The Billionaire's Holiday Obsession

by Nadia Lee

  Then she came out in the chartreuse.

  His mind emptied of everything but her.

  He didn’t even like the color particularly. It could make some girls look like a human highlighter. But on Jane it was divine. It accentuated the fresh innocence of her expression, her youthful outlook.

  And that crazy determination to make something of herself in a field that wasn’t friendly to women, especially ones who came from poor backgrounds.

  She raised uncertain eyes to look at him. “What do you think?”

  “I think Josephine is a genius.” If she knew what he was really thinking… He took a long swallow of his champagne. He wanted to rip everything off of her—the shiny cubic zirconia necklace and earrings and most especially the dress with the low-cut neckline. Then he’d pin her against the smooth ivory wall and rock himself against her creamy flesh while he plundered her mouth the way he’d wanted to earlier that morning. He wanted to feel her grow wet against his cock and moan deep in her throat as he rav—.

  Shit.

  He shifted in his seat. “Great,” he said in a husky voice. “Everything’s perfect.”

  He couldn’t stay here much longer and continue to act civilized. He turned to Josephine. “I’ll take all that stuff,” he gestured at the rack, still heavy with the outfits she’d picked out. “Except for the pink one. Plus underwear.”

  “Iain!” Jane came toward him, balancing carefully on a pair of stiletto heels. “Are you crazy?”

  He snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s right. And matching shoes and accessories.”

  “Got it,” Josephine said.

  “You know that’s not what I meant!”

  Ignoring her protest, he pulled out his AmEx. He’d wanted to have her model a few more for him, but there was no way he could do that and remain unaffected.

  Jane put a hand on his wrist. “Iain, please.”

  The weight of her hand burned him to the core, but he couldn’t move. He liked the touch far too much to pull away, not even for his own self-preservation. “Look, it’s nothing. Really. If you had a friend in need, you would help, right?”

  She nodded.

  “So why can’t I do the same?”

  “Am I really your friend?”

  He gave her a long stare. “Friend” wasn’t quite the right word to describe her. So instead he said, “Well, I’ve never lived with a stranger.” He gently pushed her hand away before he said anything else.

  The assistant had taken his card and disappeared. “Can you have everything delivered to my place at around five?” Iain said.

  “No problem. I’ll send you a separate invoice for my services,” Josephine said.

  He could feel Jane’s horrified gaze, but told himself he was doing the right thing. Besides, despite what she’d thought, he wasn’t being entirely altruistic. Nicer clothes would give her a better chance of getting out of his hair. And then he could have his tidy, uncluttered life back again.

  Only now the idea seemed to have lost its luster.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jane stared at boxes and boxes piling up in her bedroom. The outsides were black and sleek, miniatures of the building they’d been to; inside, pale lavender tissue paper provided cocoons for all sorts of outfits and shoes. A delivery man sidled past her, going back to his truck for more.

  Iain, what are you doing?

  She hadn’t missed the way he had avoided her question. If she wasn’t even a friend, why was he doing this? What purpose could it possibly serve? She wasn’t crazy enough to assume he wanted to sleep with her. He’d made his lack of attraction clear, while she grew warm every time she thought of him or caught a whiff of his cologne.

  “Iain, I really don’t need this much…stuff,” she told him after the last delivery man finally left. “I appreciate the gesture, but can you be reasonable? Why don’t you send most of it back?”

  “Sorry, no returns.”

  “Why not? It’s not like I’ve worn any of it.

  He shrugged. “Not that kind of place.”

  “But—”

  “It wasn’t that expensive. Don’t sweat it.”

  She stared at him. Not that expensive? Seriously? But then maybe nothing was expensive to him. She recalled how blithely he’d offered to pay off the fifty thousand dollars she owed to the bank and buy her a new car. “You don’t even work! Some day you’re going to run out of money.”

  “I don’t work for anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering. I invest.”

  “Like in what?”

  “Whatever strikes my fancy. I’ve been very fortunate. So just take the clothes—don’t forget to throw out your old things—and say thank you. And don’t worry. I’m still going to be able to enjoy my life just the way it is.” He gave her a strange smile that made her think he was being ironic about the last part. “Now, I have to go meet some friends. See you later?”

  “Okay. And thank you.” She watched him go. The penthouse seemed to double in size without him, so she went to her bedroom, staring at the mountain of sleek, oblong boxes.

  She opened the walk-in closet and ran her hands over the old shirts and pants she kept there. Iain wanted them gone, but she couldn’t toss them out. She wasn’t the kind of girl who was comfortable with expensive clothes that somebody else had bought. It didn’t smack of being a kept woman or anything, she just preferred to be able to take care of herself.

  Her phone buzzed, and she looked at it. Éternité. “Hello?”

  “Oh thank the lord,” came André’s harried voice. “Can you come in?”

  “What, now?” Her insides chilled. “Did I miss my shift?”

  “Non, non, non. The dishwasher ’as become sick and cannot finish ’is work. So can you come now?”

  “Sure, sure!” She started to scramble toward the door, then remembered she hadn’t bought the one thing André had asked her to get. “Um. I don’t have my clogs yet though. Is that okay?”

  “Just get ’ere!” André hung up.

  She let out a long breath. Great. Now she could escape the cavernously empty penthouse. She left a note for Iain and gave the place one last look. It was so…barren. She couldn’t decide if it was because he didn’t know how to fill it up or just liked it this way.

  * * *

  Iain started a tab at Z, one of the hottest and sleekest clubs in the city. It was early, and only two days from Thanksgiving the place was more or less empty.

  “Is Apple joining you?” the bartender asked, placing another scotch in front of him.

  “Nah. She’s gone back to”—Iain couldn’t remember—“wherever.” She’d mentioned something about a photo shoot on some island or other, but…

  He nursed his drink. The fact that the place was deserted was a huge bonus. He could get buzzed and not get into trouble. It was great that Mark had found the love of his life, but the downside was that Iain no longer had a wingman for hitting parties and clubs. His friend David Webb was off on a military adventure—not that Iain would hear any details; everything David did was classified—and it wasn’t nearly as fun going out alone. Staring at nothing, he scratched his arm. He felt tight and uncomfortable, but he doubted that exercising would really change anything.

  And if the discipline from practicing martial arts couldn’t help him, he wasn’t sure what could.

  Sex…?

  He hadn’t had any for a few weeks. Maybe that was it. He scrolled through his contacts. None of the women on his phone appealed to him. They didn’t have that accent…or a freckled nose…or those gorgeous brown eyes.

  “Iain?”

  Iain turned at the voice of Justin Sterling. Heir to the Sterling & Wilson empire, he generally spent his time in Houston or Chicago. Dark-haired, and with a deceptively easy smile, Justin was a good-looking bastard. Women buzzed around him like flies, and he generally indulged them, saying it would be rude to turn them down. As far as he was concerned, women wanted his money more than him, and he wasn’t going to marry anyone who didn’
t have as much money as he did.

  One problem solved, Iain thought. “Dude! What’s up?”

  “Not much. What’s going on?”

  Iain gestured at the empty tables and chairs. “You’re looking at it. Want to hit some of the clubs?”

  “Eh…not really in the mood.”

  Oh well… “Thought you went home for Thanksgiving already,” Iain said.

  “Not quite yet. I’m not leaving until tomorrow.” Justin took an empty stool next to Iain and ordered a beer.

  “Where’s the feast this year? Maryland or Houston?”

  “Houston. Barron’s hosting it, but his girlfriend”—Justin scrunched his face—“is coming too, along with her family.”

  “You don’t like her?”

  “No no, she’s awesome. It’s just, you know. The idea of him in a relationship.”

  Iain chuckled. “Think they’re doing it?”

  “Agh! Please, have some respect for my delicate sensibilities.” Justin shuddered. “Why are you here alone anyway? Aren’t you dating some girl…Cantaloupe or something?”

  “Haha, very funny. Apple and I broke up.”

  “Really? Huh. Didn’t know about that.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She move out already?”

  “Move out? She never moved in.”

  Justin frowned. “I heard you were living with a woman from Paris.”

  Good god. Where had Justin heard that? On the other hand, there was no rumor he didn’t know. “That’s a different girl. And no, she’s not named after a fruit.”

  “Really? She must be so special.”

  Iain made a wry face. He wanted to say no, except he couldn’t. Justin collected information, even the most groundless gossip. Iain didn’t want to give Justin anything he didn’t already know. Jane wasn’t somebody you could just discuss over appetizers and compare to previous girlfriends.

  “What’s with that look?” Justin asked. “Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

  “Well…no.”

  “Okay… So, just a friend, but one who happens to be a girl, and who you deemed good enough to move in with you.”

  Iain scowled. “No.”

  Justin’s eyes widened. “A live-in fuck buddy? Oh my god, you are the ma—”

  “Hey.” Iain slammed his empty glass on the bar counter. Careful now, calm, calm… “It’s nothing like that,” he said with less heat. He wanted her, but he couldn’t have her. It wouldn’t be good for him to get too close to her. She messed him up internally, and he understood that. Too bad he wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to block her out. The wall he’d built so carefully wasn’t working anymore. “I’m helping her get back on her feet, nothing more, nothing less.”

  “And you have to live with her to do that?”

  “She doesn’t have a place to go, and she can’t afford anything decent. Her idea of a nice place to live is a war-zone reject.”

  “Fine, fine. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and you’ll be all right.”

  “Appreciate the advice. It’s been my goal for a while now to be just like you.”

  Justin nodded. “Hard to go wrong with that.”

  Iain smiled and shook his head, the tension dissipated, and they were okay again. He had no idea why he’d snapped at Justin. He generally liked the guy, and they always got along. But for Justin to want to gossip about Jane was too much. It crossed some line Iain didn’t want anybody to cross, and despite the smile on his face his gut churned.

  It was the same kind of nasty feeling he’d had on that fateful night when he’d been twenty. Back then he hadn’t recognized it. He reined in his temper. Time to talk about something else. “So what are you doing in L.A.?”

  “Oh, you know. I’m always exploring options.” Justin shrugged. He leaned forward, looking unusually intense. “By the way, is Vanessa okay?”

  “Why?”

  “I was at her law firm a few days ago, and she was acting strangely.”

  “Why were you at the firm?”

  “Ah, business stuff. Need some advice on a few matters, nothing serious.”

  Iain frowned. His sister had been a bit odd recently. Like taking time off in the middle of a workday to come over to his place. He made a mental note to talk to her privately on Thursday, even though he was certain she’d brush him off. As the only girl and the youngest of the family, she always acted tougher than most women. It wasn’t easy being a Pryce child, even if the position did come with a nice trust fund.

  He considered. Maybe he should just set up a trust fund for Jane. It would be a small price to pay for the return of his sanity. Maybe he should figure out if it could be done anonymously so she wouldn’t know it was him who’d given it to her. Then she could take the money and open a restaurant, pay off her debts, move the hell out and let him have his inner peace back.

  The logical part of his brain mocked his train of thought. If he could regain his equilibrium by having her away, he would’ve gotten it at Z. The fact that he was still stewing over her said that simply removing her from his place wouldn’t be enough.

  Damn.

  A few drinks later, Justin left and Iain was back to nursing a scotch on the rocks. I should go home and order Chinese or something.

  When he arrived at his penthouse he noticed Jane wasn’t there anymore. He scowled. She’d said she wasn’t scheduled to work, and all the clothes were in her room. So where was she?

  Who cares where she is? You’re free! Alone at last!

  Except he was worried that she might wander into the wrong area of L.A. Then he saw a small piece of paper on the coffee table.

  Gone to work. André had an emergency. See you when I get back!

  Well, then. Now he didn’t have to worry.

  He ordered a beef dinner combo with an extra helping of spring rolls and turned on the TV. Channel after channel showed turkey, ham and other fixings surrounded by hungry-looking families. Children gazed up at their parents adoringly, and the adults all looked perfect together, ideal Americans of all generations.

  His lips twisted at the staged images. They reminded him of the façade his parents always presented. The Eternal Couple. Except he knew better. The only thing eternal about them was their prenup.

  When the delivery guy came, Iain tipped him extra and put the steaming food on the table. He picked up a crispy roll, dipped it in the sweet and sour sauce…almost put it into his mouth…and stopped. The empty seat was getting on his nerves.

  He moved it back to the storage space. Now it was just him in his lone seat at the table. But there was the extra place-setting…

  He swept up the mat and silverware and dumped them into the appropriate kitchen drawers, then came back to the table.

  Okay, he thought. Jane was gone for the evening, and all traces of her had been removed from his table. His place was immaculate from housekeeping’s visit earlier that day. Nothing left to distract him.

  At last, free to enjoy my meal in peace.

  But somehow he didn’t feel free.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, Jane purposely got up late. Her bones creaked from standing and scrubbing and peeling potatoes all evening long. Her shift hadn’t finished until well past one a.m.

  Besides, she didn’t think she could watch Iain do his exercises and pretend she wasn’t affected. By the time she ventured out into the kitchen, he was gone. There was a note on the fridge: Gone out. Catch you later.

  She scowled. When was he coming back? Then she shook her head. What business is it of yours when he’s coming back?

  Watching some late-morning TV show, she munched on dry cereal. Iain hadn’t said a word about what they needed to bring for Thanksgiving. If Vivian had invited her, she would’ve made a pumpkin pie or soufflés, but she didn’t know if Iain’s mother would be okay with that.

  Face it, girl. Ceinlys intimidates you.

  And oddly enough, Jane didn’t want to upset or disappoint Ceinlys. She was Iain’s mother
, and he seemed to love her dearly. Jane knew if she’d had a mother, she would have, too.

  Jane dug out her phone and stared at it. What was her family doing now? Bet her brothers had bought the biggest turkey they could find at the supermarket. And her dad would’ve gone to the shed out back to bring in some garlic and onions and potatoes from the small farm he kept on the family land.

  She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. It was pointless to think about that now. Even if she’d wanted to go, it was too late to get back to Virginia, and she didn’t want to bother Iain about the offer of his private jet. After what he’d done for her already, asking for more would be taking advantage. She already owed him so much.

  Instead of calling her family, she called Vivian. Her friend would know how they were doing.

  “Jane!” Vivian said. “Hey! You back in town?”

  “No, no. I’m still in L.A. I had to work yesterday.”

  “Oh. How’s the job?”

  “It’s great.” My feet are killing me, and so are my knees and back, but this is what I wanted, so I’m not going to complain.

  “I’m so glad. You still with that guy?”

  “I’m staying at his place for now if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “He didn’t try to…you know?”

  “No.” Jane flushed. “He didn’t try anything.”

  “Good. I’d hate to see you put in a situation like that.”

  God, Vivian had it mixed up. Jane was putting Iain in the situation. “So, how’s the Thanksgiving prep going?”

  “Well. Your father, eligible bachelor that he is, has made a new friend. You know Sue, on Main Street?”

  “Yes.” Sue was a widow who’d lost her husband three years ago.

  “They’ve, uh, gotten pretty close. So she’s having everyone over for Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s good.” The men in her family were terrible cooks.