The Billionaire Next Door

by Jessica Lemmon

  Worse, the situation with Rachel had created a niggling in the back of his skull that felt a lot like doubt. His gut wasn’t telling him anything, and his people instincts were failing him miserably.

  There was only one of two foreseeable paths to take in this case. Either seal the deal with his neighbor or forget about her. Those two choices left him with no choice at all.

  “Fuck.” He used the word to propel him to the elevators and to Rachel’s apartment. He wasn’t going to give up or back away from what he wanted. And what he wanted was Rachel.

  He had come up with a plan earlier today to involve her in his bar-rehab project. She’d had a lot of opinions the evening she’d stopped by his place unannounced, and he was a man in need of another opinion. Hers, preferably.

  She wasn’t in Crane Tower forever. Her job as Adonis’s caregiver would end, and then she’d be gone. Tag wasn’t letting her go without at least getting her phone number.

  He knocked, rolling his shoulders and licking his lips in preparation to see her. The front door opened to her wearing tight black stretchy pants and a long pink sweater. Her blond hair flowed over her shoulders, and her blue eyes went wide and innocent. Every inch of him wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

  So he did.

  He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his body. Small hands met his shoulders, and he lowered his lips to hers to taste that pout. It was the briefest touch of their lips but tightened every muscle in his body.

  She was warm. She was soft. She tasted better than he could’ve imagined.

  He lowered her to her heels, pulled his lips away, and slid his hands from her back.

  “Been thinking about kissing you for roughly fifteen hours,” he said, looking down at her.

  Her fingers had gone to her lips, but she remained speechless. Which made him uncharacteristically nervous since he couldn’t tell if she’d liked it.

  Surely she’d liked it.

  “Um…” She let out a little breath that sounded like a laugh. “Did you…want to come in?”

  Okay. Definitely, he was off script here. By now, they should be ravishing each other, hands and limbs everywhere. He wasn’t a total pig, he didn’t expect to get laid after kiss number one, but he expected her reaction to be at least…favorable?

  “Yeah. Okay.” He took an awkward step forward as she stepped back. He’d come to get answers, but so far was only left with questions.

  “I have beer and wine.”

  The offer of a drink was a good sign. “Beer.”

  “I was hoping you’d stop by,” she said from behind the refrigerator door.

  “Oh, yeah?” Another good sign. He relaxed some, leaning a hip on the kitchen counter.

  “I wrote down the things I love and the things I don’t like about the bars where I’ve worked. I thought it would help with your plans.”

  Right. The bar plans. That kiss had erased his short-term memory.

  He accepted the beer bottle with a tight smile. Refocus, he told his other head, the one currently stuck on Seduce the Girl. Evidently, Rachel didn’t want to be seduced. Not tonight anyway. Her blasé reaction had seriously messed with his head.

  The one on his shoulders.

  She came to him next, unfolding the papers and flattening them on the counter. A soft scent wafted from her hair and mingled with his senses. Her arm brushed his and his legs went rigid.

  “I borrowed paper from the printer at work.” She looked up at him with a sheepish and completely adorable smile.

  Damn. He wanted to kiss her again. His gaze went to her lips, but she averted her eyes quickly. He’d pick his timing more carefully the next time.

  “You worked at the Winshop in Miami?” he asked, his eyes landing on her neat, curly penmanship. Winshop Luxury Hotels was one of Crane Hotels’ major competitors.

  “Very briefly, I was the bar manager.” She waved a hand. “It was my first attempt to escape Ohio. I thought Florida might be for me, so I followed a friend down there and moved in with her. Six months later, I was home and decided a college degree was a better idea.”

  Impressive.

  “You’re one up on me, Dimples. I never did the college thing.”

  “No?” Her brow dented. “I assumed that’s how you knew Lucas.”

  “Oh, we trolled the college bars, but I never cracked the books.”

  Her eyes slipped to one side and he realized bringing up his days of picking up girls in bars was not to his favor.

  “So the Winshop,” he said, choppily steering the conversation back to where he’d untethered it.

  “Yes. The Winshop. I learned a lot there. Granted, it was six or seven years ago, but I bet I could share some trade secrets.” She winked conspiratorially, pale lashes closing over one blue eye, and he shook his head to reset his brain.

  “Yeah, I bet you could,” he said, his voice low, his mind back on scooping her up again and seeing how many tricks he could teach her with his tongue. The attraction wasn’t solely physical, but the desire to take care of her, to make her feel incredible, encompassed every moment he was with her. The urge had surpassed him getting laid or having a night of fun. He wanted to crack her open, know why she liked the things she liked.

  Which definitely put him in where the hell am I? territory. He wiped his brow, unsurprised to find a few beads of sweat there.

  She frowned, so he refocused on the papers.

  He couldn’t remember a time he’d struck out this badly. And Rachel wasn’t a chick in a bar. She was in her house, or, well, her temporary house. He should have more game than this.

  “This is great, Rachel, thanks.”

  “No problem. I figure if you want to pick my brain, this will give you a starting point.” She offered him a bottle opener and he realized he hadn’t thought to take a drink of the beer she’d given him. “What are your plans tonight?”

  Meeting her curious gaze, he considered his plans were whatever she was willing to do with him. A distant warning siren blared in his head. He wasn’t calling the shots when it came to her. Was that why he was so thrown?

  “I could take a look at your photos again,” she said when he didn’t respond. “I mean, if you don’t mind working after hours.”

  “You want to come up?” He smiled, tipping his head toward the door. His turf. His place. Maybe that’s what he needed to get on even ground. He waited for the flush to steal her cheeks. Instead, her eyes shuttered.

  “Um, why don’t you come down here? Adonis.” The dog lifted his head from the couch where he was lazing. “He’s been clingy today.”

  Tag could relate.

  “Fair enough. Be right back.” He left the beer bottle on the counter, turned, and walked out the door. He’d either lost his touch or had seriously miscalculated the attraction between him and his neighbor.

  Unless it was one-sided.

  Which was alarming in every way possible.

  * * *

  Bree’s eyes were the size of dinner plates. “Then what happened?”

  The bar was deader than the proverbial doornail as Rachel crossed her arms and leaned against the bar. She’d been cut fifteen minutes ago, but stayed to share what had happened last night. And Lord have mercy, did she need some advice.

  “Then he came back downstairs and for the next two hours, we discussed how he could improve the bars at Crane Hotels across the US.” Rachel heard the abject disappointment in her own voice, and evidently so did Bree.

  “He kissed you,” she said, clearly not understanding why more didn’t happen. “Didn’t he kiss you again? Like, when he left?”

  “No, but I…” Rachel shrugged helplessly, which summarized how she was feeling about the entire situation with Tag. Like she was stuck in suspended animation. On Pause instead of Play. “I wanted him to, but I didn’t act like it,” she admitted.

  Bree’s face scrunched in blatant misunderstanding, and was it any wonder? Her friend with her sparkly eye shadow, h
er provocative yet tasteful style in clothes, and her sassy confidence would never understand not taking what she wanted.

  “I’m going to his apartment tomorrow,” Rachel said in a lame attempt to save face.

  “A date?” Bree looked hopeful.

  “We didn’t define it.” What he’d said was he liked her ideas and needed her input. He also offered to pay her, which she’d quickly declined. When he insisted on dinner as compensation for her time, she’d agreed on Chinese food. Takeout seemed to be a fair middle ground.

  With tomorrow looming, Rachel was getting more and more scared. Well, not scared. But definitely intimidated. Of Tag, of sex. She wasn’t sure. No one was within earshot here at the bar, and Rachel needed advice. Lowering her voice and taking a quick survey to make doubly sure they weren’t being overheard, she told Bree her worries.

  To her relief, her friend didn’t laugh. “Totally understandable. Shaun did a number on you.”

  Rachel’s head jerked on her neck in surprise. Since she’d moved in with Bree after the demolition of the relationship, Bree had only met Shaun once, when Shaun brought over a box of books Rachel had mistakenly left behind.

  “From everything you’ve told me,” Bree continued, “he was overly critical. Making you think your idea at work was subpar and then taking credit for it behind your back. What a dick.”

  Rachel chewed on that ugly thought. Shaun was overly critical. During the last year or so they were together, she’d felt as if she couldn’t do anything right.

  There at the end when things started unraveling, and he’d stopped saying “love you, Rach” before bed, Shaun had been downright bossy. Unsatisfied. With work, with their home life.

  With sex.

  She hadn’t told Bree about their sex life, only hinting how it had tapered off, but turning it over in her head now, she wondered if the secret to why they’d stopped sleeping together was not because of an outside force, but because Shaun was dissatisfied with her…performance.

  Rachel cringed at how true that felt. No wonder the idea of Tag intimidated the hell out of her. She wasn’t sexy. Not overtly. Shaun had mentioned on more than one occasion that he wanted a writhing, confident woman in bed. How could she deliver when he’d been so hard to please?

  Or hard for her to please.

  “Oh, God.” Rachel sank onto a stool on their side of the bar, her knees turning to jelly as she arrived at a very unattractive conclusion. “I’m afraid of sex.”

  “No. No, no, no.” Bree waved her palms in front of her and shook her head, sending her silky hair sliding against her cheeks. “No, you’re not. You’re nervous about getting back on the horse.” Her eyes went to the side in thought. “Tag Crane is a Clydesdale.”

  “He’s too much,” Rachel murmured, nodding to herself. “That’s why I didn’t kiss him back. Why I keep pushing back. I can’t handle a Clydesdale right now. If ever.”

  “He’s not too much. He’s just right. You deserve to overindulge after being under Shaun’s thumb. You can’t indulge much more than a Viking billionaire.”

  Despite her worries, Rachel laughed. “Seriously, Bree.”

  “Yeah, seriously.” Bree wasn’t laughing. “He can handle you if you walk away afterward, which is what you need. Nothing tying you down. Nothing putting you back in Shaun Territory.”

  Bree meant relationship territory, which admittedly had Rachel skittish in a myriad of ways. Once she’d trusted him implicitly and he’d tossed her aside. With Tag, there was a safety net built in because he struck her as a guy who often tossed women aside. Maybe going in with eyes wide open was the key to getting some of her power back.

  “And look at Tag,” Bree continued, hovering over Rachel like her own personal life coach. “You know he’s good in bed. The kiss…tell me about it.” Her features softened. “Tell me what it was like.”

  “I already told you.”

  “No you didn’t. You said you didn’t kiss him back; you wanted him to kiss you again, but you didn’t tell me what the kiss was like.” Bree crossed her arms. “This is the part where you prove you’re not afraid of sex. Describe it to me.”

  “It was…” Rachel’s tongue refused to push the words from her mouth.

  It was sexy as hell. The feel of his broad palms on her body. The way his beard was soft on her skin. Firm lips. Hot tongue.

  “Really nice,” she finished lamely, feeling her face heat.

  “Uh-huh.” Bree grinned. “You’re not a dirty talker, are you?”

  “No.” Shaun had requested she talk dirty in bed once, but she’d clammed up. Shut down. She’d felt ridiculous doing the things he asked, knowing he was her worst critic. “Do I need to be?”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Rach. But I hear you saying you want to push your own boundaries, and there was a perfect candidate literally at your front door. It’s my job as your friend to tell you to go for it. You’re already spending time with him.”

  Rachel found herself nodding in agreement, as Bree made a very good point. Rachel did want Tag. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to do more than kiss him. But fear was holding her back. Fear he’d be disappointed. Once he uncovered her unsexiness, he’d stop pursuing her altogether.

  Rejection.

  Maybe that was her big fear.

  And maybe it was time to overcome it.

  * * *

  Tag and Lucas bypassed the weight room and hit the indoor courts. Basketball wasn’t something either of them was great at, but it gave them something to do while they shot the shit.

  Luc wasn’t available for beers tonight since he was taking care of putting the kids down so Gena could go out with her friends. For that reason, they were here before six, and Luc was on the clock.

  “Game,” Tag announced, sinking his next throw.

  “Shit. What are we up to, forty bucks?”

  “Naw.” Tag dribbled the ball as they walked across the court. “I owed you for pool.”

  “Right. I left without my money so you could hit on the honey.” Lucas darted forward, stole the ball, and dribbled it over to the rack, where he rested it next to a line of orange balls. He followed Tag to the bench and sat next to their stuff. Water, towel, and, for Tag, a gym bag with a change of clothes. He’d planned on lifting tonight anyway, Lucas or no.

  “How’d that go?” Luc asked.

  They hadn’t talked about Rachel yet. Tag hadn’t brought her up for a very good reason, but Luc had asked, so the question running in his brain like a tireless hamster in a wheel tumbled out of his mouth.

  “Have you ever kissed a girl and she didn’t kiss you back?”

  “What?” Lucas’s face screwed into a horrified look.

  Frustrated, Tag stood and crammed a towel into his bag. “Nothing.”

  “You kissed her and she dodged?” he asked, using their old lingo. Dodged was a term for when a girl didn’t go for whatever attempt was made. And whenever either of them were dodged, Tag and Lucas had moved on. Moving on was key. There were plenty of women who wanted to be pursued, so why waste time on the ones who didn’t?

  At least, that used to be the rule. Tag had been out of his element lately.

  “She didn’t dodge. I think I surprised her.” Tag frowned. Because that sounded like bullshit.

  “Then what did you do?” Lucas was amused. He was still sitting on the bench, leaning his head against the wall, water bottle in his hands. “Come on. Don’t run away from your feelings.” He grinned bigger. The asshole.

  “I hate that you’re married,” Tag grumbled, dropping the bag and settling on the bench again. Looking straight ahead, he answered his friend. “She invited me in, we had a beer, and talked about the plans for the Crane Makai pool bar.”

  “Sexy.”

  He glared over at Lucas, who sat up and quickly lost his smile.

  “Okay, I’m done. But honestly, she didn’t react at all?”

  “She didn’t slap me. But she sure as hell didn’t react like I
thought she would.” He thought she’d climb him like a tree. Though hoped might be a better word. He’d imagined Rachel’s legs wrapped around his hips a few times.

  “But you’re not done with her.” Lucas’s tone was cautious.

  “Not yet,” Tag answered honestly.

  “Huh.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” He felt like ants were skittering over his skull. He pushed a hand into his hair.

  “What’s keeping you from rolling out?”

  The ultimate question. What was keeping Tag from rolling out? After a few seconds of fruitless deliberation, he answered, “I have no idea.”

  “Is it to prove to yourself you haven’t lost your touch, or is this a situation like when I met Gena?” Luc’s eyebrow rose knowingly. Watching him go gaga over a girl was a sight to be seen. He’d been as confused as Tag was right now.

  “Gimme a break. You married people get extra points for recruiting singles into your secret society or something?”

  “Uh-huh.” It was a blow-off, and Lucas knew it. He pressed his lips into a smirk and stood from the bench. Lucas started out of the gym, but not before leaving Tag with a parting jab. “Heading home to the rug rats. Keep me posted on whatever is happening with you and the dodger.”

  “She’s not dodging!” Tag called after him.

  “Whatever you say!” was his buddy’s response as the doors to the gym shut with a bang behind him.

  Tag leaned back on the bench and conked his head on the wall. He wasn’t done with Rachel yet, for better or worse. As he grabbed the bag and headed for the weight room, he had a premonition his friend wasn’t as far off the mark as Tag would like him to be.

  Chapter 9

  Tag sat, elbow on his kitchen table, chin in hand. He watched Rachel’s tongue flick out to touch the side of her mouth as she drew a line on the paper in front of her and thought again how he’d like to take her mouth captive.

  She’d been mapping out bar designs with him for a few hours, and he was impressed with her ideas as well as her ability to concentrate on the project in front of her without once wavering.

  His concentration had been shot since she arrived. She wasn’t wearing a sexy, sleek dress, but the stretch pants and long sweater paired with a knee-high pair of boots made her look cozy and cute. Her lips were free of gloss, her hair down in soft blond waves. She looked warm and touchable, and, as he knew after cradling her against him, achingly soft.