Beauty and the Billionaire (BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB NOVEL) (24 page)

Gretchen’s cheeks warmed. “So I made you buy real estate? That’s a pretty good super-power, I have to admit.”

His mouth tugged up on one side. “I already owned this office. I just decided to keep it for myself.” He glanced out the window onto the main section of the floor. “It reminds me to be out there in life, instead of hiding away.”

“I’m very proud of you,” she said softly. “And I hope that you someday realize that you’re not this monster you’ve painted yourself to be. You’re just a man.”

The man who I love.

But the words clung to her throat.

“I took your advice about Eldon, too.” Hunter folded his hands on his desk. She noticed his knuckles were white, as if he were gripping his hands tightly despite his casual pose.

Oh, no. Did he fire his assistant-slash-butler? Now she felt bad. “He’s very loyal—”

“He’s a cranky old bastard,” Hunter admitted. “But yes, he’s very loyal. He’s also elderly and has family in the west. I gave him a very large retirement bonus as thanks for his tireless work, and I suggested he visit his daughters for a time. And I hired some additional staff at Buchanan Manor. It’s rather . . . quiet lately.”

She inclined her head back to the main room. “Maylee’s not exactly what I had in mind when I suggested you hire a new assistant.”

To her vast amusement, he grimaced. “Maylee is a . . . problem.”

“She seems like a sweet girl.”

“That is the problem.” Hunter sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “When I had Eldon call the agency, I told them to find me someone pleasant. She’s very pleasant,” he said in a sour voice. “But I feel I should have been more specific. She’s not good with computers. Or phones. Or the copier.”

A giggle escaped her throat.

He gave her a vexed look, seemingly aggrieved. “Yesterday, she set up a meeting for a client and then didn’t tell me about it because she couldn’t find her sticky note. I was extremely . . . annoyed.”

“Oh, no. What did you do?”

“I suggested she use the computer to keep my schedule instead of Post-it notes.”

Gretchen thought back to the sea of yellow sticky notes on Maylee’s desk. “And what did she say?”

“Nothing,” he said in a pained voice. “She cried.”

“What did you do?”

“What else could I do? I gave her a raise.”

Gretchen burst into laughter. “Really?”

He looked aggrieved. “This is her first job since leaving Arkansas and no one else will hire her because she is a hick, as she likes to tell me. I can’t fire the poor girl simply because she’s unorganized.”

“You big softy,” Gretchen teased, her heart swelling with warmth. “Maybe you should hire an assistant for your assistant.”

“Maybe so.” His gaze moved over her with obvious pleasure. “You look beautiful.”

She shivered at the husky tone of his voice. He looked so delicious that she wanted to crawl across the desk, start kissing him, and never stop. She forced herself to look at the gigantic windows instead.

“Forgive me,” Hunter said in a tight voice. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. Did you see my invitation?”

She glanced at him in surprise. “I haven’t been by work yet. You sent me an invitation?”

His nod was short. “Today’s flowers came with an invitation to a charity fundraiser scheduled for this weekend. A ball. It’s at Buchanan Manor.”

Her eyes widened and she sat on the edge of her chair. “You’re hosting a charity ball? Are you serious? Who are you and what have you done with Hunter?”

Hunter gave her a patient look. “I was approached because the venue that the charity ball had originally been scheduled for cancelled on them. They were desperate. It seemed like the polite thing to do.”

Polite had never bothered him before, though. “What should I wear?”

His eyes warmed at her question. “Something formal. I’m told there will be dancing.”

“Do you plan on dancing with me?”

“If you’ll be my date.”

“Oh, you just want me to be your date because I put out,” she said in a teasing voice.

His face flushed an angry red and he jerked to his feet. “I’m sorry you think that of me.”

And just like that, their easy banter ended. Gretchen felt a moment of sadness. She’d messed it up this time, and it was clear from Hunter’s stiff posture that the moment had vanished.

“The invitation is yours if you want it,” he told her in a cold voice. “Feel free to decline with no obligations. It was meant as a friendly gesture.”

And she’d killed it. Clearly if she was going to bring them back together she’d have to be the one to do it.

“I’ll think about it,” she lied.

Chapter 15

When Gretchen’s taxi pulled up to Buchanan Manor several days later, she did a double take. She knew that having the charity event at the house was a big move for him, but it took seeing the throngs of people and the endless line of limos curving up the driveway to impress into her mind just how much of an effort he was making.

She smoothed her little black dress nervously. He’d made an effort. Had she done enough? She pulled out a compact and checked her hair. Her upsweep—so different from her normal messy ponytail—still looked perfect thanks to Audrey’s help, and she had a yellow rose tucked behind one ear. It was the only accessory she wore, and she hoped it was enough. Her dress was plain since she didn’t have the money in her bank account to buy something. But she’d had a dress in the back of her closet that was simple, but elegant. It was a black dress with tight, elbow-length sleeves, shirred sides, and a boatneck collar. It made her red hair stand out, and she knew Hunter liked her hair.

Staff in white shirts with black ties opened the doors to the house to let her in. Had he hired more staff only for the party? Or was this a new change? She thought she recognized a few of the women wandering the room with trays as the housecleaners, but she didn’t approach them for fear of making them uncomfortable. Instead, she mingled with the crowd and scanned the room. Buchanan Manor looked as gorgeous as ever, but it was unnerving seeing it full of guests. She was used to seeing the rooms empty and silent.

Oddly enough, the house no longer felt lonely.

As she pushed through the throngs of people, a woman whirled past her with a tray and then turned. “Would you like a hors d’oeuvres—oh, Gretchen! Hello!” She broke into a smile.

“Brandy, how are you?” Gretchen smiled back at her. She recognized the maid from her excursions into the cleaning wings. Brandy was fond of Gretchen’s banana nut bread and always talked about how much her children enjoyed Gretchen’s cooking.

“Busy,” she said, offering Gretchen a fig-covered confection from her tray. “But happy. There’s been lots of changes in this house in the last two weeks.”

“Oh? What kind of changes?” She pretended to be casual, though anticipation strummed through her body at the thought. Had Hunter made changes because he wanted to impress her? Why did that make her positively giddy?

“Well, first of all, he got rid of that nasty assistant of his.”

Gretchen grinned. “So I heard.”

“Yup. From what I hear, he’s got three assistants now. Two localized here in the house and one at the office.”

“Three. That seems like a big change.”

“It is. And that’s not all. That man of yours hired more staff and gave the rest of us a raise.” She patted her pocket. “I got a Christmas bonus, too.”

“That’s wonderful,” Gretchen said with a smile. “But I don’t know that he’s my man. I—”

But Brandy was already on her way to the next group, a cheery smile on her face. “Hi there. Hors d’oeuvres?”

Her man.
Gretchen popped the appetizer into her mouth and tasted the words.
Her man.
She liked that. Did he miss her like she missed him? God, she hoped so or this was going to get awkward, fast. She turned around and sucked in a breath.

There he was, at the center of the room, in the thick of the party. He looked pained and uncomfortable . . . and utterly gorgeous. A black tuxedo fit him to the nines, and his hair had been cut recently, his new hairstyle keeping his hair off his forehead and giving him a slightly rakish air. He stood with a group of people, a flute of champagne in his hand. A stiff-looking silver-haired couple were talking to him animatedly, and he kept a polite smile on his face even though he looked a bit trapped.

She giggled at that, even as her fingers curled with the need to touch him. Instead, she just watched him from a distance, enjoying his every move, noting the way his cheek pulled when his mouth curved into a lopsided smile. How could anyone think of that raw, masculine, delicious man as anything but beautiful? She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Then he turned, and his attention seemed to head unerringly for her. His gaze lit up.

Gretchen’s feet felt glued to the floor. She should go over and say hello to him. Interrupt the conversation he was having. Something. Anything. Instead, she stood there like a dummy, her brain unable to work.

Hunter was having a party and entertaining people. Her Hunter. He was breaking out of his self-imposed exile. Was this all for her?

How could she possibly be mad at a man who was going to such lengths to prove to her that he could be the man she needed him to be? He’d manipulated her—and others—with his influence, that was true, but now she understood why. He’d never thought that she’d be interested in him, never thought she would give him the time of day, so he’d done the only thing he could do to bring her close. And while it was low-down, dirty, and craven . . . she understood it and even felt a twinge of sympathy for him that he’d felt the need to go so very far for something as simple and basic as human need for another person.

He extricated himself from the conversation, handed his glass to a passing waiter, and strolled toward her, adjusting the front of his tuxedo jacket as if to make sure he looked his best. She found that utterly charming. Here was Hunter Buchanan, the most sexy, glorious, powerful man in the room, and he was making sure he looked good enough for her.

It was a heady feeling.

He walked up to her, reached out, and then dropped his hand. A hint of unease flashed across his face but he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. “Gretchen. You look . . . lovely.”

She smiled at him, shifting when someone passed too close to them. “Hi, Hunter.” She didn’t know what to say. This hadn’t been a problem she’d had often. Normally words just ran right out of her mouth whether she wanted them to or not. A tall, slinky woman strolled past, her tight bandage gown glittering with sequins. “I seem to be underdressed.”

“On the contrary,” Hunter said. “You’re the most gorgeous thing in this room. You don’t need flash to improve your beauty. Just your smile.”

She couldn’t resist smiling at that. “You flirt.”

He flushed a little.

“Nice party,” she told him, stepping aside as another couple moved past them. The room was positively packed. “You did well.”

“I did it for you,” he told her in a voice so low she almost didn’t catch it.

She swallowed hard. “You did, huh?”

“All for you. Everything. I want to prove to you that . . . I can be who you need me to be.”

She shook her head. “Hunter, all I’ve ever needed was—” She paused as someone in the crowd called his name. “Maybe this is a bad time.”

“Not a bad time,” he told her with a growl, and then he was at her side, cupping her elbow and steering her through the crowd. “Come with me.”

They wound silently through the throng and escaped down a back hallway—the north wing. Hunter’s wing. At the sight of the familiar paintings hanging on the wall, she felt a sharp stab of longing. If they continued down a second hallway, they’d get to his room. Was his bed lonely without her? Was this thing they had too broken to be fixed? Had she been too hard on him when she should have been understanding as to what drove him?

Hunter stopped in front of the large windows at the far end of the hall, where the corridor split and branched toward Hunter’s suite of rooms. From here, the wintry gardens were visible and the evergreen bushes were peeking out from under a blanket of snow. His hand lifted as if he wanted to reach for her and he just as quickly drew back.

“You’re well?” he asked in a clipped voice, clasping his hands behind his back and glancing out the window.

“Actually, no,” she told him. When he turned to her with a stricken look, she said, “There’s this guy who kind of broke my heart. He lied to me and sabotaged my work just so I could stay around him a bit longer.”

The look on his face was tense, his expression intent as he focused on her. “And would you have gone out with me? Not knowing me? Not knowing who I was except for this?” He gestured at the deep gouges scarring his face. “How am I supposed to believe that? People turn away at the sight of me.”

His sadness and pain broke her heart. “Oh, Hunter. Just because most people are shallow assholes doesn’t mean that I am.”

“But how would I know this?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” she said briskly. “We’ll never know that, because you manipulated the situation and lied to me. You messed with my career. You can’t just make up jobs to bring people into your life.”

“You can still have the money, you know,” he told her quietly. “I never meant to force you to choose between your happiness and me.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “It’s not about the money, Hunter. When will you get that? It’s about you and me and trust. How can I trust that you’re not pulling strings behind the scenes again anytime something goes my way?”

“How can I trust that you truly want me for who I am and not what I am?” There was a wealth of pain in his voice.

“Oh, Hunter. You have to have faith in me.” She moved forward and gently cupped his cheek, feeling the grooves of the scars.

He closed his eyes as if in ecstasy, his hand moving to hold hers there. “I love you so much, Gretchen. Please don’t leave me again.”

“Then trust me.”

His eyes opened. “It’s hard for me to trust.”

An amused smile curved her mouth. “I get that you’re damaged, but how do you think I feel knowing you’ve been manipulating things since day one?”

He flinched, and she could feel it against her palm. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know. And that’s why I’ve come back.” Her thumb lightly stroked over the jagged scar that twisted at the corner of his mouth. “It was the only way you knew how to reach out to me. I forgive you for that.”

He leaned in and kissed the heel of her hand.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for the sabotage of my laptop, though,” she said lightly. “That was kind of low.”

“I didn’t realize Eldon was going to do that,” he told her. “I just wanted him to delay you.”

“Oh, he delayed me all right. Killed my contract dead in the water.”

Hunter winced, but his fingers stroked the back of her hand. He still held her palm to his cheek, as if fearful that if he released her, she’d slip out of his grasp again. “The files were recovered, by the way. I can send you the information.”

She shrugged. “I’m a lot happier without writing, honestly. It’s not a profession I’m very good at. The constant deadlines drive me crazy, and if I have to write one more astronaut story I just might jump off your balcony. Without the contracts, I’m pretty broke but I’m also a lot happier—and less stressed—than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Preston will be sorry to hear that. He contacted me the other day and suggested that if you didn’t want to do the epistolary novel that perhaps you’d be interested in doing a cookbook. He loved your cooking at the dinner party.”

“A cookbook, huh?” She gave him a skeptical look. “Your idea?”

He grinned and released her hand. “It was all him, I’m afraid. For once, I had nothing to do with it.”

“I’ll think about it,” she told him softly, though in her mind she was already racing through her favorite recipes. Well, she’d let Hunter stew on it for a bit before deciding. Gretchen reached forward and slid a finger along Hunter’s lapel. “So what about the letters?”

He leaned into her touch, stepping forward. His hands went to her shoulders. “They were simply a means to an end.”

“Were they real? All those dirty, naughty things they wrote to each other?”

“They were real,” he told her. “Just not in this house.”

“I’m glad. I like to think that those two were crazy in love for so long and that they eventually get together. They do, don’t they? Get together and have a happy ever after?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t read far enough.”

She snuggled into his embrace, sighing. “I like to think that they did. I feel like their story is ours, just a little. Two lovers separated and reunited.”

“Their story’s not ours,” he told her in a husky voice, his fingers brushing at a lock of her hair. “I want us to make our story, not follow someone else’s.”

Her heart melted a little at that, and she curled her fingers into his jacket, tugging him close enough to kiss her. “You hurt me bad, you know.”

“I’m changing. For you, I’ll change everything I am.” His intense gaze swept over her face. “I meant it, Gretchen. I love you. It doesn’t matter to me if you love me or not. Just stay.”

“Well, it’s a good thing for you that I love you, too.”

His eyes warmed. He brushed a finger along her jawline. “Do you mean it?”

She thwacked him on the shoulder. “We’re going to have to get past this trust thing. Of course I mean it. Why would I lie to you after all this?”

A wide grin crossed his face. “I just never thought I would be so lucky.” His fingers moved over her lips and he pressed a kiss to her mouth.

It was a soft, gentle kiss, and it was over far too soon. All it did was stoke a fire in her belly that was impossible to put out. She moaned when he pulled away. “You want to see how lucky you can be?” she murmured to him.

“Always.”

She took his hand and led him toward the greenhouse.

As soon as they shut the door behind them, he wrapped an arm around her waist. She closed her eyes and leaned into his embrace, taking in the lush scents of the rows upon rows of roses and the smell of damp earth.

“Tell me I am not dreaming,” Hunter whispered against her neck, pressing kisses there. “That you’re truly in my arms and I’m forgiven.”

“I’ll just pinch you instead,” she told him playfully, sliding out of his arms and turning to face him. “Got a preference as to where?”

“Don’t care.” He grasped her hips and pulled her against him so she could feel the hard length of his desire against her. “I want you, Gretchen. So badly.”

She smiled and sauntered away, passing by the black table that he did the more delicate gardening on. While most of the roses grew in large, deep pots, he had seedlings and a scatter of tools on the table at all times. Currently there were rows and rows of carefully planted seedlings marching across the table and taking up almost all of the space.