Her Bossy Billionaire (Love in London Book 1)

by Natalie Anderson

  “I can’t let you walk out of here looking like you’ve just been beaten up. My reputation would suffer.” He spoke low and slow and with such a smile, she melted.

  She bet he had a one hell of a reputation. Thoroughly deserved too if that look was anything to go by. But by the time she’d even processed that thought she realized she was halfway up the stairs again already—his arm firm around her waist as he guided her, almost lifting her up each stair.

  The throbbing in her head was nothing compared to the impact of the contact. The man was a wall of muscle—so strong and scarily comforting. She tried to straighten and not lean so hard against him. But his arm tightened and she gave in, letting him take half her weight.

  Maybe she was concussed because time slipped and she was back at the top of the stairs and outside his apartment already. She felt giddy, her legs wobblier than a kitten’s. He didn’t say anything as he looked down at her—his hold still firm. She met that brilliant blue with an embarrassingly mesmerized stare. Her heart beat so fast it was a wonder it didn’t fly from her chest like a startled bird. She only had to angle in a little more and she’d be flush against his body. His delightfully big, hot body. But suddenly that warmth was gone. He’d stepped back—keeping a light hand on her arm now as he opened his door.

  “We need to get you fixed up,” he said.

  The bathroom was just as magnificent as his kitchen. Feeling like a two-year old and half-wishing she could indulge in the tantrum to go with it, Libby sat on the countertop while he rummaged in a First Aid box for whatever he needed to perform this apparently massive operation.

  He looked up from the box and laughed at the expression on her face. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.”

  The smell of the antiseptic actually soothed her. It wasn’t that horrid hospital grade stuff that burned your nostrils, but the far more comforting scent that brought back memories of being a kid with a scraped knee and her mother scooping her up to give her reassurance. She closed her eyes, hiding the silly tears that sprang up at the wisp of memory. And also hiding from that too handsome face intently concentrating on the job. But with her eyes closed she was more aware of his touch.

  “You’re gentle,” she muttered. Then flinched—she hadn’t meant to say that aloud!

  He put a hand on her shoulder to keep her still but she could hear the smile in his voice as he answered. “I’ve had some practice playing the medic.”

  “Tom.”

  “And my little sister.”

  She knew the story—the whole nation did. Tom’s amazing battle against cancer as a child and his subsequent rise to become a champion in such a grueling sport. And the family tragedy—he’d been raised by his elder brother—Jack, after their parents had died in an accident when Tom was a teenager. No wonder Jack was so protective of him.

  “I’m giving you a ride home,” he broke in on her thoughts.

  “That’s not necessary.” She stared at his shirt, refusing to look up into his face, so embarrassed. Had the guy known she’d thought he was going to kiss her? How much she’d wanted him to kiss her?

  “It’s totally necessary. You could have a concussion.”

  “It was a tiny knock.”

  “That’s left you with a massive egg on your head.”

  Great. Here she was with Mr. Handsome and she was Ms. Black-and-Blue.

  “You shouldn’t be on your own tonight,” he added quietly. “You live alone in that small home of yours?”

  She felt her blush rise again. Yeah, now she was reading hidden questions where there were none. “I’m fine.”

  “What about family? Friends? A boyfriend?”

  Okay, so now the question was explicit. She carefully shook her head.

  “Is there no one who can stay with you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  It wasn’t the cotton wool he used to carefully treat her wound this time, but his lips. For a big guy he could do a tiny kiss beautifully. She closed her eyes. Bad idea—it empowered every other sense. It was as if she’d been injected with some kind of super strength sensitivity serum in a random past alien abduction and it had this second been activated. With one touch.

  The sharpest sensorial hit came from the heat emanating from him. That warmth was so inviting, so was his solidity—both physical and intangible—as if his purpose was to be relied on. She’d never had the desire to be swept off her feet, quite the opposite. But Jack was so muscular, so much physically stronger than her. She yearned to curl closer—was drawn to his heady contradiction of restrained power and gentle touch.

  She inclined her head, wanting his kiss to continue—to go further. But he brushed her bruise with the lightest sweep of cotton wool again and spoke very softly. “Maybe I’d better stay with you.”

  Four

  Jack snapped his mouth shut, mortified he’d done that and then said that aloud. Unfettered desire had slipped those words free from him, but Ms. Bruised Beauty here was the woman his kid brother wanted. Jack couldn’t encroach on Tom’s territory—even if Tom couldn’t have her right now. Even if she denied any interest in him. Even if she was playing along with Jack’s lapse into flirtation. What kind of brother was he to be hitting on her? A jerk. Not any kind of brother at all. He needed to get his personal—inappropriate—urges under control. All he’d had to do was get her out of the way until after the event and Tom was free to play with her. Showed how long it had been since he’d had any fun, if he was propositioning a woman so out of bounds. Maybe he’d better go out tonight and find someone pretty and willing and free. Play the game for once. Hell, it was Tom who’d told him that a while back. Jack had scoffed, but apparently Tom was right. He’d never been struck with this kind of instant lust—to see a woman and want her within seconds? The uncontrollable sensation was discomforting.

  But he remained motionless—too close to her—immobile not just because of his burgeoning guilt, but because of her response. Her eyes had widened instantly, dilating, signaling reciprocal interest like a neon flare. Her color continued to deepen in both her eyes and cheeks. Her mouth parted—just enough to show how lush and soft her lips looked when freed from firm restraint.

  Jack stared at those lips for too long. He imagined touching them with his finger, with his tongue, with his own lips…. He imagined what they’d feel like moving over his body—his chest, his abs, his co—

  He slammed his thoughts to a stop, wrenched his gaze away and forced his feet to move a pace back before his body betrayed him completely. As it was he had to think horrible, cold, ardor-freezing thoughts to calm him—Tom’s hurt, Tom’s anger.

  Unforgivable.

  “I have a friend I can call.” She broke the silence with a cool voice.

  Did she mean a male friend? It wasn’t his business to ask. It was Tom’s business. He flicked the quickest of glances back to her—but she trapped his focus again with her tilted chin and straight back and determined dignity despite the blush that had stained every inch of her smooth skin.

  “So you won’t be alone?” he asked, his voice husky.

  Her chin lifted. He recognized the sparkle in her eyes already, the gleam as she quickly thought up some answer. He was smiling before she even spoke.

  “I live next to Serge from the circus—the World’s Strongest Man.”

  She dared him to laugh, dared him to disbelieve.

  “That’s good to know,” he murmured.

  The drive took forever. The traffic moved less than a meter a minute. And there was no such thing as a quiet Sunday in London. While some lay laughing and sunbathing in the parks, others ran or strolled or inline skated, while everyone else in the city was apparently out shopping. But all that energy was nothing compared to the energy humming in the car.

  She could see his muscles bunching as he sat unnaturally still, as if he were holding himself in check, gripping the steering wheel as if there were nothing but potholes ahead.

  At last they got to the small block where her bedsit was
. He parked right out front and exited the car.

  “I can walk,” she backed away from him as he followed her. She didn’t want him helping her up the stairs again, thanks. She didn’t want him anywhere near her body for fear she’d reveal just how hot she thought he was. It was embarrassing.

  “I’m sure you can, but I’m seeing you all the way,” he said calmly.

  All the way? Libby clamped down the crazy thoughts, knowing damn well he hadn’t meant that as any kind of double entendre. Her hormones heard it though. All calm deserted her as he followed a half pace behind, all the way along the corridor and up the stairs to her tiny unit.

  What was with the chivalry now? First he accused her of being a thief and a woman with designs on his brother. Then he followed that up with a few moments of flirting that he’d subsequently snatched away.

  Why had he pulled back? His expression, his stance, his intensity had told her he’d wanted to kiss her. She didn’t think her radar was that off. But when she’d moved—that tiny involuntary move forward, okay yes, to invite—he’d changed his mind and pulled away faster than a hundred meter sprinter out of the blocks. Frankly, after the nightmare of the last few weeks she could have done with a kiss.

  The man was a tease. Wasn’t being that good looking enough for him? Did the arrogant jerk have to have all women under the sun want him so obviously? His ego was clearly ravenous.

  A tease wasn’t nice. Her ex-boyfriend had accused her of playing him, of being a tease. She’d never meant for him to get so serious. Hurting him had been hideous, but it had been better to do it sooner rather than later when it would have been so much worse. Marriage wasn’t for her. She was never running the risk of hurting her husband the way her mother’s death hurt her father. Or of being hurt herself. Not when she wasn’t sure her heart wouldn’t let her down the way her parents’ hearts had. Nor would she expose a child to that risk. Marriage wasn’t in her plan for a very real reason.

  Now Jack was truly a tease. But she’d made the muesli and she’d never see him again in her life. Totally fine by her—and her hormones.

  “Thanks so much,” she said, allowing her words to overflow with sarcasm as she unlocked her door. No way on this earth was she inviting him in.

  “Goodbye Libby. Thank you.”

  And now he was being all polite? She summoned her self-control and resisted the urge to turn to watch him leave. No, she’d forgotten about his Total Handsomeness already.

  So he’d dropped her off and could now forget all about her, right? No problem. Except if she did end up with Tom, Jack reckoned he’d take that year-long overseas trip he’d delayed for so long. Walking back into apartment, the lingering smell hit him. Yeah, there’d be no forgetting yet. The burnt hazelnut bitterness had long gone and what remained was the subtle scent of maple. That syrup inspired many tantalizing thoughts. But the sight of his brother scattered every one of them.

  Tom was in the kitchen, clearly having just showered, using a soup ladle to spoon cereal from the cooling tray into a salad bowl. Good grief.

  “How was it?” Jack turned on the coffee machine, deliberately delaying mention of Libby.

  “Good,” Tom muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he munched. “Game on.”

  Jack smothered a grin. Tom was a champion—double sculls rowing, lightweight division. In these final few weeks of training he was ramping up not just the physical fitness, but the mental strength. He had to preserve the unshakable belief that he could do it. No distractions allowed.

  Jack flexed his shoulders to ease the tension that had been coiling there the last couple of hours. The pressure on his kid brother was immense. The country had golden hopes for the rowers, for Tom and his partner in particular. And here he was in pajamas eating muesli. If the nation could see him now…

  “Where’s Libby?” Tom asked through a mouthful of milky oats.

  “Gone.”

  “You scared her away?” Tom swallowed with difficulty given the frown he had on. “What about my muesli?”

  “You’re eating it, aren’t you?” Jack leaned back against the counter, trying to exude a relaxed air. “She didn’t need to hang around.”

  Tom chewed, not looking impressed. “But there’s something missing.”

  Oh he had to be kidding. But Tom’s face was registering confused thought.

  “Hazelnuts.” Jack told him, not believing that they’d make that much difference.

  “Yeah,” Tom chewed some more. “It needs the hazelnuts. Damn.”

  Jack watched Tom attack the contents of the giant bowl as if the faster he ate it the better it’d get.

  “What happened to the hazelnuts? There really aren’t any?” He searched with his spoon like a leprechaun hoping to find the gold at the end of the rainbow. “We need to get her back.”

  Because of some missing nuts? It wasn’t just nuts that were missing. Tom seemed to have lost a few brain cells in training camp too.

  Jack watched Tom’s increasingly manic shoveling with growing concern. “This is really about muesli?”

  “Of course it’s about muesli,” Tom snapped. “What else would it be about?” A frown grew as he looked at Jack’s raised brows. “You thought I was after her?” He jabbed his spoon towards Jack’s chest. “Like I’ve got time for that?”

  Jack rubbed his jaw with the back of his hand, hiding his involuntary smile and straightening away from the bench as a burst of adrenalin surged through his muscles.

  Tom took in the last spoonful of the hazelnut-devoid cereal and chewed. Slowly a sly look replaced his indignant frown. “Actually, she is a bit of a babe,” he muttered. “I didn’t notice so much at the time because I was just so damn happy to get more muesli.” He swallowed and his grin went impish. “But you thought she was a babe.”

  “Explain the muesli.” Jack growled impatiently, ignoring Tom’s perception. It really was just the food his brother was interested in? No way.

  Now Tom’s expression turned sheepish and he ladled another heap of cereal into his salad bowl and added a splash of skim milk. “You’re going to think I’m an idiot.”

  “Nothing new there,” Jack said blandly. “Tell me.”

  Tom sighed. “I’ve been eating it the last year or so. Every morning for breakfast. And snacks. Go through bags of the stuff.” Tom hesitated.

  Oh hell, Jack rubbed the back of his neck. He could see the issue already. “You think it’s got superpowers or something?”

  Tom actually nodded. “I’ve never lost a race since I started eating it.” He held up a hand. “I know, I know… but you know. It’s a talisman.”

  “Tom that’s ridiculous,” Jack half laughed. “It’s muesli.”

  “I know. But it works. It really does. And I’m having it for breakfast. I have to have it. And it needs the hazelnuts. And I’m not changing anything in the next few weeks.”

  Never deviate from a winning routine. If it ain’t broke…and all that.

  Jack silently studied his elite-athlete brother. He knew the focus and determination required. He also understood the element of ritual—heck, he’d even had a lucky pair of socks back in the day when he’d competed. Of course he didn’t want anything to throw Tom’s focus and self-belief off in these last few weeks—but muesli of all things? “Did you tell her about your fixation?”

  “No. But she understood that I really wanted it and she was happy to make me some specially. And you sent her away.” Tom accused gloomily. “Is this all she left?”

  “Mmmm,” Jack thought rapidly. Because before he made promises, he needed to check out Libby’s story and be doubly sure about Tom’s motivation. Because Jack wasn’t just a big brother, he’d been mother, father, and friend rolled into one for Tom—he’d do everything he could to help, and protect, his brother. And he never wanted to be tempted into disloyalty again. That moment this morning had been bad enough. “Why did she have to make it here?”

  “She’s not in production at the moment. Her premises aren
’t available. That’s why it’s not in stock in the shops.”

  “But you gave a complete stranger a key and the pin number for the alarm.” Surely that was because Tom was keen—on her more than her product?

  “I checked her out,” Tom defended himself. “But you only need to look at her to know she’s reliable,” Tom said. “And she’s an amazing cook.”

  Jack winced, he hadn’t accepted her integrity at face value.

  Tom’s sheepishness turned defiant and he frowned at the tray again. “I’m going to need more than this. And it needs the hazelnuts. It’s not right. It has to be right.”

  Jack heard the edge in Tom’s voice and he recognized the other signs—the pacing, the frown, the singular purpose... His brother was absolutely obsessive. It was his greatest strength. It was also a weakness. And it was clear here that the obsession wasn’t Libby, but her muesli. Thank goodness.

  “I have to get more.” Tom labored the point. “I go through a lot.”

  No kidding. He’d probably been keeping her in business single-handedly.

  “This isn’t good enough,” Tom declared, turning away from the bench decisively. “I’m going to call her.”

  “I’ll call her,” Jack interrupted, able to be every bit as determined as his kid brother. “You relax and go take a nap or something and I’ll arrange it.”

  “You will?” Tom stopped his march across the kitchen. “Plus hazelnuts?”