Billionaire’s Quarry: A Billionaire, Bad Boy, Romance (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Boxed Set)

by Michelle Love

  “Mercy, do you ever eat breakfast on Saturday mornings?” I ask her. “Because I know you don’t do drinks after work on Friday nights. So I was thinking a little coffee, a few pancakes, maybe a donut or two and a little conversation would be a thing you might like to do.”

  “Really?” she asks me as if she doesn’t believe me at all.

  “Really,” I say then put my beer down. “I don’t want to merely get in your pants the way I know you’re thinking I want. I want to get to know you.”

  “That’s like the one thing I can’t allow, Jude. I really am sorry. It’s just so complicated,” she says.

  “See, the thing about that, is it’s alright with me. Didn’t you see our relationship status, Mercy? It says those actual words. So I’m cool with complicated. And I’m only talking about an hour or two for breakfast in the morning. I’m kind of aching to see you again.”

  “Aching?” she asks.

  “Um, hm.”

  “I tell you what. Can you let me call you around nine or ten to let you know if I can make it?”

  The only answer I have for her is a quick, “Yes.”

  Wow, we may have a date!

  Chapter 3

  MERCY

  Nervously, I pace back and forth as I tell the babysitter, Mrs. Jensen’s daughter, Becky, where the cheese and crackers are that stop Mia from crying and where the first aid kit is, then she assures me she brought her own.

  “Wow, you are prepared,” I say as she nods her head.

  “I am. And I have your number. I promise to call you if anything at all happens to either of them. I’ve been in the classes for six months to learn all kinds of ways to take care of and interact with children. You can trust me, Mercy,” she says with a sweet smile.

  “I know I can, Becky. Thank you. I’ll only be an hour,” I say then turn to leave but turn back. “Or two. Will that be a problem, if I’m two hours instead of one?”

  “Heck, stay all day. All night even. I can handle these two. Have fun. Mom told me you haven’t gone out at all in two years. Since it all happened. So who is this lucky fella who has you finally going out?”

  I hesitate to say his name then think maybe someone should know who I’ll be out with. One never knows who might be a killer or a kidnapper after all. That’s what Mom used to say. “His name is Jude Hurst. We’re going to meet at the Denny’s down the street. I don’t want him to know where I live. Not yet, anyway.”

  “I completely understand. And are we talking about a member of the Hurst family that owns that huge oil company?” she asks as her hand goes to her slim hip. Becky is a young twenty and looks all of sixteen with her high ponytail and classic sweet kid looks.

  “Yes, he’s part of that family,” I say as her mouth drops open.

  “Okay, girl!” she says then holds her hand up for a high-five.

  I laugh as I give her the high five she’s requested and feel kind of giddy. “Okay, I am out of here. I will call you if it goes past two hours.”

  With a wave, I leave. We purposely put the kids in the backyard to play with a puppy she brought to distract them from my departure which I found pure genius on her part.

  My hands are shaking as I hold the key fob in my right hand and press the button to unlock the Mazda that was my sister’s. I inherited that too. I have three cars now. Hope’s little, red Mazda, her husband, Jasper’s, four-wheel-drive truck that I have never driven, and Mom’s Suburban. That’s what I use when I have the kids with me.

  I realize that’s been most of the time. As I sit in the soft leather seat of my sister’s car, I sink back into it and turn the radio up. It’s been a month since I’ve been anywhere in this car. And that was a quick trip to the grocery store while the kids were still at daycare and I got off early from work to do the grocery shopping.

  I don’t like to take the kids to the store with me because people ask too many questions.

  Questions like, ‘Are those your kids?’ and ‘Do you kids love your momma?’

  People actually say that shit!

  I can’t lie to them right in front of the kids. So I have to tell them I’m their aunt and then come more personal questions like, ‘Why do you have them?’ and ‘Where is their momma?’

  It comes to me that the reason I keep to myself so much is that talking about what happened isn’t easy for me so I’d rather be alone. My therapist says that’s unhealthy. And she might be right.

  I shake it off and put the car in reverse and leave the garage. My sister and her husband had a very nice home in a very nice section of a suburb of Dallas. The house has three bedrooms and baths with a four car garage. The garage is nearly as big as the brick house is.

  The other vehicles I inherited were also Jaspers and also things I haven’t driven and never will. A couple of Harleys are parked in the other parking space of the garage. I should sell them and put the money in the kids’ accounts. That feels like a thing I should wait on, though.

  Carter might want them when he gets older after all. So I make sure to start every vehicle once a week, on Sundays, and let them run for thirty minutes to keep their mechanical parts moving.

  I find myself singing along to the song on the radio as I make the left turn to get to the Denny’s where he said he’ll be at, at nine this morning. I haven’t talked to him since eight. He sounded a little tired and I felt like I should’ve told him to forget about it but when I started to say something, he stopped me and told me to meet him, that he’d be there, waiting for me.

  And as I pull into the parking lot, I see his chocolate Jag and feel a smile move over my entire face. “He’s here!”

  I forgot to tell him what I was driving and I just realized he wasn’t the one to tell me he has that car. He’ll know I did more asking about him if I walk up to it. So I text him that I’m here in a red Mazda and see him get out of his car and wave at me.

  I can’t feel my feet as I get out of the car as I’m nervous as hell. I purposely came here in the same fashion I always spend my weekends in. Hair in a ponytail, make-up free and shorts with a little top and flip flops. I have to dress nice every day of the week so I take my weekends seriously and dress down on them.

  So let’s see if he likes the real me!

  My voice cracks as I say, “Hi, Jude.” Thankfully, we both laugh.

  He’s in shorts too and a light green button down he has the sleeves rolled up on about a quarter. He’s wearing flip flops too as I told him I was coming very casual. It makes me secretly happy he dressed down for me.

  His expensive sunglasses have some name on them I can’t even pronounce and he pulls them off as he gets to me, extending both hands. I take them and give him a smile.

  “Is it possible?” he asks as his thumbs run over my knuckles as he holds both of my hands.

  “Is what possible?” I ask as I have to focus so my legs don’t give out with how his touch excites me and makes me want to lie down on the pavement of Denny’s parking lot and let him have his way with me right here on a Saturday morning.

  He pulls me closer and kisses my left cheek then says, “That you look even better without any makeup.”

  I laugh with an elation I’ve never felt before. Then tone it down. “Jude! You’re silly.”

  He lets my hands go but puts one arm around my shoulders. “No, I’m serious. Anyway, you seem nervous and I don’t want that. I’m ordering you some happy face pancakes this morning. I want to see that beautiful smile for our whole date.”

  “That’s the other pancake place. But you can ask. For you, they’ll probably do it,” I say as we walk in the glass door and the three old men at the counter look at us.

  And already I feel all eyes on us. This man is too damn good looking!

  Chapter 4

  JUDE

  Her silky blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail and I can picture it with a cute little, pink camo hat and her hanging out with me in my hunting blind. She has no makeup on at all and seems completely comfortable and is sti
ll mesmerizingly beautiful.

  She gets in on one side of the booth and I have to take the other because the sides are meant for one person only. It dawns on me that might be the exact reason she picked this place. I asked her to go with me to the very classy Regency Hotel for breakfast and she told me, no way.

  So here we are at a place I’ve never been to in my life. But I’m going to pretend I’ve come to these little chains tons of times. You have to act at home in the prey’s territory to get them to feel safe around you.

  An old, and extremely heavyset woman with yellow hair comes to us with an orange pot of coffee, I assume, as she’s also carrying two little off-white cups. She places them on the table and fills them with some steaming hot, black as night, coffee. “Here ya go. Now, do you two need a minute or do you know what you want?”

  Good God! What kind of manners are those?

  “How about a pancake with some bacon and a couple of fried eggs for the lady? Put that all in a smiley face fashion. I’ll have the same. And a couple of orange juices,” I say.

  Mercy quickly adds, “Make mine an apple juice.” Her eyes cut to me. “I’m allergic to oranges.”

  Reaching across the table, I take her hand that’s resting on it. “Aw. You shared something with me.”

  She slaps my hand and looks back at the waitress. “And can we have some fresh cream for our coffee?” Mercy hands the woman the little silver pitcher with a thick drizzle of cream hanging on the side.

  She takes it with a smile on her wrinkled face. “Of course, Doll. Now that special order will cost you extra, you know that?” she asks as she looks at me.

  “The sky’s the limit,” I say. “Feel free to toss your freshest fruit on the plates too. And remember there’s a hefty tip waiting for you if you can make this special and memorable. This is our first date.”

  “You don’t say,” the woman says then points to her yellowing name tag. “Well, as you can see, my name is Lola and I will be your server this morning. And I will be right back.” She sashays away and I catch Mercy smiling.

  “You have a beautiful smile, Mercy.”

  “You have all the right words, Jude,” she says then laughs a little. “So, you have managed the happy face breakfast. What other magic do you know?”

  I lean forward and take both her hands which are conveniently resting on the old brown table. “I have so much magic stored away, you have no idea. And I want to thank you for your call this morning. I was worried you wouldn’t call and I’d have to call you again and beg you to do something else.”

  She looks away then bites her bottom lip then looks back at me. “So, you sounded tired when I called. Did I wake you up?”

  “You did,” I tell her. “I couldn’t fall asleep very easily as you were heavy on my mind.”

  “I was?” she asks and I see a light in her blue eyes.

  That’s the one thing lacking in the young woman. There is no real light there in those beautiful eyes. I find myself wanting nothing more than to put a light there. Then I find myself entwining our fingers and wishing like hell she was closer so I could kiss her and bring her that light I know I can.

  “You were. Hearing your voice last night made me think things I never have before,” I say.

  “Like what?” she asks.

  The waitress comes out with a big bowl of assorted fruit and I notice there are no oranges in it. I give her a smile. “You listened, great job, Lola. Thank you very much.”

  The rotund woman leans in and whispers, “I have some vodka in my purse. If you want, I could spike your drinks.” She gives me a wink.

  I shake my head. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you but not this morning. I think I’d like to keep my head straight.”

  She nods and leaves. Mercy and I laugh quietly so as not to embarrass the woman. She meant well after all.

  Taking only one of her hands again, I take a piece of banana with my fork and hold it out for her. She takes the bite and picks her fork up and gives me a plump cherry.

  I take the sweet fruit and eat it then say, “Was that metaphoric?”

  Her face goes beet red. “Oh my God! Why did I give you that?” She laughs then points at me. “Hey, wait! You gave me a bite of banana! I think it’s not metaphoric as much as it’s Freudian!”

  I have to laugh too and find I’ve never felt this relaxed this quickly with anyone. She’s amazing and it’s been like five minutes. So I go for it, my plan to keep her with me all day and into the night. “Do you like boats?”

  After placing a grape in my mouth, she answers, “Who doesn’t? They’re boats!”

  “I have one,” I say then put a piece of apple into her mouth.

  She nods as she chews then swallows. “I bet you do.” She stabs a pineapple and places it in my mouth. “I bet you have every kind of vehicle they make.”

  I pick up a grape that refuses to be forked and place it on her lips. She parts them and takes the small fruit in and my cock straightens all the way out as her pink lips wrap around the orb of purple and pull it into her mouth until it disappears.

  And she isn’t even trying to do that sexy!

  Dear God, how can I keep my head on straight with this woman?

  My voice is a little shaky as I try to think about what she’s said and add to the conversation instead of jumping over the table and boning her right here in the small booth at Denny’s, “I don’t own even one motorcycle.”

  That’s true. My youngest brother would covet it if I had one.

  “I have two of them,” she says then takes a tiny sip of her black coffee the waitress still hasn’t brought fresh cream for yet. “A couple of Harleys.”

  Fuck me! She’s perfect!

  “Wow. You ride?” I ask as I sit back and really look at her. I never pegged her as a motorcycle chick.

  She shakes her head, making that blonde ponytail flow over her right shoulder and across her tit which looks completely edible under her little white top. “No, but I own two of them.”

  There has to be a story behind that, so I ask, “Did you win them?”

  Another shake of her head answers me. “No. I’d rather not talk about how I got them if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course,” I say. But the fact she doesn’t want to talk about that has my curiosity peaked. I’ll let it go for now, though.

  “So, how about a morning boat ride with me?” I ask.

  She sits back in the booth and crosses her arms in front of her chest and seems to be thinking about it.

  My fingers are crossed, my breath is held, and I am waiting for her answer.

  Chapter 5

  MERCY

  I know I should not be doing this. I know I should be going back home to be with the kids but the idea of a little boat ride on this gorgeous morning is too much to pass up. And let’s face it, hanging out with Jude is more than a little fun.

  Dashing off to the bathroom after breakfast, I made a call to Becky to let her know what I would be doing and she said the kids were doing great. I heard them playing in the background so I think this is okay for me to be doing.

  I do feel kind of selfish for taking this time away from them with all the time I already take away from them with work. Then I look over at the completely hot man in the driver’s seat and that pretty much flies out the window.

  I left my car in the Denny’s parking lot and am riding with him to the marina on some big lake about forty-five minutes away. I watch him change the radio station then his hand moves toward me instead of the steering wheel and he takes my hand and holds our hands on the little leather armrest that’s between us.

  “Your car is really nice,” I say because I don’t know what else to say. I kind of hate being trapped in a car with people. It’s one of my little quirks. You just never know what to say.

  “Thank you,” he says then lifts our clasped hands and kisses the side of mine. I nearly yank my hand to get his mouth to touch mine instead of just my hand.

  I realize I’m holdi
ng my breath as he looks at me from behind his dark sunglasses and a half smile is on his lips. Letting out the breath, I say, “So, how much farther is this lake?”

  “Your voice went kind of high there, Mercy,” he says with a little chuckle. “Am I making you nervous?”

  “No!” I say with the same too high tone.

  Of course, I’m nervous. The touch of his lips on the side of my hand made my insides heat and a pulse start in my lower regions. If I don’t watch myself this man will have me naked and writhing in passion underneath him in minutes.

  Oh God, why did I have to make that image in my head?

  Now I’m aching a little for him to fulfill that little scene my mind created. Imagination can be a truly awful thing.

  “Mercy, when was the last time you were kissed?” he asks as he looks at the road.

  “I’d rather not talk about that. Just for the record, I do not want to know when you were last kissed, okay?” I say then look out the window and find the glimmer of water filling in the areas between the tall pine trees that grow along the edge of the road. “Is this the lake where you boat is?”

  “It is. Have you ever driven a boat?” he asks then gives my hand a squeeze.

  “No,” I answer and try not to think of us alone on a boat in the middle of this big lake and what I’ll do if he kisses me out there with no one around.

  “Well, you will today. I’ll show you how to do it. It’s fun,” he says then lets my hand go as he pulls into the small marina with quite a few very nice and expensive looking boats pulled into separate stalls.

  “You’d trust me with your boat, Jude?” I ask as he pulls to a stop.

  “I’ll be right there. Right behind you, making sure you don’t get overwhelmed.” He runs his hand over my arm and up to take my chin in it. “Let me get your door.”

  “K,” comes my weak response.

  I watch him get out of the car and have to adjust myself as he walks around. He has me nine types of hot and bothered and I don’t know why I agreed to this. It was the worst idea ever.