The Billionaire Next Door

by Jessica Lemmon

  Adonis chuffed, snapping her out of her reverie.

  “What’s it matter, right, boy?” she asked his gray eyes. He chuffed again. “Want to go for a walk?”

  He danced in a circle and she smiled.

  The apartment and dog were more than a step toward independence; they were a step in helping her deal with unresolved feelings over Shaun.

  This time, for good.

  * * *

  Biceps straining, Tag blew out a breath from his mouth and pushed the bar up to his best friend’s smiling face. He made it, and then because he knew Lucas was waiting to catch him quitting early, lowered it to do another.

  Lucas laughed. “Oh man. He’s doing it.” He looked to his right, talking to someone Tag couldn’t see. “He hates to lose money.” Then he bent over Tag’s face—Tag’s sweaty, red face by the feel of it—and readied his hands. “Just say when, you pussy. I’ll take it off your hands.”

  Smug bastard.

  With a grunt of achievement, and a hell of a lot of effort, Tag pushed the bar to the brackets and dropped it with a heavy clang! A few of the guys in the gym clapped their hands, and Lucas swore under his breath. By the time Tag sat up and rested his spent arms on his knees, a folded twenty-dollar bill landed on the bench between his legs.

  “I have to quit giving you my money.” Lucas sat on the leg machine across from Tag. He tipped a water bottle to his mouth and drank. “You probably keep the cash you win from me in a big bin and swim in it like Scrooge McDuck.”

  Tag laughed and reached for his towel, wiping his brow. He’d been friends with Luc for going on a dozen years. They’d met in high school when Lucas moved here in his junior year, and learned they’d had the same thing on their minds then and now.

  Girls.

  Even when Luc went to college, they still met and picked up girls—competing to collect the most phone numbers. Then Lucas won the lottery. He won Gena, sassy black-haired bombshell, now wife and mother of two to Lucas’s rug rats. Gena took no shit and was as cool as they came.

  The competition for phone numbers stopped for both of them then. Luc because he was gone for Gena, and Tag because there was no game if he was playing alone. Tag settled for the more sophisticated, but no less rewarding, picking up a girl for dinner and sex—one or both. Usually both.

  “Been a while.” Lucas tugged his earbuds from his ears and looped them around his neck. He was rarely without them. As a music producer, he was often listening to either his musicians’ latest albums or potential new clients.

  “Since I took your money?” Tag asked, shoving the twenty into the pocket of his shorts.

  “Since I saw you. Is it because of work, or because you can’t be around my smoking hot wife without dying of envy?” Lucas grinned, an idiot in love. His dark hair was short and spiky, but he used to wear it longer and shaggier. The tattoo of a dragon on his leg hadn’t gone anywhere since college. He may be a husband and dad, but Luc was also a badass. It was admirable.

  “The last one.” Tag stood, his arms feeling like limp noodles, and did a few windmills. While he was teasing his buddy, it hadn’t been a line. A part of him was envious of Luc, who’d managed to have a beautiful family and thriving career and keep his fun-guy personality. “Well, that and I’m tired of turning down Gena’s advances. She loves me.”

  Lucas chuckled, taking the ribbing good-naturedly. They both knew Gena too well to believe that lie for a second. She was one of Tag’s favorite people, but probably because she gave him more shit than Lucas, and that was saying something.

  “Beer?” Luc asked.

  “You don’t have to be home for bedtime tonight?”

  Luc loved to read to his kids. His family was his lifeline. What a great dad he’d turned out to be. Tag thought of his own father and how dedicated he’d been. Even after his mother died in the car wreck, his dad had been there for his boys. Some of the shine had gone, though. The life that only Lunette Crane seemed to bring to his father’s eyes. That must be the trick to landing a good woman—getting her to stay—and if she didn’t, not losing that light.

  “No curfew for me.” Luc slapped Tag hard on the shoulder and headed for the showers. “Tonight is boys’ night.”

  “You pick the place,” Tag said, following. “But if you score a phone number, I’m ratting.”

  A little later, Tag was clad in jeans and a sweater and brushing the snow out of his slightly damp hair. “The Andromeda Club,” he read off the sign. “Sounds like an old folks’ home.”

  Lucas popped open the door. “It’s a cool place. Great food.”

  Inside, Tag looked around. C-shaped booths in the corners, exposed brick walls, and rich, warm woods throughout. There was an adjoining room with a pool table, and the bar was at the back of the room, a pretty brunette at the helm. A few servers milled around, but the place wasn’t formal, as hinted by the “seat yourself” sign.

  They headed for the bar and bellied up.

  “What can I get you?” The brunette bartender tossed a few coasters in front of them.

  “I’m Lucas.”

  Oh, shit.

  “This is my friend, Tag.”

  “Luc, shut up.” This was an old wingman bit, and not one Tag was looking forward to resurrecting. He hadn’t needed help picking up women for a long time.

  Lucas gripped Tag’s shoulder and squeezed, giving him a good shake. “Tag here is in the hotel business. He runs Guest and Restaurant Services.”

  “Oh really? Sounds exciting.” The brunette was smiling and friendly, and then she started playing with the stack of coasters in a really obvious way. Tag noticed the engagement ring. So did Lucas.

  “I’m married, father of two. Have you been married long…” He drew out the pause to get her name.

  “Breanna, and no. I’m engaged, not married.”

  “Do it if he’s not a prick,” Lucas said smoothly.

  “He’ll be in here later, and he’s definitely not a prick.” She was still smiling, but not flirting, which Tag respected.

  Lucas ordered beers for both of them, sending Tag a shoulder shrug that said, Welp, I tried.

  “You are rusty on the wingman game,” Tag said after Breanna had delivered both beers and went to help another customer. He took a drink from the tall mug. “You, the married guy, should know to check the left hand first.”

  “I admit, that was a rookie move,” Lucas said. “But we’d better get to it since you’re probably behind.”

  Tag swallowed another mouthful of beer. “Behind on what?”

  “I figured you and Reese split Chicago singles right down the middle, but with him engaged”—Luc dipped his voice to add the word again—“that puts you in charge of sexually pleasing the remainder of Chicago’s females.”

  Tag couldn’t help laughing. “You’re an ass.”

  “With great power comes great responsibility, my friend.”

  Again, the oddest twinge of envy pricked him. He’d never marinated long on settling down, never pictured himself married with kids and the whole picket fence thing. Especially in the midst of boys’ night over beers. Tag’s sights should be set on the single women in the room. That thought brought forth the vision of one woman, and one woman only.

  Guess who that was?

  “Menus, guys,” Breanna said. “Are you eating?”

  “Always. Look at these guns. We need protein,” Lucas said. “Breanna, tell me something.”

  She leaned an elbow on the bar to listen. As was always the way chicks behaved around Lucas. He drew them in with his charm. If Tag didn’t like Gena so damn much, he may have had a moment of mourning for Lucas’s dormant pickup skills. It was hard to watch one of the greats hang up his gloves.

  “Do you think my game is rusty or out of fashion?” Luc asked. “I admit, I’m deliriously happy with my wife and have no desire to return to the singles scene, but it’d be nice to know if I still had it.”

  “Hmm.” Breanna pretended to size him up, which was perfect. Ta
g would have to tip her extra for egging on his friend, who needed to be checked for his sheer cockiness. “Your approach would work on me if I were single, but I’m not sure you’re everyone’s cup of tea.”

  “I will take that as a win.” Lucas lifted his beer.

  “What about you?” Breanna tipped her chin at Tag. “Do you think your friend still has it?”

  “Well, I’d take him home,” Tag said with a smile, and Breanna held his eyes a little longer than she’d held Lucas’s. Engaged or not, he noted a passing appreciation. Luc picked up on it, too.

  “Fuck,” he muttered when she walked away. “What is it? The long hair?”

  “Chicks dig the hair.” Tag shrugged one shoulder.

  “Better watch it because her fiancé will be in here later. He might kick your ass.”

  “I’m not getting into a fight over a taken woman. There are plenty of available ones around.” Like his neighbor. Rachel Foster with her blond curls and tight dress, or her tangly locks and polar-bear pajamas. He hadn’t figured her out yet. He liked how she was a mystery.

  “I haven’t told you about my hot new neighbor,” Tag started.

  Lucas elevated his beer, a look of interest on his face.

  “And my brief but memorable foray as a dog walker…”

  Chapter 5

  Hot?” Rachel asked Bree.

  “That’s what he said.” Bree wiped down the bar in front of her. “I only caught bits and pieces of the conversation, but I clearly made out the phrase ‘hot neighbor’ and by the time he mentioned the black and white Great Dane, I knew he was talking about you.”

  Rachel had the day off work but popped into the bar to drop off the dress she’d stolen from Bree’s closet. The bag was in her hand, and she hadn’t yet brought up the fact she’d borrowed her friend’s clothes. In a plaid button-down, jeans, and boots minus the heels, by comparison Rachel was downright slumming.

  She hadn’t slept well last night thanks to Adonis waking her three times to go out, so she’d spent the day cleaning and doing laundry before crashing for a three-hour midday nap.

  As a result, her brain was chugging along groggily.

  “I’m about to use part of my dog sitting pay to take a certain Great Dane to a kennel,” she said around a yawn. “He’s exhausting.”

  “Why didn’t Oliver kennel the dog?”

  “He said Adonis is used to being at home. Apparently, he’s used to being with the usual dog sitter, and I’m not an acceptable replacement.” Or maybe it was because the dog sitter Oliver typically employed had one job: dog sitting. Rachel had two, and being here forty-plus hours a week was putting a serious dent in her quality time with Adonis.

  “I want to hear more about the long-haired, muscled neighbor you have. You underplayed him.” Bree leaned a hip on the bar. The Andromeda was in the middle of a lull, which wasn’t surprising given it was nine o’clock. “He’s still here, you know.”

  “Here?” Rachel’s eyes went wide as she looked around. “Now?”

  No way could she have missed him. He simply took up too much space. Tag was easy to notice. Like the time she’d spotted him briefly outside of Oliver’s apartment building.

  The sound of low, male laughter echoed off the adjoining room, and she turned around to see Tag and an attractive dark-haired guy standing at the pool table. The other guy held out a hand and she heard him say, “I’ll take my twenty back now.”

  “What’s he doing here?” Rachel whispered, trying to remember if she’d mentioned she worked at Andromeda. She didn’t think so, but if she had, that would mean Tag had come in here to see her.

  Surely not. A ripple of excitement flowed through her at the thought.

  “You mean did he ask about you?” Her friend’s smile was shit-eating.

  “No.” Rachel drew out the word, hoping Bree would believe her.

  Reaching into the Pup Paradise bag in which her dress and boots were being held, Bree asked, “Where did you go in this?”

  “Nowhere. I chickened out.”

  Bree shook her head and took the bag. “Fine. Keep lying to me. Lie to me, lie to your parents…” She stashed the bag beneath the bar.

  “Hey, I will have you know I told my mom I broke up with Shaun.”

  “You did not.” Her friend’s eyes went wide.

  “I did. I told her we broke up. I told her I moved out.” Rachel bit down on her lip. “I did not tell her I was bartending instead of sitting in my own office.”

  “Progress. You are making it.” Bree moved to the taps and pulled a beer. Then she gave Rachel a real smile as she filled a second glass. “Now go make some more progress, and take these to the two gentlemen playing pool.”

  “Me? It’s my day off.” Rachel held up her hands in protest, and Bree put the beers into them.

  “Go say hi to the large, pretty man with the beard and the gun show.”

  “I can’t. He’s…too much.”

  “Too much? What, like you can’t handle him?”

  Rachel thought for a minute. Not that she couldn’t handle him, but…Yeah, kinda that she couldn’t handle him.

  “He’s over six feet tall, and there’s so much hair, and…the sheer width of him.” She gestured said width with the beer mugs in her hands. “I don’t know. Shaun was reasonably sized. Somebody I could picture myself with until he turned into a jerk.”

  Bree’s eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t say settle down with the guy. I said take him a beer. Talk to him. Maybe have a hot, steamy make-out session in the corner by the pool table.”

  “Breanna!” Rachel hissed.

  “What? You’re off the clock.”

  Rachel was saved by a couple who walked up to the bar. Bree shuffled off to wait on them, but not before she turned and said, “Thanks for delivering those beers, Rach.”

  With a growl low in her throat, Rachel turned on her heel and headed for the pool table.

  Tag, in a low-slung man bun, was bent over lining up the cue ball. Rachel took brief inventory of his wide thighs decked in denim but quickly jerked her attention to his face when his dark-haired friend elbowed him. From his hunch over the table, Tag turned his head and pegged her with a look that was borderline animal. Then a bearded smile curved his mouth.

  He straightened, put the pool cue stick on the floor, and stood with it at his side like a staff. At that moment she realized her assessment of Tarzan was incorrect. He looked more like a Viking. Or a supersized Aragorn from Lord of the Rings.

  “Bree was in the weeds, so she asked me to bring you your beers,” Rachel lied. Because she had to have a reason for bringing him booze. She couldn’t hover in the doorway while Tag pierced her with those fierce blue eyes.

  “You work here?” Tag asked as she put the beer glasses on a narrow ledge along the wall behind him.

  “You didn’t know?” Disappointment sank into the pit of her stomach. Part of her had hoped he’d sought her out.

  “No idea.”

  “It’s my day off. I stopped in to…” Well, she couldn’t tell him she was dropping off the clothes she’d gone upstairs to his apartment wearing, now could she? “I just stopped in.”

  “Do you drink beer?” Tag’s friend asked.

  “Yes.” Rachel sent a look from him to Tag. Tag shook his head, but his smile remained. She was missing something.

  “Good. I have to go home to the old ball and chain.” The friend held up his left hand and wiggled his wedding band with his thumb. “You can have my beer. And Tag can pay for everything since he owes me money for whipping his ass at pool tonight.” He snagged his coat off the coat rack—black leather—and slid his arms into it.

  “I’m telling Gena you called her a ball and chain,” Tag said as his friend moved across the room.

  “Tell her whatever you want. She barely believes you anyway.” Then he leveled Rachel with a warm amber gaze. “Lucas. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  He extended a hand and she shook it, noting his extra emphasis on the wo
rd finally. She apologized for her hand being damp from the glass. Then Lucas was gone and Tag and Rachel were in the billiard room by themselves. She put her hands in her coat pockets and gave the beer a dubious look.

  “I should get back to Adonis.” She wasn’t in any hurry to go home, but faced with the prospect of hanging out with Tag alone, she would rather leave. She thought of how Bree had challenged her a minute ago. Surely, Rachel could handle being in the same public place with him. Though, at the moment the small room felt more intimate than the night she went up to his house dressed in almost nothing.

  “Do you play pool?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Well,” she answered. Whenever it was slow here, she practiced. And before then she and Shaun used to play at a dive near work.

  Where I used to work.

  “In that case”—Tag did a neat little move where he lifted the pool stick and let it slide along his hand until the bottom hit the floor—“we’ll drink instead of play. I’ve lost enough money tonight.”

  After putting away both pool cues, he came to her and held out a hand. It took her a few seconds to realize he was asking for her coat. She slipped the buttons through her black wool coat and handed it over, then watched as he hung it on the coat rack on the wall. The way he moved exuded strength and confidence. And the way he looked in jeans and a sweater…well, that was heat and sex and temptation personified.

  Too much. He’s just too much.

  On his way back, he palmed both beers, dwarfing the drafts in his big hands. “It’s one drink, Dimples.”

  She blinked, taking in his earnest expression. Her entire life, she’d never been called anything but Rachel or Rach. She tried to decide how she felt about the new nickname. Tried to call up her inner feminist and be properly offended, but she couldn’t feel anything short of flattered.

  She accepted one of the glasses and Tag lifted his in a silent cheers.

  “Do you and Lucas work together?” she asked after taking a drink.