Stripping the Billionaire

by Noelle Adams

  Her heart jumped slightly. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Nothing probably. I just wonder if you have this idea that the feeling of attachment is going to drop in your lap ready-made. I mean, look at all these guys you date that you immediately dump when you decide they’re not ready to get married.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. Surely you don’t think I should waste my time with guys who aren’t ready for a commitment.”

  “But you’re looking for a guy who already has it all together. Someone you think is already a husband and just needs to add a wife. I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  She stared at him—hurt and confused by the feeling that he didn’t really understand her at all. Despite their characteristic teasing, she’d thought Ben knew her pretty well. “I don’t think that’s right. I don’t think it’s wrong to want to find a man who’s as ready for marriage and family as I am.”

  “Okay.” He rubbed a hand across his beard, making a scratchy sound. “Maybe I’m wrong. What the hell do I know about any of this anyway? Marriage and family is pretty far from my skill set.”

  “I thought you had a mom still alive?”

  “I do.”

  “So you have more family than me.”

  “I guess so.”

  “You like your mom, right?”

  “Of course, I like my mom.” He sounded offended by the very idea.

  “So you should make sure you appreciate her, since some of us don’t have one anymore.” She tried to sound light, but her voice cracked slightly.

  “Damn it, Cupcake. Now you’ve made me feel like an ungrateful ass.”

  Her mood lightened immediately. “Well, then you have no excuse not to come over to dinner, to make up for it. You have to help me eat my steak.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled.

  “Come over around seven.” She’d started for the door when he stopped her.

  “Don’t forget your shoes.”

  ***

  Benjamin Damon had been Ben Cain for six years now, and this was the first time he was feeling guilty for not admitting the truth of his identity.

  He’d reacted badly when Mandy had found the monthly financial statement of his shares in the company—which he absolutely refused to touch.

  After the huge fight he’d had several years ago with his uncle—Cyrus Damon, eccentric billionaire and the founder and CEO of Damon Enterprises—Ben refused to have anything to do with his uncle, the Damon name, or the company again.

  So Ben had just left, and he’d made two vows he hadn’t yet broken. He wasn’t going to be a Damon again, and he wasn’t going to spend his life trying to please anyone else.

  He’d built a new life for himself, here in LA, where no one knew who he really was. He liked it that way. He’d been pigeonholed all his life for being a Damon, and he’d had his fair share of fortune-hunters and hangers-on approach him, hoping to get a piece of the pie. He’s also spent so many years trying futilely to make his uncle happy, since the man was the only father-figure he’d ever had.

  It was better this way. It was safer to only care about himself. But he’d recently started feeling guilty for lying to Mandy about it.

  If he’d been smart, eight months ago, when he’d returned from his cousin’s wedding to discover someone new had moved in across the hall, he never would have opened the door to the pretty, smiling princess on his doorstep.

  She’d kept knocking on his door, asking for help with moving boxes and rearranging furniture, asking if he wanted dinner since she’d made too much. At first, he’d tried to discourage her, but eventually he hadn’t even wanted to.

  Now he was stuck with her.

  Now he was starting to miss her when she didn’t come over.

  The one thing Mandy expected of people was honesty, which was the one thing he couldn’t give her.

  He glanced down at his shirt—a ragged t-shirt on which was printed, “Mind your own fucking business”—and actually wondered if he should put something else on.

  But that thought worried him so much that he ignored it and instead walked across the hall without changing clothes or looking in the mirror.

  He tapped on the door and opened it when she called out, “It’s open.”

  “You shouldn’t leave your door opened,” he said, coming in to her elegant, beautifully decorated apartment with everything in its place.

  She was in the kitchen, chopping up a cucumber. She’d changed out of her work outfit, but she still looked well-dressed in leggings and a thin, pink tunic sweater, her hair still shiny as it fell down her back.

  She grinned at him over her shoulder. “You’re hardly one to talk, since you leave your door unlocked all the time. Anyway, I just unlocked it, since I knew you were coming over. You’re right on time. I’m about to put the steak on the grill.”

  “That thing is huge.” Ben walked over to study the large steak in its wrapping.

  “I think this one steak must have cost a hundred dollars, so I’m terrified I’ll cook it wrong.”

  Her stovetop grill was heated up, and she dumped her chopped cucumbers onto the salad she’d prepared. She was already pouring him a glass of red wine.

  Everything about her was beautiful, expensive, perfectly manicured. He had no idea why she was always wanting to hang out with him.

  She’d fit right into the Damon world. She would have been a good match for one of his cousins, Harrison or Andrew. His uncle would no doubt love her—he’d probably call her “well bred.”

  She was too sweet for the Damon circle, though. Too sincere. Ben didn’t like the thought that they might taint her.

  “What?” she said, clearly confused by his expression. “Do you think it won’t cook well on this grill?”

  He shook off his reflections. “No. It will be fine.”

  She put the steak on the grill, grinning as it sizzled nicely. Then she got plates out of the cabinet and told him to put the salad on the table.

  He did as she told him and, noticing that her trash was almost full, he pulled out the bag and carried it down the hall to the chute.

  On the way back, he told himself to get it together. This was Mandy, whom he’d known for months now. And making connections in his mind between her and his family would only disturb him unnecessarily.

  Anything connected with the Damons would eventually hurt him, except his mother, who was Cyrus’s sister but didn’t feel like a Damon to him. Ben had wavered eight months ago and gone to his cousin’s wedding, and that debacle had confirmed that he needed to cut all Damon-ness out of his life.

  He couldn’t be who they wanted him to be, so it was better not to even try.

  His phone vibrated with a text as he reentered her apartment. He was reading it as he came back into the kitchen.

  “Anything important?” Mandy asked, turning over the steak.

  “My mom. She wants me to fly out and work on her house. It’s really old and needs some work.”

  “Well, why don’t you go?”

  “I’m going to. I’m just trying to find time to take a couple of weeks off work. She loves that old house and doesn’t trust contractors, so she’s waiting for me to get out there to do anything.”

  “Where does she live?”

  He hesitated briefly, but decided there was no reason not to tell her the truth. She could hardly connect him to the Damons from such a minor detail. “Savannah.”

  Mandy gasped and clasped her hands together. “It’s not one of those old, gorgeous row houses, is it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, my God, I want to come with you when you go out.”

  “What the hell?” He realized he sounded rude, but he was taken aback. Both by the suggestion and by the way he kind of liked the idea of her accompanying him.

  “Please let me come. I’ve been dying to work on a historic house, so I can add it to my portfolio. Plus, I could be really helpful. You can handle the basics fine, but yo
u need someone with taste to help with the finishing touches.”

  “It’s not going to be picking out expensive antiques. It’s going to be a lot of grunt work. Like stripping wallpaper.”

  “I can do grunt work. Please, let me come help. I’m having the worst time drumming up business, and the only places I’ve done so far are contemporary apartments—so that’s all I have to show for myself. I really need to branch out some, and this would be perfect.”

  He couldn’t believe she was serious. That she wanted to come with him and help work on an old house for two weeks.

  He couldn’t believe he liked the idea so much. She brightened every room she walked into.

  “I’ll be there for at least two weeks. What about your own work?”

  “I only have one client right now, and I’ll be finished with her place next week. I don’t have anything else lined up yet. I’m as free as a bird.”

  Mandy was trying to start an interior decorating business, and she was having a hard time with it, even with all the friends she had. She didn’t need to work at all, since her parents’ trust provided her with more than enough money. Ben thought it was great that she was working so hard at trying to build her business, despite all the challenges in this economic environment. A lot of people in her situation wouldn’t have bothered.

  “I’ll think about it. I’ll have to talk to my mom, anyway, to see how much she wants done. There’s some basic maintenance, and I know she wants to get rid of the old wallpaper, but I don’t know if she wants to buy more pictures and furniture.”

  “Of course. But I can make the place look really good, even if she doesn’t want to spend a lot of money. Be sure to tell her how much help I’d be and what good taste I have.” Then she evidently remembered the steak. She gave a little squeak and pulled it off the grill quickly.

  It wasn’t overdone, and dinner was really good. Ben enjoyed it more than he should have.

  He couldn’t get used to hanging out with Mandy too much. Any day now, she’d find a successful, attractive man who recognized how amazing she was and could offer her the life she deserved, and then she’d get married, move away, and be out of his life forever.

  If he hated that idea, then it just proved that he hadn’t been careful enough in keeping an appropriate distance.

  He was too bitter and isolated for a serious relationship, and that wasn’t going to change. Mandy was looking for a man who was husband-material, and he’d made vows to himself that would always keep him alone. He was happier alone. He’s spent too long trying to please other people and only having pain to show for it.

  He wasn’t going to change, and he was resigned to that reality. But there was no sense in torturing himself by being surrounded with what he couldn’t have.

  When they’d finished eating, he decided it would be smart if he just left after he helped her put up the dishes, so he wouldn’t start thinking in wrong directions again. But Mandy said she had dessert and he needed to go sit back down, so he ended up trapped a little longer.

  She went and took a pint of ice cream out of the freezer. “It needs to soften a little, so we’ll just let it sit there for a few minutes before I scoop it.”

  “I don’t care if it’s—”

  Before he could finish, she’d left the room and disappeared into the bedroom.

  She came back with a device he recognized.

  “Oh, no,” he said, starting to his feet. “You’re not touching my beard.”

  “But you’ll look so much better if you’ll let me neaten it up a bit.”

  “I’m not trying to look good.”

  She rolled her eyes but didn’t look surprised. “Anyway, I wasn’t thinking about your beard. Right now, I’m after the back of your neck.”

  “What’s wrong with the back of my neck?”

  “It’s a mess. When was the last time you got your hair cut?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t fuss around with things like that.”

  “Well, it bugs me, so sit still.”

  He stiffened and watched her suspiciously as she walked around behind him.

  “I’m not going to touch your big, ugly beard. I promise.”

  He rolled his eyes but didn’t object when she started to run the trimmer along the back of his neck.

  “Are you sure you want to do this at the dining room table?”

  “Better here than on one of my rugs.”

  He felt uncomfortable as she worked on him, conscious of her body behind him. When he felt the trimmer come toward his jaw, he muttered, “Don’t get carried away.”

  “Relax.” She turned the trimmer off and leaned over to blow the hair off his neck.

  The sensation made Ben tense up.

  He gave himself a firm mental lecture. He was not—not—going to get turned on by Mandy. He’d done really well about resisting that particular temptation over the last several months, and he wasn’t going to give into it this evening.

  “Oh, Ben, you’re a mess,” she murmured. She ran her fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp in a way that felt incredibly good. “You’re not going to get any action if you’re such a gorilla.”

  “I’ll have you know I get plenty of action, and so far I’ve had no complaints.”

  He actually didn’t have much a social life, but that was by choice and not because he was incapable of picking up a woman.

  He did wish, however, that Mandy hadn’t brought up the idea of sex.

  “Yeah, but it might give a woman pause. I mean, how many are going to want to get a kiss from a gorilla?” She moved around to the side of his chair and peered at him. He was pretty sure she was assessing how much damage she was capable of doing to his beard, but her neckline was directly at his eye-level, and the wide neck of her sweater was slipping off one of her shoulders.

  He stared at the graceful line from her neck to her shoulder—smooth skin, deep curve, faint shadow—and then he swallowed as her beautiful hair slipped over her shoulder to fall forward as she leaned toward him to ruffle his hair.

  He managed to say, “Kissing me is not like kissing a gorilla.”

  “Okay. If you say so. Please can I give you just a little trim?” she asked. She was giving him a beseeching look, with a back-note of teasing in her expression.

  “No.”

  He didn’t actually care if his hair was trimmed, only he thought it was wiser for her not to be standing so close to him for so long. His body was starting to react to the slipping of her neckline, the flash of full cleavage, and the smell of her drifting over toward him as she moved.

  “It will look so much better? I bet you’d even be good-looking if we can just get rid of some of this hair.”

  “Being good-looking is very far down on my priority list.”

  She laughed and started to massage his scalp again, moving her hands down toward his neck. It felt so good as her fingers pressed hard that he heard himself make a soft moan.

  “You’re all tense,” she said, kneading his neck. “A massage now and then would be good for you. So would a haircut.”

  He raised his hands to hold onto the table so he didn’t do something incredibly stupid like turning around and grabbing her. She was just being friendly. Neighborly. She was on this search for family-feelings, and right now she was focusing them on him.

  But she wasn’t attracted to him—she’d told him over and over again that he wasn’t good-looking the way he was. And sex was the last thing on her mind right now.

  Besides, he couldn’t offer her anything more than sex, and she deserved so much more.

  So he gripped the table as she moved down to his shoulders. His breathing was getting ragged as his muscles started to soften.

  And other things started to harden.

  “Okay,” he said gruffly, jerking away from her hands. “That’s enough of that.” He stood up, rather awkwardly.

  She looked confused and upset. “But where are you going? We were going to have dessert. I won’t fuss over you a
nymore, if you’re going to get all grouchy about it.”

  “I don’t need dessert. Thanks for dinner.”

  “You’re really leaving?” Her eyes widened, and she came over toward him, reaching out to touch his arm.

  He stepped back, afraid that if she touched him again he would haul her into a kiss—and he’d lose the only real friend he had in his life. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

  “Ben, what’s gotten into you?”

  He suddenly saw on her face that he’d hurt her feelings. He felt like an ass, and he was absolutely desperate to get out of here before he did something stupid. He ran his hand over his beard and rasped out, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. I know you’re trying to be neighborly, but you’re just wasting your time. You have five million friends and two dozen boyfriends. So why the hell do you keep pouring yourself into a lost cause like me?”

  She just stood next to the table, staring at him, as if she were trying to understand what was going on in his head.

  She definitely shouldn’t do that. Even he couldn’t understand what was in his head half the time.

  He turned to leave. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  He was almost to the door when she called out, “Ben.”

  He turned to look back over his shoulder.

  “The answer to your question is that I don’t think you’re a lost cause.”

  He felt something soften in his chest at the words—something he didn’t feel much anymore.

  Her irrepressible humor emerged again as she added, “And I happen to like hulking Neanderthals.”

  “I thought I was a gorilla.”

  “You’re both, depending on the level of grunting.”

  He was smiling as he left, but he when he got back to his place, he stood in the middle of the floor, hit with the reality of what had just happened.

  Mandy had shared with him a hundred-dollar steak. She’d given him wine, salad, and bread. She’d prepared some sort of dessert that he hadn’t stuck around for. She’d trimmed the back of his neck and wanted to do even more. She’d thought of him when she saw that amazing framed print and brought it to hang on his wall. She’d been nothing but sincere and generous and warm.

  And he’d stormed out with barely a thank-you. Exactly like a selfish ass.