The Billionaire's Holiday Obsession

by Nadia Lee

  She went out to the open living and dining room. She should whip up something quick for breakfast for herself and Iain. She padded barefoot, then stopped short when she saw him topless in the middle of the living room.

  His legs and arms moved with a circular grace and fluidity, his muscles balanced and supple. His skin was golden from a tan, and he had a look of intense focus as he shifted silently from one position to another, his limbs forming precise lines so mesmerizing that she couldn’t look away.

  Her mouth dried. She could feel the restrained power and absolute control in every motion, and she felt warm and tingly all over.

  For the first time in her life, she wanted to touch a man so bad her hands itched. She’d had a few boyfriends, but they had mostly been great guys who were a lot of fun to hang out with, not somebody who made her want with such intensity and heat. It was surprising and a little unnerving. Okay, yes, objectively speaking Iain was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, but surely looks alone couldn’t explain this need she felt for him or the happiness she’d experienced watching him eat the food she’d prepared the night before.

  Suddenly, Iain stopped and turned to look directly at her. All the air rushed out of her lungs, and she stood there, uncertain, feeling her heart beating fast and hard in her chest.

  * * *

  Iain’s whole body tensed as he took in the passion-darkness of Jane’s eyes. Her hair was still a little damp from the shower, and she looked so soft and feminine standing there.

  Just like that, the calm and centeredness he’d found through the kata vanished. He felt like he was standing in the middle of a powerful earthquake, unable to properly balance himself.

  Damn it.

  He let out a soft breath. It was pointless to continue now. He wasn’t going to regain his equilibrium. What was it about Jane that destroyed it? It wasn’t even that she was demanding or wanted and expected too much of him. No, she was just…there, being Jane. He couldn’t even say being watched was what shattered his inner calm because his exes had watched him too. None of them had bothered him, and he could block them out from his mind, no problem.

  “You’re up early.” His voice came out more gravelly than usual.

  “I think it’s the time difference. I woke up around three before I went back to sleep again.”

  He grunted. He should’ve just gone out for a beach run. That would’ve cleared his head.

  Maybe.

  “The local deli’s open for breakfast, so why don’t you give me ten minutes to grab a quick shower?”

  “Actually, go ahead and continue. I can cook something while you do that.”

  “You don’t have to bother.”

  “No, I insist. It’s the least I can do for you while I’m here.” She flashed him a quick smile. “Not that it’ll be that long. I found a perfect place.”

  “Did you now?” he said slowly. Why aren’t you jumping up and down with joy? This is exactly what you wanted.

  “It’s a shared apartment. A little far from Éternité, but otherwise perfect.”

  “Can I see the listing?”

  “Sure.” She pulled out her phone and tapped it a few times and handed it to him.

  The first thing Iain noticed was the photos. “What the hell? Is this in Afghanistan?”

  “No. L.A. See the address?”

  “Who cares about the address? It looks like shi—crap.” The building was a small, gray concrete cube with gang sign graffiti. He zoomed in and saw a few cracks in the walls. The interior pictures showed a sad little bedroom that was barely the size of his closet and a really old carpet the color of horse shit. The dingy white walls were uneven—a very poor drywall job undoubtedly—and Iain didn’t have to see the address to know the place was in an unsafe neighborhood with violence. Probably seedier than the D.C. street where Jane had parked her car. “You can’t live there,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “Number one, the place is in gang territory. Number two, it’s just…horrible. Do you have any idea how long your commute is going to be? At least an hour and a half each way. That’s three hours of your life gone each day!” His inner voice was raising a racket at this point. Who cares? Let her live there if that’s what she wants!

  He’d wanted her gone, hadn’t he? He wanted his simple, single life back. He never brought his girlfriends to his place. It was sacrosanct.

  “But Iain, I can’t afford anything else. And I don’t want to keep imposing on you.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” he said, while his mind screamed, What in the hell are you saying?

  “Still.”

  “Look, it’s not an imposition. I brought you to L.A. so I feel like it’s my job to make sure you’re going to be okay. I wouldn’t feel comfortable otherwise. You don’t know L.A. very well, which is, uh, pretty clear from this place you picked out. If you want, we can look for something together after breakfast. I know all there is to know about the city. A born and bred Angelino. What do you say?”

  She pressed her lips together, which made her mouth look irresistibly cute. Jesus. He needed to look for a therapist.

  “If I were in Paris, you’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

  She nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, but still. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “You can pay me back later.”

  “You could be dead by the time I make it big,” she muttered.

  He barked out a laugh. “It might take a little bit to kill me. Have some faith in yourself, will you?”

  * * *

  After breakfast they sat side by side. Iain opened his laptop and typed a few things into the search engine. Jane sat next to him and watched him work. She’d never been close enough to feel his body heat, and she flushed at how amazing that felt. She was still revved up from her watching him earlier.

  Don’t be ridiculous and focus, Jane. He’s way out of your league.

  “So how much do you want to spend on rent?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. As little as possible.” She frowned. “It’s really expensive here.”

  “L.A. isn’t cheap. But that’s why you also make more. Didn’t Mark tell you how much you’re supposed to be making?”

  “Uh-huh.” She told Iain. “But André doesn’t seem willing to give me forty hours.”

  “That’ll change once you’ve been there long enough.” Iain typed a few things to narrow down the search. “Mark thinks you’ll quit after a week.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because the work’ll be too hard for you.”

  She wrung her hands together. “Do you think it’s because he thinks I’m using you? I’m staying here with you like this, and he’s bound to think the worst.”

  “He has no idea. And don’t worry. We’re a pretty progressive family,” he said, then let out a laugh.

  She tilted her head at that. Given the hint of derision in his tone, he might as well have said “screwed up.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “You don’t have a happy laugh.”

  He pulled back and gave her a look.

  “I mean, you laugh and it sounds nice and all, but somehow you don’t sound like you’re happy. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

  “It’s hard to explain because it’s a ridiculous thing to think about,” he said, turning back to his computer.

  Jane frowned. She knew she hadn’t imagined it, and she knew the difference between a genuine laugh and the fake kind that people used to cover something underneath.

  Well, whatever. She shouldn’t let herself get too entangled in Iain’s life. He had his reasons for hiding, and being nosy wouldn’t help.

  * * *

  Nothing was coming up on the screen, but even if it had, Iain might not have registered it. Jane had hit the nail on the head with that remark about his laugh, and it made him uncomfortable. No one else ever said anything about it, so why had she noticed? Either she was really perceptive…or maybe things were starting to com
e to the surface that should be better left buried.

  He hadn’t lost his calm in the last thirteen years, but who knew when he might snap again? Or what might set him off?

  He shook himself mentally. Forget the past. He needed to focus on what he was doing or they’d never find a decent place for Jane. He scrolled down and entered more parameters to narrow the search. Jane’s warmth and scent were distracting—reminding him of sweet cream and melted chocolate. Jesus, he needed to get a hold of himself.

  Finally he saw a promising unit. “What about this one?” he said, turning to face her…

  …and almost brushed his mouth with hers. He flinched and pulled back. He hadn’t realized how close she was sitting next to him. With only an inch or so separating them he could see how smooth her skin was, how soft her full, pink mouth looked. The color reminded him of the sweet and juicy flesh in the center of a ripe fig.

  Sharp desire stabbed him in the gut; his mouth dried, his body hardened. He wanted to lean in just a little and see what she tasted like.

  “Iain?”

  Her whispery soft voice broke through the fog of desire, and he jerked back. Her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. He knew if he kissed her now she would open up for him, but that would be taking advantage. She was in a vulnerable position, away from her family and without any financial resources. The fact that he wanted her like this made his back slick with cold sweat. He never felt anything this intensely.

  His first instinct was to push her away, but it wasn’t her fault he felt the way he did. Better just to play it off.

  Iain gave her a grin. “You’re pretty up close,” he said in a light voice. Thirteen years of meditation and emotional control did have some side-benefits. “So. What do you think about this one?” He gestured at the computer, turning the screen toward her.

  She focused on it, then frowned. “They want over a thousand dollars per month.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “Maybe not right now, but when Mark pays you, you will.”

  Jane continued to stare at the screen, then turned her gaze on him.

  Iain cleared his throat. “Or I can make up for the difference in rent until you get paid. You have some money, right?”

  She sighed. “I was going to ask Mark to advance me a little for the other place. There’s no way I can take this one.”

  “I can spot you,” Iain said, slightly annoyed that she’d been planning to reach out to his brother, but not him.

  “I told you I don’t want to take your money.”

  “Mark, me. What’s the difference?”

  She gave him a cool look. “He’s my employer, and you’re my…friend. It’s not the same.”

  “Oh for—” The doorbell cut him off. He got up and yanked the door open. “What?”

  “Good morning to you too, Iain.”

  He stepped back, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Jeez, Vanessa. What are you doing here?”

  “Just thought I’d stop by.”

  She stepped in. Her stylishly cut hair glinted a shiny apple red, a shade that had come from a bottle. She wore a conservative skirt suit in dark green and a pair of matching stilettos. In her hand was the black briefcase that she never went anywhere without.

  She was a high-powered lawyer, an associate at one of the biggest law firms in the city, and right now she was looking at Jane with her attorney eyes. Probably cataloging all of the liabilities Jane presented.

  A great lawyer but an annoying sister. “Don’t you have to work?” Iain said, blocking her view.

  She stepped around him and went deeper into his penthouse—toward Jane. “Lawyers get time off too.”

  “Not at your firm.”

  Vanessa laughed, but there was a curiously brittle edge to it. “Don’t be ridiculous, Iain. Not even the most asshole-esque client wants to sue over the holidays.”

  “Wouldn’t that be the best time? Nobody’s expecting it.”

  “Please. Stop protesting. I took some time off to see this mythical girl who isn’t named after food.”

  “Who told you?” But of course it was Mark. I’m going to kill him.

  “Hilary.”

  “What?”

  “She and I talk. Didn’t you know?”

  “No,” he said, flabbergasted. Why would somebody as nice as Hilary need to speak to a legal shark like Vanessa? His sister didn’t talk to anybody she couldn’t bill for the conversation.

  “Well, yeah. Seems she has some questions about the infamous Pryce prenup.”

  Iain felt his jaw drop. “Does Mark know?”

  “Might, might not. Ask him and see.” She took Iain’s seat next to Jane. “Hi. I’m Vanessa, Iain’s sister.”

  “I’m Jane. I had no idea he had a sister.”

  Vanessa gave Iain a sidelong look. “He didn’t mention me?”

  “No.”

  “In case you’re wondering, he has three brothers, one sister—moi—and numerous cousins.” Vanessa smiled. “You?”

  Jane smiled back. “Five brothers. No sisters I’m afraid.”

  “So we have something in common.” Vanessa turned to Iain. “You better gird your loins.”

  Something in her tone set off his internal alarm. “Why?”

  “How long do you think it’s going to take before Mom visits?”

  He cursed, remembering how she’d interfered in Mark and Hilary’s relationship. Not that Iain had a relationship with Jane. Oh no. But he didn’t want his mother to get the wrong idea and sabotage his efforts to ensure Jane would be self-sufficient as soon as possible. His mother knew absolutely everyone in town.

  “I’m sure your mother’s very sweet,” Jane said.

  “Oh, she is,” Vanessa said.

  “…to her children,” Iain added.

  “She sounds lovely. You’re lucky to have a mother.”

  Vanessa and Iain looked at each other. “Why don’t you wait until you meet her? Then make up your mind,” Iain said, while Vanessa just smiled.

  Chapter Ten

  The first thing Jane noticed about Éternité’s kitchen was the heat. There were more grills and ovens and gas flames than she could count at a glance, and every burner had a pot or pan or skillet that was sizzling or simmering.

  The second thing she noticed was the aroma. It was indescribably complex. Just by concentrating she could pick out butter, meat, poultry, fish, shellfish, veggies, bread and various soup stocks.

  André took her to a station with triple sinks and a giant industrial-grade machine that washed plates and bowls fast. “You must wash the pots and pans yourself,” he said. “Especially the copper. Never get lazy with the copper.”

  “No problem, si—” She swallowed the rest.

  André grunted. “Bien. And you will also take care of the potatoes and onions.” He gestured at two mountains of them. “The guests, they love them for dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  His brows creased. “You are still wearing those sneakers.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t have a chance to shop.”

  “Make it a priority.” He gave her a stern look. “Touch nothing without permission. The men are protective of their knives and their stations.”

  She nodded. Not that she’d dare to go near the busy cooks, juggling so many skillets and sauté pans.

  André grunted and stalked off, taking another station in front of a giant gas stovetop.

  Jane took a deep breath. This was the first step in her future. Why not be happy, even if all she was going to do was scrub pots and pans and prep potatoes and onions?

  It couldn’t be that hard, could it?

  Éternité’s evening was busier than she’d expected. If she’d thought cooking for and cleaning up after six men were bad, this was a hundred times worse. Pots and pans piled up at an incredible rate, and so did the dirty plates. Then there were the potatoes and onions she had to take care of. One of the cooks yelled about the lack of ready spuds, and she ran to
him with more. The man took them out of the bowl she offered with a big hand that had several blisters. But then he had eight pans with something sizzling in each of them, so she could see why.

  It took her about an hour to get into the rhythm of things, and she started to feel happy. She was working! She had a kitchen job she wanted. While she’d been filling out her paperwork, the maître d’ had said three of the line cooks had started out as dishwashers and moved their way up. She could do that.

  After five hours, her feet started to hurt, and her hands felt like sodden sponges from being wet for so long. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck.

  “Tired?” came André’s gravelly voice.

  “No,” she said quickly.

  He laughed. “You are a terrible liar. Go ’ome.”

  “But—”

  “We have another dishwasher ’ere. You go ’ome and think about if this is really what you want, eh? It ’as been educational, n’est-ce pas?”

  “I don’t mind the work. I can finish the evening.”

  André snorted. “I scheduled you for an hour because I thought you would leave after ’alf an hour, maximum. You did well. Now go ’ome and rest. That is an order. Never disobey your chef if you want a long and fruitful career. Besides, I know now that you are tougher than you look, I am going to make you work even ’arder.”

  Yes! She’d proven herself!

  She left with a small smile and drove to Iain’s place. Bubbling excitement erased all the tiredness from her body and mind. This was all she’d wanted. A foot in the door, a small step in the right direction.

  As she waited for the elevator, her phone rang. She flicked her finger and saw a text from Gio. Her teeth clenched.

  Fucking bitch! You think you can run? I’m gonna find you, cunt, and you’ll be sorry! I always get my due!

  Cold and hot ran through her, and she deleted the ugly message. Gio had no idea where she was, and he wouldn’t find her. On the other hand, there was a bookie breathing down his neck, probably threatening to break his knees or something. Wouldn’t Gio go to any lengths to avoid that?

  She stepped into the elevator and worried her lower lip. But after thinking about it, she relaxed. It would take some serious effort to track her to California—if it could be done at all—and would Gio really work that hard to get to her? People like him gambled because it was easier than working. He’d probably just find some other way to get the money.