One Night With a Billionaire

by Jessica Clare

  But Star only smiled. “It’s going to be fine. Throw positive thoughts into the universe and good things will happen.”

  She forced a return smile to her face and nodded. Positive thoughts. Right. Star would never realize how miserable Kylie was at the moment, how utterly lonely, unhappy, and despairing she felt. Star thought that sadness could be erased by a good round of meditation and consulting a star chart. She pretty much subscribed to everything nutty that people associated with Los Angeles, but she was a good friend.

  “Well,” Star said after a moment. “I think there’s a dead adult film star’s place on the other side of town if you want to hit up another estate sale?”

  Kylie shook her head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to go home and mope, please.”

  Star stuck out her tongue. “Fine, be that way.” But they packed up their trays and got back into Star’s tiny beat-up Focus and headed back to her apartment.

  By Malibu standards, Star’s apartment was spacious. Sure, it was outdated, with popcorn ceilings and shag carpeting and not in the greatest neighborhood, but she had a large living area and a dining room which was currently full of packed items waiting to be auctioned. When Kylie wasn’t touring, her “home” was Star’s sofa, and as she set her purse down on it, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen while she was living with Star. Her friend sat in her recliner across from Kylie and immediately flipped on the TV to Antiques Roadshow.

  “You know what? I think I’m going to take a shower,” Kylie said. She got up from the couch-slash-bed and headed for the bathroom. It was the only place where she might have a moment to herself.

  Once she locked the door behind her, she started the shower and sat down on the edge of the tub. Hot tears pricked behind her eyes.

  She missed Cade. Missed his smile, his hugs, his skin against her own, his teasing, his curls, his everything. She missed the way he kissed her like it was a special privilege bestowed upon him. She missed snuggling up to him at night, and the way he looked first thing in the morning, sleepy-eyed and smiling.

  She loved him. She loved him, and because her life was a mess, she couldn’t be with him, because she’d be a liability to him, and he’d grow to resent her, the way she resented Nana Sloane. The way Nana Sloane had resented her.

  It was the right thing to do, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t lonely. Didn’t regret things. Didn’t hate Daphne for taking the cheap way out and costing Kylie a small fortune because she’d signed a bad contract.

  Actually, scratch that. She didn’t even hate Daphne. She hated herself for leaving her phone in her purse and getting caught. That one small moment had cost her a wonderful man.

  The tears flowed, and Kylie pressed her face into a washcloth, weeping.

  A soft knock came at the door. “Hey, you all right in there?” Star asked.

  “Fine,” Kylie said quickly, swiping at her tears. “I’m okay.”

  “Well, I know you just got in the shower but there’s some blond guy at the door asking to see you.”

  She bit back her gasp of surprise. Cade? But then, why was she surprised that he was here? Of course he was. She’d abandoned him so suddenly, and without explaining herself. She was such a jerk. “T-tell him I don’t want to see him.”

  “Are you sure? He’s got a pretty swanky aura,” Star said. “And a limo. Those are two good things in my book.”

  “I’m sure,” Kylie bellowed, and turned the shower stream up higher so she could hopefully drown out any further protests Star made.

  An hour later, she’d put off getting out of the bathroom for as long as possible. She’d showered, scrubbed, loofahed, deep-conditioned, dyed her roots, shaved every inch, lotioned her skin, painted her nails, and would have blown out her hair if it wasn’t so steamy in the tiny bathroom. So she hung up her towel, piled her wet hair into a clip, and then emerged.

  Star popped her head around the corner. “Feel better?”

  “Much,” Kylie lied. Most of the swelling around her eyes had gone down at least. Most. And what the shower hadn’t fixed, eyedrops had.

  “It took me forever to get that guy to go away,” Star said, shaking her head. “He seemed nice, though. Cute, too. He’s a Cancer, you know. They’re very supportive.”

  Count on Star to have someone show up at her door and get their star sign. “That’s great.”

  “He’d be a great match for you since you’re a Pisces,” she commented.

  “Not interested,” Kylie said again. She was a terrible liar, but hey.

  “Yeah, that’s what I told him, too,” Star said.

  Kylie’s heart skipped a beat and she forced herself to move to the couch and sit down calmly. “What did he say to that?”

  Star shrugged her dainty shoulders. “He mumbled something about a band or singers or something and left.”

  A fierce pain stabbed Kylie in the heart. A singer? Was he deciding to finally choose Daphne instead of Kylie, who offered nothing in a relationship? Had he finally given up, figuring she wasn’t worth it? God, why did it hurt so much to think about that? She wanted to run out the door after him.

  That whole “burden” thing kept stopping her, though.

  Numb, Kylie curled up on her end of Star’s couch and hugged one of the throw pillows. She could get through this. She could. She’d had her heart broken once. It would mend again, right? She just needed time.

  Even as she told herself that, fresh tears appeared.

  Star gave her a stricken look. “Why don’t I get us some Ben & Jerry’s?” She didn’t do well with touchy-feely emotional moments.

  “Thanks.” Kylie gave her a wan smile and swiped under her eyes again. She was such a mess.

  The doorbell rang.

  Alarmed, Kylie stared at it from her spot on the couch. “Star?”

  “Just a minute,” Star called from the kitchen. “I dropped the chocolate syrup on the floor.”

  Shit. Kylie contemplated leaving the door unanswered, but the doorbell rang again.

  “Can you get that?” Star called.

  Well, she kind of had to now, didn’t she? Kylie went to the door, padding on bare feet, and peered out the peephole. A child was there. She squelched a flash of disappointment that it wasn’t Cade and opened the door. “Can I help you?”

  The boy standing there was dressed in a striped shirt and shorts, and had curly blond hair that reminded her too much of Cade. He gave her an angelic smile, his hands behind his back. “Are you Kylie?”

  “Ummmm. Maybe?”

  He grinned. “I’m s’posed to tell you to take this.” He produced a flat box from behind his back, tied with a big white bow. “And that if you don’t take it, the orphanage I’m from won’t get any money.”

  Kylie’s eyes narrowed. Her heart thumped. “Is that so?”

  The little boy gave a slow nod and offered Kylie the box. And even though she knew she shouldn’t take it, she couldn’t help herself. With trembling fingers, she accepted it and pulled on the fluffy ribbon while the little boy scampered away.

  Inside the box was a waffle, and a note.

  Her choked sob turned into a laugh. A waffle. Typical Cade. The sight of it made her heart ache, and she thought back to those silly, wonderful late-night dinners. She picked up the card and flipped it open, holding her breath.

  Just so you know, I have a marching band out here waiting to play “Pretty Woman” if you don’t come out to the parking lot in two minutes. And more orphans ready to come to your door. I’m not playing around this time. We need to talk, and I’m prepared to use billionaire guerrilla tactics if necessary.

  —Cade

  Exasperated, she dropped the note back into the box and shut the lid. She didn’t know what to do. Common sense told her to go out and talk to Cade like an adult. To explain to him exactly how she felt, and why she couldn’t be with him. That she didn’t want to drag him down with her money troubles and become a burden, someone
he had to take care of and rescue from herself constantly.

  But the small, wounded part of her wanted to retreat inside and pretend she never got the note. To call his bluff and make him realize she couldn’t be pushed around.

  As she hesitated, strains of music rose from the parking lot of the apartment complex. It sounded like . . . trombones. Or a tuba. Her jaw dropping, Kylie headed for the parking lot. He . . . he really hadn’t hired a band had he?

  As she turned the corner, an entire marching band dressed in uniform with plumed hats burst into the chorus of “Pretty Woman.”

  Sure enough, he had. And instead of being furious or embarrassed, she couldn’t stop laughing. It was sweet, she had to admit. And no one could really stay mad at a marching band, could they?

  The band began to move in formation, and as she watched, they parted and revealed a long black stretch limo, with a man in a gray suit leaning up against it. He held a familiar African violet in a pot, and instead of his normal welcoming smile, there was a wary look on Cade’s face. As if he wasn’t sure what to expect.

  At the sight of Kylie, though, the wary look disappeared and his smile blossomed, and her heart gave a happy little skip at the sight of his pleasure. It skipped again when she saw the flower, and at this rate, she was going to pass out from all the heart-skipping if he didn’t stop looking at her with those soulful blue eyes.

  He raised a hand and gestured at the band. They immediately stopped playing, the silence making her ears ring. “I figured you wouldn’t believe me if I didn’t show up with a band this time,” he told her. “So I brought them.”

  She said nothing. The knot in her throat was too huge.

  Her silence made him stand straighter. He put the violet on top of the limo and then stepped toward her. “Can we talk?”

  Bad idea, her brain said.

  Shut the fuck up, her loins said.

  Kylie hesitated. Emotion warred with common sense. In the end, she listened to her loins. “Um, sure.”

  “You pick the place. Anywhere you like.” He was now standing so close to her that she could smell his aftershave, and her knees went weak. Why did he have to smell so freaking good?

  “Um.” She gestured at Star’s apartment. “In there, I guess.” It was getting increasingly hard to focus with him so near to her. Longing was threatening to take over her brain and dump out all common sense and replace it with pure lust.

  Which, honestly, didn’t sound so bad at the moment.

  He gestured for her to walk first, and she did, heading back toward the apartment. Her entire body was incredibly aware of his hand moving to rest at the small of her back. It was a simple gesture, and an utterly possessive one, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it if she tried.

  As they went into Star’s apartment, though, she cringed at what he must think of it. Cade constantly wore expensive suits, and she’d never seen him in anything more casual than a sports jacket. Every hotel he’d stayed in was pricey and he normally had a suite. Star’s apartment had blacklight posters of mushrooms, beads hanging from doorways, and smelled faintly of incense. Her couch was old and brown and ratty, and Kylie’s blankets were still spread on it from when she’d woken up this morning. God, what must he think of them? She hurried forward and grabbed the pillow and blankets, piling them into her arms and rushing toward Star’s bedroom. “Let me just clear you off a spot.”

  She quickly flung the blankets on Star’s bed and returned to the living room, only to see Star holding up one of her rose quartz crystals and dragging it through the air. “You have the prettiest aura,” she told him. “It’s incredible.”

  “Thank you,” he said, grinning. “Yours isn’t so bad, either.”

  Star beamed at him and pocketed her crystal. “Can I get you something to eat or drink? Kylie and I were just about to drown our sorrows in ice cream.”

  “Is that so?” His smile turned to Kylie, and she saw it falter a bit. Just a bit. “Are there a lot of sorrows to drown?”

  “Oh, you have no idea—”

  “Star,” Kylie barked. “Please.”

  Her friend blinked. “Oh. Of course. How silly of me. Mr. Fancy Aura, why don’t you take my ice cream and eat with Kylie? I need to walk down to the store anyhow. I’m fresh out of, uh, packing tape.” She gave him a brilliant smile, grabbed her purse, and then turned to Kylie and gave her an exaggerated wink. “See you in about three hours.”

  As Star left the room, Cade turned back to Kylie, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Does she need a ride to the store? I hate to think of her walking so far.”

  “The store’s around the corner,” Kylie corrected, heading to the kitchen to retrieve the ice cream. “She’s just being a good friend.”

  “Ah,” Cade said. “I have a few of those.”

  “I bet they’ve never analyzed your aura,” Kylie grumbled as she picked up the two bowls of ice cream from Star’s avocado-colored countertop. God, Star had made the servings absolutely huge. “Um, so this looks like a lot of ice cream but it’s also dinner,” she explained, handing him a bowl.

  “Would you like a waffle to go with this?” he asked as he took the bowl. “I know where we can get one.”

  Her laughter came out of her nose as an embarrassing snort. Way to go, Kylie. They held the ice cream bowls in front of them, standing awkwardly and staring at each other. Finally, Kylie decided to break the silence. “I’d offer for us to sit in the dining room, but that’s Star’s work area.”

  “Is she . . . a fortune-teller?” Cade asked.

  “You’d think that, but no, she’s just a flake.” Kylie smiled. “She goes to estate sales, scrounges through dead people’s stuff, and resells it on eBay.”

  His brows rose. “Sounds morbid.”

  “She says it’s an adventure and beats working in an office.” Kylie shrugged and gestured at the old brown sofa. “Shall we?”

  They both sat down, and Cade gamely ate a spoonful of Cherry Garcia, his gaze on her the entire time. Kylie couldn’t eat. She was too nervous, too awkward, too ready to fling herself into his arms and sob that she wanted to love him desperately but fate was a cruel bitch.

  “Are you . . . not hungry?” Cade asked, glancing at the bowl clutched in her hands.

  Dutifully, she put the spoon in her mouth and took a bite. Phish Food. Her favorite. Today, though, it tasted more like Phish Glue. She forced herself to swallow, and gave him another awkward smile.

  “Daphne’s good,” he volunteered, taking another mouthful of ice cream. “She hates rehab but we’ve got new people around her and she’s determined in a way I’ve never seen before. Carmela’s sticking at her side, too.”

  “Good,” Kylie said. “That’s good.” Great, now she was just parroting back his words. Way to be a stunning conversationalist, Kylie.

  “Good,” he agreed.

  Silence fell again. Kylie twisted her spoon in her melting ice cream. The bowl was cold against her thighs, but she didn’t have any other place to put it. Cade was still cradling his bowl in his hands, glancing around Star’s shabby apartment. God, this was all so awkward.

  Then he looked at her with those gorgeous blue eyes. A hint of a smile curved his mouth. “You know, I pictured this reunion with a lot more making out.”

  For some reason, that struck her as insanely funny, and Kylie began to giggle.

  He grinned at her, visibly relaxing. “It’s true. I thought maybe you’d see the band and fling yourself passionately in my arms and we could ride off into the sunset. Or down Sunset Avenue, at the very least. And I’d hold you close—much, I imagine, like a spider monkey would—and tell you all about how much I love you and miss you, and we’d kiss and I’d end up with most of your lipstick on me and it’d be pretty damn great.”

  More giggles erupted from her, and she stared at her bowl. To her horror, her laughter turned into a sob, and she started to cry. Shit, not again.

  “Please don’t cry, Kylie. Please. God, I can’t stand
to see you hurting and not be able to do anything about it.” Cade set the bowl down on the floor and moved closer to her. His hand went to her waist and he pulled her close, burying his face in the curve of her neck. “Please. I’ll go if you want me to, okay? Just don’t . . . don’t be so sad. Tell me to go and I’ll go.”

  “I . . . don’t want you to go,” she admitted softly. She wanted to burrow against him and forget the world.

  He took the bowl of ice cream out of her lap and set it on top of his. Then he shifted closer to her on the couch and began to kiss her neck, her ear. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

  Her breath shuddered in her lungs. “I don’t want you to stop, either.”

  His fingers moved to her chin and he tilted her face until she was looking at him. “Tell me not to love you.”

  She . . . couldn’t tell him that, either. “Oh, Cade.”

  “That’s not a no,” he told her.

  “I love you,” she admitted. “I just . . . I’m trapped, Cade.” She shook her head, feeling a bit hopeless. “I love you. I want to be with you more than anything, but with circumstances how they are, I just can’t. I can’t be a burden to you.”

  “A financial burden?” he guessed.

  Her entire body stilled. “You . . . how . . . ?”

  “Carmela mentioned that the label had put the screws to you in your contract and they were doing something similar to Daphne.” He smiled broadly. “So I bought myself a record label.”

  “You what?” Her heart pounded.

  “I bought the label. Reviewed the contracts for myself and found them rather unfriendly. Daphne’s now in better hands, and I have this for you.” He pulled an envelope out of a pocket inside his jacket.

  Her stomach dropped. “I don’t want your money, Cade.”

  “Well, that’s nice, but this isn’t my money. This is yours.” He pressed the envelope into her hand. Wary, she opened it.

  Inside was a check on the record label’s account. It was the exact amount they had charged her for Daphne’s concerts.

  “How . . .”

  “Like I said, I now own the label.” He corrected himself a moment later, tilting his head. “Well, actually, I own the majority share. But they wanted to make me happy and this was what I insisted upon.”