Man Candy (Billionaire Bachelors Book 4)

by Lila Monroe

  “Thank you,” I say, wishing he wasn’t quite so nice while I’m trying to investigate him and his company.

  As he leaves, my mental gears start turning. The whole company is going to be away? If Nick can get past the Janssen’s alarm, I’m sure he can get into this building. But then I realize: with my security pass? It’ll be a piece of cake.

  Err … candy.

  After work, I’m excited to return to the condo, hoping Nick will be there. I can’t wait to tell him about the retreat. How most of the company will be gone. He’ll love that we’ll have the opportunity to snoop around, especially if we can get into the lab. There must be more clues in there. Benji seems nice, but a little cagey—I suspect he’s the key to what’s going on.

  Plus, the sooner we find the evidence, the sooner my guilt will fade. It’s getting weirder lying to everyone—especially when they’re all so nice and welcoming to me.

  The elevator doors open into the penthouse. I notice right away that Nick isn’t alone. For some reason, it bothers me that Lainey is here. Even though a glance at the kitchen island tells me she brought more chocolate. That takes the edge off my irritation. A little.

  Jealousy. Plain and simple. Over a guy that isn’t, nor ever will be, mine.

  “Hi!” I say, putting on an I’m-not-the-least-bit-jealous face.

  Lainey rises from her seat on the couch and smiles as she comes over. Nick trails behind her. “Alice, so nice to see you. What have you learned?” she asks, hopeful.

  “Well, uh, nothing yet,” I say, with a glance at Nick. He’s frowning. “But there might be an opportunity. The execs are going on a retreat to do some team building and an internal launch of the new bar. So we’ll be able to—”

  She claps her hands in excitement. “And you’re going!”

  “Well, no,” I say, glancing at Nick again before I look back at her. “It’s for management.”

  “You HAVE to go!” Lainey says, eyes wide. She nods at Nick. “Both of you.”

  “But I thought we could—”

  “No!” she talks over me again. “You should definitely go where they all are. Think of how much you can learn!”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Nick says.

  “But Mr. Janssen told me to take the time off. I can’t just show up at the management-only retreat and say I’m there to work.”

  “Where’s it being held?” Nick asks.

  “Big Horizon Resort. I think near Big Sur.”

  Nick nods. “I know it well.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “This could work. We’ll go in disguise.”

  Oh. Well then.

  The chance to get dressed up and go undercover? How can I resist?

  I grin back at him. “All right. Count me in.”

  17

  Alice

  Early the next morning, we drive to Blue Horizon Resort where the retreat’s being held. I’ve never been to Big Sur, but Gemma has raved about it, so I’m pretty excited to see what the hype’s about. So far, the drive has been epic—views that are pretty much to die for. Crashing waves, dramatic cliffs … Way different from the Manhattan skyline, that’s for sure.

  But back to my meddling sister. Last night when I’d visited and told her I was going on a retreat with Nick—the client that I need to keep my hands off—she gave me a wink and a knowing look.

  “It’s not like that,” I assured her. And okay, maybe I was trying to convince myself too.

  “Riiiiiight,” she’d drawled. “Professional retreat. Hands off.”

  Then she stuffed a box of condoms into my purse. I laughed and tsked at her as I took them out. But after she put them in again when I wasn’t looking, I pretended not to notice and left them in the pocket.

  Because Nick had said to be prepared for anything. Not that I am going to jump his bones. Nope. Nuh uh. Not gonna happen.

  Just being a good Girl Scout. Prepared for anything.

  Which also means I packed all my femme fatale gear that I’d brought from New York. All the stuff I’d hoped—but never really thought—I’d use. Wigs, bright-red lipstick, and sexy clothes that basically scream “NOT Alice.” Finally, I’m going to have a good reason to wear them.

  Although it almost didn’t happen. Because after Lainey left the condo, Nick had tried to tell me I couldn’t go. Blah, blah, blah, worried about your safety, getting caught or recognized. Blah, blah, blah.

  Maybe I would have been intimidated before, but this time I just laughed.

  As he crossed his arms and scowled.

  But I made my case. A strong case. He finally relented when he realized that A, there was no way in hell I was not going and B, he was being an alphahole and he had to admit I had already contributed in meaningful ways.

  Finally, he’d come around and even apologized. Especially when I reminded him how he’d been the one to tell me that having a woman as part of his cover made it easier for him to do his job.

  Yes, that is the sound of me throwing his own words back in his face. Which, I have to admit, was sweeter than one of Lainey’s orgasm truffles.

  So here we are, traveling down the beautiful coast, getting ready to infiltrate the CandyShack retreat. Totally incognito. Like real spies.

  I.

  Can’t.

  Wait.

  “What’s got you smiling like that?” Nick says, taking his eyes off the road for a second to shoot me a grin.

  I look at him, trying to determine which way I like him better: clean shaven as he is now, or with the scruffy beard I’d gotten used to since traveling to the West Coast. I guess “both” is a perfectly acceptable answer.

  “Oh, just looking forward to the undercover work.”

  “I bet you are.”

  His eyes flick up to my hair. Which is now a light blonde bob, thanks to my wig. I’m also wearing a cute patterned sundress (thanks to Gemma and her designer sample sales) and my chunky espadrilles. My giant sunhat, that’s too big to wear in Nick’s sports car, is in the trunk on top of our luggage. I almost don’t recognize myself … and I kind of love it.

  At CandyShack, I’m playing someone else, but my “character” is still a very capable admin. A familiar role.

  But now, according to Nick’s cover story, I’m Gina, new wife of Rex Salisbury, fourth-generation gravel magnate from New Jersey. That’s right, gravel, as in the stuff on roads and driveways. Because it’s so boring, no one will care enough to ask anything else.

  Whatever. Gravel, concrete, and cement aside, I’m loving being Gina. I’m loving how empowered I feel.

  “Ready to go, Rex?” I try out his new name.

  He laughs. ‘Sure thing, Gina. It’ll probably be easier for me to stay in character with you looking like that. You don’t look a thing like my Alice.”

  He probably didn’t mean anything by it, but the way he says “my Alice” makes my heart lurch in my chest. I resist the urge to press my palm against my breastbone. Instead, I swallow hard and look out the window.

  “How are you managing with the contact lenses?” he asks.

  I turn back toward him. “They’re great!” I say, though it might not be 100 percent true. Nick called in a favor from an optometrist friend, setting us up with disposable contact lenses. Nick’s are brown, making him look so different, especially with his lightened hair.

  Don’t get me wrong: He’s still hot as hell, though I do miss his stunning baby blues.

  My lenses are prescription, meaning I don’t need my glasses. They’re also brown, but lighter. Amber. They feel gritty and blur my vision a little, but they’re totally worth it.

  Because honestly? Once I got the wig on and the contacts in and put on the sexy designer dress? I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror. That’s how complete the transformation is.

  And I can’t wait to give Gina a spin.

  We arrive at the hotel early afternoon and head straight to the checkin desk.

  “You’re very lucky, Mr. and Mrs. Salisbury,” the clerk says as he taps away
at his keyboard. “This is our very last room.”

  “Oh really?” Nick asks casually as though simply curious. His arm is around me—one of the perks of being “newlyweds.”

  Room? Singular? As in, we’re sharing a room?

  Duh, Alice. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that, as newlyweds, we would have to share a room. I’m going to blame that oversight on Gina, who, I have determined, is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Though, realizing it before this very second wouldn’t have changed much. I just would have had more time to freak out about it. Maybe it’s better this way.

  “Yes,” the clerk continues. “We’re hosting a corporate retreat. It’s for CandyShack—the candy company?”

  As if he conjured them up by mentioning the company by name, Mr. Janssen and a couple CandyShack execs walk into the lobby just then. The men are dressed down in golf shirts and khakis, pulling rolling suitcases. Right behind them is Tiffany dragging her own suitcase, a giant tote hooked over her shoulder.

  My heart begins to pound and I have to keep reminding myself that I’m in disguise.

  I feel certain they’ll recognize me, but their gazes slide past like I’m not even here.

  Tiffany is approached by a bellhop with a cart who helps her with her bags. The men come up behind us, so I angle myself away from them, tucking my body into Nick’s.

  He looks down at me. “How yoo doin’, honeybunny?” he says in a thick New Jersey accent.

  I smile up at him, the accent and pet name helping to ease my anxiety. A little. “Great, shmoopycakes,” I return, channeling my inner Real Housewives of New Jersey.

  He leans down and gives me a sweet kiss on the lips. A lingering sweet kiss. One that I’m sure is part of the newlywed act, but is still making my neglected lady parts take notice.

  Oh God. This man can kiss.

  Someone behind us laughs. “Get a room!”

  Nick gives me one last peck before he turns to the CandyShack men and flashes them a grin. “Workin’ on it, bro.”

  The clerk clears his throat, bringing our attention back to him. “Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. Salisbury,” he says with a polite smile as he hands Nick the little folder. “Two keys for you. Please accept our congratulations on your marriage.”

  We thank him and grab our bags. Nick winks over his shoulder at the CandyShack men. I do my best not to laugh. At least while they’re within earshot.

  I stop laughing when we open the door to our room and I see the bed.

  The one and only bed.

  I mean, it’s ginormous and could probably hold a family of six, plus a dog, a pair of cats, and maybe even a guinea pig. But there’s no denying the fact that it’s one bed.

  Some strategic stretching or rolling in the middle of the night would bring my body right up against Nick’s …

  I glance over at him and he’s staring at it too. He must be thinking the same thing. Maybe this is the real reason he didn’t want me to come with him.

  “You know what?” I say, crossing the room with my bag in tow. “I’m going to change into my suit and grab some time at the pool while I can. You don’t mind, do you?”

  He mutters something that I don’t bother deciphering. I duck into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Letting go of the bag, I take the few steps over to the mirror.

  I have to do a double take at the woman I see there.

  Oh yeah, that is me. I pull off the big floppy hat and the sunglasses. With the wig and the contacts, the woman in the mirror still doesn’t look like me. But on the inside it’s definitely Alice.

  Jittery, nervous Alice who is freaking out about sharing a bed with Nick Cameron.

  Seriously. What the hell was I thinking?

  18

  Alice

  Nick yells that he’s heading out to case the resort, so I set about slathering my pasty body in sunscreen and changing into my new suit. I borrowed one of Gemma’s string bikinis that “Alice” wouldn’t be caught dead in. Though, “Gina” worries it might still be large enough to leave (gasp!) unsightly tan lines.

  I take a look at my reflection and nearly have a heart attack. It leaves nothing to the imagination.

  All my nothings.

  I nearly change my mind. I can’t go out in what is basically Kleenex and dental floss, I think, scandalized by my own reflection.

  Except that Gina looks pretty hot.

  Gina gives zero fucks.

  Gina is the woman I wish I could really be sometimes.

  What the hell. I can totally be Gina. I channel her as I shore up my courage, slip into a cover-up that’s basically a see-through shorty robe, and leave the room.

  I head to the pool in my wide sunhat and dark glasses. Away from Nick and the room, it’s easier to relax. And doing it as Gina, the not-so-smart, not-so-real Housewife of New Jersey, isn’t just a relief. It’s also pretty damn fun.

  I take a seat at the pool bar, sliding onto one of the stools. I survey my surroundings as I cross my legs and carelessly swing the top one, a flip-flop dangling from my (hastily painted) toes.

  Now that I’m out here, I feel basically naked, but I’m reminding myself no one knows me.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asks. She’s a smiling woman in her forties wearing a starched shirt and long black tie.

  I’m about to say a scotch, but remind myself I’m Gina from Jersey. What would Gina drink on her honeymoon?

  Something fruity, surely. “How about a banana daiquiri?” I ask.

  The bartender nods and turns to assemble my drink, giving me a few minutes to enjoy the scenery around the pool. The resort is really nice and would be the ideal spot for a real honeymoon.

  A few minutes later, the bartender brings me my drink, complete with a little umbrella. It’s delicious. I could get used to this life, I think.

  I’m about to take my drink to a lounger beside the pool when I see familiar faces. Four CandyShack execs saunter up to the bar beside me.

  Shit. I resist the urge to bolt even though I’m like 97 percent sure I’m about to be busted. But I remind myself I’m here to work, so I tug the brim of my hat down a little and stay put. Maybe these guys never noticed Alice the new admin. Finally, being the invisible girl pays off.

  “… didn’t want to come out for a drink?” one of the men—Stefan, the head of merchandising—is saying.

  Another man I recognize shakes his head. “No. He’s still tweaking his PowerPoint for the launch. His assistant did it, but you know what he’s like.” He rolls his eyes.

  Carl, manager of procurement, says, “Anyway, being such a pasty redhead, he’d fry to a crisp out in this sun.” He leans over the bar and waves at the bartender to get her attention.

  These guys are talking about Benji. I’d bet my floppy hat on it. I casually get out my phone to text Nick.

  CS guys talking @ pool bar. Come now!

  “Kind of an odd duck, isn’t he?” the fourth man says. I think he has something to do with sales.

  “Totally.” Stefan nods. “But a master with chocolate. Have you tried the one they’re launching?”

  The other men shake their heads.

  “I don’t even like chocolate but it’s fucking amazing. Like, there’s crack in it or something. You’ll see. They brought some of the prototype batch for everyone to try before we start full-scale manufacture.”

  I wonder if Nick’s off stealing some bars. I seriously hope so. You know, for the case.

  “How did he come up with this formulation?” Baldy says.

  THIS IS IT! I think.

  I hold my breath and will my ears to open wide to catch this guy saying something incriminating as I take a casual sip of my drink.

  “No clue. He’s got a good palate, I guess. Background in food science and chemistry.”

  Oh. So that’s disappointing. And boring. Don’t any of these guys have dirt?

  “But,” he says, leaning in close to his colleagues, “I heard a rumor …”

  HERE IT
COMES!

  “What can I get you fellas?” the bartender asks.

  NOOOOO! I want to scream at her. Because: what rumor???

  “Four beers,” Baldy says.

  As the bartender leaves to get their drinks, I wait for the conversation to continue. But as I’m looking at Stefan, he glances at me. My eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, but it’s like he can see me.

  Is he thinking I look familiar? Is he about to bust me? Shit. I take a sip to buy myself a second.

  He keeps looking at me. What the hell?

  I scramble to try to think of something clever to say, but my mind draws a complete blank. Panicking, I’m two seconds away from bolting when I hear, “Hey, baby.”

  Then, I recognize Nick’s voice. He ducks under the brim of my hat and his lips land on mine. “I missed you,” he says against my mouth, his accent thick as he stays in character. “They have some pretty sweet poured concrete paths. Real craftsmanship. I got a little distracted.”

  It’s no hardship to play along. Especially when it means I get to kiss Nick. I wrap my arms around his neck. Before it gets really heated, he pulls back and grins down at me like I’m the only woman he’s ever loved.

  I swallow. Hard.

  I’m so screwed.

  For something to focus on, I take another drink. Of course, my drink is empty.

  “Oops,” I give him a sheepish grin. “I’m getting into the vacay spirit.”

  “We’ll just have to get you another. I’m tasting …” He gives my lips a lick. “Rum?”

  I nod.

  “Delicious …” he says, his voice smoldering.

  I glance over at the CandyShack men who are watching us with interest. “Shmoopycakes, we’re putting on a show. Save something for later.”

  “Oh, I’ve got plenty for later,” he drawls and then glances over at the men. “Don’t mind us,” he says and then adds a conspiratorial: “Newlyweds.”

  The men nod and turn their backs on us. But when I’m hoping they’ll continue their conversation, their drinks arrive, and they drift away from the bar.

  “Damn,” I murmur as they disappear down one of those fine concrete paths lined with thick vegetation. “I’m sure I was just about to hear something good.”

  Nick sits on the stool beside mine. “It’s okay. I got the itinerary. The launch is tonight.” He lowers his voice and adds, “I’ve already bugged the room it’s in. We’ll have tape of the whole thing.”