Baby Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (7 page)

I raised my eyebrows. She blushed. “Nice of them,” I replied.

“We have arrived,” Michael said, hopping out and opening Rachel’s door. I stayed in my seat to see if I could catch a glimpse of Rachel’s panties when her dress blew up in the wind outside. Since she’d ruined the dress with that hideous fucking sweater, I was anxious to know if she was wearing
everything
that I’d provided for her. The wind gods were heavily favoring me in this part of Chicago. The silky fabric fluttered up and I caught a glimpse of white lace with black bows below her perfect, round ass cheeks.

Bingo.

“Thank you so much,” Rachel said to Michael, holding her dress down once her feet were on the ground.

“My pleasure,” Michael replied.

I jumped out and put my hand on Rachel’s lower back. She stiffened at my touch. I waited for the telltale sign of her ears turning pink to know that she was enjoying it. That sign appeared in seconds. I smiled to myself. “We’ll be a few hours, Michael.”

He nodded curtly. “Enjoy your meal sir, and Ms. Cobb.”

Rachel stared at me. “Aren’t you going to say thank you to Michael for driving us?”

“Thank you? I pay him. That’s the thanks he gets,” I said, laughing.

Her face went dark and she pursed her lips. She stared at Michael, ignoring me on purpose. “Sorry your boss is such an asshole, and thank you for driving us to our destination this evening.” She reached out and shook his hand forcefully.

I could see that Michael was resisting the urge to say “I told you so” to me.

“
Thank you kindly, good sir
,” I said bitingly to Michael.

I walked ahead of Rachel into the restaurant. The hostess saw me and immediately knew who I was. “Mr. Reid. Right this way,” she said, waving her hand forward. I waited for Rachel to catch up; she seemed to be struggling with the high heels I’d sent for her.

“Heels a little too high?” I asked her drily.

She glared at me. “I’d like to see you walk in these.”

I laughed. We were seated in a private room. Heads had already turned when they recognized my face. That was a sensation I hadn’t experienced often over the last few years; I usually stayed tucked away at home. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

I pulled a chair out for Rachel and she sat down. She reached into the pocket of her oversized sweater and pulled out a five-dollar bill. She handed it to me.

“What the fuck is this?” I asked her with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought that instead of thanking you for pulling out my seat for me I could give you money. That’s how this works, right?” She smiled at me.

I guffawed. “I should have known you’d be a live wire when you went hard on Scott.”

She returned the money to her pocket. “Billionaires don’t scare me, what can I say?”

The server came over. “Wine tonight, Mr. Reid?”

“Absolutely. Crates of it. And just the full menu spread tonight. The works, thanks.”

He nodded curtly and left the room.

Rachel looked around at the modern décor and mood lighting. “Fancy to be in a private room like this.” She sipped the water on the table.

I stared at her intently. “How old are you?”

She swallowed. “Twenty-two,” she replied.

“I’m robbing the cradle, huh?”

“Twenty-eight isn’t that old. And I don’t think you’re robbing anything. This is just a business dinner, right?” Her eyes glinted at me.

I didn’t answer. Instead I leaned forward. “Why are you wearing that hideous sweater?”

“I get cold easily, like I told you.” She squirmed a little as she said this.

I nodded slowly. “It’s like ninety-five degrees outside.”

“Sometimes the air conditioning runs cold. And needless to say, I’ve never been to this place before so I couldn’t be sure.”

I put my hands up and motioned around the room. “Well, now you know that it’s at least seventy-five in here.” I loosened my tie.

She blushed red. “I’m fine.”

“You’re
sweating
.”

She sighed and leaned forward. “Since you seem to be making a concerted effort to make me uncomfortable, I’ll tell you that this dress is a lot more revealing than what I’m used to wearing. I didn’t have any other sweater and my sister is the size of my pinky finger so she didn’t have any to lend me either.”

I chewed over her words. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. Your body is fucking perfect.”

Rachel’s face turned the same color as her silky hair. The sommelier came in and poured us glasses of wine. “Are we going to talk about business?” Rachel asked, pushing up the sweater sleeves. She was glistening with sweat now.

I shook my head. “Tonight wasn’t really supposed to be about business. More for pleasure, you could say. Did you like the roses I sent you? The petals reminded me of your skin.”

Rachel laughed in my face. “Does that line work on women?”

I squinted at her. “You use humor as a defense,” I noted.

“You use rudeness and a fuck-you attitude to people with less money than you have to make people think you don’t care,” she shot back.

“Maybe I
don’t
care,” I replied.

“Says the man who just invested fifty million dollars in a company that assuredly will not earn him a single dime,” she retorted easily.

We sat in silence, staring each other down. “My lawyers are going to send over some paperwork. Do you need an attorney?”

She shook her head. “My sister is my attorney.”

I smiled. “Good. But I don’t want to finish the deal until next week.”

She cocked her head curiously. “Why is that?”

“Because I want to add a provision to it.”

Rachel had to keep pushing her sleeves back up, but the bulky grey wool had no more room to scoot. Her face was a grapefruit pink at this point, not from blush but from sheer temperature.

“You should take off the sweater,” I said.

She pulled her hair to the side and fanned herself with her napkin. “I’m fine.”

“You’re stubborn. And you’re about to pass out.”

She sighed and glowered at me before pulling her arms out of the sweater.

“I was hoping you’d take it off tantalizingly,” I joked.

She glared at me and pulled her arms out first, wiggling the sweater up over her head as demurely as she could.

“I’m glad we got a private room,” I said, as she adjusted the silky spaghetti straps and the rosette-covered straps of the bra nervously.

“Why is that?” she asked, breathing more easily in the cool relief of the air.

“Because I don’t want anyone other than me looking at you with you dressed like that.”

Rachel bit her lip but didn’t object.

An hour later we were on our fourth course of molecular dishes; small scoops and twirls of miniature food on glass platters filled the table. The chef came out personally to explain what each flavor combination was. I couldn’t tell if Rachel was enjoying the food or not. She’d nervously moved her long hair over her juicy chest when the chef had appeared, which only slightly obscured the perfection of her breasts from view.

The chef left and Rachel picked up a shaving of prosciutto. “This is all delicious,” she said, but her heart wasn’t in it.

I set down my fork. “Speak.”

“What?”

“I said, speak. Tell me the truth. You hate this place.”

She shook her head. “No, no. Not at all.”

I pushed aside the plate in front of me and leaned forward, grabbing her hand. She shook underneath my touch. “If we’re going into business together, I’m going to need one thing from you: honesty.”

Her green eyes were glimmering in the mood lighting. Her cinnamon freckles were inches away from my lips. I had to restrain myself from licking her cheek. “Alright,” she replied. “You want the truth?” She didn’t let go of my hand. “When we walked in here an hour ago I felt badly eating in here with Michael outside having his ham and cheese picnic lunch.”

I laughed. “Knowing him, his ‘picnic’ is less sandwich and more stuffed quail eggs and caviar.”

Rachel laughed and nodded. “Alright. Now I’m doubly jealous. Because at least he’s getting some calories.”

I guffawed loudly and squeezed her hand. “This fucking place is so goddamn pretentious.”

She nodded in relief, pulling her hair back to one side. “The flavor is incredible, it’s artwork, honestly. But where is the
rest of it
? I’ve been eating nonstop for an hour and somehow I’m still hungry.”

“You want to get out of here?” I asked her.

“McDonald’s. A hot dog from a cart. Honestly? Anything. Please. I’m about to pass out; not from heat but from starvation.”

I stood up and offered her my hand. She rose out of her seat and grabbed her sweater. I took it from her and shimmied off my suit jacket. “Wear this,” I said, wrapping the bespoke suit jacket around her delicate shoulders. My fingers swept across her collarbone. It felt like silk. I put my arm around her and lead her out of the restaurant. I bent down to whisper in her ear. “Please burn that fucking sweater at the first opportunity.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

RACHEL

When we made it back to the car, Michael was just finishing up a spread that was nearly identical to what Zane had said it would be.

“Enjoy your dinner? That was quick,” he said, wrapping up a hunk of crusty boule and several gourmet cheeses.

“Is this the part where I tell you that you were right?” Zane asked him. I didn’t know what that meant. Michael only smiled in response. “Millenium Park. You can drop us off there and head home.”

Michael nodded. The sun was finally beginning to leak out of the night sky, the skyscrapers lighting up around us. Zane put his hand on my thigh and a jolt of electricity shot through my body. I didn’t push him away.

I knew it was wrong; we were business partners. But God, he was so hot. I couldn’t resist him.

Michael dropped us off at Millenium Park. I left my sweater behind in the car and Zane swapped his suit jacket and tie for a ball cap that was hiding under the seat. He pulled it over his curly hair and I realized with a start that I was about to walk out, in public, with Zane Reid. “Fuck, I haven’t been here in years,” Zane said, looking at the summer crowds milling around us.

I smelled onions and relish and nearly ran in the direction of the hot dog stand. Zane caught up with me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I felt shivers unrelated to the cooling night air. He looked boyish in the hat. “People are staring at you,” he whispered to me.

“I don’t care. As long as I get my hot dog.” Somehow I felt less naked in the open air than I had dressed like this in the restaurant. The silky fabric kissed the top of my thighs and the neckline was plunging. But it fit me perfectly, just like Zane’s arm around my waist.

“Two Chicago dogs and two Cokes. And two potato chips,” Zane said, pulling out a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and handing it to the middle-aged guy behind the stand. “And we’ll take a brownie as well.”

The guy looked at him, irritated. “I can’t break a hundred.”

Zane pursed his lips. “I don’t have anything smaller.”

I turned my back on the hot dog man and pressed my stomach against Zane’s body. He looked down at me appreciatively. “Relax, I just need you for cover,” I replied. I reached into my bra where I’d hidden two five dollar bills, including the one that I’d flashed at Zane earlier to make my point. I had found them unexpectedly in an old wallet earlier that day. I turned back to the hot dog guy and handed him the money. “We’ll just take the one hot dog and the Coke, then.”

The guy nodded and set to work. When he handed Zane the wax-paper-wrapped warm food, he did a double take. “Wait a second,” the guy said. “You’re Zane Reid!”

Zane’s face turned stony. The people in line behind us started whispering. Zane pulled his hat down further on his head. “I get that all the time,” he replied easily. I grabbed the soda and Zane practically pushed me into the park near the skating ribbon. Kids and teenagers were rollerblading across the concrete track, laughing into the night air. We sat on a wooden bench overlooking the merry crowd.

“I’m guessing that’s why you don’t really leave your penthouse?” I asked him after I took a few grateful bites of our shared repast.

“Yeah,” he said. “Leads to weird questions.”

The food was emboldening me. Zane’s thigh pushing into mine on the bench also helped goad me forward. “Questions like why the hell you left behind the most promising football career of all time?”

Zane shifted uncomfortable and smiled at me, his blue eyes and dimples radiating in the reflected light from the skating area. “Something like that.”

He’d barely taken two bites of the hot dog before handing it to me. “Finish it off. You’re hungrier than I am.”

I didn’t argue, shoving the rest of the food down my throat gratefully. I’d been too nervous to eat lunch earlier that day and the vegetable crisp snack had done little other than sit in my stomach like a rock during the culinary gastronomy buffet. I sipped my soda and leaned back, resting my head on Zane’s arm. “This is weird but I feel like I’ve known you forever,” I said boldly.

Zane grinned at me, looking down at my face. Then he leaned forward, his lips coming right to my mouth. I nearly jerked away, but he moved to the right and kissed my cheek, his warm tongue caressing my skin before pulling away. My heart was pounding so loudly I felt like it was making the bench shake underneath us. He licked his lips. “You had mustard on your cheek. And we forgot to grab napkins.”

My face was on fire and I knew he could tell the effect he was having on me. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, handing it to me.

“This is instead of a thank you for dinner,” he quipped.

I sat fully upright, pulling away from his arm. “You gave me fifty million dollars today. You don’t need to give me a hundred more.”

“It’s ninety more, actually, since ten of it is paying you back for our shared dinner.”

I shook my head. “Keep it. It’s fine.” It wasn’t actually fine; that ten dollars had been the last of my cash. But he didn’t need to know that.