of his parents’ screaming matches to go cold on the whole idea. Not to mention the fact that he had more important things to think about right now, like the clusterfuck the site manager was making of the groundwork for his new resort in Indonesia.

  Even if there’d been a chance in hell that Caylee was up for a repeat performance of their night together, he didn’t need that kind of complication right before he was due to leave. No matter how much he might have dreamed about getting a second chance with her over the years, he’d make sure to keep his distance.

  Oh yeah, Blake? Then why are you so determined to pick her out something pretty to wear from the store, even if you have to break the damn window to get in?

  He clenched his fists as the elevator took him smoothly back down to the lobby. He’d help her out for old times’ sake, but there was no way he was going to let a stuck-up mathematician do a number on him. No way in the world.

  Chapter Three

  A bed. Thank heavens. As Caylee shut the door to the spare bedroom firmly behind her, all she wanted was to crawl into the enormous king-size bed and try to forget her horrible day. But first she needed to wash away the travel grime and perspiration. She pulled off her clothes and put them neatly in the closet, then stepped into the shower in the room’s en suite and let the hot water run over her, soothing her stiff muscles and making her sigh with pleasure. It felt so good.

  What a shock it had been seeing Blake Samson again. When he’d lived next door she used to tell him to leave her alone, to stop coming over and treating her bedroom like his property. But she never managed to keep him out and her mother hadn’t backed her up, instead telling Blake he could come over as much as he wanted. Thinking back now, she could understand why her mother had allowed it, and why Blake had preferred to be at her place than anywhere near his own violent home. Not that her house had been perfect—her sister was far too impulsive, her mother vague and flighty. Every room but Caylee’s had looked as though a team of burglars had been permanently employed to keep emptying the contents of drawers and closets onto the floor. But her family loved and cared for one another, while Blake’s parents were hateful.

  At the time, Caylee had been too wrapped up in her studies to think much about how hard his life must have been
. For years he’d just been the bad boy next door. Then she’d developed a crush on him, which had made absolutely no sense. The only thing she could attribute it to was Lana’s bad influence.

  Caylee soaped her arms, working up a lather.

  No matter how difficult Blake’s home life, nothing excused the fact that he’d stolen from her. No, much worse than that. He’d deliberately stripped her of everything that had mattered to her, including her virginity and her self-respect.

  She bent to soap her legs and, as she lowered her face, she let the hot water sting her cheeks. Darn him for making her remember that night so long ago.

  She’d woken in the dark to find him lying beside her on top of her blankets. His breaths were shallow and his body trembled as though something was terribly wrong. It wasn’t entirely strange; when they were younger he’d creep into her room and they’d lie silently side-by-side, listening to his parents’ screaming matches. But he hadn’t done it for ages.

  She remembered studying the dark silhouette of his face. It seemed a man’s face rather than a boy’s, both familiar and strange in the moonlight. When he’d turned toward her and his soft male breath had tickled her skin, her heart had quickened.

  “Get under the blankets,” she’d whispered, thinking he must be cold.

  She’d reached for him to help him under. He’d made a hollow, desperate sound when she touched him. Then he’d kissed her in a way that had stolen her reason. He’d had such hunger inside him, so much passion it undid her completely. But though he’d shook with need, he’d been incredibly tender. He’d kissed her breasts so gently it felt reverent. He’d caressed and loved her until she’d gasped with pleasure. Afterward, lying in his arms and drifting off to sleep, she’d wanted to cry because it had felt so natural and right.

  Caylee lathered her belly furiously. She’d been a fool and, even after all these years, her anger still burned when she thought about it.

  Blake hadn’t been there when she woke up. He wasn’t in school that day, and she’d arrived home late to find her room ransacked. Her drawers were hanging open, her belongings were scattered, and her valuables were missing. Blake had not only ripped away her innocence, he’d gone out of his way to make sure she knew he was the one who’d stolen her belongings. He’d deliberately torn her heart to pieces and disappeared, and the mess he’d left behind was his only good-bye. She’d given herself to him body and soul, only to find she’d been nothing to him but an easy target.

  She took a deep breath and put the soap back in the holder before she wore it down to a sliver. Who’d have thought the monster would turn into, well, as much as she hated to admit it, a very handsome man, at least if you liked an arrogant, rough-looking type. Of course, she wasn’t in the least bit attracted to him. Why had she made that foolish comment about sleeping through it if he tried something? Such a silly, thoughtless remark was completely out of character for her. It was exhaustion, it had to be.

  Caylee stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around herself. She was almost ready for bed, but first she had to do something with her contacts. She couldn’t sleep in them, and leaving them in water overnight would no doubt ruin them. Still, it couldn’t be helped. She filled a couple of glasses with water, but her eyes were so dry from the endless plane trip that it was a struggle to get the contacts out. By the time she’d managed to drop the lenses in the water, her eyes were stinging from the effort and everything had turned into a fuzzy blur. Eye drops would have done wonders. Oh well. She’d be able to find the bed and hopefully her eyes would recover by morning.

  There was a soft knock at her bedroom door.

  Caylee froze. She was almost naked. The towel wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t that long either. The thought of dragging on her clothes again made her shudder. She felt so clean, and her clothes were sweaty from the long trip. No, the towel would have to do. But it didn’t help that she could hardly see and her eyes were probably bloodshot as well as useless.

  Caylee tipped up her chin defiantly as she opened the door.

  “Oh.” Blake’s already deep voice dropped even lower. “I didn’t realize you’d be undressed already.”

  He was a blur in front of her, but that voice. Lord, that voice. It was pure liquid honey. “I was getting into bed.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and she bit her lip, embarrassed. Why had the word ‘bed’ come out sounding like an invitation? She was losing control again. Lack of sleep, that’s definitely what it was. She clutched the too-small towel even more tightly to herself.

  Because she couldn’t see Blake, all her other senses were in overdrive. She hadn’t noticed the way he smelled until now, but the scent of fresh air and salt clung to him, making her think of windswept beaches and the feel of the sun kissing her bare flesh.

  “I got you some things,” he said in that indecently liquid voice.

  Caylee cleared her throat. “What things?”

  “You can’t see?”

  “I had trouble getting my contacts out because my eyes were dry. They’ll be better tomorrow.” Darn it, why couldn’t she be more in control when he was around? First he’d caught her sobbing, and now this.

  “Here.” He moved toward her and she knew he was reaching for her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the towel. She had a sudden memory of a game she’d once played where she had to put her hand into a black bag without being able to see what was inside it. Her skin had felt electrified, sparking all over with the anticipation of touching something unknown. It felt that hypersensitive now. When his warm hand touched hers, it sent a jolt up her arm so strong she had to bite her lip to stop a gasp.

  He pressed some fabric into her hand. “I had to guess your size, so I hope it fits.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was too quiet, almost a whisper. So much for the “Queen of Control.” Her sister wouldn’t recognize her if she saw her now; Lana’s nickname for her was a long way from how she was acting. Caylee frowned at the thought and jerked her hand back.

  The sudden movement made him flinch and for a moment his hand snagged on the edge of her towel. She felt a pulsing heat from his skin, his hand almost touching her bare breast. Then he pulled it away.

  “Sorry,” he said. But he didn’t sound sorry. His voice was soft and husky, even sexier than before. A plastic bag rustled. “There’s some contact solution, too, and a few basics like a toothbrush and comb. I’ll put the bag on your bedside table, okay?”

  He stepped toward her and Caylee forced her feet back, making room for him to get past. His body gently brushed against her and she breathed in the scent of him, letting it fill her until she was dizzy with the freshness of it, the feeling it gave her deep in her belly. Dear lord, he smelled so good.

  “So you’ll be okay for tonight then, Caylee? Is there anything else you need?”

  She cleared her throat. How come her own name sounded intoxicating when he purred it like that? It wasn’t logical. She’d heard plenty of people say her name before and never once had wanted to ask them to say it again. What was wrong with her? Sleep, that was it. She needed sleep.

  “Yes. I mean, no, I have everything now. Thank you.”

  “Good night then.”

  “Good night.” As soon as Caylee shut the door, her legs went weak and she sagged against it. What was happening to her? Was she going mad?

  Pheromones. Yes, that had to be it. Every fertile animal gives out an airborne signal—a very faint smell—to trigger a response from the opposite sex. Blake’s pheromones were attractive to Caylee, that was all. It wasn’t something she could help, just a chemical reaction that caused an involuntary response in her body. A remnant of a more primitive time, when having a big hunk of a man as a protector was a good way to survive.

  That low, sexy voice didn’t help. The sound of it made her feel warm all over, as though he was caressing her with each word. In spite of herself, Caylee leaned her head against her bedroom door so she could put her ear against it and listen. Sh
e could hear him in the kitchen, filling a glass of water. There must be a scientific reason why his voice had made her feel the way it did. Perhaps there was an aural equivalent to pheromones?

  Whatever it was that had caused that strange reaction, she wouldn’t let it happen again.

  Caylee rescued her contacts from the water, rinsed them with the solution he’d given her, then left them to soak. She put the towel back on the rail and slid into bed, her nipples hardening as the cold, crisp sheets slipped over her naked body. When she closed her eyes she could still smell him, as though he was right there in the bed with her. What if he whispered softly into her ear? The thought made her skin tingle as if he was running his fingers over her, squeezing her nipples between them. She could almost feel his strong hands sliding down to her—stop it, Caylee!

  There was no way she could ever be attracted to Blake, not after what he’d done. Perhaps she should confront him and ask why he’d hurt her so badly, but was there any point when no apology could ever make up for it? Besides, she still felt like a fool for having developed that stupid crush and letting him take advantage of her. It had been a terrible mistake, one she only wanted to forget. Remembering it was painful enough, but what if she asked him about it and he made light of it? What if he hadn’t given his actions—or her—another thought in all these years?

  When she’d cleaned up the mess he’d made of her bedroom, she’d discovered the entire contents of her piggy bank were gone—all of her pocket money, birthday, and Christmas money saved up over the last few years. A little over six hundred dollars. Worse, he’d taken her grandmother’s wedding ring, a delicate circle of gold with a single diamond that had meant more to her than all the money in the world.

  He’d also taken her diary. She’d been stupid to trust him with its location. He was the only person in the world who knew she hid it in a secret compartment in her closet, a place nobody could have ever found by accident. In her diary she’d spilled her secrets, including pages and pages on her foolish crush on Blake. It was private and utterly personal, but valueless to anyone but her. Stealing it had obviously been a message. He’d wanted her to know he was the thief, beyond any doubt. As unlikely as it was that someone else had come into her room that night to steal from her, nobody else could possibly have found the diary. Blake had intended to rip out her heart by taking the things she cared about most, and he’d succeeded. She’d been shocked beyond words at his cruelty.