The Geek's Bad Boy Billionaire

by Talia Hunter

  No matter how her traitorous body reacted to him, Blake was the exact opposite of everything Caylee wanted in a man. Her future husband would be sensible, practical, and kind. He’d have a good, steady job, and he’d keep their home tidy and organized. He didn’t need to be particularly handsome. More important was that he’d share her dislike of any kind of fuss or drama.

  If only she could call her sister. Talking with Lana would be a powerful antidote to whatever mysterious spell Blake’s voice had cast over her. Lana would no doubt be mooning over some bad-choice guy who was obviously wrong for her. How could Lana keep falling madly in and out of love? She was on a constant emotional carnival ride, her uncontrolled passions always ending in heartbreak. Caylee was far too smart to let her heart rule over logic.

  Blake was exactly the kind of man her sister always ended up regretting: a choice based on a fleeting physical attraction that ignored the fact that he couldn’t be trusted. Her sister always thought she could change the men she fell for, polish the rough and find a diamond. But all the polishing in the world couldn’t make something precious out of base rock. Lana trusted men she shouldn’t and suffered for it.

  Yes, Caylee would stay well clear of Blake. His giving her a room to stay in didn’t come close to making up for hurting her all those years ago. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly he’d hurt her then, and she certainly wouldn’t give him the opportunity to do it again. Instead, she’d have as little to do with him as possible, put him out of her mind, and concentrate on saving her career.

  Forget Blake. She flipped onto her side and tucked both hands firmly underneath her cheek. Just sleep.

  Chapter Four

  Blake woke up with the sheets tented over a huge, throbbing erection and dreams of Caylee’s tight little body lingering in his mind.

  He’d almost lost it last night when she’d opened the door wearing nothing but a towel and a sexy Mr. Magoo unfocused look in her eyes. It had been too dark the night they’d spent together to be able to tell, but he imagined she had the same look right after she came. The thought made him groan aloud until he clamped his teeth down on the sound. She was only in the next room, for heaven’s sake. What if she heard him?

  Cold shower. Yeah, that’s what he needed. And a cold hard dose of reality to go with it. Force her out of his thoughts, because she sure as hell wasn’t about to join him in bed. Right after John and Jenna’s wedding, Blake needed to get on a plane to Indonesia, never to see Caylee again.

  Blake turned the shower down so it was cold enough to scare away both his hard-on and the last lingering wisps of his dreams. When he’d dressed, he found that Caylee was up already, sitting at the dining table, talking on the telephone. She had her back to him and he stopped in the doorway, caught by the sight of her bare shoulders. She’d put on the bikini he’d bought her and wrapped the sarong around her waist, and when her body turned slightly he saw he’d bought exactly the right size. Of course he had, the size and shape of her breasts had been permanently imprinted on his brain when he was an impressionable teenager. Gently cradled within two cups of green fabric, they were every bit as perfect as he remembered.

  She glanced over at him and he saw the bikini’s color matched her eyes just as well as he’d hoped. She looked incredible in it, like a whole different person. The only thing that didn’t seem different was her tightly pulled-back hair, forced into a plait that ran down to the middle of her back. What would she look like with her hair hanging loose over her shoulders? For some reason the thought seemed even more erotic than if he’d imagined her naked.

  Trying not to stare, he busied himself making coffee and getting a bowl of cereal while she tried to convince whoever it was on the other end of the phone to have something sent to the closest bank office. It didn’t sound like it was going well, and after a few minutes she hung up with a sigh of frustration.

  “Morning,” he said. “Sleep well?”

  “Yes, thank you. I hope you don’t mind me using your phone? I would have asked first, but—”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “I haven’t had much luck this morning. I called the airport, but there’s no sign of my luggage. So I tried to arrange a temporary credit card, but by the time they issue it, I’ll be on a flight home.” She lifted her hand and smoothed it over her already-slick hair.

  “Coffee?” he asked.

  “Please.”

  “And cereal?” He motioned to the box. “Or something else? There’s a room service menu in the drawer.”

  “Cereal would be nice, thank you.”

  He sat opposite her while they ate, trying not to let his eyes keep drifting over the bikini he’d gotten her. Did she have any idea how good she looked? She should let him buy all her clothes.

  Come to think of it, she’d need him to do just that. He glanced at his watch, cursing the idiot site manager he should never have hired. The groundwork in Indonesia was running so far behind schedule he needed to make sure his suppliers knew about the delays. He should start making calls and look for a replacement manager while he was at it. And when he finally managed to get off the phone, he had no doubt John and Jenna would want to grill him about place settings and flowers, as though they expected him to personally fold the napkins for their big day. The fact that the resort’s wedding organizer had it totally under control hadn’t stopped them asking him a million questions. Yeah, he couldn’t afford to take any time off today.

  His gaze lingered on Caylee’s bikini. Damn. As delicious as she looked, she could hardly wear it to her conference.

  “We’ll go and get you some clothes,” he said abruptly.

  “No thank you. I can’t inconvenience you like that when I’m sure you have other things you’d rather be doing.”

  “Nothing at all.”

  “I very much appreciate your offer, and your purchase of this swim suit. But I prefer not to—”

  “Either we go shopping, or you wear that bikini until they manage to find your luggage, which might not be for a couple of days. And while you do look very nice in it, when I take you out for dinner tonight, you might feel a little awkward being the only one in the restaurant who’s not wearing actual clothing.”

  She stared at him, her eyes wide, the spoon halfway to her mouth. After a moment, her startled look turned into a thoughtful one and her gaze grew distant. He could tell she was sorting through the problem of her missing suitcase in her head, looking at it from every angle and considering all possibilities. Finally she put the spoon down. “Thank you, Blake. It’s true that until my suitcase arrives I need something to wear, and I can hardly meet the head of the research foundation wearing a bikini. I’ll accept your offer, but when I get my credit cards back I insist on reimbursing you.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Then we don’t have a deal.”

  “Okay.” Let her think she was getting her own way. She didn’t need to know he had no intention of letting her pay him back, and pretending to go along with it gave him another card to play. “But I get to make a condition of my own.” When she started to protest, he cut her off. “It’s only fair. A condition for you and one for me.”

  Her mouth twitched up. “I could demonstrate the mathematical reasoning that proves your logic faulty. But go on, what’s your condition?”

  “I get to choose an evening dress for you.” As she narrowed her eyes he added, “Don’t bother to argue, it’s not negotiable.”

  She let out a sigh of reluctant agreement. “Where will we shop?”

  “You’ve already seen the only stores on the island. We’ll head over to the mainland.”

  “What time does the ferry leave?”

  “Ferry?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then…?”

  Ignoring her question, he went into his bedroom and came out a moment later with a tube of sunscreen. “You’ll need this. Come here.” He squirted some into his hand.

  “I can do it,” sh
e objected.

  “You’ll miss a spot and get burned.”

  He smiled to himself as she grudgingly accepted his logic and turned to let him rub it onto her back and shoulders. He lingered over the job, enjoying the feel of her silky skin. Her small frame seemed to fit perfectly into his hands, as though the arch of her neck and the curve of her spine had been shaped for him to stroke. When he rubbed the cream into her neck, she leaned her head back in response to the pressure of his fingers. So she liked it, huh? What would happen if he blew gently against her neck or nibbled her earlobe? He was bending his head when she seemed to jolt back to her senses.

  “I’ll do my front.” She pulled away from him and thrust out her hand for the tube.

  “Spoil sport.” He grinned when she glared at him.

  “You were enjoying that?”

  He cocked his eyebrow. “Weren’t you?”

  Her cheeks tinged with pink. Interesting. He didn’t remember her blushing so easily as a teenager. What else had changed in the last twelve years?

  He handed the tube over reluctantly so she could rub sunscreen on her front. Her skin had a natural olive tone, but it was obvious she spent a lot of time indoors. It actually made a nice change that she wasn’t as tanned as everyone else he knew. And her skin looked almost translucent against the vivid green of the bikini he’d brought her. Yeah, that bikini was a great choice.

  The benefit of her having nothing but the bikini and sarong to wear was that he didn’t have to wait for her to change or put makeup on, or whatever it was that always seemed to take women so long in the mornings, so they could head straight to the beach. His boat shed was perched over the water, so taking out either his Jet Ski or his jet boat was just a matter of hooking up the winch and pressing a button to lower either one onto the calm sea below. When he ushered her into his boat shed, she drew in an audible breath.

  “Are these yours?”

  “This is my favorite.” He ran his hand over the graceful lines of the sleek white Jet Ski.

  “And those?” She pointed to some of his racing trophies, which he’d placed haphazardly onto a shelf.

  “I race the jet boat sometimes. This one, and another I have in the States.” He’d forgotten the trophies were there. It wasn’t the awards he cared about, but the racing. The feeling of danger and speed was addictive. Shame that he wouldn’t get to race again for a while. He’d be tied up for at least a year in Indonesia, too busy working for any fun. But it couldn’t be helped. Seeing a resort rise from empty land was a buzz, too, though he had to admit it was a hell of a lot slower and less exhilarating than crossing the finish line in a boat going 140 miles per hour. Still, there was so much to do in Indonesia, he’d hardly have time to miss getting out on the water.

  “Are we taking the jet boat today?”

  He considered it for a moment. He was tempted to sit her behind him on the Ski. She’d have to sit close, with her arms tightly around him for safety, her chest pushed into his back. He pulled his gaze away from it. The boat would be more sensible. They’d have more room to store her purchases, for a start. “Yeah, the boat,” he said reluctantly, taking his hand off the Ski. “Grab a life jacket from the rack while I launch her.”

  To his surprise, Caylee seemed a natural on the water. A smile grew on her face when they cleared the five-mile mark and with a wide expanse of sparkling, blue sea before them, he cranked up the speed. Even when he eased the throttle all the way up so they were flying across the tops of the waves, the boat’s streamlined hull barely touching the water, her smile only got wider. So she liked speed, huh? Who’d have guessed? If he’d been alone he would have whooped with the sheer exhilaration of it, the joy of traveling so fast. But the squat buildings that filled the tourist port of Airlie Beach drew close far too quickly, and it seemed they were pulling up alongside the wharf in no time at all.

  Caylee turned to him, her eyes sparkling and the big grin still on her face. Some hairs had managed to work themselves loose from her plait and, with them drifting around her face, she looked more carefree than he’d ever seen her. Shit, she was beautiful.

  “I have to admit, that was rather exciting,” she said with a laugh.

  “That was nothing. Tomorrow I’ll take you out on the Jet Ski. Now that’s fun.”

  The smile faded. “Tomorrow I need to attend some conference events and prepare to present my research. Although how I’m going to manage without my speech, I have no idea.”

  “Wear that bikini and nobody will notice whether you’ve got a speech ready or not.” It was a joke, but as soon as the words left his mouth he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Sure enough, her eyes flicked away from him and her face went cold. Damn. He’d meant it as a compliment, but it had come out sounding as though he’d been making fun of her work. The last thing he’d wanted was to remind her of the way he used to taunt her when they were kids. “Here.” He offered his hand. “Let me give you a boost up onto the wharf.”

  “No thank you, I can manage.” She gripped the edge of the wooden platform that seemed high because the jet boat was so sleek and low to the water. It wasn’t high enough that he’d have trouble lifting himself onto it, but she was so small she’d find it tricky. What the hell was she doing? She’d never get up like that.

  Sure enough, though she made a mighty effort, her hand slipped on the wet wood and she fell back into the boat and landed almost on top of him.

  “Gotcha!” He grabbed her to stop her from going over the side and she clutched him for balance. Suddenly her face was very close to his, her body clinging against him, clad only in the bikini, with the sarong loose and slipping to the boat’s floor. She felt small against his bulk, almost fragile, and his arms tightened protectively around her. His heart was beating fast. Her breaths were coming quickly as well, her breasts pressing against his chest as she drew in air. Her face lifted to his, her lips moist and slightly parted. He wanted to kiss her. Christ, did he want to kiss her. But his shorts were starting to tighten and the way she was held against him, any minute now she’d feel the way his body was reacting to her.

  He let her go, but kept hold of her arms to steady her. Then he turned away as soon as she had her balance, so he could get himself together. Kiss her? The woman didn’t even like him. Bet she’d slap his face if he tried it.

  “If you put your foot here,” He indicated a spot where the wharf supports formed a triangle, “and don’t mind if I…” He gripped around her waist and waited as she raised her foot to the right place. Then he lifted her so she could scramble onto the wooden pier. A moment later he was standing beside her.

  “Come on.” His voice was gruffer than he’d intended. “The stores are this way.”

  As he led the way toward the main street, Blake swore to keep both his hands and his jokes to himself in the future. He didn’t like the way she made him feel, like he’d be willing to tiptoe over hot coals for one of her smiles. What the hell was she doing to him? Whatever it was, it was going to stop. Right now. Or at least, right after he bought her the sexiest damn evening dress he could find.

  Chapter Five

  When Blake pulled a slinky little black dress from the rack, Caylee shook her head with what she hoped was a look so firm he wouldn’t argue with her. “No, not that one.”

  “We had a deal, remember? My choice.”

  “All the clothes I’ve ended up with have been your choice,” she grumbled, taking the dress out of his hand and into the changing room. He was impossible. But the truth was that she was enjoying herself. Maybe it had something to do with the exhilarating boat trip, or the moment when he’d caught her in his arms and she’d felt all her limbs go weak and her flesh melt against his. Or maybe it was that she was wearing a skimpy bikini that showed 90 percent more flesh than she’d normally display. Whatever it was, she felt different today. Almost giddy. Or at least willing to loosen her normally rigid standards and experiment with some new looks. Everyone needed a change occasionally, didn’t they?

/>   Who’d have thought shopping with Blake could be so much fun? Even if he pulled the most unsuitable clothes off the racks and insisted on buying them for her. The man wouldn’t take no for an answer. And as reluctant as she was to admit it, she did look good in everything he chose. How could a boy who’d betrayed her so completely have grown into a man who was so self-assured, laughing and joking as though he’d done nothing wrong? If she’d done something that terrible, the guilt in her face would be plain for all to see. Blake was a mystery. And though she was enjoying herself, she’d be careful not to forget he couldn’t be trusted.

  If he hadn’t made her feel like such an idiot, she’d be tempted to ask him why it hadn’t been enough for him to just leave—why he’d had to steal from her as well, to hurt her as much as he could. But she wasn’t ready for that conversation. It was one she wanted to have on her own terms, once she’d steeled herself for whatever answer he might give. The pain he’d caused her still felt like a tender scar, and she wanted to make sure he couldn’t tear the wound back open. The fact that he hadn’t acted guilty around her made her suspect that hurting her was something that had barely troubled him, and she needed to prepare herself for the possibility he might laugh it off as a teenage prank and no big deal. If that was the case, she’d make sure he couldn’t see how badly she’d been wounded. There was no way she’d allow him to make her look foolish all over again.

  She pulled the dress over her head. It was made of a soft, stretchy fabric, and she had to wriggle to get it on. It was far too tight. But when she’d finally smoothed it over her hips and turned to the mirror, her breath caught in her throat. Who was the woman staring back? Not a sensible mathematician devoted to her research. No, she was someone new, someone Caylee had never met before. The sight made her stomach feel tight and excited with a sense of possibility she’d last felt when she was a valedictorian contemplating the different universities who were clamoring to have her, all too aware that whichever path she chose would define her life from then on. Who was Caylee really? Who did she want to be? They were questions she hadn’t asked herself in some time.