The Engagement Game (Engaged to a Billionaire) (3 page)

"I guess I just have one question left then."

"Smooth sailing so far," he muttered.

"What do you do for a living?"

Jack's eyes drifted to the side.
 
No immediate response.

"I'm kind of in between projects right now," he finally answered.
 
I sighed, knowing what that
really
meant.
 
He was unemployed.
 
I looked down at his mud-stained shoes and spotted a small stain on his pants.
 
Red flag!

"Care to be more specific?"
 
Maybe if I gave him another chance to explain?

"It's a complicated situation at the moment."
 
Damn.

"Time's up."
 
I stood up, looking at the clock.

"Well," he smiled.
 
"When can I see you again?"

"Maybe another time," I let him down gently.
 
Jack frowned.

"I promise I -"

"I'm going to stop you right there," I interrupted.
 
"I'm not really looking for a relationship right now."
 
A lie.

"What about a good time?"

"I'm really late now, sorry."
 
Another lie.
 
My foot kicked a wall as I headed to the second floor.
 
I was starting to think the guy I was looking for didn't exist.
 
Holly and I had worked hard to find men who complied with
the rules
.
 
Holly had come close once.
 
Okay twice.
 
The score was zero to two - Holly.
 
I remember sifting through charts, trying to shake the deep blue of Jack's eyes from my memory.
 
It wasn't an easy task.
 
But after a run in with Dr. P, I was back to my usual self.
 
Boring, single, and dreading my thirtieth birthday even though it was over a year away.

I lightly knocked with as I opened a patient's door with a cup of meds in my hand.
 
It had been a long day already and all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch reruns of
Friends.

"Hello Earl," I greeted the elderly man in the hospital bed.
 
"I've got some medi . . ."
 
My eyes drifted to the corner of the room where a man sat wide-eyed.

"What was that dear?" Earl asked.

"Your medicine."
 
I handed him the cup and watched him swallow.

"Thank you," Earl replied.
 
I nervously swallowed as Jack watched me write in his father's chart.

"Kat," Jack finally spoke.

"You two know each other?"
 
Earl looked a little confused.
 
I looked in Jack's direction just as he winked.

"Nope," I blurted out.
 
Jack laughed.

"She turned me down Pops."

"Well good for you," Earl said, squeezing my arm.
 
I smiled.
 
"He can barely heat up a can of chicken noodle soup."
 
That was the very moment I knew I liked Earl and his blunt sense of humor.

I sit at the same table where Jack and I first met.
 
Jack glances around.

"I thought we were having coffee?"

"Look," I whisper.
 
"I'm just going to say it.
 
It doesn't look good."

"How bad is it?"
 
Jack's expression softens.
 
He leans in closer, waiting for an explanation.

"It spread."
 
I look down at the table as my heart pounds.
 
Pressure starts to build behind my eyeballs.
 
It was almost like delivering news to family.

"Like 'okay we can manage' spread, or 'start calling the family' spread?"
 
Jacks eyes glisten as he clasps his hands together.
 
He takes a breath, then his expression hardens.
 
"Well, we all knew this day would come.
 
I just didn't think it would be
today
."

"Jack-"

"It's okay," he continues.
 
"Thank you for telling me, Kat.
 
Pop looks forward to your visits.
 
You've been extremely kind to him all this time."
 
The pressure behind my eyes grows stronger.
 
Before I can bring myself to say something more reassuring, Jack gets up and drags his feet down the hall.
 
I wipe away a tiny tear that manages to escape.

I compose myself, speed walking out of the cafeteria . . .

"Kat?"

My eyes widen and my chest freezes.
 
Turns out Holly's prediction wasn't far off.

"Rex?
 
What are you doing here?"

"Dropping off a check," he shrugs.
 
He glances at my uniform with a surprised look on his face.
 
My mind wanders to our conversation the night before.
 
Charity thing.
 
Of course.
 
"So this is where you work."
 
He nods, walking closer.
 
He slips a hand in his suit pocket - a more casual looking suit but still a suit.

"Yep," I giggle.
 
"This is it."
 
Rex checks his Rolex.

"Well listen," he begins.
 
"My meeting tonight was canceled, what are you doing for dinner?"
 
I open my mouth but nothing comes out until I imagine myself in a tight dress and three inch heels.

"Just a date with leftover fettuccine," I joke.
 
Rex flashes a pearly white smile.
 
"But if something better came along . . ."

"Like fresh lobster tail that hasn't even been caught yet?"

"Like that," I agree.

"Perfect."
 
He pulls out his phone.
 
"What's your address?
 
I'll have a car pick you up at seven."
 
I bite the side of my cheek, a little embarrassed to give it to him.
 
I lived in a shack with a dirt floor compared to him.

"I'll meet you," I improvise.
 
"Your office is downtown I assume?"
 
Rex nods.

"Always full of surprises."
 

Chapter Three

"You won't believe what I'm doing right now," I beam over the phone.

"Getting ready for a date?" Holly suggests.

"Okay, maybe you
can
guess."
 
I stare at my reflection, adding another layer of peach lip gloss before realizing this was my fourth coat.
 
My caramel hair hangs past my shoulders in loose curls and my lids are a dark gray.
 
"What do you think?
 
Boob boosting dress I can't breath in or super tight jeans that make my bum look rounder than it really is?"

"That depends on where he's taking you," she responds.

"He didn't say.
 
He was wearing a suit when I saw him.
 
I don't know if he's going to show up casual or dressed like he does for work."

"What a second . . ."
 
Holly pauses.
 
Probably to carefully think of a compromise that was both formal and easy to move in.
 
"He showed up at the hospital?"
 
Or maybe not.

"Not to see me.
 
But he did see me . . . and ask me out."

"Wait, did he purposely come to see you or was it fate?"

"Fate," I admit.
 
I study my hair for the twelfth time before pacing back and forth in front of my two options.
 
One dress is ruby red and the other is an ocean blue.
 
My fingers touch the shiny fabric of the red dress.
 
I grip the phone tighter.
 
"Red or blue?"

"Louboutins."
 
Holly laughs.

"That doesn't help me.
 
Of course I'm going to wear my Louboutins."

"No, I mean
just
wear Louboutins."
 
She laughs again.

"It's not that kind of date, Holly."
 
If anyone were to show up at a man's door in nothing but expensive heels and a trench coat it would be Holly.

"Not yet."

"Don't you have a date of your
own
to worry about?"

"Uh," she sighs.
 
"Not until next week."
 
She always loathed admitting defeat.

"Hmmm.
 
Maybe you should take your own advice and show up in a trench coat."

"Nah," she jokes.
 
"That only worked the one time."
 
She giggles.
 
"He's a busy man.
 
A
very
busy man."

"Sounds like we need to have a chat.
 
Lunch tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but don't talk me into ordering tiramisu again.
 
Last time I was bloated all day."

"More for me," I reply.
 
"And you still haven't answered my question.
 
Red or blue?"

"A man would tell you red, but a woman would tell you blue."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of riddle?
 
It sucks."

"It's my answer."

"What would a
Holly
tell me?"

"Bag the billionaire, girl."
 
I hear her thumb through clothes in her closet.
 
"See you tomorrow.
 
I want
every
detail.
 
Even the dirty ones."
 
I roll my eyes but my hand moves to the red dress.

"I'll keep a journal."
 
I hang up and hold up my outfit for the evening - a ruby red dress that made it impossible for me to eat anything more than a few bites of salad.
 
I slide the dress over my head and hold my breath.
 
I dash to my full length mirror to make adjustments.
 
If only Holly and Leah could see me now.
 

I throw on my coat and grab my black Chanel bag - another item that Holly insisted I "invest" in.
 
All the way to my car my heart pounds and my throat dries up.
 
I take a few slow breaths to steady my heart rate.
 
Maybe I should've let his driver pick me up?

My car winds up and down the hills of downtown.
 
I can see the pier in the distance amidst an orange sky.
 
I look down at a crumbled piece of paper with the address, unable to concentrate as my stomach does somersaults.
 
I was there.
 
No more thinking.
 
No more strategizing.
 
I pull into a parking garage and stall as I pass a row of empty spots.

"He already likes you," I say out loud.
 
"You wouldn't be here if he wasn't into you . . . unless this is a pity date."
 
I gulp as I finally park my car.
 
"Stop it, Kat.
 
This
isn't
a pity date.
 
Just . . . do what Holly would do."
 
My brain jumps to the time Holly once danced on a bar our freshmen year of college just to get a guy and his trust fund buddy to look our way.
 
"Maybe not that ambitious."
 
My thoughts go fuzzy and I can barely think.
 
I wasn't good at this sort of thing.
 
Not naturally.

"Visualize it," I reassure myself.
 
In high school, Coach Simms made me close my eyes and imagine myself scoring a goal before every game.
 
It worked most of the time, but mostly because Chad used to shout my name from the bleachers.
 
He used to joke that he'd take me out for every goal I scored.
 
One particular game I scored four.
 
I paid for two of those dates and I'm pretty sure Chad's mom paid for the rest.
 
Why the hell did I waste my time with that guy?
 
Oh yeah . . . teenage hormones.

With a level head, I step out of my car.
 
I'd dressed the part, studied my prey, and worked out a strategy.
 
It was game time.

*          *          *

Rex's eyes can't hide his thoughts when I walk past his secretary and into his office.
 
Windows make up most of the walls and a pair of leather sofas sit on the sides of a mahogany coffee table.
 
Rex's workplace was definitely designed by a professional.
 
Unless Rex's hobby was interior design?
 
But I didn't know many straight men who could color coordinate their walls, art decor, and accessories so seamlessly.
 
I pretend to admire a giant porcelain vase in the corner because Rex can't stop staring.
 
My blood pumps like the night before.

"Wow."

"Thanks," I respond, knowing what he meant to say.
 
A subtle sigh of relief escapes my lips as I look at the tailored suit he wore earlier.
 
I made the right choice.

"You ready for dinner?"
 
He takes a few steps.
 
His eyes remind me of two chocolate kisses and his brunette hair looks perfect along with his opalescent smile.

"Of course."

He escorts me out of his office where his secretary hands him a bundle of envelopes.
 
There's a glisten of sweat on her bushy brow.
 
"Save them for the morning, Ellen."
 
She nods and adjusts her silver-framed glasses.
 
I see a sideways look in my direction so I pretend to be impressed that I was his for the evening.

Rex opens the door to a black Bentley with tinted windows.
 
I slide into the back seat and watch as his driver opens his
door on the other side.
 
My hand rests on the open seat between us, curious as to whether Rex would brush his hand against mine.
 
He does.
 
His warm hand lightly strokes the edge of my finger.

"You're going to love this," he grins.

"Really," I tease.
 
"Because you know so much about me, huh?"

"I did a background check."

"One that informed you of my favorites foods, movies, color, etc?"

"I'm a powerful man," Rex replies.
 
His casual chuckle eases the knot in my stomach.
 
I sneak another glance at the cocoa perfection surrounding his pupils.

"Where are you taking me then?
 
I'll tell you if you've made the right choice."

Rex looks intrigued as he processes my response - not the usual response he was used to hearing I'm sure.
 
The car stops at just the right moment and I'm escorted up the steps of a bustling restaurant occupying the space of what appears to be a historical seaside manor.
 
The house is spectacular with antique floors and a brilliant chandelier in the entryway.
 
I see a room full of quiet tables in a former study.

"Right this way sir," our hostess leads us up the stairs to a private room.
 
My eyes go wide when I see open french doors draped with silk curtains leading onto a candlelit terrace.
 
A table is waiting with two place settings and a vase of yellow tulips.

"So," Rex comments.
 
"Did I make the right choice?"
 
We are just in time to see the sun disappear from the clear summer sky.

"Yes."
 
I sit, adjusting the hem of my dress as drinks are being poured.
 
"This is . . . perfect."

"See," he replies, taking a sip of wine.
 
"Every once in awhile I get something right."
 
A waiter enters our private room and places a small salad plate in front of me.
 
I eagerly eye the sliced tomato and candied walnuts.
 
"I already arranged our meal.
 
I hope you don't mind."
 
Rex was charming, thoughtful, and sexy.
 
Of course I didn't mind.

"It's great," I answer.
 
"Thank you."
 
I place my napkin in my lap.
 
"So tell me Rex, what do you when you're not . . . I don't know . . . doing this?"

"Actually," he takes a bite of salad.
 
"I don't have much free time, believe it or not."

"I can imagine."

"I travel a lot."
 
He grins before taking another bite of salad.
 
"Not much time for a social life."

"I'm glad we ran into each other then," I quietly reply.

"So Kat . . ."
 
His eyes rest at the dimple on my right cheek.
 
"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"

"An interview," I laugh.
 
"I'm not sure I prepared for this."
 
Or have had enough wine for this.

"I'm serious," he casually comments.
 
"Let's jump right to the personal stuff.
 
I'm always on a time crunch, remember?"
 
I suddenly got nervous and wondered how much
jumping
he intended on doing.

"Well-"

"And don't just tell me what you think I want to to hear."
 
Dangerous request.
 
I didn't want to ruin my chances by blurting out that I wanted a husband.
 
A rich husband.
 
And a baby . . . or two . . . or three.

"Hmmm."
 
I stall as long as I can, popping a tomato into my mouth.
 
I came up with a quick solution that didn't involve pouring out my secrets to Mr. Right.
 
This was my first time being out on a date with a billionaire that was actually good-looking (great-looking).