Accidental Billionaire (16 page)

He touched her waist with his free hand, just her waist, brushing light fingers, not straying, just circling and stroking. The motion combined with his mouth erased every thought. There was no game, no gondolier, no tourists, no painted sky or renaissance art or marble columns. There was Logan. Logan’s mouth. Logan’s fingers. And her. They were connected.

Baylee sucked in a breath, and Logan’s mouth traced from her jaw to her ear.

The kiss moved to her neck. And she was on fire. She forced her eyes open. Looking into his bluebonnet eyes, she had a flash of concern at what she’d see…triumph, games… She saw fire. Bluebonnets on fire. The flames in his eyes matched the flames forging through her pulse.

“Logan.” His name came out a plea. She couldn’t have stopped; she couldn’t have moved. They were like the statues in the plaza, frozen in this moment.

Thunk.
Boat hit boat and she jolted hard into Logan. He held her and looked around.

Their gondolier, at the back of their boat, spewed Italian at two other gondoliers. They were heading under a bridge, but two boats to their right were headed in the same direction and the fronts scraped against each other as each gondolier urged the others to yield. The passengers in the nearest boat were Kira and Drake. Drake sang, “Don’t rock the boat, baby,” in tune and loud.

Nadine and Rawlings seemed as put out by his singing as they were by the impasse.

Drake’s song cut off when he saw them. “Dude, what are you wearing?”

Kira tossed her hands in the air. “Great. More are showing up. Get your head in the game, Drake-ee. We got this.” Kira indicated the red brick bridge. “We get under there first and we’ll win. I just know it.” Their gondolier’s arms bulged as he pushed Nadine and Rawlings’ boat back. More thunks of wood echoed across the water. Kira braced her arms on the side. Drake pushed Rawlings’ boat away with his hands. They edged forward.

The motion pushed their own boat into a definite third place.

“Open your eyes,” Nadine said. “It’s been Kira and Logan all along.”

Whoa. What?

Drake turned to Logan.

“They’ve been together every day,” Nadine said. “Kira’s been at Logan’s apartment every day. Ask her.”

Baylee’s heart clenched. Her gaze flew to Logan, who was shaking his head. His blue eyes were clear. Logan looked only at her. “You know that’s not true. Not like she’s saying.” That’s all he had to say, and she believed him. She’d seen him with Kira. Yeah, it was weird that Kira was over all the time, but he wasn’t into her; and Logan wasn’t being evasive or going on the attack, which is what people often did when lying.

Drake eased up his grip on Nadine and Rawlings’ boat, making Nadine grin and Rawlings talk to her in a low voice that Baylee couldn’t hear. Kira was less discreet.

“Shut up, Nadine,” Kira said. “Just shut up.”

Nadine put her hands on her hips, looking like an Italian opera singer in her maroon gown with the renaissance art behind her. “If you say you weren’t there, you’re lying.”

Drake lost some of his vigor. “What’s she talking about, Kira?”

Rawlings stared hard at Nadine, showing clear displeasure with minimal expression. Nadine knelt on the seat, her maroon dress billowing. She faced the gondolier. “Make your move.”

The boats jolted again as the gondoliers strove for better position.

Logan touched her arm. “You believe me. Right, Baylee?”

“Yes.”

Logan smiled. “That’s it? No punishment? No drama?”

“Nope. I believe you, and we have a game to win.” Baylee lowered her voice so the other teams wouldn’t hear. “We’re dressed like fish.”

“They
are
dressed better.”

“On three.” She cut her eyes to the water, knowing he could swim. “One, two…”

“…three.” Baylee stood on the seat and dove, pushing off hard with her legs, her arms straight out. The strong smell of chlorine, the rush of wet and the shock of cold hit her. She kicked to go deep and used her arms to pull her body through the water. She went under the boats toward the bridge. The water turned darker, shaded by the structure, and it changed to a light bright color as she made it to the other side. She pulled and burst through surface. Water dripped down her face, and she sucked in the chill air. The water was freezing.

She shoved her hair from her eyes. Logan tilted his head toward the stairs leading out, and she swam toward it as fast as she could manage in the clinging wet skirt, which was more of a hindrance swimming on top of the water.

Logan hoisted her up and the saturated mermaid skirt stuck to her legs. There was a lady at the top, dressed all in black, vaguely familiar from the dinner staff. “Well done, you two.”

Baylee shivered and sucked in more air. “Did we win?”

The lady handed her an envelope that said,
You’ve won an advantage
. She typed into a tablet. “All other players are frozen at their current positions until you utilize your advantage.”

Pleasure and disappointment competed inside Baylee. On one hand, an advantage, yay. On the other hand, they’d felt close, really close to winning.

The lady escorted them to the boat docks and checked a row of tagged suitcases and rolled two toward them. One tag read
Baylee
, one
Logan
. Then she took them to the gondolier dressing room, where they separated.

The showers were like those at the gym. Baylee took the fastest shower on record, dried off, and wearing a robe, dug into the suitcase. There was a hairdryer and makeup, but she ignored those in favor of brushing her hair back into a wet ponytail and then pinning it up. They were in a race. Vanity would drag her back. Inside the bag was a crystal white handbag. She blotted her waterlogged phone and dropped it inside with her fake ID. Her watch glowed green so she guessed it was waterproof enough to handle her quick swim. There was a dress bag folded inside with a label that read,
something new
.

The white dress was covered with crystals. Crystal straps held up the heart-shaped neckline, traced over the fitted bodice and down the tea-length swing skirt. Matching ballet flats in her size and white lingerie were the last things in the bag. Baylee put it on as quickly as she could and hurried out. Logan was waiting. He leaned against the wall dressed once again in a black tuxedo. He was watching the others pull onto the dock.

“It’s unlocked. We’re through,” Kira screamed at Drake, and held up her arms for the gondolier to help her get out.

Drake had his hands out, like “What’d I do?” They were definitely fighting.

Rawlings and Nadine seemed to be in a silent standoff, but they were headed to the exit.

Logan turned to her and smiled. “You look very pretty.”

He was so cute. Her mouth went dry, and she did a spin. “Something new.”

Logan caught her to him.

Her hands against the black lapel of his tuxedo jacket made the blue of her prize ring stand out. “Something blue. Oh.” She met his gaze. “I know how to win.”

Logan tightened his hands on her waist. “How? ‘Cause I got nothing.” He grinned. “Except you.”

He was too cute, but she had no time for cute. She knew how to win. “Follow me.” Baylee rushed over the staff member who’d given them the advantage. “Was our advantage only clothes or did we get transport?”

“Where would you like to go?”

They were back at the dining room where it all started. The archways stood before them, but Baylee only had eyes for one. She turned to Logan. She held up her hand so the ring faced him. “You’re in a tux and they put me in a white dress. Do guys know the saying, ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?’”

Logan closed his eyes and rolled his head back. “Will you fake marry me?”

“As long as you take my name and become Mr. Bologna.”

“The name’s St. John.”

They rushed under the arch to the fake chapel. Inside, Rawlings bowed at them from behind a lectern. He’d beaten them there, but he wasn’t sporting a trophy, so the game must still be on.

Baylee grinned. She felt it. They were about to win. “I thought you were a player, too.”

“We all have many roles in life.” Rawlings bowed. “What brings you to the chapel? Peace? Sanctuary?”

“The bonds of matrimony.” Baylee snickered, her mood light. This was it. She knew it. “I take this man to be my fake lawfully wedded husband.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

Rawlings withdrew a platinum band and handed it to her. Baylee laughed. “More prizes.” She slid the ring on Logan’s left hand.

“And you, Logan? Do you take this woman as your wife?” Rawlings handed Logan a lady’s braided platinum wedding band. Logan grinned. He mouthed, “We’re so going to win.” He slipped the band on her ring finger. “I do.”

“Then by the power invested in me…” Rawlings went on but Baylee didn’t listen to the rest.

All her concentration was on Logan. He grabbed her to him and his lips landed on hers. Heat. The kiss was quick and then his mouth went to her ear. “Craziest date ever.”

Tissue paper fluttered her skin as confetti rained down on them.

The smart watch on her arm lit red. The mechanical voice said,
Game Over. By saying ‘I do’ first, Baylee Steele has become this year’s victor.

“I’m starving.” Logan stood outside the door to the penthouse. “But I’m guessing Kira’s not inside to cook for us.”

“Probably not.” She’d better not be.

He tapped his key on the keypad.

“Wait.” Baylee lifted her arms. “You’re never getting married. So you should jump on this opportunity to enact one of the rituals. Carry me over the threshold?”

Logan slipped his arms around her waist. He smiled a slow smile. He kissed her neck. An appreciative kiss. “You’re unique, Baylee. Have I said that?” The words were in the barest whisper against her ear. “You’ve made this week so much better. More than I can say.”

The moment felt bigger than a week. Bigger than she meant it to be, but right. “I don’t usually get called unique. Temperamental. Sarcastic…”

He cut off her last thought with a kiss.

The kiss tasted like a game, like a fantasy. Unreal tingles. Zings of sensation flitted through her veins. She pressed closer and slid her arms over his shoulders. She flattened her palms and then curled her nails into him as the feelings spread. No audience. No game. No fake wedding. No more clues. Her and Logan.

Logan bent and scooped her up. Baylee thought to make a joke to lighten the almost eerie connected feeling, but her brain was too fuzzy. “Logan.” His name came out in an appreciative whisper.

“Baylee.” Her name came out in a kind of growl.

Hot.

He blinked and sucked in a breath. “Right then.” A remnant of the playful smile touched his lips. “Right this way, Mrs. St. John.” He shifted her to him and leaned into the lever.

“Mrs. St. John?” Baylee huffed. “I’ll be keeping my own name, thank you very much. It’s Mrs. Bologna to you.”

Logan laughed. “Sorry, I’m afraid I have to insist.”

They moved into the foyer, and the familiar cougar watched them while licking its paw. “Insist all you want, I’m keeping my fake last name.”

“Can’t live with that. It’ll have to be Mrs. St. John.”

Baylee brushed her fingers through the back of his hair. “Think room service has popcorn?”

“I think they have steak.”

Baylee muffled her laugh in his shoulder. Not that what he said was so funny, but she was giddy from sleep deprivation and victory. “Tell me again that you don’t mind that I won?”

“We both won this week.” Logan stopped abruptly. “Dad.”

Dad?

Baylee grabbed Logan’s shoulders and then twisted toward the living room.

Logan’s dad stood wearing a rumpled suit and holding a cup of coffee. “Put the girl down, Logan.”

Logan’s arms tightened. Baylee wiggled, and Logan let her go. Her feet hit the floor and she covered her yawn. Now that the excitement was over, the early hour was catching up to her.

Mr. St. John’s mouth had a hard edge and his eyes were narrowed on their hands, on their rings. “Why don’t you kids have a seat?”

Embarrassed at being out all night and how it looked. Baylee went over to the sofa. She plopped down, her dress puffing around her. As beautiful as the dress was, she was so ready to get out of formal attire. Logan joined her more carefully. Baylee shoved at a loose strand of her hair. It curled around her finger, frizzy from not being blown dry.

“What’s going on?” Logan yawned, copying her. “We were just going to hit up room service.”

His dad gave a sharp nod. He ran his gaze over their faces and his expression softened. “Go ahead.”

Heat hit her cheeks at how awkward this was. “Yes. Sorry. I need to call my mom and change anyway.” She brushed her hand over Logan’s arm on the way from the room. He followed her, but stopped at the side table to use the house phone

Tiredness hit her. Sunlight and last night’s clothes hit her. She showered and put on her green and pink sundress. The material felt light and free after having the formal wear on so long. Her face felt lighter, free of makeup and sparkle. Her hair dried and down felt lighter. Having called her mom and apologized for not calling, her mood felt lighter. The only thing that didn’t feel lighter was her ring finger, like an accusation. That must be what was putting Mr. St. John off. He didn’t know it was a joke, a prize. She yawned; they could explain.

She stumbled back into the living room. Logan had showered and changed into jeans and a button-down. He was eating a sandwich. The tray sat on the coffee table by the big silver vase. Baylee took ham and cheddar with mustard and sat beside him. Logan nodded toward bags in the foyer. “The mermaid people sent up our clothes from the first round.”

“Cool.” She took another bite of the sandwich.

Mr. St. John spread several documents out on the table. “This was delivered to me.” He eyed Logan steadily. “Those were some lengths you went to.”

“What?” Logan finished off his sandwich and wiped his fingers with a napkin. “It’s Friday. I know you need a decision. I know what you want. But I can’t do it. I won’t sign any of Mom’s company to Cleo.” His expression was relieved and hopeful, but somehow worried at the same time.