Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance Boxed Set (10 Book Bundle)

by Selena Kitt

  Ring check? Clear.

  Tan marks on the ring finger? Nope.

  So far, so good.

  I glanced at his feet. Shoes said a lot about a man.

  Interesting.

  “How’s business?” I asked.

  “We’re doing pretty well. And I dabble a little in real estate in my free time.”

  Now the real estate dabbling sounded promising.

  And the Dolce & Gabbana shoes spoke volumes.

  Hoping my first impressions had been wrong for once, I asked, “Do you have a card on you, by any chance?” I wasn’t permitted to ask potential clients for financials to prove their net worth, but oftentimes it didn’t take much to get a picture of a man’s financial standing.

  “Why? Are you looking for someone to cut your lawn?” Tevin the lawn cutting real estate dabbler who spoke like a U of M graduate asked.

  “No, not exactly.”

  His smile turned wicked. I really liked that smile. Maybe a little too much. “Ah, then you just want my phone number.”

  I nodded. “Maybe, I do.”

  That wicked smile turned wry. “Hmmm. In general, I prefer old-fashioned girls. You know, the type who would rather let me pursue them. But in this case--“

  “Actually, it’s not for me.” I dug into my purse, looking for my business card case. It always sank to the bottom, and it took my cell phone with it every time.

  “Not for you?” He smacked a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”

  The guy had a flair for the dramatic, but in a very cute and playful way. Another reason to like him.

  I couldn’t help laughing. “Sorry.”

  “You sure don’t let a guy down easy.” His grin belied the wounded-guy act.

  “It’s a risk of the profession, unfortunately.” I glanced up, catching his gaze for a split second. He had some seriously gorgeous eyes. And those thick lashes...swoon. “I work for a company called Premier Consultants--”

  “Ah, the matchmaking service.”

  “You’ve heard of us?” At last, my fingertips brushed against flat leather, my card case. I pulled it out, flipped it open, and plucked out a card, setting it on the table.

  “Daryl Laroche.” Tevin fingered my card as he read my name. “I know all about Premier. The owner, Marguerite Munro has been trying to drag me to one of those Friday night mixers for over a year.”

  Holy crap. I couldn’t believe it. If Marguerite had been chasing this guy, he wasn’t a wanna-be entrepreneur. He was the real thing. “And you haven’t come, not to a single one?”

  “Nope.” He looked quite proud of himself.

  “Wow, I think you might be the first person I’ve met who has managed to refuse Marguerite anything. What that woman wants, she gets.”

  “So I hear.” He lifted my card, but instead of handing it back, like I half-expected him to, he slid it into his wallet. “She hasn’t gotten me yet, but she hasn’t given up.” Catching sight of the waitress, returning with a tray of drinks balanced on one hand, he pointed at my glass. “Are you sure you don’t want something a little stronger?”

  “No, thanks. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

  “Saturday morning?” He handed the waitress some cash. “I’ll take care of the ladies’ tab, as well as this round. Keep the change.”

  “Thank you.” The waitress disappeared into the thickening crowd.

  “Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.” I curled my fingers around the chilled glass and lifted the straw to my mouth. My arm brushed against his as I moved, and my face warmed a little.

  “My pleasure.” He lifted his glass, waiting for me to do the same. “To...the thrill of closing the big deal.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” I tapped my glass against his and downed at least half of my drink. This guy was smart, charming, with a face that would make angels weep and a body that made me tingly all over. He was a ten plus. And—assuming my boss knew something about his financial situation that I didn’t--it was no wonder she had tried to sell him her service. She’d have a stadium full of women lining up to become Mrs. Tevin within days.

  I couldn’t mess this up.

  Still staring at me with those dark eyes, full of secrets, he set down his drink. “So, what’s the story? Do you get up early on Saturday mornings for kicks or is there another reason?”

  I played with my straw. The ice cubes clanked against the glass as I churned it into a mini-whirlpool. “Work. We have an open call for next week’s mixer. Contrary to what you might think, beautiful, intelligent women don’t fall into our laps. We have to search for them. We work hard--”

  “You don’t have to give me the sales pitch. I’ve heard it before.” He stood, offered a hand, and beamed a smile that would stop a weaker woman’s heart forever. “Dance with me.”

  I hadn’t even realized there was music playing. Nor had I noticed Sasha had given me the slip. “Sure.” I didn’t need it, but I accepted his help as I stood. With Tevin’s hand resting on the small of my back, I wound through the crowd toward the small dance floor in the back.

  Stopping at the outside fringe of the crowd of couples swaying to the mellow jazz tune the band was playing, I stepped into Tevin’s arms. Immediately, I realized he knew how to move. His hips rocked from side to side as he held me closely. With two inch heels, I stood maybe five inches shorter than him. I fit nicely against him. Too nicely. The spicy scent of his cologne, combined with the sultry voice of the band’s singer, and the sensation of being held made me wish, for just a moment, that I was on a date, rather than trying to enlist a new enrollee in a dating service.

  I tipped my head up and met his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, our gazes locked.

  Girl, you’re giving this guy the wrong impression.

  I pulled away, not completely, just enough to let him know I was uncomfortable. He tipped his head slightly, his eyes never leaving mine.

  I cleared my throat. “What’ll it take to convince you to come to a Friday night mixer?”

  “I’ll let you know.” He led me into a fancy little swirl and spin.

  “Oh!” A tad dizzy, I tightened my hold and followed his lead, laughing when he dipped me at the end. I half expected, from the look on his face, for him to bend over me and give me a little kiss, maybe more, but to my relief he didn’t. He pulled me upright.

  But then, as my body molded to his, our gazes tangled again. A current of electricity zipped through me, and a blaze of heat followed. Time seemed to freeze. His lids were heavy, his eyes dark. The tip of his tongue slid along his lower lip.

  I stood frozen in place, overcome by the flurry of sensations pummeling my system. In my head a zillion thoughts were racing.

  His head tipped.

  Was he going to kiss me?

  This man? This gorgeous, successful man?

  Me?

  It lowered a tiny bit. And a little more.

  Yes, yes he was!

  My heart jerked in my chest. The air squeezed out of my lungs. My fingers curled, catching the smooth fabric of his shirt, wadding it.

  I couldn’t let this happen.

  Yes, I could.

  Shouldn’t.

  But ohmygod, I wanted him to.

  My head said no.

  My body, every single cell but the ones inside my skull, screamed yes.

  My eyelids fell shut just as his lips found mine. Oh so softly they brushed over mine. Too softly.

  And then they were gone.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His hold on me loosening slightly, he fell back into a slow combination of hip sways and footsteps as the band started playing another song.

  Sorry. He was sorry.

  Was I?

  Suddenly mortified, I mumbled, “It…it’s okay.” I followed along, my eyes closed. Despite that awkward moment, dancing with him was like being hypnotized. Enthralled. Seduced. “Someone has taken dance lessons.”

  “I took a few ballroom classes.” Probably in an effort to lighten the
mood, he did a goofy little move that had me almost laughing.

  “Clearly, you had an excellent teacher.” Despite his antics, I could tell that was no lie.

  “The best.” He pulled me a tiny bit closer, so our legs were woven between each other’s again and our lower bodies were almost, but not quite, touching. I’d always felt dancing was a very intimate thing, especially with a stranger, but the way Tevin held me, it was almost indecent.

  He spun me again, and the world whirled around me in a blur of color and lights and shadows. When I stopped spinning like an out-of-control top, I found myself clinging to him, breathless and laughing and shameless.

  “Already, I can see you’re full of surprises.” I stumbled a little. Luckily, my constrictor-like grip on his arm kept me from slamming into the couple next to us.

  He hauled me up against him, placing one hand on my back for support. With the other, he brushed my hair out of my face. It was a tender, sweet gesture. “What about you? Are you full of surprises too?”

  “Nope.” The spinning sensation finally easing up, I rocked my weight from one foot to the other, following Tevin’s lead again. “I’m boring and dull. Completely predictable.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I shrugged. “Believe what you want. It’s the truth.”

  He studied me for a moment. “I think that’s what you want people to believe.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “I haven’t figured that out...yet.”

  “Yet?” I echoed, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips.

  “Give me a few weeks, and I’ll have all your skeletons doing the cha-cha in broad daylight.”

  He might not have meant that as a threat, but it struck me as one. Instantly, I stiffened, missing a beat, and his leg bumped into mine, almost knocking me off balance again. I gave a little squeak, grabbed his arm and then tried to pretend I hadn’t almost tripped by doing a little shuffle and kick.

  He stopped dancing, smack dab in the middle of the floor, in the middle of a song. “I’m sorry.”

  So much for the fancy maneuver.

  Not that I’d expected it to fool him.

  Hoping to hide my embarrassment, as well as change the subject, I turned on the charm, giving him a beaming smile. “No biggie. I didn’t fall.”

  “I wasn’t apologizing for that.”

  This man was entirely too perceptive. And dangerous. “I’m fine. I…I just lost track of the beat for a second. Unlike a certain someone, I haven’t had the benefit of dance lessons.”

  “I could teach you,” he offered, his mischievous expression suggesting he wasn’t necessarily talking about dancing.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, if I decide to take dance lessons someday.” This time, when the song ended, I stepped out of Tevin’s arms before the band started the next number. The fun was over. I didn’t need Tevin Page, lawn guy and real estate tycoon, thinking I was stupid enough to think he was really interested in dating me. I knew better than that. What I did need from him was simple--I needed him to hire me to help him find the right girl, his perfect match. “Thank you for the dance.” I brushed the back of my hand across my forehead. “Whew, it’s hot in here.” I fanned my face. “I could use a drink.”

  “Sure.” He escorted me back to our table, waited for me to sit before he took a seat across from me. He pointed at my glass, which now held about three ounces of watered down, lukewarm cola. “What can I get you?”

  “A glass of water with a lemon slice. Thanks.”

  He scowled as he waved our waitress over and ordered my drink.

  “Look, I’m not trying to be rude. I make a living helping single men find their perfect match. I learned a long time ago never to mix business with pleasure.”

  He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he studied me. “I never said I was interested in hiring a matchmaker.”

  “You kept my card.”

  He lifted his brows. “Why do you think that might be?”

  “Because you’ve decided to go to a weekend mixer, of course.”

  The corners of his mouth curled up. “No.”

  “You’re considering passing it on to someone else? A friend, maybe?”

  “No, I’m not passing it on to someone else.”

  The waitress zigzagged through the crowd to our table and plunked down a tall glass of water in front of me. Tevin stuffed his hand into his pocket, pulled out a wad of bills and flipped off a few to hand to her. She ran off with a big grin on her face.

  “Okay, so you’re not giving it to someone else,” I said, giving him my best sales game face as I stirred my water with the straw, “and you haven’t decided to come to a mixer. I should warn you, if you call me, I’m determined to make you change your mind about Premier.”

  He laughed. It was a glorious sound. And what it did to his face, his eyes...wow. Some lucky woman was going to thank me for this one day. He lifted one brow. “Change my mind? How do you plan on doing that?”

  “Well...” I drummed my fingertips on the tabletop. “I won’t challenge you to a dance off, that’s for sure.”

  There was that laugh again. A low rumble that sent pleasant vibrations thrumming through my body. “Maybe I could make a suggestion?”

  “You’re going to tell me what to do to seal the deal?” I plunked both elbows down on the table and, leaning forward, rested my chin on my fists. “I’m all ears.”

  “You’re a savvy business woman. I’m a businessman. We both understand that striking a deal requires a little give and take from both parties.”

  “Sure.” I wasn’t certain I liked where this seemed to be heading.

  “How about I agree to sign a contract with Premier, but on one condition?”

  You know the feeling that you get when you know somebody is about to drop a bomb on your head? Or, the feeling that something unpleasant is going to fly up in your face and knock you on your ass, but you can’t avoid it? That’s what I was feeling as I asked, “What condition is that?”

  “I’ll sign with Premier if you agree to go on one date with me for every event I attend.”

  Yep, there it was. And there I was, in an impossible quandary.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head, reminding myself that he didn’t know how much this meant to me. A new contract meant the difference between homelessness and having a roof over my head. I needed this contract.

  But dating clients was strictly forbidden.

  And why would he want to date me, anyway? I wasn’t an Ivy League graduate, like our girls. I didn’t have perfect hair and teeth and manners. And I was nowhere close to model thin.

  Why was he playing this game with me? Why?

  Taking away the fact that it was just plain cruel--him acting like he might be seriously interested in me--this was a lose-lose prospect for me, no matter how I looked at it.

  “Tevin...?” Throwing away my pride, and casting aside all attempts at appearing as the wheeling, dealing saleswoman I knew I wasn’t, I gave him my best sad-puppy-eyes. At this point groveling wasn’t beneath me. “Please. I know you’re not serious about wanting to date me. So drop it.”

  He crossed his arms and shook his head. “That’s my final offer, Daryl. Take it or leave it.”

  Chapter 2

  I was so screwed.

  Already I could hear my aunt’s voice in my head. So you’ve come back again? Already?

  I told you, you wouldn’t make anything of your life. You aren’t smart. You aren’t beautiful. You aren’t clever. No, you’re just like you mother. Your murdering mother.

  I gritted my teeth. Why was Tevin Page playing me? Was he really that much of a jerk?

  I should just tell him to fuck off.

  I could.

  But then I’d lose a client.

  I couldn’t afford to lose a client.

  Especially a client that Marguerite herself had been trying to snag.

  There was no choice.

  He extended a hand, one brow rai
sed. “One date for every event. Will you accept or decline?”

  I placed my hand in his and gave it a shake. “I accept. But you cannot, under any circumstances, tell anyone about our little arrangement. Ever.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll be fired from my job.” Not to mention humiliated.

  “Ah. I see.” He held my hand a little longer than necessary. As much as I wanted not to enjoy it, I did. Little jolts of electricity went zinging up my arm. Then they zoomed down my body. Between my legs. “You have my word. I can keep a secret.”

  “I hope so.” Worried about being seen holding hands in public with Premier’s newest client, I glanced at our clasped hands.

  He released his grip, and I released a sigh of disappointment. “When is the first mixer?” he asked.

  “Next Friday, a week from today.”

  “Fine.” He shoved his hand into his pocket. But this time, instead of pulling out money, he produced a business card. He handed it to me. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night. Eight o’clock.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “Eight o’clock.” His lips curled into a somewhat wicked smile. “Looking forward to seeing you then.” And he strolled away, looking confident. And why wouldn’t he? He’d won. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

  But I still wondered why he’d set his sights on me. There were so many prettier, smarter women out there for him to meet.

  Why the complicated proposal?

  * * * *

  As I was staring down into my glass, trying to think my way out of the situation I’d somehow negotiated myself into, Sasha came staggering back to the table looking irritated. She flopped into her seat and heaved a sigh that could be heard for miles.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  She squinted at me. “I should be asking you that. Andy and me were having a great time until Tevin told him they had to leave.”

  “So, Tevin wants to leave. That’s not my fault.”

  Sasha’s squint became squintier. “I don’t believe you.” She checked the bottles lined up on the table. “Empty. Empty. Empty. What the hell?” She glared at my half-full glass.

  I said, “You drank them all, not me.”