Bad Billionaires Box Set

by Elise Faber

  Snorting inwardly at that thought—sticky hand, te-he-he—Kay dropped the wad of napkins back onto the bar and lifted her chin. “Goodbye, Garret.”

  “Wait,” he said again, though this time he didn’t grab her.

  “No, I don’t think I will.” She whipped around.

  He darted around her, stepping right in front of her and forcing her to skid to a stop on her heels. And fuck, because she really didn’t want him to, but he smelled amazing.

  “I’m fucking this up.”

  “Ding. Ding. Ding.” She took a step to the side and he mimicked the movement. “For God’s sake, why won’t you leave me alone?”

  Garret winced. “Because I’m not normally an asshole.”

  “Well,” she grumbled. “Reiterating the fact you didn’t want to go on a date with me at all certainly isn’t the way to prove that.”

  “I—” He sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Kay rolled her eyes. “I mean, I got that loud and clear simply by the fact that you didn’t show up.”

  “I—”

  “Then there’s the small factor of the bovine reference to my appearance and making fun of my career.”

  “I—”

  “So, yeah, you’re not batting that high of an average with the whole not asshole thing.”

  “I read your book.”

  Kay froze, pulse speeding up.

  “I liked it. A lot.”

  She bit her lip, felt his gaze lock onto the spot, and though she’d written about it in many of her books, imagined it in her author brain plenty of times, Kay had never actually experienced the sensation of a simple look creating such a tangible feeling.

  It. Was. Incredible.

  She could feel his eyes, could actually feel her blood shift, moving toward her lips, plumping them, making them tingle.

  Her tongue darted out and his chocolate stare heated, going molten until she could almost sense that melted sweetness dripping down her spine.

  He leaned down. Her breath caught.

  “I really am sorry.”

  Just like that, the spell was broken . . . or if not broken exactly, then at least she’d regained a few of her senses.

  Kay stepped back and glared at him. Why was he pushing this? Because she didn’t believe for one second that he was truly sorry. Sorry he got caught, maybe. Sorry his asshole move might jeopardize—

  “Don’t worry,” she said, clarity finally hitting her brain. “I know that Heather is your investor. I won’t do anything to change that.”

  He waved a hand. “That’s not why I’m apologizing. Yes, I’m in business with Heather. Yes, it would be a blow to lose her investment, but this isn’t my first rodeo. I’d figure it out.”

  “Great. Well, kudos to you.” She blew out an exasperated breath when she tried to step around him, only to be blocked by him again. “What?” she snapped and poked a finger into his chest. “What’s so special about me that you’re pushing this?”

  He caught her hand, and Kay bit back a gasp at the spark of desire that shot through her at the simple contact. “I—” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  And then he was close again. Too close.

  Not close enough.

  She swallowed hard, heart pounding in the back of her throat, breaths coming in rapid inhalations.

  He was going to kiss her.

  Oh God. Did she want him to? He was such an ass—

  He’d apologized. Seemed to genuinely mean it . . . or at the least was very determined that she believe it.

  Garret brushed back a strand of her hair. “I’m not going to say anything,” he told her. “Every time I do, I stick my foot in my mouth.”

  “You’re saying something right now.”

  His lips curved. Her thighs clenched.

  Shit. Shit. She . . . wanted his mouth to slant across hers.

  “You’re beautiful.” One hand gently cupped her cheek. “And I’m so, so sorry.”

  More words, but she wasn’t hearing them because he was coming closer, warm breath on her cheek . . . on her forehead.

  He pressed a gentle kiss there before straightening, meeting her no doubt surprised eyes with warm chocolate ones. “I hope someday you’ll give me a chance to prove that I’m not usually an ass.”

  Then he reached behind her, making her breath catch all over again and picked up a glass.

  Somehow during all of the apologizing, he’d managed to order her another Cosmo. Her anger eased, not gone completely, but tempered, along with her hurt feelings.

  Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

  Carefully, he handed over the drink.

  “You didn’t drug this, did you?” she blurted.

  A raised brow. “Will it get you to accept my apology?”

  She shook her head. “Not a chance.”

  “Damn.” Garret smirked. “Not my speed, sweetheart.”

  She eyed the drink then him.

  “I’m happy to pay for a fresh one if you want to watch the bartender mix it up.”

  Kay bit her lip, watched his eyes heat and drift to that spot again. “No,” she said, trying to pretend she wasn’t breathless. “That’s okay.”

  One more brush of his fingers, this time along the outside of her arm and making her shiver. “I’ll see you later.”

  And then he was gone, taking the rest of her anger along with him.

  Maybe she was a pushover who forgave too easily.

  But . . . maybe she wasn’t.

  Chapter Five

  Garret

  He saw the moment Kay clued into the fact that they would be sitting next to each other at dinner.

  Consternation rolled across her expression, followed by softness and then maybe irritation. She was almost an open book with those feelings written on her face, and he had the feeling that if he got to know her better, he’d be able to read them as easily as one of her books.

  And he wanted to know her better.

  Whether or not she believed it, since that night he’d thought of little else aside finding a way to win her over, to prove that he wasn’t always a jerk, and to convince her to give him a second chance for a first date.

  Garret pulled Kay’s chair out for her and waited for her to sit, feeling as though he were playing an intense game of chicken.

  Would she cave and sit?

  Or would he be relegated to the reject table?

  Heather was on Kay’s other side. “Sit, please, everyone.” Kay, next to him, released a barely audible sigh, but did sit.

  Heather glanced back at him and winked.

  Garret plunked down into his chair, lest Kay change her mind about relegating him to the rejects.

  “Did you like the journal?” he asked, not wanting to remind her of their disastrous first date any more than necessary, but also more than a little desperate to see if he’d picked correctly.

  Her expression gentled, and he sent up a prayer that he might have actually chosen something right to say for a change.

  “Yes, I did,” she said. “It was absolutely lovely.”

  He shrugged. “The least I could do.”

  She dropped her chin to her chest, sighed, and Garret’s stomach clenched. Shit. What had he done now?

  And, fuck it all, but why did he care so much?

  “Can we just start over?” she asked.

  If he’d been hit over the head with a two-by-four, Garret wouldn’t have been more shocked. “Do you . . . do you want to?”

  She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes, smiled shyly. “Yes.”

  His heart skipped a beat, and he realized he was in the best type of trouble. The kind that led to monogamy and picket fences and, yes, it was way too fucking soon to even be considering that in the slightest . . . but—

  There was something different about this woman.

  Something he knew he wanted to explore further.

  “Okay.”

  Her smile widened. “Okay.”

  The servers were
coming around with salads and so Garret waited for their plates to be delivered. “Why writing?” he asked once the waiter had retreated.

  Kay bit her lip again and that little flash of white against pink, the glistening of soft skin from the moisture left behind, the desire for it to be his teeth all contributed to making his cock twitch.

  He hadn’t touched her, and he was at risk of embarrassing himself.

  “I was super shy as a kid,” she said and shrugged. “Stories gave me a way to get all my words out and onto a page without worrying if I was going to stutter or screw up or miss something.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a tiny notebook, along with a pencil and an eraser shaped like a fox. “My weapons!” she joked. “The best part was that this one”—she made the little fox run across the tablecloth—“has magical erasing powers.”

  “A marvelous feat of engineering.”

  She smiled up at him. “Exactly.” Then shyness seemed to take over because her gaze drifted down. She seemed to realize her plate was still full and took a bite of salad.

  He did the same.

  “So,” she said a few moments later, “why rugby?”

  Garret shrugged. “I loved watching it growing up. My dad’s Australian, and it’s obviously much more popular there. When my parents split up, I’d go there and visit my dad, and I sort of fell into it.”

  One half of her mouth turned up. “Fell into it so well you were good enough to play professionally.”

  “I got lucky, and I definitely was never the best guy on the team.” He speared some lettuce with his fork. “Do you know anything about rugby?”

  Amusement played across her gorgeous face. “I know I like rugby romance.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “That’s a thing?”

  “Oh yeah, it’s a thing.”

  “Well, damn.”

  She grinned, pointed at his plate “Eat your salad before your jaw falls off.”

  He snorted but shoved the bite hanging off his fork into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Where’d you grow up?”

  They exchanged first date pleasantries, finding out that they’d both grown up in California, though Kay was born and raised in the Bay Area, while Garret had been in L.A. until his rugby career had taken off. He’d moved back to the States and up to Northern California just a few months before.

  “Did you learn to surf?” she asked, after they’d both discovered they were only children.

  Garret shuddered. “No. The guys tried, but I’m hopeless.”

  Kay smiled. “I learned. The water was freezing, and I was freaked out the whole time that a Great White was going to attack me, but I managed to get up on a couple of waves at least.”

  “Nice.” He raised his fist for her to bump, and their eyes met when even that tiny bit of contact made his nerves spark.

  “Why does that keep happening?” she breathed.

  “I don’t know.” A beat. “But I don’t hate it.”

  Her laughter made his heart skip a beat—something that was starting to become a regular occurrence with this woman.

  They talked about her books during the main course, laughed over a few of Garret’s rugby stories during dessert—an American rookie had led to no small amount of good-natured teasing and pranks. She had him in absolute stitches as she relayed a tale about how she’d been so mad at a former boyfriend that she’d made him the impotent villain in an early book as the live auction was going on.

  He clamped a hand over his mouth, nudged her with his shoulder. “You almost made me buy that trip to Maui,” he said with a mock-glare.

  “I’d make you take me,” she teased.

  He bent close. “Should I be worried you’re going to make me impotent in a future book?”

  She leaned in conspiratorially. “I was going to kill you off.”

  “What about now?” He turned, and suddenly their lips very close together.

  “I’m considering my options.”

  “I—”

  Applause broke out around them and Garret blinked, trying to sort out the reason until he realized the first portion of the live auction was over.

  Kay stood. “I’m going to hit the ladies room before they start bidding on these babies.” Her fingers traced over the centerpiece of books in the middle of the table. “I’ve had my eye on this one since I first gave Rachel the idea for them.”

  He rose as well. “Do you want me to get you another drink? I promise I won’t spill this one on you.”

  Her smile lit up her face, and Garret knew in that moment that he’d do anything for this woman. “That would be great. Thank you.” And with a quick word to Heather—asking her to watch her purse—and a soft touch to the spine of one book in particular, a whispered, “I’ll be back for you,” she hurried across the room.

  Heather glanced up at him, raised her brows.

  “I’m an idiot, and you know all.”

  Clay’s mouth quirked. “Words my wife loves to hear.”

  “She’s amazing.”

  “Of course, she is,” Heather said. “She’s my friend.”

  Chapter Six

  Kay

  She was trapped in the bathroom.

  Kay was literally trapped in the bathroom, and her Jane Austen book was in danger.

  Why had she decided to pee?

  Or more importantly, why had she decided to leave her purse and, inside of it her cell phone, with Heather?

  Oh yeah, because she hadn’t wanted to wrestle with her full-length dress and heels and a purse all while trying to hover so her butt didn’t touch a gross public toilet seat.

  “Hello?” she said again, trying the door handle for the umpteenth time.

  It still didn’t budge, and she’d lost count of how many times she’d knocked on the door, trying to get someone’s attention. All she knew was that she’d been locked in the room for what seemed to be an inordinate amount of time.

  “Hello?”

  Why did the stalls have to be floor to ceiling with actual doors?

  What she wouldn’t give in that moment to be able to crawl out beneath that shin-high gap most public bathrooms sported, dirty, germ-filled floor aside.

  Who cared? Her Austen was in danger.

  “It’s going to be fine,” she murmured. They were auctioning the tables from one upward. Her Austen was number ten.

  She had plenty of time.

  Except . . . how long had she been trapped?

  “Shit!” she muttered then raised her voice. “Help!” she called. “Help!”

  Finally, she heard footsteps. “Hello?”

  “Hello?” she said. “I’m stuck in the stall.”

  “Oh no,” came a female voice. “This one?” The handle jiggled from the outside.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, let me try.” It wiggled some more. “Can you turn it at all?”

  Kay and her mystery female help worked for a few minutes more, trying to get the handle to move or the lock to disengage, all to no avail.

  “Shoot,” the woman eventually said. “I can’t get it to budge. I’m going to see if I can find an employee. Maybe they have a key or a screwdriver or something.”

  “Thank you so much,” Kay said, even though her heart was sinking as the minutes passed. There was no way the auctioneer wasn’t getting close to her table, and the likelihood of that early edition of Pride and Prejudice being added to her collection was dropping with each passing moment.

  A few minutes passed, and the woman reappeared . . . or at least her voice did. “I found an employee, and they called maintenance, but are you by any chance Kay?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Why?”

  “Because there’s a guy out here named Garret. I guess he got worried and came looking.”

  “Oh.”

  That was sweet.

  “He says he can try to fix the handle if you’re comfortable.”

  “I’m comfortable with anything that gets me out of this stall.”

  “I ha
d a feeling,” the woman said. “Let me grab him.”

  A few moments later, Kay heard quick footsteps across the tile floor. “Sweetheart? Which stall are you in?”

  Her pulse jumped at the endearment—too soon and yet she liked the way it made her feel. As though she were special to him. “I’m here,” she said, knocking on the door.

  “Okay, I’m going to try . . .” And he spent a few minutes repeating the process Kay had tried by herself and also with her female helper, without success. “Damn,” he muttered. “You’re really stuck. Let me see if there’s any progress on the maintenance guy. You okay in there for a few more minutes?”

  It wasn’t like she had a choice, but Kay bit back an annoyed reply. Garret was trying to help, and getting snappy wouldn’t help.

  The Austen would be there when she got out, or it wouldn’t.

  That was just the way it was going to be.

  Garret came back into the bathroom, relaying he’d been told it would only be a few more minutes before they came, but when a solid fifteen minutes passed, he ordered her to stand back.

  And with a grunt and hard shove of his shoulder, he broke the lock, slamming the door into the stall. It crashed against the wall with surprising force, and the half of her that was impressed with his strength was really glad she’d been standing well out of the way.

  The other half of her launched herself over the splinters of wood and into his arms.

  “Thank you!” she exclaimed, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you so much.” She stepped out of his arms, turned to the petite blonde standing in the doorway. “And thank you for not leaving me. I was really worried there for a minute.”

  “I’m Claire,” the woman said. “And I glad you were rescued.”

  “Kay.” She laughed. “But I guess you knew that already. Thank you again.”

  Claire left as Kay spun back to face Garret. “I’ve got to see if I can get back for the table auction. My Austen—”

  Her gut clenched.

  Because his expression said it all.

  “It’s gone?”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry. I heard the bids close on it when I went to find the maintenance guy.”