The Billionaire Bad Boys Club (14 page)

Not in practice
sounded like Rebecca wouldn’t be his usual speedy catch-and-release conquest. But maybe that was all right. He hadn’t lied to Trey the other night. He was tired of chasing females, only to leave them by the roadside. Admittedly, if this one let him bed her right away, he wouldn’t turn her down, but maybe actually talking to a woman on a date, with no expectations beyond that, wouldn’t be awful. He could relax and let her relax too. If she were as tightly wound as today’s exchange suggested, she needed it.

~

Like his CFO, Zane Alexander packed an extra punch in person. For one thing, he was plain old big—6’4” or 5” with muscle packed onto his muscle and shoulders she was certain could still play quarterback. Staring at him from her height-challenged state easily could have overwhelmed her.

Rebecca was fortunate she was ballsier than she looked.

Her hormones had a harder time digging in their heels. He was a hunk and a half. Great body. Great face. Killer smile and blue eyes. If Trey was quirkily good-looking, Zane was flat out handsome. His hair was a thick sandy color, expertly styled to create a just-rolled-out-of-bed, finger-combed casualness. He wore the same uniform as the rest of the magazine staff: straight-legged jeans topped by a short sleeve Henley with the
Bad Boys
logo on the left breast. No one looked bad in it, but as he leaned forward over his knees on that willow-shaded bench—the better to meet her gaze—he was drool worthy.

The gray waffle cotton hugged his torso lovingly. Even the sweat marks beneath his arms didn’t lessen his sexiness. From where she sat, his body’s reaction to the August heat just made him smell better. He and Trey both had good taste in cologne.

The fact that Zane had asked her out—and that she’d accepted—somewhat astonished her.

Should she have said
yes?
Would having dinner with him create more complications between her and Trey? Not that there necessarily was anything between them apart from a work relationship. They’d both agreed their hot-as-Hades indiscretion in the Bad Boys kitchen shouldn’t be repeated.

Crap
, Rebecca thought, her insides melting like flambé—both for the hunk in front of her and the one she’d just remembered. A bead of sweat rolled down the small of her back. Could a woman cream through a pair of panties
and
blue jeans? That would be embarrassing.

“Rebecca?” Zane said like he was about to laugh. The back of one big knuckle brushed the side of her leg. It was a light touch, really, but it raised a pulsing tingle inside her clit.

“What?” she asked, aware she’d missed something.

“Is tonight okay for dinner? I could pick you up around six.”

He could pick her up, and they’d sit across from each other at an intimate table. She’d stare at that full-lipped mouth, watching it grin, watching it eat, wondering how it would feel eating her . . .

“Tonight is fine,” she said, slightly strangled. She didn’t have to sleep with him. Probably he wouldn’t want to once he realized what an oddball she was. She’d wrestle her hormones into submission. Rebecca was no stranger to self-control.

“Good,” he said, smiling at her and giving her thigh a pat.

That settled, he sat back and rolled his big shoulders. The way this shifted his chest muscles fascinated her. Despite his magazine-perfect grooming, he seemed as much animal as man. Rebecca truly couldn’t look away. He didn’t appear to have the same problem.

“Ah,” he said, his gaze directed toward the lagoon and the photo shoot. “Here are your brothers now.”

Rebecca jerked her much too X-rated attention away from him. Her brothers were indeed coming over. For some reason, the twins were dripping from head to toe. They’d been supplied with Bad Boy brand robes to wrap over their skimpy Speedos. Soaked state aside, they looked happy.

“Hey, Becca,” Pete greeted her. “Hello, Mr. Alexander. We were going to introduce you two, but I guess you took care of it yourselves.”

Rebecca’s head had a lot going on in it right then. Nonetheless, a light bulb did turn on. This whole thing—Pete’s claim that Charlie needed his meds, asking that she not change out of her snug old jeans—was the boys’ idea of a fix-up.

“Glad you’re feeling all right,” she said dryly to Charlie.

“Oh sure,” he said. “I don’t mind being tossed overboard with Pete. The other guys were only horsing around.”

“I meant you’ve recovered from your anxiety attack.”

Her slightly younger little brother had sufficient conscience to blush. “Oh. Um, that was a false alarm. Caroline didn’t show up after all.”

“That’s too bad.” Rebecca ladled on the sympathy. “Why don’t you invite her for Sunday dinner? I’ll meet her then.”

“Uh,” Charlie stammered. “I don’t— She might—”

Pete covered his snickers with his hand.

“I haven’t decided how to pay you back yet,” she warned him.

“Pay me back for what?” Pete said with his sweetest smile.

Zane stopped her answer by rising. “I see you’ve got family stuff to talk about. Go ahead and take a break, boys. I’ll see
you
—” he pinned Rebecca with a sexy smile “—around six o’clock tonight.”

“He’ll see you?” Pete repeated as soon as Zane was out of earshot. “He asked you out already?”

He seemed both delighted and surprised.

“That’s quick work,” Charlie said in a similar tone.

She wasn’t mad enough to scold them. The flattering aspects of having a date with a guy like Zane were making her giddy. On principle, she pretended to be annoyed.

“You two,” she said, “are lucky you’re too old to be grounded.”

~

The photo shoot was duller after Rebecca left, but Zane stayed until the end. Rebecca’s brothers waved goodbye to him as they straggled off with the others. Their gawky man-boyishness amused him, while their innate niceness reminded him of their big sister. She flitted in and out of his thoughts as he returned to TBBC’s headquarters. Work reclaimed his attention there, mostly. He had one meeting, two calls, and a boring report to review. To lessen the drudgery of that, he read the document on his tablet between showering and changing for dinner. Spending long hours at the office made it handy for him and Trey to share a trio of rooms behind their offices. They had a full bath, a walk-in wardrobe, and a quiet space with a napping couch.

Trey came into the bathroom as Zane scraped five o’clock shadow from his cheeks. Stubble didn’t suit him like it did Trey.

“Going out?” Trey asked, sounding a bit surprised.

Zane rinsed the razor under the tap. “Yes. With the older sister of some kids who were in the shoot today.”

Trey leaned against the doorway. “Pretty?”

“Yes.” He started on the other side. Part of him suspected he ought to tell Trey his date was Rebecca. She was his employee, and he might worry Zane would mess that up. The thing was, Zane didn’t want to be told to watch his step with her. The chances they’d have a second date were small—or that this one would go so badly she’d feel a need to flee the state. In any case, Trey hadn’t told Zane he’d hired her. Maybe Zane was being stubborn, but he shouldn’t have to get Trey’s approval.

“Missed a spot,” Trey said, taking the razor from him. He tipped Zane’s chin sideways with his fingers, dragging the blade carefully up his throat. His touch was pleasant and familiar, creating a heaviness in Zane’s groin that wasn’t quite an erection. Finished, Trey set down the razor and smiled at him. “Now you’re perfect.”

His green-gold eyes were fond. Emotion rose inside Zane, strong as a summer storm. “You’re perfect,” he said back.

Trey laughed and kissed his cheek. “You have your car, right? I can take the limo home without you?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’ll be home too late. This woman is no sure thing.”

He spoke without considering how the claim would sound. Trey lifted his dark brows. “Not losing your touch, are you?”

“Doubt it.” Zane grinned even as a prick of guilt for holding back information urged him to be honest. “This one is nice to talk to is all. We had some common ground.”

“Well, good,” Trey said, but as if he wasn’t sure it was. He hesitated. “Have a good time.”

He left before Zane could figure out how to close the odd little distance that had opened between them. He shrugged as Trey shut the mini-apartment’s outer door. He probably shouldn’t worry. He and Trey were solid. Nothing stayed off between them long.

~

By the time her cheap bedside clock ticked to six, Rebecca was ready to admit her brothers were right about her wardrobe. She had nothing date-appropriate to wear—not her work clothes, not her jeans, not her suddenly sorry-seeming beige shirtwaist dress.

It was just her luck that the doorbell rang while she was in it.

“Screw it,” she said to her reflection. She’d showered and shaved her legs and slapped on both lipstick and mascara. This was as good as she got. If Zane Alexander didn’t like it, she couldn’t help that now.

When she opened the door, the warmth of his smile nearly wiped out her nervousness.

“You look so nice!” she exclaimed, unable to hold it in. He was wearing pale linen trousers with a thin designer-y black T-shirt. His narrow leather belt probably cost more than her dress, and never mind his sharp-looking shoes.

“Thank you.” He bent to kiss her cheek, wafting the scent of soap and cologne over her. “You look pretty nice yourself.”

“Ugh,” she said, at which he raised his brows. “All right, I’m supposed thank people for compliments, but I know you’re lying. I’m afraid this is the only dress I own.”

“You could have worn jeans.”

“I considered them, believe me. This is what I was in when the doorbell rang.”

He laughed, seeming to enjoy her neurotic honesty. “I could mention that, to me, you’d look good in a sack.”

“Hm.” She gazed at him sidelong. “You’re pretty good at this lying thing.”

He laughed at that too, further lightening her mood. With a flair she couldn’t help but appreciate, he presented her with a bent elbow. “Ready to go?”

Sliding her arm into the crook of his was a pleasure she wasn’t prepared for. His skin was warm, his golden body hair like silk. Her arm was bare against both. She shivered, and then he did, and then he laughed again.

“See,” he teased. “You don’t need fancy dresses to get to me.”

Rebecca didn’t know if their destination was his original choice, or if he’d switched gears to make her more comfortable. Whichever it was, he took her to The Cellar Pub, a local hole in the wall that offered a dizzying array of craft beers and burgers.

“This okay?” he asked as she scanned the menu posted outside the entrance.

“Perfect,” she said, only to be surprised by how genuinely pleased his smile of response was.

The place was crowded with young people—
of which you are one
, she reminded herself. Zane got them a booth in a back corner. Rebecca decided he was one of those people who felt at home anywhere. Like a big slouchy cat, he relaxed against the seat, arm stretched along the back and knees sprawled casually. Rebecca wished she could imitate him. Her limbs all felt as stiff as pokers.

When the waitress came, he convinced her to bring them a tray of small samples for the beers. “With labels,” he said, slipping a folded hundred into her hand. “I know it’s a hassle, but we’d really be grateful.”

“How did you know I wanted to do that?” Rebecca asked.

“Just a guess,” he said, pleased again. “Chefs like to taste things, don’t they?”

“They do,” she said, pleased with him as well.

By the sixth tasting sample, Rebecca’s neck unkinked.

“So . . .” Zane said on a teasing note. “What’s the story about that dress?”

“Oh God.”

“I told you I didn’t mind but, seriously, only one? What do you wear on dates? And don’t tell me you never go, because you’re too pretty.”

“I guess I don’t go on date-y dates.”

Zane put his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. He was silently—and grinningly—inviting her to go on.

“Oh fine. I feel most comfortable in work clothes. My closet is full of black trousers and button-up white shirts.”

She turned the shot glass she was currently sampling from in a circle. Zane reached lazily out and covered her hand with his. His touch stilled more than her fingers. She could actually feel her pulse slow. “Why do you feel most comfortable in work clothes?”

“You don’t really want to know that.”

“Yes I do.” His thumb rubbed the side of hers, stirring hot sensations his knowing eyes seemed completely aware of. Rebecca tensed her thighs. “Does it have to do with raising your brothers?”

She sat back but left her hand where it was, under his. “Work didn’t just save us,” she admitted. “It saved me. I’d lost my mom. My dad had walked out.” She grimaced, but let the memory go. “I needed something to keep me from constantly worrying. I could cook, and restaurants aren’t always fussy about who they hire. I made money to cover bills, and I found a calling. Putting on my chef’s whites is my idea of dress up.”

He took that in, his blue eyes steady and quiet.

“Tell me about you,” she said.

The waitress returned with their loaded burgers. They were delicious, charred and juicy and rare on the inside. Good though they were, Rebecca wasn’t going to let a little thing like eating get him off the hook.

“Tell me about you,” she insisted.

“That’s a long and unsavory tale.”

“So?” she said around a bite of red meat.

He thought for a moment. He was such a charmer, he must have a standard answer, one that would relay amusing and evasive truths. Rebecca hoped that wasn’t the answer she’d get. He set down his burger and faced her.

“My father used to beat me.”

That she wasn’t expecting. “Like . . . as a regular thing?”

“Once a week, I’d say. Depending on how much he was drinking and if I ‘made’ him lose his temper. Starting when I was ten or so.”

“And your Mom?”

“She wasn’t in the picture. She ran off with the Mattress King, ironically enough.”

“The Mattress King?”

“He owned a warehouse store in Trenton. Wore a bad toupee and ran loud commercials on late night TV. We lived in a small town. My father didn’t much like having been thrown over for a bad joke.”