The Geek's Bad Boy Billionaire

by Talia Hunter

  He was already neglecting things so badly there’d be a complete mess to sort out once he got there. It was going to be all-consuming. When he’d built his other resorts, he’d barely had time to eat or catch a few hours of exhausted sleep, and this one was already shaping up to be at least twice as difficult as the previous ones. There were a million decisions that had to be made, thousands of staff with issues and problems, foreign property laws to navigate. It would be endless. Usually he went into it with a great team already on the ground, but his new staff was such a disaster, it was going to be a nightmare to set right. The project could only be successful if he were willing to do what it took to make it succeed. He shouldn’t even be spending so much time with Caylee, but concentrating on sorting out as much as he could from here.

  How could he tell her that, though, without seeming like an unbelievable jerk? Caylee was the most wonderful woman he’d ever known, someone he could fall in love with. Hell, he was already half in love with her. But there was nothing he could do—it was just incredibly bad timing.

  He’d neglect the resort in order to enjoy the time they had together before she left, and make up for it when he got to Indonesia. He’d ask her to wait for him, but it was a long time. He couldn’t kid himself that she wouldn’t meet someone else and forget about him.

  The last thing he needed was an extra complication, but with John and Jenna’s wedding going ahead the next day, Blake had been roped in to help them with all the last minute organization. Christ, who knew it would take so long, or there’d be a million and one things they’d need him for? It was getting dark by the time he could get away, and even then he was breaking his promise to John to spend the night celebrating together at the bar.

  He burst into the suite with an apology on his lips, but it froze when Caylee turned her cold, pale face to him. She was dressed to go out, not in any of the clothes he’d bought her, but in a conservative dark blue dress that must have been in her missing suitcase. Her gorgeous curls were gone and instead her hair was back in its unrelenting braid, with not a strand allowed to escape. She was twisting some cloth in both hands, wringing it as though trying to squeeze out water. Her eyes weren’t bullets, they were steel doors, double-locked and bolted.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Even as he asked, his mind raced for an answer. Could it be some disaster back home? Her sister? Her mother?

  The warm, loving Caylee from this morning was gone. Her voice, her expression, everything about her was stiff and remote. As though someone had switched the real Caylee with a robot.

  “I found my diary,” she said. “You stole it the night you left, along with my grandmother’s ring and the money I’d been saving for years.”

  He stared at the book she motioned to, lying on the bed. His stomach turned over and guilt flooded into his face, heating his skin. Shit, the diary. He’d forgotten it was there in the drawer where she could easily find it. It looked bad for him, having that. Hell, it looked awful. He should have told her the truth in the first place. Why didn’t he tell her he’d taken it when she’d first asked?

  He sucked in his breath. “I took your diary, that’s true. But I didn’t take anything else, I promise.” He crossed to her and put his hand on her arm, wishing the words didn’t sound so thin and that he had a better explanation. “Caylee, you’ve got to believe me. I never meant to—”

  “How can I believe a single thing you say when you’ve already been proven a liar?”

  She let the cloth tumble from her hands and he saw it was the black evening dress he’d bought her. She’d cut it to ribbons. “I let you dress me up like a doll. I allowed you to change me. And all the time you were laughing at me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “You used me when I was eighteen. You stole everything I cared about. You tore up my room and my heart. You were no good then, and you haven’t changed one bit. You’re the same lying bully you’ve always been.”

  It was the worst thing she could have flung at him. He felt like he still had his fingers wrapped around the handle of a gun. As though he hadn’t managed to escape that life at all, and everything that he’d done since then had been for nothing.

  She shook his hand off and turned for the door. “Our time together was a mistake. One I have no wish to repeat.”

  “I didn’t read your diary, Caylee. I swear, I never read it.”

  “So? I know exactly why you took it. That you didn’t read it only confirms the reason.”

  What did she mean? He wanted to stop her, to whirl her around to face him, but this Caylee was a stranger to him. Where was the woman he knew? “Won’t you stay and talk? Caylee, where are you going?”

  “Out for dinner. Good-bye, Blake. I prefer not to see you again if I can help it.”

  “Caylee, I need to tell you why—”

  The door slammed behind her. It cut off his words with a sound as sharp and final as if something had just broken forever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The last thing Blake felt like was celebrating John’s wedding, but what else could he do? He wasn’t about to sit in the suite by himself, imagining where Caylee might be and what she might be doing. He wanted to drink. He wanted to talk with his friend and try to work out just how things had gone from being so great to so awful in no time at all.

  And he wanted to punish himself by watching Caylee have dinner with another man.

  He leaned in to the bar and ordered a second round for him and John. Caylee and Professor Pompous were sitting at a table in a brightly lit part of the restaurant, near the enclosed bar area where John and Blake were drinking. Caylee had her back to them. He doubted she even knew they were there.

  Blake had a good view of the man she was dining with. He was thin with pale skin and narrow eyes. He had a way of sitting with his head back and his eyes squinted that Blake didn’t like, as though he was both looking down his nose and trying to see something he shouldn’t.

  But it was the way his slit eyes roamed over Caylee that he really hated. At least she wasn’t wearing the black dress. The blue one she had on wasn’t nearly as fitted as the ones he’d chosen for her. The neckline was high and the hemline was low, but those were the only things he could be glad about. Its deep blue color made her eyes glow. Blake could hardly drag his gaze away from her when she excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. She could have been wearing a burlap sack and she’d still look good.

  The doctor also smirked, staring at Caylee’s butt as she walked away from him. Blake’s hands curled into fists and he swallowed down bile, fighting the urge to leap out of his seat and tear the guy out of his chair. If the doctor dared to lay one bloody finger on her…

  Shit.

  He had no right to feel possessive of her. She’d made it damn clear she’d lost all faith in him. Hell, she’d looked at him like he was something nasty she’d stepped in.

  “You plan to sit there and glower at her all night?” asked John.

  “And drink a lot.”

  “Who’s the guy she’s with?”

  “He’s in charge of her funding. She’s afraid he’s going to give her grant to someone else.”

  John took a sip of his beer, his forehead wrinkled. “I keep reading about you in finance magazines, and I happen to know the last couple of resorts added enough zeros so you’re not just a paltry millionaire any more. If she needs money, why don’t you fund her research?”

  Blake shook his head. “I know Caylee too well to even suggest it. She’s fiercely proud and independent, and she doesn’t want anything she hasn’t earned. If I offered her money, she’d think I was suggesting she needed charity.”

  “She seems almost as stubborn as you. Don’t let her get away—she sounds like your perfect match.”

  “Like I have a choice,” Blake snarled the words, then immediately shook his head. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.” He took a big slug of beer. “I don’t even know why I’m acting this way. As soon as I get to Indonesia I wo
n’t have time to think about her, let alone get worked up.”

  “And she must be leaving soon, too?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  John sipped his drink again, examining Blake closely. “She’s really put you in a tailspin, hasn’t she?”

  “The instant I recognized her, I should have walked away and let her find another hotel on the mainland.”

  “Like you could have done that.”

  Blake’s mouth twisted. “Why not? She thinks I’m scum, and she always has. She wouldn’t have expected anything more.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Yeah? Caylee can’t forget my past. To her I’ll always be that messed-up kid everyone thought was headed for jail.”

  John drained his beer and thumped the empty bottle back on the table. “Or maybe it’s you who can’t forget your past.” When Blake frowned, he held up both hands. “Hear me out, buddy. You’ve done some damned good work on Sunset Island, funding a medical clinic and a primary school. And you did similar things at the resort you built in Malaysia too, didn’t you?”

  “How do you know about Malaysia?”

  “I hear things. People talk, especially when they’re grateful.”

  Blake shrugged. “The local people needed it and, as you pointed out, I have the money.”

  “And when you go to Indonesia to build your next resort, you’ll probably put in a clinic and a school there, too, right?

  “So?”

  “So, I think you’re trying to prove something, but not to Caylee. You keep trying to prove it to yourself, over and over. You’re a good guy, Blake, and everyone knows it but you.”

  “You’re wrong,” Blake growled. “Caylee’s made it pretty clear I’m a villain.”

  “And you’re so afraid she’s right, you’re not putting up any kind of fight.”

  Blake took a big swallow of his beer to give himself time to think. He wanted to protest, but maybe John had hit a bit too close to the truth. Building a clinic and school was the fun part, his reward for the hard slog and infinite problems a project as complicated as a resort always provided. But there had to be a reason he was determined to put himself through the hell of building the Indonesian resort, which he’d designed to be almost twice as big as the one on Sunset Island. Could it be because he wasn’t done running from his past?

  “Let’s talk about something else, okay?” he said finally. He tapped the bar to get the bartender’s attention. “More beers. Just keep ’em coming.”

  John raised his eyebrows. “So you want us to get horribly drunk, and then I’ll have to get up early, stagger to my own wedding, and say ‘I do’ with a filthy hangover and bad breath strong enough to power a car?”

  “That’s the plan.” Blake’s voice was grim.

  John picked up his fresh beer and clinked the bottle against Blake’s. “Good plan.” He grinned. “Count me in.”

  …

  “Would you like a drink?” asked Dr. Partington.

  “Yes, please.” Caylee’s mind immediately went to the lovely wine she’d shared with Blake. What was it? She couldn’t remember, and anyway, they probably didn’t sell it by the glass. “Red wine, I think.” She scanned the wines on the drink list but didn’t recognize any of them. “What’s good, do you know?”

  The doctor shook his head, motioning the waiter back over. Caylee expected him to ask William his advice about the wine, but instead he said, “I’ll have a non-alcoholic cocktail.” Then he looked at Caylee expectantly, waiting for her to make up her mind.

  “Bring me a glass of nice red wine, please, William. I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

  He nodded and bustled off.

  Dr. Partington leaned back in his chair, his nostrils flaring as his snake eyes flicked over her. He was obviously disappointed with her tight braid and boring dress, and the sneer was back in his voice. “So, as I was saying, I’ve been most impressed by the work being done by some conference attendees. As you may know, a record twin prime has recently been found, yet there is still no conclusive proof that there are infinite twin primes, despite the fine work that has been done for many years at the University of…”

  Caylee stared at his lips as he talked. They were thin and pale. Words came out grudgingly from between them, as though the doctor hated to give away his wisdom so freely and had not yet judged her worthy of it. They were lips that would find it easy, she was sure, to refuse her funding.

  But even with her future at stake, she could barely keep her mind on the doctor and stop it from straying to the man who’d so cruelly betrayed her. When she thought of Blake she felt as though someone had pulled out her plug, and there was nothing left inside her, just a drained-out, empty cavern. But no, she wouldn’t think about him. She wouldn’t let herself.

  Silence fell as the doctor took a sip of his water. His expression was expectant, as if he was waiting for her to speak. She hadn’t been listening very closely, and now she had to rack her brain to see if she could recall the last thing he said. Had he asked her a question? No, he was telling her about a recent discovery that had been so well documented and publicized that he must surely realize she already knew all about it.

  “Interesting,” she murmured, hedging her bets.

  “Yes. So, the researcher has gone back to the Hardy-Littlewood conjecture, although the generalization may be seen by some as a—”

  “Your drink, madam.”

  Saved by William. Caylee sipped her wine, relieved by the distraction. Dr. Partington talked as though she knew nothing, explaining concepts she’d learned right out of school. It was insulting. Was it because she was a woman, or was he this contemptuous of everyone? And how could she let him know she didn’t like him talking down to her without sounding rude?

  The doctor picked up the non-alcoholic cocktail that William had placed in front of him. It was a fussy-looking pink drink with an umbrella on one side and a cherry stuck into a toothpick. He took out the umbrella and put it down on the table before taking a sip.

  “You don’t like wine?” Caylee grabbed the chance to change the subject.

  “Alcohol damages the soft tissue of the brain.” His tone was disapproving.

  “Research has proven a glass of red wine provides some health benefits—”

  “Surely you realize the negatives of ingesting a toxin outweigh any supposed benefits? Besides, studies of those so-called benefits have been called into question.”

  Caylee sighed. Did he have to sound so pompous? Oh no, was that how she sounded? She’d said similar things, quoted the latest research on what foods were supposed to be most healthful. Did she come across as such a sanctimonious killjoy? Unable to stop herself, she picked up her glass, took a big gulp, then smacked her lips in noisy appreciation. “Delicious,” she said with over-emphasized enthusiasm, though it wasn’t nearly as good as the wine she’d shared with Blake. “Now, would you like to hear about my work?” Her tone was snarkier than she’d meant it to be, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Certainly.” He put his pink drink down and sat back in his chair, waiting for her to begin.

  “I’ve been making advances in our understanding of the Golden Ratio.”

  “Yes,” the doctor interrupted. “It’s a very important area of research.”

  “It is.” His enthusiasm was a good sign. Perhaps she had a shot at getting her funding after all.

  “There may be some breakthroughs in that area soon. Don’t you agree?”

  “Of course. I’m very excited about the—”

  “Which is why,” he butted in again. “I feel compelled to ask you a question.”

  “What question?”

  “Now, don’t take this the wrong way.”

  His snake eyes were hard as they assessed her, and Caylee’s gut twisted. Nothing good ever started with don’t take this the wrong way. She was certain to hate whatever came out of his mouth next.

  “Do you really think,” he continued, “you’re the right person to be
conducting such important research?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just think you may be…” He paused and she knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her a woman shouldn’t be doing the research, that it needed a man’s brain. She’d heard it before, from bigoted, pigheaded, ignorant men just like this one, and it never got any easier to swallow. “That you may be a little inexperienced to be attempting work in such a complex field of study.”

  His snake mouth curved into a condescending smile and her hands clenched. If only he didn’t hold her whole future in his hands, she’d tip her wine over his smug head. Instead she forced her voice to stay as light as she could make it.

  “Oh, but I think you might be mistaken about my experience. I started work on my current research paper over four years ago. I’ve been working in my field at least as long as the man you were talking of earlier who’s doing work on twin primes.”

  William appeared at her elbow, saving her from having to listen to whatever offensive thing the snake-man might come out with next.

  “May I take your order?”

  “Yes, please,” said Caylee quickly, though neither of them had yet opened the menu. The sooner they ate, the sooner this nightmare of a dinner would be over.

  …

  Blake drained his beer and watched as John put another one in front of him. This was going to be beer number five, and he still felt too damn sober. The man sitting opposite Caylee was eating quickly, staring at Caylee through squinty little eyes and licking his lips between each mouthful with a disgusting eagerness that turned Blake’s stomach. For John’s sake he was trying to keep his mood as light as he could. The beer should have been making it easier, but it wasn’t working yet.

  “So did Jenna tell you what she wanted?” John asked in a slurred voice.