BILLIONAIRE ANGEL (Point St. Claire, where true love finds a way)
Read BILLIONAIRE ANGEL (Point St. Claire, where true love finds a way) Online
Authors: Robyn Grady
Billionaire Angel
Book 2
Point St. Claire
ROMANCE Series
Point St. Claire...
where true love finds a way
© Robyn Grady 2016
HAT Rock Publishing
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relations whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Welcome to the world of
Point St. Claire!
This heart-warming town and its characters first came to life with
Her Mother’s Day Miracle
, one of five stories from The Holiday Baby Series. There was something so magical about the place, I just had to know more.
So I wrote
The Holiday Romance Series.
Cue the
billionaire best man
,
a
gorgeous doctor to the rescu
e
, one
high-flying lawyer with a tormented past
, as well as a
Halloween ghost story with a romantic Point St. Claire twist
.
Now, I’ve gone longer…deeper. Book 2 of the Point St. Claire Series,
Billionaire Angel,
is a romance with fun at its heart and unforgettable love on the line. If you enjoy the rollercoaster ride of a gripping mystery―if you want to cheer on a super-hot hero who deserves his own forgiveness as well as a woman who will challenge and support him―read on!
I hope you enjoy Jax Angel and Billy’s story. If you have time, please consider leaving a review.
Happy reading!
Robyn
@robyngrady (for Twitter)
―ORDER NOW―
Point St. Claire Series
where true love finds a way
Book 1
Point St. Claire Series
where true love finds a way
Book 3
Also available:
The Complete Holiday Baby Series
(av. 4.9 from 5 stars)
Robyn writing as Tabitha Robbins
including
The Bachelor’s Cottontail Bundle
The Billionaire’s Mistletoe Baby
The Complete Holiday Romance Series
One Small Town – Six Great Stories!
(av. 4.4 from 5 stars)
Featuring stories from Point St. Claire
including
(also available in The Holiday Baby Series)
Hers for the Summer
(
only available here
)
(also available in The Holiday Baby Series)
NEW!
Young Adult Anthology
including
Written in the Stars – Sara Hantz
Tangent – Maree Anderson
Live Fast, Die Young – Vanessa Barneveld
Raising Hell
– Robyn Grady
Dangerous Honesty – Ebony McKenna
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Table of Contents
“HEY, BUDDY
, wanna toss over a towel?”
Belinda Slade heard the man’s question. It needed an answer—called for some action. But, holy snap, that dude was
ripped.
Every time he moved, muscle and sinew flexed all over the place.
When Belinda rushed in here a minute ago, disguised as a waiter―fake moustache and all―she’d found him in that shower stall. Facing the wall, he’d been lathering up while belting out a song about being
gone in the morning
and
bats out of hell
. Then, strumming his six-pack like he was making love to an electric guitar, he’d swung around and everything else had zoned out.
But now the singing had stopped, the faucet was off and the dark-haired Adonis was studying her, his head angled and sharp blue eyes uncertain. He’d asked for help, so what was she waiting for?
Move it!
Belinda found a towel from a nearby laundered pile and handed it over. Stepping out from the stall, he swiped the towel down his curious face, around that delectable GI-Joe chest.
“You’re a waiter?” he asked.
Pressing the moustache firmly under her nose, Belinda―Billy to her friends―got back into character and lowered her voice. “Yes sir.”
“I don’t recognize you?”
“I’m, er, new at the club. Started today.”
When he ran a hand through his wet locks, that bicep bulged and Billy’s insides quivered. Was he doing all that eye-popping buff stuff on purpose?
“Try again,” he said. “I personally hire all my staff.”
Her jaw dropped. This guy
owned
the place?
The M Lodge was an exclusive gentleman’s club reserved for Portland’s elite. Earlier, when Billy Googled to find an address, she’d come across the owner’s name: Mr. Jax Angel. She’d imagined the boss as polished, stuffy. Gray at the temples. One foot in the grave. Not
this
man. Not his choice of song
or
the tattoo trailing over one shoulder—a serpent about to sink its fangs into a shiny red apple.
Way more bad boy than angel.
And he hired all his staff…
Billy found an excuse.
“I work casual, through an agency.” She shrugged like it was no big deal. “All I know is you guys were short on hands. I got a call.”
The man’s mouth curved with a knowing smile. “Really? You’re going with that?”
“I was finding my way around. I took a wrong turn.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Actually I need to get back.”
But as she set off, he growled, “Not so fast, sport.”
Her stomach dropped before she turned back around. “Something else I can get for you, boss?”
“Yeah.” He was rubbing the towel around one side of his neck. “I want the truth, and I want it now.”
Once, back in grade school, Billy was accused of cheating on a math test, of all things. Now she drew upon that memory—that sense of injustice. This minute, she
was
an unjustly accused waiter who had simply lost his way in a new environment, not an undercover actress in search of information and struggling with where to look next. This would be a lot easier if he covered up that snake.
Jax Angel wiggled a finger under his nose. “Ditch the fuzz hanging off your top lip and we’ll talk. Or, if you prefer, we’ll get some badges involved.”
Powerful legs braced, he crossed his arms over that beautiful bare chest. Message received.
No more games.
She tugged off the moustache and, winching, rubbed that tender strip of skin.
With a look that said,
Don’t panic
,
I won’t bite,
he
asked, “Now, what’s your name, son?”
“Belinda Slade.”
His eyebrows shot up. “
Belinda?
”
“I get Billy a lot. That’s a girl’s name, too, even if my sister says it’s―”
“
Whoa
. Hold on a minute. You’re a
girl
.”
Another woman might be insulted. Billy only felt a measure of pride. Not an Academy Award winning performance, but at least her costume was convincing.
After he promptly lashed that towel around his hips, his chest expanded on a big, patient breath.
“So, what are you doing here—aside from having a good, long perv?”
She practically spluttered.
Not fair
. “You were standing right in front of me, sudsing all the way up, rinsing all the way down—”
“Sign on the door says Men’s Locker Room.”
“Yeah…well…I missed that.”
“Do your parents know where you are?”
Setting her jaw, she dragged off her wig. As hair spilled out around her shoulders, she pulled off the waiter’s vest that was squashing her C-cup breasts. “Do I look like a twelve-year-old?”
He paused, cleared his throat then hitched a hip over the corner of a nearby timber table that was stacked with magazines and complementary toiletries. “Is this your way of asking for a job?”
“I already have a job.” And a college degree. She kept some small businesses’ books, but that wasn’t how she ever introduced herself. Billy lifted her chin. “I’m an actress.”
He arched a brow. “An actress, huh?”
“I’ve done commercials.”
“Such as?”
“You mean recently?”
“Uh-huh.”
“There was Dougie’s Dog Shampoo. Extra flea control. I’m the one on rollerblades being pulled by two cartoon otters—”
“I thought you said
dog
shampoo.” He held up both palms. “Forget it. I’ll get dressed and see you out before someone else comes in and freaks.”
To an outsider, this might seem like a desperate act. In truth she
was
a little desperate. She’d already tried the more conventional, legal means to sort her problem out. If she failed this time…
Billy squared her shoulders.
Not an option.
“Again―what are you doing here?” the man asked, crossing to a locker. “What, or who, are you after?”
“I’d rather not publicly say.”
“One, this isn’t exactly public. Two, you’re in no position to be pig-headed.” Opening a locker door, he flicked a look over his shoulder. “And, you never know. I might be able to help.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“It’s been a slow week.”
Not likely. But she had nothing to lose.
“I need to speak with Hector Garfield,” she said. “He’s a patron here.”
Crystal-blue eyes narrowed on hers. “I know who Hector Garfield is. Are you a disinherited granddaughter or something?”
“Never met him.”
“But you know he’s disgustingly wealthy?”
“Sure.”
“
And
already married.”
What?
No
. “I don’t want a sugar daddy. His wife has a ruby and pearl ring, hundreds of years old.”
“And?”
“And it belongs to me.”
As he slid two dynamite arms through the sleeves of a crisp, white button-down shirt, she read his eyes.
Now I know you’re nuts
. But he’d asked the question. Implied that he might be able to help. Now, damn it, he’d hear the rest.
“There was a French courtesan in the 18
th
century,” she said. “Her admirers showered her in gifts.”
He was buttoning the shirt, tail end first. “That’s…nice.”
“The courtesan is an ancestor of mine. The ruby ring was hers, handed down through generations via every second daughter. The courtesan was a second daughter, like me.”
Still listening, he grabbed a pair of black boxer briefs from the locker. With the towel still hanging on his hips, he stepped in, one long muscular leg then the other.
“I tried to contact Hector Garfield other ways,” she went on. “But his bodyguard’s a bulldog. I did some research, found out he was a member here. Tons of movies and plays have a woman dress up as a man to gain an edge. So I got a costume together and slid in back.”
He tossed the towel aside and stepped into black pants that fit so well―looked so hot―it was a crime. “Things didn’t go as planned, I presume.”
“I found Garfield sitting by himself, working his way through a document and a hand full of mints. But then one of your staff called me over. I ran down a corridor, in through the nearest door and, well…here I am.”
“How is Garfield supposed to have come by the ring?” he asked, finding a tie and sliding the strip of blue paisley through his upturned collar.
“It was stolen ten years ago.”
“Garfield’s not a thief. He’s rich enough to own Apple.”
“I never said he was a thief. I’m guessing it was sold on. I don’t know how many people think they’ve owned that ring since it vanished. When it went missing, we contacted the authorities. They came up empty-handed.”
Billy would never forget the time when her life was tossed upside down and dumped on its head twice in a matter of months. At first, she’d felt numb, and then ill. After that, she’d gotten stinking mad.
“Was the piece insured?” he asked, and she nodded. “Money collected?”
She hesitated and nodded again. “But I never gave up hope. Then, a few weeks back, I caught a picture of Garfield’s wife on the net. She was wearing my ring. I’d know it anywhere.”
“There’s a lot of jewelry out there.”
“Not like this. The ruby is surrounded by a special casing. A delicate wreath of gold wings.”
Jax Angel seemed to digest that before asking, “So, your plan is—what exactly?”
“Explain the situation to Garfield, and, ultimately, somehow, get my property back.”
“Any evidence to prove it’s yours?”
“A photo of my mother wearing it. The insurance papers.”
“Didn’t your mother suggest you contact the police again?”
“She passed away not long before the theft. The ring belongs to me now.” Billy lifted her chin. “Or it should. And I did go to the police. The sergeant took my details, but when I mentioned Judge Garfield’s name, he went white. I followed up and was told
nothing yet, be patient
. That was two months ago.”
When Jax Angel rubbed the back of his neck, the shirt strained across his power-house chest before he fetched a pair of polished lace-ups and sat on a bench. “It’s a decade old case.”
“With a fresh lead.”
“Which will probably go nowhere. There comes a time when it’s wiser to walk away.”
Her mouth tightened, hands clenched. “You mean no one wants to annoy one of the State’s richest men, a retired judge, because of some crackpot’s claim.” She edged forward. “But you said you’d help.”
“I said I
might
help.”
“You could ask Garfield about the ring for me.”
Looking amused, he set the shoes on the floor and then lifted his square-angled jaw to finish straightening his tie.
“A couple of quick questions, that’s all,” she went on, really liking the idea. “Where and when his wife came by the ring. I can take it from there.”
He grunted. “Sorry. That ain’t gonna happen.”
“But if you think about it―”
“I said
no
.”
Billy paused then drew in a long, deep, purposeful breath. “Then it’s back to plan A. I’ll find some way to find out myself.”
“Not here. Not on my watch. Stick with the police. Trust me, you need to leave these kinds of problems to the grown-ups.”
She bristled, set her teeth. “Did you say
grown-ups
?”
“I mean people who have experience in investigating criminal activity—or should I say
alleged criminal acts
. If a valuable item was lifted, chances are there’s a potentially dangerous element involved somewhere along the line. Do you own a firearm?
Her head went back. “
Ewww
.”
Straightening, he slapped his thighs as if that sealed it. “It’s tough enough when you’re trained.”
When he pushed to his feet and crossed over to join her, she saw empathy shine in his eyes. Except, this man could
never
walk in her shoes. Billy had grown up in Point St. Claire, a quiet close-knit town a little north of here. Her mother had been a single parent who cleaned offices in the evenings, so Billy and her older sister Ann had spent most nights alone in their two-bedroom ranch-style home. That heirloom had been their only valuable possession, and yet no matter how tough times had gotten, the ring was never pawned. Her mother had said it wasn’t hers to sell.
Before her mom had died, she had squeezed Billy’s hand and asked of her just two things: follow her dreams, and
never ever
surrender that ring. But within weeks of the mother’s death, the ring had vanished.
