The Billionaire Next Door

by Jessica Lemmon

  Rachel blinked at Gena, trying to decide if she was being rude or factual. “A lot of…girlfriends?”

  “No.” Gena shook her head as she dug through her purse and came out with a tube of red lipstick. “Girl space friends. Two words.”

  “Oh…kay.”

  “Do you know why Tag has a lot of girl friends?”

  “Because he’s insanely attractive?” Rachel guessed, mentally tacking on and really good in bed.

  “Yes, and because he’s well versed at letting them down. They never hate him.” She finished with the lipstick and offered it to Rachel, who turned her down with a shake of her head. “He’s charming and sincere and kind and never a prick about it. So they end up liking him. He gets invited to weddings by exes often.”

  “Weddings he doesn’t go to,” Rachel said, recalling his reaction in Hawaii.

  Gena turned from her reflection to face Rachel. “You know plenty.”

  “We’ve been hanging out a while.”

  “Hmm.” Gena’s hawk-like eyes grazed Rachel from head to feet and back up again. “But he’s given you no such speech.”

  “Not yet.”

  “And you’re here.” Gena smiled and took a step closer to Rachel. It was the first moment Rachel felt any kind of warmth from the other woman. “We’re his best friends. And he brought you to meet us.”

  She enunciated the words to meet us meticulously.

  “Do you know why?” Rachel couldn’t help asking.

  Gena let out a loud ha-ha! then grabbed one of Rachel’s hands and squeezed. “Rachel, gorgeous. He likes you. A lot. I foresee us spending more time together.”

  The rest of dinner was less of an inquisition, which was awesome. It was also weirdly normal. Conversation flowed easily between the four of them, sometimes between the couples, but there was also a moment where Lucas and Rachel were talking about music in a cross conversation while Tag and Gena discussed the kids. Rachel found it easy to sink into her seat, wineglass aloft, and laugh at Lucas’s jokes or listen intently as Tag spoke about his adventures traveling for work.

  When the plates were cleared, Tag reached for the check but Gena slammed her palm onto the black book. “Over my dead body.”

  “Gena.” Tag already had his wallet out.

  “No. You’re not the only one around here capable of doling out free dinners. This is on us.”

  Tag opened his mouth but Lucas held up a finger. “Listen to her, Taggart.”

  Gena burst out laughing. Tag grumbled something that sounded like “thanks, buddy” as he shoved his wallet into his jeans.

  “Taggart?” Rachel couldn’t help herself. She had to know.

  “It’s a family name.”

  “It’s a pussy name,” Lucas added helpfully as he tucked his credit card into the book and handed it to the server. “But we love him anyway.”

  “You weren’t going to tell me?” Rachel asked through her own bout of laughter.

  “No.” Tag polished off his wine, his gaze locked on Rachel’s eyes for a very long time. Then he leaned closer, closer, until those beard-surrounded lips touched hers in the softest, most delicious kiss…

  “God, they’re adorable.”

  That was Gena. And the moment she spoke, Tag’s smile overtook his face.

  “I was going to say after-party, but you two look as if you have plans not involving us,” Lucas said.

  “After-party is just our style,” Tag said. “What’d you have in mind?”

  Lucas waggled his eyebrows. “You’ll see.”

  * * *

  “Paris Layne, I can’t believe it!” Rachel shouted over the cheers erupting around them.

  Lucas put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Tag had to hand it to his buddy—Lucas knew how to impress. Front row tickets to a Paris Layne show in the United Center was impressive on its own, but for a concert of this size and a music sensation this popular, well—

  Hands cupping her mouth, Rachel howled as Paris came to the edge of the stage where they were standing and sang the beginning of one of her biggest hits. Tag’s eyes left the starlet to take in the blonde of his own.

  Rachel Foster. Watching her shake her thang made him want to lift her up and kiss the life out of her. Made him want to see how many more concerts he could swindle out of Luc. Made him want to hang on to her and not let go.

  He let the thought sink in slowly, throughout the concert, and then after as they filed out in a massive crowd of people and into the limo Tag had arranged. Hey, he might not be permitted to pay for dinner or the concert, but the second he learned where they were going, he called to arrange a limo and have his car dropped off at Crane Tower.

  “Such a show-off,” Gena commented as they clambered into the back of the long, shiny black car.

  “Kill an hour, will you, Bill?” Tag passed a hundred through the window and then slid it closed for privacy.

  “Kill Bill,” Gena said with a snort.

  Lucas was already pouring the champagne. Tag had asked for three bottles, chilled, and they were waiting in ice. Luc didn’t have to be asked twice.

  “I want a pizza,” Rachel said, slumping. “I danced off all my dinner.”

  Her grin was contagious. Tag grinned back.

  “Don’t say that,” Gena warned. “He’ll—”

  “Bill.” Tag slid open the divider again. “Call Uno’s and order us two everythings and a cheese and whatever you’d like.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bill said before once again disappearing behind the opaque glass.

  “He’ll do that,” Gena finished. She raised her glass. “To Taggart Crane.”

  “Taggart!” Rachel and Lucas said in unison.

  “Fuck all of you.”

  “Or just the blond one.” Gena sent Rachel a saucy wink, and Rachel burst out laughing. It was hard to believe she’d ever been nervous around him. Nervous to touch him, nervous to be near him. Now she sat, pressed to his side like she belonged there. What he couldn’t get over is that he felt like she did.

  More firsts.

  “Champagne.” Gena thrust glasses into Rachel’s and Tag’s hands.

  “You can kiss me if you want to,” Rachel said, keeping her voice low when Gena and Lucas started chatting to each other.

  “Not afraid of me any longer, Dimples?”

  She shook her head, those adorable dents making their appearance on each side of her face. He pushed his fingers into her hair, leaned in, and kissed her, not caring if his friends were wolf-whistling from the back of the limo.

  “Like we’re kids again,” Luc grumbled.

  “Aw, I think they’re cute,” Gena argued.

  When the kiss heard ’round the limo was through, Rachel sipped her champagne and gave him a look through veiled lashes communicating one thing and one thing only: she wanted him.

  Best news Tag received all evening.

  * * *

  “Catch you at the gym. Wednesday?” Lucas stepped out of the limo, taking his slightly inebriated wife by the hand. Gena talked like a sailor when she was drunk, and Tag always laughed at the random swear words she made up whenever drunk.

  “Come on, shit-weasel!” she hollered, walking backward toward the house.

  “Excuse me, I have to remind my wife we have children.”

  “Okay, shit-weasel, have a good night.” Tag waved as Luc shut the door.

  Rachel sobered from her giggles and relinquished her flute. “I had way too much champagne.”

  “Depends. Are you willing to go home with me?”

  “Yes.” A smile.

  “Then you’ve had just enough.” He smiled back.

  “I think we should have sex back here.” Her eyes went wide.

  “You sure?” He couldn’t help chuckling. “That was probably the champagne talking. I’m all for taking you to bed, but—what are you doing?”

  She was undoing his shirt buttons. That’s what she was doing. He was no stranger to being stripped or for a woman to ask to see him naked from
the waist up, but this was Rachel, and they were sort of in public. And now she was working on his belt buckle.

  Her mouth hit his for a long kiss; then she pulled away and whispered, “Tell Bill up there to take the long way home.”

  “Honey, I’ll tell him to take all night.” He cupped her face with his palm. He’d had plenty to drink, too, and sex in the back of this car right now with her sounded like heaven.

  She whispered two words: “Do it.”

  Then he was kissing her, with no further convincing necessary on her part.

  Chapter 20

  She rises.”

  Rachel groaned as she stepped out of his bedroom wearing his button-down shirt from last night and dragging the blanket from the bed along with her. Her hair was a tangled blond mess, her legs bare and beautiful, and every last thing he did with her in the limo flickered through his head like a movie.

  Pushing her skirt up her thighs.

  Peeling her panties down her legs.

  Going down on her on the seat while she writhed, and when she was wet and ready sliding all the way home.

  Okay, enough of that or he’d develop a limp from the hard-on already trying to make an appearance this morning. He couldn’t get enough of this woman. She’d saturated his life, and he’d soaked her in, allowing her to take up most of his space. For a guy who liked free rein of said space, he found he didn’t mind as much as he’d have thought.

  “My queen,” he greeted, pouring her a cup of coffee. “How ya feeling?”

  “Champagne gives me a headache.” She plopped on his couch, and he walked into the living room, her coffee in hand.

  “Especially when you drink a vat of it. Here. This’ll help.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re sexy in the morning, Dimples.”

  “Shut. Up.”

  Next to her, he pushed her hair off her face and leaned in to lay a kiss on her mouth. “I let you sleep, so you have to take a shower with me. Wash my back.”

  “I do not,” she said against the rim of her mug, but she was smiling. “What’s on the agenda today?”

  “Make an appearance at the Crane for an invigorating conference meeting with the board.” He planned on presenting the plans for the Oahu bar.

  “Are you giving a presentation?”

  “Not officially. But I do have handouts.” He barely managed a saccharine smile. There was no love lost between the board that had stuck their noses in his business then out again, then asked for details at the last minute. But he understood it was part of the Crane gig. Plus, he was damn proud of those plans.

  “Don’t forget to tell them about the redesign and the server’s wells.” Eyes bright, she turned to face him. “And how you’re going to move the bar back and provide extra seating. Oh, and…”

  As she talked, he listened, admiring her pluck and her ability and the fact she was wearing a blanket in his penthouse. She looked at home here. She looked like his.

  The thought sent him down another path, one laced with women who had been in this very penthouse, on this very couch, looking sleepy and satisfied like the girl there now. Thoughts about morning sex and breakfast and shared showers were nothing new, but this was the first time he’d ever thought the woman on his couch looked like she belonged with him. To him.

  Maybe this was how it happened. The beginning of what Luc and Gena had. He remembered his best friend after he’d met Gena. Luc was a changed man. Walked around constantly with a goofy smile on his face. He was exclusive from the start with her. Tag was always exclusive with the women he saw, right up until the point he let them go.

  Right about now, he would plan his escape, work out the details of how to send the girl on his couch packing.

  “…the map for the liquor placement is important because there will be less spillage. Less spillage equals more profit,” she finished with zest.

  “Got it.”

  “Knock ’em dead.” She sipped her coffee and hummed in the back of her throat.

  “Your turn. What’s on your agenda today?” he asked.

  “Oh…just some…things.”

  “Some things.”

  “Yeah.” She bit down on her lip and elevated her coffee cup. He put a hand on her knee and watched her, waiting. Seconds ticked by before she rolled her eyes. “Fine! I’ll tell you.”

  “Only if you want to,” he said easily.

  “I’m looking for an apartment today.”

  “Oh yeah?” His chest hammered at the surprise those words caused, and more surprise coated him as he realized he was surprised. She had roommates, but she’d stayed here some, too. He guessed he’d gotten a little used to that arrangement. His forehead creased.

  “Which is a little backwards, because I haven’t found a job yet,” she continued. “I did get one callback, but it paid less than bartending for a receptionist position. I thought it’d be simpler to land a marketing gig since I can list Crane Hotels on my resume.” Her face scrunched. “That’s okay, right?”

  “Of course it’s okay. I didn’t realize you were looking.” He stole her coffee mug and took a sip.

  “Didn’t I mention it?” She looked genuinely perplexed.

  “No.” He handed back the mug, once again in the position of being the last to know.

  “Oh. Well. Now you know. I’ve scheduled a few showings at apartments today. I figure if I can find one within a reasonable price range, I can wiggle by until I land the elusive professional job I seek.”

  “Why the rush?”

  “Bree and Dean found a house. They’re ready to move out on their own, like yesterday. I don’t want to hold them up. Ideally I’d have secured a better-paying job by now, but as luck would have it, I’m doing things ass-backwards.”

  “Can I help?” he asked, unsure what he was offering.

  “No. I’ve got everything under control. And you have a meeting.” She touched her finger to his chin and rubbed his beard.

  He frowned, irked, though he wasn’t sure why. He wanted do something—help somehow. Maybe he was irked that she hadn’t asked for his help. He owned a damn apartment building. He knew about rentals and the area. It would only make sense to ask him his opinion, but she hadn’t.

  “You know if you needed money, I technically owe you for helping me in Hawaii.”

  “Absolutely not.” Her eyes were fierce, her tone angry.

  “Dimples.”

  “No, Tag. I can’t and won’t take your money.” She pressed her lips into a line, giving him a flat smile. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t need to be bailed out.”

  He blew out a breath of defeat. That stubborn streak of hers was a mile wide.

  “At least let me call you a car so you don’t have to take cabs all over the city.” She wouldn’t let him help her with the place to live, fine, but he could at least get her transportation for the day.

  She shook her head.

  “You can ride home and decide then. I’d drive you myself if I didn’t have work.”

  Her turn to sigh.

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Okay. Yes, thank you.”

  “Yeah?” Her giving him that inch made him feel as triumphant as if he’d won a mile.

  “A car would be great. You’ve been great.”

  “An hour work for you?” he asked as he dialed on his cell phone.

  “Better make it two. I did promise you a shower,” she replied with a wink. “You have a big back.”

  * * *

  By afternoon, Tag had finished his pitch to the board, ending it with, “Construction starts tomorrow. Oahu is the test.”

  From the board came nothing but a penetrating silence. He and Reese exchanged glances.

  “This is some nice work, Tag,” Frank said.

  Well, knock me over with a motherfucking feather.

  Reese’s eyebrows lifted, mirroring Tag’s shock.

  “This is definitely one way to go about it,” added Lilith, the only female board member. S
he was less impressed, and Tag had expected that. She probably didn’t want to agree with Frank publicly either. Those two.

  Frank tucked the proposal under his legal pad. “Now. Who’s going to Dylan’s for Cobb salad?”

  The board stood collectively, commenting on dinner and drinks and in general filing out of the boardroom like a pack of lemmings. Or a herd of lemmings. As the last person vanished past the window of the conference room, Tag faced his brother.

  “What do you call a group of lemmings? A herd or a pack?”

  “No idea.” Reese smiled, understanding Tag’s reference. “I guess Frank’s comment is as close to a compliment as you can expect.”

  “Whatever.” Tag stood and gathered his pencil and blank pad of paper. “I don’t need to be coddled.”

  “Tag,” Reese said from behind him. “Great work.”

  Now that praise he could feel proud about. “Thanks, bro.”

  “Too bad you’re dating her,” Reese said as they walked the corridor to his office.

  “Why?” Tag stopped short of turning right toward Bobbie’s receptionist desk.

  “Rachel’s smart. Knows more about business than your average bartender.” Reese wrapped a hand around the doorknob. “She’d fit in around here, but I’m guessing when you break up with her, you don’t want to bump into her at the office.”

  Tag tracked back to his brother and stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Something on your mind?”

  Reese folded his arms, mirroring Tag. “You’re not in a hurry to blow this one off, are you?”

  “Since when do you care about my love life?”

  “Since you referred to it as a ‘love’ life.” His lips hitched into a smirk.

  Had him there.

  “She doesn’t want to be entangled with Crane money and me at the same time.”

  “I respect that.” Reese nodded.

  “Yeah?” Tag paused to listen, interested in what his brother thought. Because Tag would like to solve her problems, and Rachel wanted to do everything herself.

  “You may have found the first girl you can’t appease with money. That’s probably why she’s still around.” At that parting observation, Reese opened his office door.

  “Hang on. I don’t buy my dates, if that’s what you’re saying.” Tag’s defenses rose. “I have money. I spend it. End of story.”