by Crave
Crave
A BILLIONAIRE BACHELORS CLUB NOVEL
MONICA MURPHY
Contents
* * *
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Acknowledgments
An Excerpt from Torn
About the Author
By Monica Murphy
An Excerpt from Less Than a Gentleman by Kerrelyn Sparks
An Excerpt from When I Find You by Dixie Lee Brown
An Excerpt from Playing the Field by Jennifer Seasons
An Excerpt from How to Marry a Highlander by Katharine Ashe
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter One
* * *
Archer
THERE ARE FEW things I can resist in life. This is probably why I got into so much trouble during my younger years. Control is everything—and that is the one thing I’ve learned from my bastard of a father. You gain nothing by letting yourself go, by revealing your emotions, by becoming vulnerable.
If you’re unable to resist the things that draw you in, it’s a surefire way to ask for unwanted chaos. I’ve had enough of that in my personal life growing up. Hell, in my professional life too, though I’ve finally turned that corner these last few years.
But the few things I can’t resist? A challenge. A bet.
“He’s an absolute sucker to get married,” Gage says, his disgust-filled voice pulling me from my thoughts. Gage Emerson is my best friend. Matt DeLuca is too. I’ve known them both since high school. We’re standing together at our college buddy Jeff Lewiston’s wedding reception, lurking in a dark corner of the crowded ballroom and muttering over the so-called sanctity of marriage.
Marriage represents a noose around my neck that tightens with every miserable day. My parents are a shining example of the worst marriage in the history of marriages. They hate each other. They cheat on each other. They fight. Yet they’re still together.
Makes no damn sense.
“He seems happy,” Matt, the more optimistic of us three, starts, and both Gage and I shoot him a look that shuts him up.
“His wife is attractive, I’ll give her that,” Gage concedes, sipping from his glass of champagne. “But the moment they come back from the Tahitian honeymoon, she’ll turn into the biggest bitch on the planet, I guarantee it.”
“You don’t even know her,” Matt mutters, shaking his head.
“Don’t have to. They all do it. Sexy and beautiful and sweet when you first meet them, you don’t know what to think. The sex is amazing and you’re having it constantly. They’ll drop to their knees whenever you ask and give you a grade-A blowjob. Next thing you know, you’re buying them a ring.” Gage pauses, takes another swig of his champagne, draining the glass.
We’ve talked about this before. We’ve watched our friends go down one by one like fallen soldiers to marriage, especially this last year.
“You get that ring on their finger, go through this whole marriage ceremony bullshit and then you’re left with nothing but a nagging wife and a limp dick in the aftermath. Always giving you shit because you’re never home and you work too much.” I grimace because holy hell, that sounds like my worst nightmare.
“They sure as hell never complain when they’re spending your money, though.” Gage gestures with his empty glass.
“Hear, motherfucking-hear,” I say, returning the gesture with my glass before I finish it off.
“You guys are such cynics. Both of you act like you’ve done this sort of thing before.” Matt crosses his arms in front of his chest. “When was the last time either of you had a girlfriend.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question because he already knows the answer.
“Never,” I sneer. Serious girlfriends aren’t a consideration. None of them interested me enough to want to keep them around.
With the exception of one woman and I absolutely cannot touch her. She’s too young, too sweet, too good, too everything I’m not. She’s so fucking tempting and so completely off limits, I’d be a damn fool to attempt anything with her.
But I want to. Desperately.
“All this talk about how a woman is nothing but shackles and chains like some sort of lifetime prison sentence. I can’t wait to see you both fall and fall fucking hard.” Matt laughed.
Gage and I both glare. “I have no plans of falling any time soon,” Gage mutters.
“More like never in this lifetime,” I add.
“Please.” Matt snorts. “You’ll both eventually realize you don’t want to do this thing called ‘life’ without a woman by your side. Then you’ll be scrambling at some ungodly age, like forty-five, the eternal bachelors looking for some hot piece to be your bride. None of those young babes in their twenties will look at you unless you flash some cash their way.”
“Now who’s the cynic,” I retort, earning a glare from Matt.
“I speak the truth,” he says with a shrug. “And you know it.”
“You bag on us for being single, yet you’re single too,” Gage points out. “Why haven’t you settled down yet?”
Gage’s question earns another shrug from Matt. “Haven’t found the right woman yet.”
His answer is so simple and sounds so damn logical I want to smack him.
“There is no right woman,” I say, wanting to burst Matt’s happily-ever-after bubble. “You’ll eventually settle. Trust me.”
“And you won’t,” Gage says, though I know he’s not disagreeing with me. “I know I don’t plan on settling. I don’t plan on tying myself down whatsoever.”
“Neither do I,” I agree. “Settling is for pussies.”
“Absolutely,” Gage says grimly.
Matt focuses his attention solely on me. “I’ll bet big money you’ll be the first to go down.”
“Go down how? On a woman?” This earns a laugh from Gage. “Go down in flames? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’ll be the first to fall in love with a woman and beg her to marry you,” Matt says.
My mouth goes dry. It feels like an invisible noose just tightened around my neck, making it hard to breathe. “Yeah, right,” I finally manage to choke out.
“You two are so damn resistant to being a relationship, I figure you’ll both be slapped upside the head and fall hard. And it’s going to happen sooner rather than later,” Matt says, his voice full of confidence.
That smug tone irritates the hell out of me.
“There is no way I’ll fall in love anytime soon,” I say.
“Me either,” Gage agrees.
“If you guys want to believe that, then cool. Live in your world of denial, I don’t care.” Our friend is trying to piss us off. And it’s working.
“You wanna make that bet you just mentioned? Because I’m in. I’ll prove it to you. I don’t need a woman or a relationship.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. Matt’s done this before. He enjoys getting a rise out of the both of us. Drives me crazy.
So let’s see if he goes for it. Always running that mouth of his. Time to put up or shut up.
Gage snorts. “Don’t just bet him. Let’s all three get in on this one.”
“How much we talking?” Matt scrubs his hand along his jaw. The guy is loaded. We’re all loaded; we come from wealthy families and we lived in the same neighborhood during high school. When we all turned twenty-one within a few months of each other, we st
arted going to Vegas and dropping big money like a regular person plays the quarter slots. Once we graduated college and got real lives, we had to stop that shit. I still miss it. Sort of.
“A million bucks to the last single man standing,” Gage throws out, a triumphant gleam in his eye. He acts like he’s already won the prize.
“A million dollars?” Matt’s eyes practically bug out of his head. Asshole acts like he’s not good for it despite having to recently bow out of a lucrative pro baseball contract due to a career-ending injury—and he didn’t lose a dollar of that contract either. The guy has buckets full of money. He recently invested some of it in a winery not far from where I live just so he could claim a loss for his taxes.
He’s definitely not hurting financially. Neither is Gage. He’s one of the top real estate investors in all the Bay Area, right behind his father. They both have the magic touch, finding properties and businesses for a song and turning them around for a tremendous profit.
The hotel industry claims I have the magic touch as well, despite my father’s irritation at that particular assertion. I can’t help that I saw a need and filled it with the loser hotel he gave me. He firmly believed I’d fail.
I proved him wrong. Hell, I’m getting ready to expand. And he hates that.
It’s almost as if my own father would relish seeing me fail.
“What, you scared?” I say this because I know there is no way in hell I will lose this bet. No woman can sink her claws into me so deep I can’t escape.
No way, no how.
Gage laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t be such a pussy, DeLuca. A million bucks is chump change in your bank account.”
“Not really,” Matt mutters. “Not that I’m worried. I’ll win.”
Ha. Matt making that confident of a statement pushes me to prove him wrong. “You really think so?”
“I know so.” Matt smiles. “I’d even bet an extra fifty grand the next woman you talk to, you’ll end up marrying.”
“Sucker bet, bro. Take him up on it,” Gage chimes in, nudging my shoulder hard. “Give us a break, Matt. I can’t think of one woman in this entire room Archer would want to talk to, let alone marry.”
I remain quiet. There is one woman I wouldn’t mind talking to. Spend time with. Not in the serious sense or the potential marriage sense, because hell no, that’s not in my future. I’d make some poor woman a terrible husband and I know it. Which is why I leave her alone.
She wants that sort of thing. A husband and kids and a white picket fence around the pretty little house she decorated. I know she does. She’s a dreamer, a romantic, a woman who deserves to be treated like a queen. I’d only end up hurting her and I couldn’t live with myself if I did. Gage wouldn’t let me live either.
He knows her well, considering I’m referring to his baby sister.
Once upon a time, when she was younger, I thought of her like a baby sister too. But then she blossomed into this hot teenager that had me thinking all the wrong thoughts every time I got near her. Seventeen-year-old Ivy made me feel like a pervert. Didn’t help that every time I tried to avoid her, she wanted to talk to me. As if she knew she drove me crazy and was determined to get under my skin with her sweet, thoughtful ways, how she laughed at my jokes and looked at me as if she could see right through me.
And when she grew into this beautiful, sexy, confident woman, I knew without a doubt I had to avoid her at all costs. I wanted to be with her in the worst damn way. She’s the first woman I ever truly cared for. I don’t want to hurt her, because I would. I hurt all the women in my life. Ask my mother. Ask any female who thought she had a fleeting chance at being with me.
“Maybe you could go babysit Ivy for a little while,” Gage suggests.
I turn to him, incredulous. Can he reach inside my brain and read my thoughts? Fucking scary how he just did that.
“What do you mean?” I ask warily.
“You want to win an easy fifty grand? Go be with Ivy. Like she’d marry your sorry ass.” Gage laughs, though I don’t. Why am I a sorry ass? Yeah, I know I’m not worthy of Ivy, but damn, his words still hurt.
When I don’t say anything, Gage continues.
“She broke it off with the guy she’d been seeing a few nights ago. Not that he was worthy of her, but she’s been down in the dumps ever since,” Gage explains. “You could go hang out with her for the rest of the night, use her to fight off any other female who might approach. Ivy’s always liked you, though I don’t know why since you’re such a jackass.” He pauses, his eyes narrowed. “I realize you enjoy chasing everything in a skirt, but I know you won’t take advantage of my sister. Right?”
The pointed look he gives me rings loud and clear. I want to promise him I won’t take advantage of her. But he’s talking about Ivy . . . and I always want what I can’t have.
Especially her.
“She doesn’t count anyway,” Matt says with a chuckle. “After all, it’s just Ivy.”
“Right. Just Ivy.” I nod as I look around, hoping to spot her. She’s here. I saw her earlier, though she avoided me. Most of the time, I choose to aggravate the shit out of her rather than let on how I really feel. “You mean she doesn’t count toward that crazy-ass bet you just made me?’
“Yeah, she totally doesn’t count. Besides, Gage would kill you,” Matt says matter-of-factly. “There are approximately twenty-five women spying on us at this very moment, all of them sorority sisters or whatever of the bride. They’re dying for you to even look their way, Archer. First one that talks to you, I guarantee you’ll marry.”
“Bullshit,” I mumble. My friend has lost his damn mind.
“Whatever.” Matt laughs as does Gage, but I ignore them.
Glancing across the room, I see her. Ivy. Sitting at a table alone, watching couples sway together on the dance floor to some sappy love song. Her long, brown hair is wavy when she usually wears it straight, and I’m tempted to run my hands through it, see if it feels as silky soft as it looks. Her dress is a rich, dark blue and strapless, revealing plenty of smooth, creamy flesh that my fingers literally itch to touch.
The wistful longing on her face is obvious and I’m compelled to go to her. Ask her to dance. Pull her in close, feel her curves mold against me as I breathe in her sweet scent.
Damn.
Yeah. She’d probably tell me to go to hell before she’d dance with me.
“I don’t want to touch her,” I say, which is a lie because I would fucking love to touch her. “You can trust me.”
More lies. Gage should kick me in the nuts just for thinking about his sister. Let alone actually doing something to her. With her. Over her, under her, any way I can get her. She’s the only one who could tempt me to break the crazy bet I just made. Who could make me want to go against everything I’ve ever believed in since I was a kid.
But I won’t. I refuse to give in. She’s not for me.
No matter how badly I want her to be.
Ivy
THERE’S NOTHING WORSE than going to a wedding alone, especially when I’d had a date approximately forty-eight hours ago. Before I realized the guy I was seeing was also still seeing the woman he claimed he’d broke up with well over six months ago.
How did I find out this amazingly bad news? The supposed ex called my cell and chewed me out while I was looking over wallpaper samples with a client. Talk about humiliating. Talk about my life turning into a Jerry Springer episode. She made me feel like a cheating whore-bag out to steal her man, the very last thing I am. I am not a man-stealer. I know some women are attracted to men in relationships but not me. Taken men are too much trouble, thank you very much.
I hung up on the still-ranting, supposed ex-girlfriend and promptly called Marc, letting him know I couldn’t see him any longer. He’d hardly protested—no surprise. What a jerk.
So now I sit here alone. At the single and dateless table, because when I called the bride and told her I wasn’t bringing my date after all, Cecily flipped out
. Claimed I would mess up her carefully orchestrated seating arrangement and oh my God, couldn’t you just bring your date anyway and deal?
I think my saying an emphatic no resulted in me ending up at the desperate and single section as punishment.
Sighing, I prop my elbow on the edge of the table and rest my chin on my fist, watching all the couples dancing, the bride and groom in the center of the floor, grinning up at each other like fools. They look happy. Everyone looks happy.
I’m jealous of all the happiness surrounding me. Weddings remind me I’m alone. For once, I wish I could find someone. I’ve had a string of bad luck with men my entire dating life. I pick wrong, my mom has told me more than once. She describes me as a fixer. I take the broken guys and try to put them back together again. “Humpty Dumpty syndrome” is what she calls it.
Gee, thanks, Mom.
My brother says I’m too young to want to settle down, but I’m nothing like him. He just wants to screw around and stay single forever. Gage doesn’t know what I want. Do I though? I’m not sure. I thought I did. I thought Marc had potential.
Turns out he went splat all over the ground. Definitely couldn’t put him back together again.
Maybe I shouldn’t take everything so damn seriously. Maybe I should let loose and do something completely and totally crazy. Like find some random guy and make out with him in a dark corner. I miss having a man cup my face and kiss me slowly. Thoroughly. Unfortunately, Marc wasn’t that great of a kisser. Too much thrusting tongue, though I firmly believed I could help him correct that annoying habit.
He didn’t give me a chance, which is fine, because really, chemistry is everything. If I don’t feel a spark with a kiss, then the guy is clearly not right for me.
If I’m going to consider a relationship with a guy, that’s what I want. What I need. A spark. Chemistry. A few stolen kisses, wandering hands, whispered words in a quiet corner where someone might catch us. He’d press me up against a wall, cradle my face in his hands, and kiss me like he means it . . .
I frown. I’m sitting alone contemplating a wild wedding reception hookup with a faceless guy. Since when did I become so desperate?
