Billionaire on the Loose (18 page)

She sucked in a breath. He loved her? He felt as goofy over her as she did for him? How was that even possible? She had to be dreaming.

Hell, if she was dreaming, she didn't want to wake up. Taylor flung herself at him, arms going around his neck. She might have knocked him to the floor and caused his chair to crash backward. It didn't matter. She kissed him hard, letting him know her answer.

“I think that's a yes,” someone murmured.

The entire room broke into applause.

Taylor looked up, embarrassed, and slowly detangled her limbs from Loch's . . . or tried to. She ended up tripping over her long skirts, and he had to help her get to her feet. Once she was standing, he opened the ring box and showed her the enormous diamond and the beautiful band. She gasped and slid it onto her finger, trembling. It was too big, but who cared? It was hers and it was gorgeous.

She kissed Loch again, ecstatic. “I love you, too.”

***

Much later that night, in bed after several rounds of intense, passionate sex, Loch's back ached from Taylor's enthusiastic clawing and he stroked her hair as she dozed against him. He was tired, and he should have been able to sleep, but for some reason, he found himself staring at the ceiling.

Do you love me?

He'd been hoisted on his own petard with that simple question. He'd thought he'd been so clever, coming up with the perfect gamer proposal for Taylor that she wouldn't be able to turn down. He'd had the right ring, the right place, everything. He just hadn't had the right words.

At that point, he'd felt trapped in the situation. Did he love her? He loved being around her. He loved having sex with her. He loved her funny, exuberant laugh. But he wasn't sure if that was
love
love. Not yet. It was too soon.

So he'd lied and reassured her that of course he loved her.

That was the part that was sticking in his craw. He felt like an arse, like he'd been leading her on. The moment the words escaped him, he'd wanted to take them back. Couldn't they just get married for fun? It wouldn't bother either of them as much when it was inevitably dissolved. But she'd thrown her arms around his neck and declared that she loved him, too, and then he was trapped in his own lies.

He should have been thrilled—he was getting everything he wanted. He'd marry Taylor, give it a few weeks for the news to trickle back home, and then he'd be able to return home. Taylor would like his house in Bellissime, he was sure. It wasn't large but it was charming and he had land and horses. She'd like his family, too. They were a little starchy—most royals were—but overall they were good people with warm hearts.

His plan had worked beautifully . . . so why was he staring at the ceiling and feeling like such a jerk? It wasn't that he didn't want to marry Taylor at all. He liked her. He liked her a lot, actually. They were perfectly compatible in bed and she always amused him out of it.

But when he closed his eyes, he saw the excited light in her eyes again in that exact moment before she'd flung her arms around him and said yes.

And he felt like an ass all over again.

A sound like a phone buzzing interrupted his thoughts, and he pulled Taylor's phone off the nightstand, glancing at the screen.

Sigmund: Congrats.

Seeing that lackluster response from Sigmund made him feel worse about the whole thing, and it should have made him feel better.

***

“Home sweet home,” Taylor said as she flopped down on the bed in Loch's New York hotel room. She twisted her loose ring—now fitted with a wad of tape at the back—and admired it. So pretty. She was so stinking happy.

“Mm,” Loch said, and leaned down to kiss her. “I'd join you in bed but after all those plane rides, I feel like I need to stretch my legs and go jogging.” He nipped her lip and then stood up, frowning. “Just as soon as I remember where my jogging clothes are.”

She giggled. “I think you put them in the first drawer?”

He moved across the room and she rolled over on her side on the bed, stifling a yawn. They'd just gotten back from the convention, and while it had been awesome and lots of fun, she was ready to go home. There was so much to think about now that they were getting married. She glanced down at her ring again, then looked up as Loch pulled out a pair of shorts and began to change. “When should we tell the others we're getting married?”

“I suppose we can tell them after we do it.” He glanced back at her. “I'd like to get married sooner rather than later.”

“Really?” That was a little surprising, but her heart pitter-patted anyhow. “Because you can't wait?”

“Don't see the point in waiting. I'm ready to move forward now.”

And she smiled at that, because how could she not? He was excited to marry her.
Her
. Goofy Taylor who fell over her own two feet. “Me, too, but I'd feel weird eclipsing Gretchen's marriage, what with me being a bridesmaid and all.”

Kinda felt disloyal just thinking about it.

“Wouldn't she be happy for you? She's the one that put us together.” He drew a T-shirt over his head.

She sat up in the bed, thinking. He had a point, but weddings were sacred things to women. You didn't fuck with someone's wedding, and Gretchen's wedding had had a ton of snags already. “I suppose. I just don't think she'll
like
it is all.”

He moved to her side and kissed her forehead. “How about we do something small at first, and then we do something bigger and more lavish once Gretchen's wedding is over and she's out of the limelight? Would that make you feel better?”

“It would.” Taylor smiled up at him. “Great idea.” He looked so sexy and sporty in his athletic gear that she felt like the luckiest girl in the world all over again. She wanted to show him just how lucky she felt, especially after spending the weekend at the convention, where she was in nerd paradise and he was clueless. “Hey, can I go jogging with you?”

The look of surprise on Loch's face was priceless. “You . . . want to jog? Have you turned over a new sporty leaf, my sweet couch potato?”

“Well, no.” The idea of jogging and working up a sweat actually sounded about as fun as a root canal. “But you've been working hard to do all these things that I like, and the least I can do is take some interest in your hobbies.”

For some reason, he looked unhappy at the thought.

“Is that bad? I don't have to go with you—”

“No, no. I think it's wonderful. I think you're wonderful.” Loch gave her another hard, firm kiss on the mouth. “And if you don't get dressed in five minutes, I'm leaving you behind.”

She shot up from the bed—and banged her head into his. “Ow!”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I suppose I should get used to that.”

“You probably should,” she agreed, and then trotted off to find a pair of yoga pants.

***

Funny how he felt like a bigger arse now than when he'd proposed.

Loch jogged through Central Park with Taylor at his side, and he couldn't help but feel like a prick. She wanted to spend time with him and learn his hobbies because she cared. That was why she was next to him in the heat of the day, huffing and puffing and gamely trying to keep up with his longer strides. She fell behind, and he stopped to a walk. “Everything all right, Tay?”

“Oh, sure,” she wheezed, bending over and putting her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “I didn't need lungs.”

He chuckled. “You want to take a break and sit down for a minute?”

“God, I never thought you'd ask.”

They found a nearby park bench and Taylor collapsed onto it. The collar of her T-shirt was soaked with sweat and her ponytail was plastered to her face. Her cheeks were bright red, but she gave him a brave smile as their eyes met. He felt a surge of affection for her. She wanted to please him.

It also made him feel like a prick, because he'd proposed marriage simply for selfish reasons. “You don't have to go jogging with me, you know. I'll like you just the same if you don't.”

“I know, but you've been working hard at playing
Excelsior
and I know it's not your thing. The least I can do is try jogging, you know? I've never tried it before.” She wiped her brow. “At what point do I get the runner's high?”

“In about six months?”

She made a pained groan. “I might not be cut out for this after all.”

He leaned in and kissed her, sweat and all. “And I love you for trying.” The moment the words escaped him, he felt like an ass all over again, especially when she beamed. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

Taylor perked up. “Are we done?”

“Actually, I usually do about three or four more circuits of this end of the park.” At her pained expression, he squeezed her hand. “Why don't you go back and shower? I'll be up in a bit.”

“Normally I wouldn't bail like this, but I think you'd have to carry me for the last few laps.” She shook her head. “Who knew Central Park was so damn big?”

He bit back a laugh. They were only jogging a fraction of the paths that went through the park. “Indeed.”

“Okay, I'll head back, but when you come home, we need to talk about living arrangements,” she told him. “It makes no sense to rent a hotel room when I have a perfectly good albeit small apartment. And we should probably talk about green cards and see what sort of paperwork we need.”

The enormity of getting married hit him again. There was a lot to do—he needed to see where they were at on the prenuptial agreement. He needed to let the prime minister know after they got married so he could spread the word and dissolve any dissident hope of Loch taking the crown. And then there were living situations—did they really need an apartment in New York City when Loch wanted to go back to Bellissime? He hadn't asked Taylor if she wanted to go.

Someone's life was going to have to change, or their short-term marriage would be even shorter than he'd imagined. And for some reason, that thought made things worse. Now he was potentially screwing up Taylor's life.

“We'll talk about it later,” he assured her.

They parted with a few exchanged kisses, and then he watched Taylor as she walked down the path in the opposite direction of him. Even tired, there was a sweet little rolling motion in her stride that made him feel a surge of lust all over again. Whatever they had between them, there were no problems on the physical end at least.

It was just his head that had been messed up lately. He turned and went jogging again.

By the time he was done with his run, he was sweaty but still not settled. On his walk back to the hotel, he saw Rex sitting on the sidewalk, his plastic bag of stuff parked next to him. Loch paused. “Want lunch, mate?”

Rex squinted up at him, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Where we going?”

“You pick. I'm just here for the company.”

The older man snorted and got to his feet. “You must be pretty hard up if I'm the best you've got.”

They headed down to the same diner as before, and ordered the same things. This time, Loch knew better than to eat the greasy food, and simply picked at it. He'd give it to Rex when they were done, and besides, he wasn't all that hungry. “So I got engaged.”

“You did, huh? Should I give you congratulations?” Rex squirted a massive pile of ketchup onto his fries. “'Cause you don't seem all that happy.”

“She's great. I just . . . worry we're getting married for the wrong reasons.”

“Says every man with cold feet ever.”

Loch smiled. “I do suppose it's a bit like cold feet. I just worry that I'm using her.”

One of Rex's brows went up. “How so?”

“I'm fifth in line for the throne in my homeland and there's a small group of insurgents who don't like the idea that our princess married an American. So I figured if I married a very inappropriate American myself, I could take myself out of the running.”

“Ah. And your sweetheart, she's the inappropriate American?”

“Yes.”

“So you both went into it knowing that it was for business. What's the big deal?”

Loch was silent.

“So she doesn't know it was for business,” Rex guessed. “And that's what's bothering you.”

He nodded. “I do like her. She's smart, funny . . .”

“Good in the sack?” Rex guessed. “Else I suspect we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

He didn't answer that, though Rex wasn't wrong. “I feel like I should have said something, but now it's too late. Anything I try to say at this point to correct the matter will just make it seem worse. I know I'm going to hurt her, and that bothers me. It's the last thing I want.”

Rex shoved two ketchup-covered fries into his mouth and chewed noisily. “So don't tell her. Fuck her for a while, set up house, have some fun, and then get a divorce. She never needs to know the truth.”

That didn't sit well with Loch, either. “There's another problem—I don't plan on setting up house. I have a home back in my home country. I plan on returning there.”

“She invited?” Rex continued to eat between questions.

“If she wants to go. It hasn't come up in conversation.”

He grunted.

“The entire situation bothers me,” Loch admitted.

“Don't see why,” Rex said, then gestured at Loch's plate. “You going to eat that?”

Loch pushed the plate toward Rex. “What do you mean, you don't see why it bothers me?”

Rex picked up Loch's hamburger. He lifted it to his mouth, then paused. “Do you really want to know what I think, or are you just looking for sympathy and a pat on the back?”

“I really want to know what you think. Most people just tell me what they think I want to hear.”