Twins for the Billionaire

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “You can’t buy me clothes, Eric,” she said in a quiet voice. “Would you buy Meryl clothes? Or Steve, for that matter?”

  He scowled at a car that cut in front of him. “No, but they already know what’s expected. Besides, if you think I’m going to let you walk into a situation where you’re unprepared, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

  But she was right. He wouldn’t buy clothes for anyone else, wouldn’t give anyone else the afternoon off and take them shopping. Just her.

  He cleared his throat as the car came to a screeching halt outside Barneys. The valet was at Eric’s door in an instant. “Mr. Jenner, good to see you again,” the man said.

  “Norman,” Eric replied, handing over his keys. “Extra gentle with her, okay?” From the passenger seat, Sofia snorted.

  He crossed around the front of the vehicle and opened Sofia’s door. “It won’t be that bad,” he promised, holding out his hand to her. “It might even be fun.”

  Because, oddly, he was having fun. Sofia shot him a dirty look, which made him want to laugh. The few times he’d taken a woman shopping, they’d always simpered and smiled and were so effusive with gratitude that it had seemed less...real, somehow.

  He didn’t want things to be like that with Sofia. He was aware of her in a fundamental way that didn’t make a lot of sense. He knew what she liked and, more than that, he knew what she needed.

  Hell, he knew what he needed—but he was trying to be a better person. In the months since his ex had bailed on their wedding, he’d re-sowed a lot of his wild oats. But he wasn’t a randy kid anymore and meaningless sex was just that—meaningless. He didn’t want to chase a sexual relationship with Sofia if...

  Well, if it didn’t mean anything. Because even if this relationship never became sexual, Sofia meant something to him. More than an office manager, anyway. Much more.

  Then she put her hand in his and the world stopped spinning. He didn’t hear the noise of the streets or feel the heat of the summer sun on the back of his neck. He didn’t see anything but her as she raised her gaze to his. All he saw was Sofia, her hand warm and light in his. Skin to skin, he swore he felt something pass between them. Something that maybe had tugged at his awareness when he’d touched her back through her jacket during her interview. Something that couldn’t be ignored now.

  “Come on,” he said gruffly, pulling her to her feet and tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else.

  Six

  Sofia stared up at Eric in shock. What was happening? Really? Eric had been avoiding her since she’d scolded him—and she couldn’t blame him. No one wanted to hang out with a harpy. But suddenly he’d appeared in front of her desk and not only asked thoughtful questions about her twins, but seemed genuinely interested in the answers. And then, when she broke her own rule about telling him she wasn’t prepared for her job? He took her shopping.

  At best, she might have expected him to send her out to Macy’s with Heather, who no doubt knew exactly what kind of dress an office manager should wear to a cocktail party with the mayor of a midsize Midwestern city.

  But that wasn’t what was happening. Eric was going to take her shopping himself. At Barneys, of all places. Even with her newly generous salary, Sofia couldn’t afford to so much as walk through the doors here.

  Well. This was a fine mess. She should refuse, absolutely. Except...

  Except he really seemed to care about how her babies were doing now that she was back at work full-time. And sometimes, when he looked at her...she swore he was looking at her with new eyes. And she had nothing to wear and didn’t want to show up at a semiformal event representing the company in the wrong kind of dress.

  No, that wasn’t the whole truth. It wasn’t just that she didn’t want to feel out of place at a fancy party. She didn’t want to feel out of place when Eric looked at her.

  She knew she didn’t belong in his world. He was so far above her in terms of looks and money and power... That she was even considering this was a clear indication of how nuts she was. But was it wrong if, at least for a weekend, she wanted to pretend that she fit into his glamorous life? That they were equals?

  That she was good enough for him?

  It’d been so long since she’d felt attractive. Pregnancy had done a number on her self-esteem and then, after David’s death, she hadn’t exactly kept up her appearance. Who cared about under-eye concealer when she could barely force herself out of bed every morning? It’d only been in the last six months—coincidentally, about the same time the twins started sleeping through the night—that she’d been able to get past the fog and start putting herself on the list of people to take care of.

  How was she supposed to do this with Eric? When he looked at her with his intense eyes, it made her want to do stupid, stupid things—like let him lavish her with the finest dresses money could buy. Like hope that he’d remove those fine dresses from her body and pull her into his arms and...

  She cleared her throat, trying to get her pulse to stay at a steady rhythm. What was she going to do?

  Apparently, she was going to let Eric buy her clothes. It was wildly inappropriate and completely beyond the normal boundaries of common sense. God only knew what the gossip at the office would be tomorrow or—worse—after the St. Louis trip.

  But did she have a choice? She didn’t even have a proper suit that fit anymore. She’d been making do with the cutest separates she could find. She’d gotten her first paycheck—with a number that was still stunning to her—but she hadn’t had time to go buy some work clothes. She couldn’t sacrifice any more time away from her babies for something as superficial as trousers.

  Except for this damned cocktail party, that was. And heavens help her, she wanted to look good for him.

  Her chest began to tighten in panic but she pushed back and made sure to count to four as she breathed in and then out.

  “Mr. Jenner,” a polished woman who might have been in her forties or her sixties said, coming forward to meet them. “How lovely to see you back at Barneys again.”

  “Clarice,” Eric said, and Sofia heard a particular tone to his voice that he didn’t use with her. Imperious, she might have called it. “This is Ms. Bingham.”

  Clarice turned her sharp gaze to Sofia. “Yes,” she said, as if she’d just figured out that Sofia didn’t belong here. “Ms. Bingham, if you’d come this way? I have some options already pulled, but of course I want to take your opinions under consideration.”

  “Wait—I thought...” Sofia looked dumbly at Eric. She’d assumed he’d be an active part of this. Was she wrong? She’d been nervous about him offering his opinion on each outfit. So how was the realization that he wouldn’t somehow even worse?

  His face softened with a smile and she almost sighed in relief. She didn’t like him all imperious. Then he took her by the arm and led her a little away from Clarice, who immediately made it her business to focus anywhere but on them. “Surprise me,” he said as he slid his hand down and pressed her palm against his. A silky warmth flowed between them.

  Her body tightened with want because oh, how she wanted to surprise him. But want had nothing to do with this. It couldn’t. “Eric, we can’t do this,” she murmured—which was true and also did nothing to explain why she couldn’t seem to pull her hand away from his.

  “Don’t you dare accuse me of turning into my mother again,” he said as his thumb charted a steady course along the base of hers.

  “Your mother would never—” She barely managed to get her mouth shut before something really inappropriate, like “look at me like she wants to undress me,” came tumbling out. “Bring me here,” she finished weakly.

  “Shows what you know.” His grin faded and somehow, he got even closer to her. “I want to do this for you, Sofia. I want you to wal
k into that cocktail party looking beautiful and feeling like you’ve got the world at your feet because you are and you do. I can see it. I want everyone else—including you—to see it, too.” His fingers laced with hers, pulling her in. She was powerless to let go of him. “What I don’t want is for you to feel like you’ve lost control. If you start to panic, call me immediately, okay?” When she didn’t answer right away, he said, “Let me take care of you,” in an even softer voice.

  It simply wasn’t fair of him to make her fall a little in love with him in the middle of a damned upscale department store. But that’s what happened. Eric Jenner was a sinfully rich, sinfully handsome bachelor and for some inexplicable reason, he cared about her. He understood her panic attacks. He gave her a chance. He made her smile. He made things better. How could she not fall for him? “All right.” It came out husky and low and not at all like her normal voice. But then, there wasn’t exactly anything normal about any of this.

  His eyes darkened as his gaze dropped to her lips and without conscious choice, she licked them under his watchful eye. He inhaled sharply and then abruptly he stepped away from her, dropping her hand like it was hot. “I’ll...” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’ll be in the menswear department.”

  And with that parting shot, he turned on his heel and strode off. All Sofia could do was watch him go. Her hand was still warm from where they’d been skin to skin and she had to fight the ridiculous urge to run after him.

  Clarice appeared at her elbow. “Are you ready?” she asked, her voice crisp.

  It took real effort to tear her gaze away from where Eric’s back was disappearing down the stairs. Once again, he was putting a great deal of faith in her.

  If he wanted to be surprised, then that’s what she’d give him.

  “I think so.”

  But when they made it back to a private fitting room, there were more than just a few cocktail dresses waiting. There were racks and racks of clothing, including business suits and shoes and even underwear. “What is all this?” Sofia asked, pressing her hand to her chest in alarm.

  “When Mr. Jenner and I spoke on the phone, he made it clear that you would need to be outfitted for a cocktail party, business meetings and travel,” Clarice said, smiling in a way that was probably supposed to be reassuring. “Isn’t that what you two discussed?”

  “Um...” He hadn’t said anything about suits or traveling clothes. This was supposed to be a dress. One dress. Not an entire wardrobe. “How many outfits are we talking about here?”

  Clarice didn’t hesitate. “Two business suits, two evening outfits and two traveling outfits. Mr. Jenner made it clear that you were to be outfitted and accessorized from head to toe.”

  Sofia’s heart began to hammer in her chest. This was too much. What part of six damned outfits that he hadn’t even discussed with her was making sure she didn’t feel like she was losing control?

  She opened her mouth to refuse it all—the carte blanche, the outfits, Clarice’s knowledgeable assistance—and then she remembered what Eric had said as he’d held her hand and leaned toward her. He wanted to do this for her because he knew she was beautiful and he wanted her to believe it, too.

  She closed her eyes and made sure she was still breathing. Oh, this was dangerous, that she was even considering this. She didn’t just want to surprise him when she walked into that cocktail party and she didn’t just want to look like she fit.

  She wanted to feel pretty again.

  She wanted to make Eric’s brain stop functioning.

  “Can you make me look great? Like, really great?”

  Clarice’s eyes lit up. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Seven

  Sofia was a mess of nerves. She hadn’t been able to eat breakfast and hadn’t slept more than twenty or thirty minutes at a time last night. For once, it had nothing to do with the twins teething.

  Her luggage, packed with five different outfits and three pairs of shoes for a three-day trip, stood by the front door, waiting. Eric was going to pick her up sometime in the next fifteen minutes and drive her to the airport. From there, he, Sofia and the Nortons would fly in Eric’s private jet to St. Louis.

  She was doing this. She was going away for a weekend with Eric. Business trip be damned. She had sexy lingerie in her bag, far too beautiful to keep hidden underneath clothes.

  No, no—she wasn’t nervous about that. Eric wasn’t going to see her panties. She was just...nervous about flying. She’d been on an airplane exactly twice in her life, flying to and from Cancún for her honeymoon with David. She hadn’t liked it then, and that had been a big plane. Eric’s jet wasn’t much more than a puddle jumper.

  In fact, the only thing keeping her from a full-on panic attack was the fact that she was being mobbed by adorable babies.

  “Are you going to miss me when I’m gone?” she asked, sitting on the floor with both Addy and Eddy on her lap. Eddy’s lip began to tremble. “I’ll come back,” she promised. “I always come back, don’t I? You’ll have a lot of fun with Abuelita and Abuelito. Story time at the library, a trip to the park—”

  “Pak!” Eddy yelled, flopping off her lap and toddling over to where his shoes were.

  Sofia laughed. The boy would sell his sister for a swing set. “Later,” she said. “When Miss Rita gets here, you can go to the park.” Rita was a new addition to their routine, a young woman who reminded Sofia of what Rosa must’ve been like twenty or thirty years ago. Rita was a first-generation Mexican American, taking night classes, already working one part-time job and now helping out with the twins in the mornings.

  Watching Rosa Cortés with Rita was a little like watching Mrs. Jenner buy dresses for Sofia when she had been a girl. Mom went out of her way to make extra food that Rita could take home because she wouldn’t have time to get anything before class. Mom often had a sweater or a dress that she’d bought because she’d thought it would fit, but when she got it home it didn’t—and it just happened to be in Rita’s size.

  Sofia was just glad Mom liked Rita and seemed to embrace her help with the twins. Sofia worried less about her parents now that there was backup.

  That didn’t make it any easier to leave her babies, though. Addy snuggled into Sofia’s lap, her thumb in her mouth. Sofia stroked her daughter’s hair, savoring this moment of closeness. God, she was going to miss them. But she wasn’t going to cry. She swallowed hard a few times as she breathed in Addy’s sweet baby smell. No crying allowed.

  But was it wrong she was excited about this weekend trip? She was going to have a hotel room all to herself at the Chase Park Plaza, with room service and no one to wake her up in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t have to cook or clean. She had two new dresses that made her feel beautiful and the company of a man who made her want more than she could even dream about.

  She had no right to dream of him, but that hadn’t stopped her from wondering if he’d wear a tux to this party. Or how he’d look if she reached up and tugged on that bow tie, unraveling the ends and pulling him toward her and—

  The doorbell rang and Addy launched herself off Sofia’s lap. She and Eddy ran to the door.

  “That’s the driver, Mom,” Sofia called to her mother in the kitchen, her stomach doing a little flutter. She gathered the black pashmina wrap Clarice had insisted pulled the whole look together and her purse. That, at least, was still hers. She couldn’t bring herself to let the accessorizing go so far as to include handbags. She knew exactly how expensive those things could be.

  It was ridiculous that he was coming for her. He could’ve saved himself a lot of time if they’d met at the office.

  But no. And he didn’t even send a separate car. Instead, his driver was picking her up, even though it was way out of the way to drive from the Gold Coast where Eric lived down to the Pilsen neighborhood where she lived wi
th her parents.

  The Nortons lived close to the Chicago Executive Airport, where Eric kept his plane—which was on the far northern side of the city. So they’d meet them there. Which meant it would just be Eric and Sofia in the car. In the back seat. Hidden from the rest of the world.

  Not that it mattered, because it didn’t. This was a work-related trip. The brand-new clothes she was wearing were work clothes—although Sofia had not yet figured out in what alternative universe a silk georgette blouse and cropped white trousers constituted a “traveling outfit.” In her world, white pants were a disaster waiting to happen. But she was wearing them anyway. The same went for the cocktail dresses. The outfits had nothing to do with the way Eric had held her hand in the store or told her to let him take care of her. Not a damned thing.

  She might engage in some gentle flirting because that seemed unavoidable. But Eric flirted with everyone, so that was fine. Safe, even. As long as they kept it at flirting. No undressing, no lingerie.

  The doorbell rang again. Sofia took hold of Addy as Mom hurried out of the kitchen to scoop up Eddy.

  Sofia opened the door, saying, “My bag is—”

  The man standing in the doorway was not the driver. Eric Jenner himself stood there, looking sinfully handsome in a brightly colored button-up shirt with a linen blazer over it. Her mouth fell open and all she could do was stare at him. His hair had more of a wave than normal and he looked so damn good she could feel her resolve crumbling like a cookie in a toddler’s hands—and they hadn’t even made it to the car yet.

  She was going away with him for the weekend. And he wanted to take care of her.

  Oh, God.

  “Sofia,” Eric began, but then his gaze was drawn to Addy, who’d curled against Sofia’s shoulder. “Good heavens,” he went on, sounding almost severe about it. “These children are even cuter in person than they are in pictures. I didn’t think that was physically possible.”