An Accidental Date with a Billionaire

by Diane Alberts

To be more.

  She was an inspiration and a lesson in humility, all in one beautiful package.

  Around her, he came up inadequate, and he was inspired to match her kindness and her heart, something he suspected he might never do. No one would ever be as good, as giving, as Sam.

  Maybe that was why he didn’t want their “date” to end.

  He lived by a strict set of rules, and they existed for a reason, despite how much Sam liked to tease him…and they shouldn’t be broken, because they keep life in order and under control. People liked to say that life wasn’t yours to control, that God had bigger plans than you could touch. He called bullshit on that.

  You could control your life, if you wanted to. Set some boundaries, lay down some rules and routines, and you’d know what was coming next because you planned it that way.

  But with Sam…

  He was veering off the plan.

  Here he was, in the woods, in the dark, vulnerable to attack, all because he didn’t want to end his time with Sam. This wasn’t something he could control.

  What the hell was wrong with him lately?

  “Feeling better?” she asked, nudging him with her shoulder playfully.

  No. Forcing a smile, he shrugged. “Yeah, the heat is nice.”

  “So are the s’mores.” She handed him one, which he took without hesitation.

  He hadn’t had a s’more since middle school, at a sleepover he’d gone to at Mark Greer’s house. His mother had picked him up before the actual sleepover part because he hadn’t wanted to sleep in someone else’s bed. Even back then, he’d been set in his ways.

  Yet he was in the woods.

  Without a bed.

  She broke the silence again. “Come on, admit it. You’re having a little bit of fun.”

  As he took a bite of the warm treat, chocolate and marshmallow spewed out the sides. He popped the whole thing in his mouth, hoping to avoid more of a mess. Though sloppy as hell, they were fucking delicious. “The snacks aren’t so bad,” he said into the flames.

  Neither was the company.

  “You’ve got…here.” Grinning, she reached out and smoothed her finger over his chin, sticking her finger in her mouth and sucking on it. “There. All gone.”

  He wasn’t sure whether to be turned on by her sucking on her finger or embarrassed he’d had marshmallow on his face in the first place. He settled for an awkward combination of the two that had him shifting his weight on the cold, hard ground. “Thanks.”

  She closed another s’more, popping it into her mouth effortlessly. She managed to do it without making a mess all over her face, unlike him. She wiped her hands on her jeans, picking up her canned beer and taking a swig. He hadn’t had canned beer since college, when he’d been too poor to afford anything else. Apparently, when saving the world and planting some trees, volunteers liked to unwind afterward with cheap beer, fires, and s’mores.

  Who knew?

  “Are you doing Habitat for Humanity tomorrow afternoon?” someone to her left asked her.

  “I…” The uncertainty was clear in her eyes. She wanted to say yes but worried he might not want to. He refused to be the one to stop her from living her life, so he grinned and nodded. She turned back to the woman who asked her the question, relief in her eyes. “Yep. We are.”

  “And, of course, the soup kitchen after,” he added.

  He remembered her mentioning that she did that every Saturday night. Every other weekend was also her time at the animal shelter. She cleaned the cages, petted the puppies, and snuggled the cats. She’d skipped last week for him, but he would make sure she didn’t have to do so again.

  The woman was nonstop.

  Was she ever selfish? Did she ever do anything for herself, just because she wanted to? Maybe that was why he hadn’t ended things yet, even though she was upending his life. Maybe he wanted to give her something that was good for her for once—like on-demand orgasms, for starters. Maybe he was her little act of selflessness. It was the least he could do.

  “Great.” She beamed at him. “Then dinner at Fado?”

  “Sure, I’d like that.”

  Maybe Saturday nights would become Fado nights.

  But would he want to go without her?

  She turned to talk to the woman, but she didn’t stop touching him, as if she needed the connection. Scarily enough, he did, too.

  Run. Run fast.

  “You two dating?” some dude asked from beside him, watching Sam with what could only be described as desire.

  Taylor stiffened, something unfamiliar and hot poking him in the gut. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Lucky,” the guy said, taking a sip of his cheap beer. “Most of us have tried to get her to go out with us, but she’s always too busy saving the world. To be honest, I was kind of hoping tonight was my night. Fires. Beer. Nature. The stars. But clearly, I’m too late.”

  The firelight played with her hair. It highlighted the contours of her face, softening the curve of her cheek. She was absolutely breathtaking, inside and out. It was no wonder this guy had a thing for her.

  Taylor did, too.

  He faced the guy, trying not to let jealousy get the best of him. After all, soon enough she’d be on her own again, and he’d be nothing more than a memory of that time she had a really long date with some rich asshole. Would this dude be her next one-night stand? Would she break the rules for him, like she had for Taylor? “Yeah, you are.”

  “Roy.” The man shook his hand.

  “Taylor,” he said as politely as he could.

  Roy nodded. “Nice to meet you. You new to all this?”

  “Yeah, she kind of dragged me into the life,” he said, tipping his head toward Sam.

  “The things we do for love,” Roy said, watching her too closely for Taylor’s liking.

  Love? Hell no. Despite his continued desire to be in her company, that was one emotion he had no intention of ever visiting. “I don’t lo…”

  “Come on,” Sam said, urging him to his feet.

  He let her lift him, following her into the darkness, away from the crowds, despite his itching need to tell Roy he had it all wrong. The second they were out of earshot, he broke his silence. “Unless you’re bringing me out here to fuck, I think we should go back. We shouldn’t wander too far from the group alone.”

  “Stop being such a dad,” she whispered, tugging him along.

  He gritted his teeth at her insult, the feel of her skin on his warring with his annoyance with her, and, if he was being honest? With himself. “Did you seriously just call me a—?”

  “Shh. Here. Look.”

  He glanced around impatiently. Nothing but trees and darkness. He’d much rather be back at the campsite, admiring the way the firelight played with her beauty—or better yet? In his bedroom, naked in bed with her in his arms. “At?” he asked testily.

  She glanced at him sharply, surprise at his tone evident in her eyes. Gently, she tipped his chin up with her fingers. “Look at the sky, Taylor.”

  He lifted his head.

  Stars twinkled above. “Wow.”

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked, her face turned up to the sky.

  He swallowed hard, watching her profile. “Stunning.”

  She turned to him, catching him staring. The smile froze on her lips, and she didn’t move. “Taylor…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for coming with me tonight, and for this whole week with you on this date. It’s been…great. Really great.”

  He reached for her slowly, pushing the hair out of her face. “You say that like this is goodbye.”

  She pressed her hand into his cheek. “Maybe it should be, before things get bad. You know?”

  Something a hell of a lot like denial settled in his throat, choking him, despite his mirroring worries he’d had earlier tonight. She kept talking about ending things, but he wasn’t ready, damn it. Not yet. He tightened his grip on her. “Why?”

  “Because
things like this only go on for so long before they have to become something else, or end, and we know this can never be anything other than what it is.”

  “It doesn’t have to be, though.” He ran his knuckles down her smooth cheek, his heart beating yet somehow hurting so much it seemed impossible for it to do so. “Not tonight.”

  “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “But I just wanted to tell you here, under the stars, that I will never forget you, Taylor Jennings. Not even after we’ve moved on with our lives.”

  Grief hit him hard in the chest at the same time as denial punched him in the stomach, making it twist into knots that threatened the s’more he’d just eaten. There was no way in hell he was ready to let go of her yet, but he’d have to soon. There was no other choice. Avoiding her gaze and the way her sad eyes made him want to promise things he couldn’t, he pulled her into his arms and rested her cheek on his chest.

  Being out here in nature, with nothing but darkness and stars around him, prompted him to a blunt honesty he usually tried to avoid. Staring at the sky, he reluctantly said, “I won’t forget you either, Sammy. I think I couldn’t even if I tried.”

  And once this was over…

  He would try.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next night, they lay in a real bed together, and Sam closed her eyes, perfectly content to be where she was, surrounded by Egyptian cotton and down pillows as fluffy as clouds, with Taylor’s hard arms wrapped around her tightly. No matter how many hours she spent in his bed as he brought her to heights she’d never seen before, she still ached for one more time before walking away—something she was smart enough to know she should have done long ago, but not smart enough to actually do.

  Even now, as she lay there, naked and coated in a thin sheen of sweat, completely satisfied and weak, she wanted nothing more than to whisper her secrets to him, to open up to him in ways she never had to anyone else.

  It was as dangerous as it was unwelcome.

  They’d spent the day as planned, building houses together, making the world a better place one piece of wood at a time, and another night at the soup kitchen before eating at Fado Irish Pub. It would be so easy to fall into a routine with him, to let herself come to expect and rely on these weekends together—not to mention the weeknights—but she couldn’t fall into routines.

  Not with him.

  She should get up, dress herself, thank him for the fun time, and never return…before she did the unthinkable and actually fell for the guy. There were a million reasons why she couldn’t do that—his job, his social status, his money, her past, their agreement, their mutual unwillingness to fall in love, just to name a few—and she hadn’t forgotten a single one of them. As a matter of fact, they kept her awake at night, after his quiet, even breathing filled the night’s silence.

  And yet…

  She didn’t get up.

  Didn’t walk away.

  She needed to get her head on straight and focus on what really mattered. Volunteering in every possible way. Working hard to succeed at her job, with late nights at the office instead of cutting out at five to rush back to Taylor. Her goals. Saving companies…

  “You’re being quiet,” he said, his voice rumbling in his chest, where her ear rested. His hand ran down her back, absentmindedly rubbing her. “Everything okay?”

  She ran a finger through his crisp chest hair, drawing a circle. “Yeah, just…thinking.”

  “Uh-oh,” he teased, the smile he undoubtedly wore audible in his voice. “Watch out, world. She’s thinking.”

  She smacked his chest playfully.

  “What’s on your mind, Sammy?”

  Her shoulders stiffened at the nickname. Not because she didn’t like it—because she did. It had seemed a fluke before, just a nickname pulled out while staring at the beauty of the stars, but he’d used it several times since. “Just some work stuff. I met with that client again, Mr. Harper—”

  “Mr. Harper?” he asked, his tone tight.

  “Yeah. And he’s thinking about taking the offer some cutthroat asshole of a consolidator gave him.” She tilted her head and offered him a slight smile. “No offense.”

  He flexed his jaw. “Maybe he’s taking it because it’s a good offer and it’s his best option. There’s a good chance he’s tired of trying to save something that is impossible and he needs a way out. Have you ever thought about that?”

  She lifted on an elbow, her heart picking up speed at his argumentative tone. She hadn’t mentioned work since he’d gotten upset when she called him the enemy, but now that she’d opened up and talked to him, he was angry?

  His anger spurred her own, and she clutched at it desperately.

  “No, I haven’t, because losing your dream is never a good thing.” She pushed off his chest, tugging the sheet with her. If she was going to argue with him about whether he was doing something good by ending companies, it wouldn’t be with her naked boobs (along with red chafing from his five o’clock shadow) hanging out.

  He let his hand drift away from her back and sat up against the headboard, settling what was left of the sheet over his lap. “Maybe some dreams need to die, Sam.”

  “Maybe they don’t need help getting there,” she gritted out.

  His nostrils flared. “Maybe they do and you just refuse to see it.”

  They stared at one another, breathing heavily.

  She won the unspoken contest they’d been having, because he spoke first.

  “I don’t like the way you talk about my job, like it makes me a bad guy.”

  When she opened her mouth, he held a hand up, glowering at her. “I swear to God if you say it does make me a bad guy, I’ll fucking explode.”

  She pressed her mouth into a thin line. “It doesn’t make you a bad guy, but you basically swoop in when people are at the lowest point in their lives, when they’re desperate for a solution—any solution—that makes sense, and you offer them an out that not only ends the very thing they’re fighting for, but which, when everything is said and done, is tailored to make you a pretty profit and make your portfolio nicer. You’re not looking out for them—you’re in it for you.”

  “It’s my job to take unprofitable companies and either make them profitable, and save some jobs in the process, or to know it’s impossible to save a sinking ship, and to close it altogether,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m the guy who is best equipped to make that call.”

  “Why? Because you’ve become rich off of other people’s failures?”

  He shook his head. “No. Because I’m not too emotionally attached to the company to see what’s dragging it down in the first place, and not too naive to think I can overcome it if I just try hard enough.”

  The way he said that last part, all high-pitched in a poor imitation of her voice, left no doubt in her mind he mocked her—which she might have found funny if rage wasn’t pounding through her body.

  She stood, ripping the sheet off the bed with her and wrapping it around her body—leaving him naked and vulnerable. “Or maybe you’re so cold and dead inside that you’re too quick to ignore the whole picture, and you don’t even try to see a way to save the company before you rip it apart, bone by bone, and feed it to the dogs.”

  He got out of bed, his motions jerky. “Cold, huh?”

  She wasn’t sure if he referred to her current status and her hogging of the sheets, or her interpretation of his emotional status. Either way: “Yep.”

  “That’s real funny, coming from you.”

  She hugged herself, holding the sheet in place. “I’m not cold. I try to save people. To help them. You—”

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking about your work,” he snapped. “You’re all about the warm and fuzzy shit there. Saving unicorns and building rainbows, or whatever the hell it is you do in your office that definitely doesn’t include facing the realities of life and the fact that your clients are fucked before they ever step foot in your office.”

  She bit her tongue. “
At least I’m not the frigging grim reaper—”

  “I’m talking about here, with me, in this room,” he continued, standing there completely naked and clearly perfectly content to do so.

  How could she argue with him when that glorious body was on display?

  Maybe that was part of his plan.

  Distract her with his abs and win.

  Not today, Satan.

  “What we just did wasn’t very cold,” she argued. Bending down, she picked up the pants he’d removed earlier tonight and chucked them at him. “For God’s sake, get dressed.”

  He cocked a brow at her, letting the clothing hit him in the chest and fall to the floor. “What we just did in that bed had nothing to do with emotions and everything to do with fucking for pleasure.”

  She recoiled. She couldn’t help it. “You wouldn’t know emotions if they punched you in the face,” she countered.

  He laughed. Icily. “You’re going to call me out on my lack of emotions when you run every time I try to talk about anything you deem too personal to be questioned?”

  “Considering you never let yourself trust me enough to let go of your control in bed, and never stop playing by your rules even when your head is between my thighs?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Maybe when you stop clamming up when I ask you where you went to school, or what your favorite foods were as a kid, or where your parents live—maybe, just maybe, I’d consider letting you take control in the bed.”

  “Fine,” she snapped. “While we’re at it, why don’t we talk about what it is that makes you so desperate to hold on to control over everything in your life in the first place.”

  He threw his hands up. “Sure, why not? Why don’t I tell you every little detail about my life, from the time of my birth until now, and change everything about myself, from the foods I eat to the way I fuck, all because you want me to—but, hey, you don’t have to change a damn thing about yourself or the way you keep me at a distance, because you’re just fine the way you are.”

  She took a step toward him. “I’m not asking you to change. I told you, I’m not that girl. I’m simply saying you get mad at me for being closed off, and not liking your job—”