by Leslie North
“Sparkles?” Daniel asked.
“You know what I mean,” Blake said, and then paused, searching for the word. “Like…”
“Pinpricks?” Grayson offered.
“Right.” Blake frowned as they headed for the big, modern gym lining the edge of the practice field. “Maybe I do have a concussion.”
“That’s for the trainers to figure out,” Daniel said. “Which is who we will be seeing. Immediately.”
Blake grunted, allowing his friends to steer him down the gravel path leading to the gym. The heat and pain had segued into something dull and far-reaching. Like his entire body had been steamrolled. Being injured was exhausting.
“You really throw hard,” Blake said, glancing at Daniel. “Maybe you should ditch the new consulting gig and start thinking about the major leagues.”
Daniel laughed. “Yet another way to ensure that my father actually has a heart attack from my life choices.”
“As if you quitting the family business wasn’t traumatizing enough for him,” Grayson quipped as he pulled open the metal door of the gym. A cool draft of bleach-tinged air reached Blake, clearing his senses slightly.
The gym was thankfully empty, which meant fewer witnesses to Blake’s embarrassing injury. A trainer breezed over to them, a willowy woman that Blake didn’t remember seeing before, much less hiring. Not that he had much hands-on contact with staffing the lower rungs of his businesses. But still. He’d been into the gym before. He visited the training fields. And he’d never seen her before.
“Can you check out Mr. Boss Man?” Daniel asked, jerking his head toward Blake. “He caught a fly ball to the face.”
The blue-eyed beauty had her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She wore a simple team T-shirt and mesh shorts, the standard workout gear of the trainers, but somehow, on her, it looked far more attractive than usual. Maybe it was the way her curves filled out the uniform, or the way her lips quirked up into a smile as her gaze washed over him.
Whatever it was, Blake was into it. And he could barely remember where he’d placed his voice.
“I wouldn’t have caught a fly ball to the head if you hadn’t dropped a bomb on me right before you threw it,” Blake protested finally, sending a glare to Daniel.
“Details, details,” Daniel said, waving the accusation away.
“Well, luckily, it doesn’t look too serious,” the brunette bombshell said, propping a hand on her hip. Her eyes narrowed as she leaned toward him, checking out the side of his face. Blake felt his cheeks heating up, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the injury or her sizzling cerulean gaze.
“So he’s gonna live?” Grayson asked, clapping a hand on Blake’s shoulder.
“He should, as long as he stays away from more fly balls and whatever sort of bombs you two like to drop,” the trainer teased, her gaze lingering on Blake. “I need to go grab some stuff from the first aid closet. I’ll be right back to fix you up.”
“What’s your name?” Daniel asked.
“Michelle,” she said, smiling at Daniel before swinging her gaze back to Blake. “And I would ask for your names, except I already know.”
“Oh. Do our reputations precede us?” Grayson asked.
“Indeed.” She grinned over her shoulder as she walked off. “I’ll be right back.”
The three friends watched her walk away into the first aid closet. Once the door clanged shut behind her, Daniel turned to Blake with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“I think we’ve determined who you should be taking out on the dates for the bet.”
Blake propped his hands on his hips, looking between both his best friends as the same smirk crossed both their faces. “Oh, come on. She works for me!”
“But she doesn’t report to you,” Grayson said. “And she’s willing to tease you, so it doesn’t look like she’s intimidated by you.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “Why her? Out of literally everyone else you could have picked?”
“Because this is what the courts have chosen,” Grayson said, crossing his arms over his chest. “A bet’s a bet. Unless you’d rather some other second-string DJ attend your nightclub opening…”
Blake exhaled forcefully. “I hate you guys.”
Daniel’s grin widened. “We know that’s code for ‘love.’”
Blake groaned. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you know what?” He jabbed a finger toward Daniel. “I need to see some proof that DJ Fiesta is coming. Immediately.”
“Consider it done. You want me to have him give you a call? Leave a personalized voicemail?”
“Oh, like one of those celebrity greetings,” Grayson said, “where Susan Sarandon calls and says happy birthday.”
Daniel snorted. “Susan Sarandon?”
“Well, whoever you consider a celebrity,” Grayson clarified.
“I don’t care what you do. I just need proof. And let it be known, this is the stupidest thing you two have ever had anyone do in the name of winning a bet,” Blake went on, looking at Grayson. “Even stupider than when you bet Daniel that he and Jackie couldn’t last as a couple to the end of your wedding events.”
“I didn’t bet that,” Grayson said. “You and I bet that.”
“But this is stupider because she could be married for all we know. And then what?”
“I didn’t see a ring,” Daniel said.
“Me neither,” Grayson confirmed.
Blake sighed, rubbing at his face just as Michelle breezed out of first aid closet. Her brilliant blue eyes snagged him again as she walked toward them.
He could at least credit his friends with picking one of the hottest women he’d seen in recent history. And this was in her work clothes.
Still, the absurdity of this impromptu bet gnawed at him. But DJ Fiesta…
“Hey, Michelle, while you’re patching up our friend, we just wondered if you come across many other bachelor business owners who get knocked in the head during a regular day?”
Blake steeled his jaw as he sent daggers to Daniel. These guys were worse than brothers sometimes with the ways they teased and mocked him. It was one thing when they were alone, but did they have to do it in front of other people? Michelle laughed, lilting and breezy. It took the edge off his irritation.
“Not too many. Most of the guys I tend to are top athletes with shin splints and stress fractures.”
“Interesting,” Grayson said, crossing his arms as Michelle began cleaning the wound on Blake’s face. Blake stared so hard at his friend that it could have created a burn mark. It was mostly to telepathically transmit the words SHUT UP to him.
“Interesting,” Blake said, “and exactly what she was hired to do.”
Michelle laughed, stepping closer as she dabbed at his wound with a cotton swab. “Sure. But I mean, taking care of injured baseball team owners falls under the same umbrella.”
“You know, it’s funny,” Grayson barreled on, looking at Blake with a glint in his eye that told him exactly what level of mischief to expect, “Blake, Daniel and I were just talking out there on the field about how Blake needs a proper tour of his own training facilities. Would you be able to provide that for him?”
Blake bit back a scowl. Instead, he offered up a smile when Michelle glanced at him.
“Seriously?” she asked.
“He’s serious,” Blake confirmed, wishing he could punch Grayson in the chest. Over Grayson’s shoulder, Daniel was smiling into a closed fist. They could both go to hell. But they’d lobbed this ball, and now he had to run with it. “I’ve been meaning to do it and haven’t had a chance to put it on my schedule.”
“Why, have you got too much else going on?” Michelle asked with a wink. There was something disarming about her smile, the casual rapport she’d established with him already. She wasn’t shy around him, but she didn’t fawn over him either. That was a rare find for him—almost like a present, wrapped in a very attractive package. He paused, his words evaporating on his tongue as he got lost in the prett
y planes of her face.
“Something like that,” he finally said.
“He’s opening a new nightclub,” Daniel offered.
“Ah. Yeah, I’d imagine that would take up some time,” Michelle said, right before applying the butterfly Band-Aid over his cheek.
“You know, Blake, with how busy your schedule is going to get over the next few weeks,” Grayson said, clapping him on the shoulder, “you and Michelle should get that tour in ASAP.” To Michelle, he said, “What about tomorrow? Does that work for you?”
Blake rolled his neck in a slow circle. Goddamn these best friends of his. He reminded himself that they meant well…even when they were crazy about it and forced him into bets he didn’t want to undertake.
But he was just the same as them. Blake couldn’t back down from a bet.
And while he watched the slow curves of a bombshell smile take over Michelle’s face, he realized this bet might not be all bad.
Grab your copy of The Billionaire’s Girlfriend Bet
Available July 2, 2020
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BLURB
Penelope Fox thought she was applying to be an assistant to billionaire Drew Preston. With her business savvy, she’s hoping she can help Drew’s successful shipping company reach new heights. Too bad the position she applied for isn’t as his assistant: it’s as his young son’s nanny. With her bank account nearly dry, Penny’s desperate enough to take the job. But when Drew is meeting with the owner of his next potential acquisition, the other man mistakes Penelope for Drew’s wife—and to her surprise, she agrees to play along. Even more shocking? The way she’s beginning to feel about this maddening, passionate man.
Drew learned the hard way to never mix business with pleasure. His ex-wife is proof. But it’s difficult to ignore his attraction to his son’s nanny. There’s more to Penny than meets the eye. She’s as brilliant with business as she is with his son. And with him—in bed. All his orderly lines get all tangled up. Playing along with a fake marriage is one thing. Wishing it was real shakes him to his core.
As the business deal Drew wanted so badly goes south, so does his fledgling relationship with Penny, leaving him wondering if there can be any pleasure in business without Penny by his side.
Grab your copy of The Billionaire’s Pretend Wife (Preston Brothers Book One) from
www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
EXCERPT
Chapter One
“Why don’t you and Lisa come over to my place on Thursday night? I’ll have my chef whip up something delicious, and we can talk details on the sale.”
Drew Preston kept a bright smile on his face. That was one of the rules of business his father had taught him early in his life, when his dad was building the family shipping business from the ground up. Wear the expression you’d want people to see, even if you’re on the phone. They’ll hear it in your voice.
He needed Jack Holloway to hear an easy confidence today, because Jack’s company—up for sale in a once-in-a-lifetime deal—was the final piece for Drew to pick up for Preston Logistics. After everything that had happened with his ex-wife Susan…
Drew wasn’t going to think about that now.
“Oh, sure.” Jack Holloway seemed to follow Drew’s father’s advice, too, because he sounded genuinely excited to come out to Drew’s place. Of course, that could be because Drew’s house was a mansion overlooking some of California’s most beautiful wine country. “Lisa will be thrilled. What time should we arrive?”
“Six o’clock?”
“Perfect. We’ll be there with bells on.”
They ended the call at the same moment Drew’s son Logan laughed in the next room of the office suite, where Drew’s secretary had her desk. His son had the best laugh. What he didn’t have was a nanny. The last nanny had been good—a little goofy, with curly blonde hair that she wore in an enormous bun on the top of her head—but two weeks ago she’d announced that she was headed off to business school, and that had been that. He’d had to interview eight candidates to find her, too.
The interview with a potential new nanny was coming up in fifteen minutes. Drew added the dinner with Jack and Lisa to his calendar, then stood up to meet Sam, his uncle on his father’s side. He’d been spending time with Logan the last couple of weeks while Drew’s staff vetted candidates for the nanny position, and Drew owed him. It was well within his means to hire a temporary nanny, but Drew didn’t want to switch out Logan’s caretakers more than he had to. The boy was only three. It was hard enough switching back and forth between Drew’s and Susan’s houses.
But when he got to the door of his office, Sam wasn’t there.
Logan sat on the leather sofa across the room from the secretary’s desk, pressed leg-to-leg with a woman so gorgeous that Drew’s heart stopped, stuttered, and raced ahead to catch up.
The light from the window caught in her dark hair as she bent toward Logan, her finger tracing a path on the book she held. The table in front of the sofa had a drawer with books just for this purpose, and Logan had clearly chosen one to give her.
“Look at that red truck.” Her voice was clear, almost songlike, and Logan glanced up at her with wide eyes before he focused back on the book. “What do you think about that?”
“I like red trucks.” Logan nodded decisively. “Some red trucks are fire trucks, and they’re loud and fast. We’re going to see a fire truck tomorrow.”
She flipped the page. “Hmm. A blue boat. Have you ever been on a boat?”
“I swam in the water.” Logan’s eyes lit up. “Daddy took me to the pool, and I have dinosaurs on my bathing suit.”
Drew’s heart ached. It had been a couple of months since the last time he’d taken Logan to his favorite pool—an indoor setup at one of the larger gyms in town. He had a home gym and a pool at the house, but Susan had wanted Logan to mingle with other kids, so the two of them had gone in on a membership at the gym when Logan was a baby. Drew had never given it up.
Logan sat so still for this woman. She had to be the candidate for the nanny position, but she was dressed more like an executive in a gray blazer and pencil skirt.
They interacted with an ease that he’d rarely seen in Logan. It was a balm on his heart—a bittersweet one. How could his boy be almost as comfortable with this perfect stranger as he was with his own parents?
How long had he been standing here watching?
Drew cleared his throat, a smile already on his face. “I hate to interrupt…”
She looked up at him and boom—there it was again, reverberating like a bass drum in his chest. Those chocolate eyes, that pointed chin—he could picture himself taking it between his thumb and forefinger and tilting her face up toward his own.
“Hello,” she said, her own white teeth flashing in a smile. “Here, Logan. Check out that lifeboat a minute and let me know what you think.” Logan took the book, putting it studiously in his lap, and the woman stood gracefully. Drew met her halfway across the room, his hand extended to shake. “I’m Penelope Fox. Your uncle—”
“I had to step out for a minute.” Drew’s uncle rushed back in through the front entrance. “Call from one of my students.” He came across the office and gave Drew a quick embrace. “I left Logan in good hands, and Britta—where’d she go?”
“Here,” sang Britta from the doorway, a stack of papers in her arms. “Copies are done. Are you headed out?”
Drew laughed. “Yes. Meeting room down the hall. Are you good, Uncle Sam?”
“Better than ever.” The older man clapped his hands. “Logan, the playground is calling our names.”
Logan scrambled off the sofa and put the book carefully on the table. “I want to go on the swings.”
“We’ll go on the swings.” Sam led him to the door.
“And the slide.”
“And the slide, three times if you want.”
“Four!”
“Four times, if you want.”
“Wait!” Logan whe
eled around and came tearing across the room toward Drew. He leapt at the last second, landing solidly in his arms. When had he gotten so big?
Drew hugged his son tightly with a pang. It wouldn’t be very long before Logan stopped doing this. “Love you, buddy,” he murmured into his ear.
“Love too, Daddy.” The little boy, who had his blond hair and blue eyes, scrambled to get down as quickly as he’d come up. Drew stood him on his legs—they were full-on preschool legs now, losing the softness they’d had when Logan was a toddler—and the boy was off again.
Not to Sam, but to Penelope Fox.
Logan ran full tilt into her knees, wrapping them into a fierce hug, and Drew caught a glimpse of her surprised smile as she leaned down to pat Logan’s back.
What was in the air today—magic? It wasn’t just his plans with Jack that had Drew feeling so optimistic.
He had to pull it back. This kind of optimism had gotten him into the mess with Susan, which—as he reminded himself daily—had forced him to lay off at least two dozen people while he got Preston Logistics back on its wobbly feet. If he managed to acquire Jack’s business, the company would be solid again. He had to focus.
Logan let go of Penelope’s knees and ran at full speed back to Sam, who caught him by the hand and called a goodbye as Logan dragged him out.
“He’s full of energy.” Penelope’s voice had a smile in it, though her expression was more reserved now that Logan had left the room. “You have a sweet boy.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“I bet he’s a hit at the playground.”
“Oh, usually the center of attention, for sure.”
Drew was missing something, and Penelope’s presence in the room made it hard to think what it was.
“Ms. Fox’s resume and application.” Britta stepped to his side and pressed a slim folder into his hands.
Right. The interview.
“Right this way, Ms. Fox.” Drew led her down the hallway and into a meeting room with a table for six. Penelope took a deep breath and settled into one of the seats. He took the one across the table.