Page 8 of The Billionaire's Desire

Jacob was watching me, his tanned skin golden against the crisp white shirt he donned.

“You look amazing.”

He was just leaning against the counter, but somehow he turned it into foreplay. His firm body drew the eye, first to his chest, then down to his crotch where I found myself wondering if we had time for a quickie.

When my eyes darted back up, remembering myself, it was too late. His smirk said he knew exactly where my head was--firmly in the gutter.

I took another long gulp, shying away from him and turning bright red. “So Megan and the ‘rents will be here soon.”

My body tingled with glee when he wrapped his arms around my waist, taking the glass and putting it back on the counter. “I don’t think that’s what you really want to talk about.”

My eyes darted to the dining room entryway where I saw Clarissa sweeping back and forth, rearranging things. “You really think now is the time for this?”

“You tell me,” he whispered seductively. “Tell me you’re not wet at the thought of us going to the bedroom right now.” His lips brushed my ear. “Or maybe we could get a little creative right here.” His hands careened down to where I was throbbing, cupping me through my slinky black number. I was seriously considering doing something that would definitely put a kink in the dinner plans.

The elevator dinged and I let out a hiss of simultaneous relief and annoyance.

“Saved by the bell,” Jacob murmured, releasing me reluctantly.

I spun around and pecked him on the cheek while flipping the tables and pressing my hips into him and watching his eyes smolder. “Until later.”

I sauntered to the elevator, still tingling with a grin slathered on my face. I heard Megan’s familiar tone and rubbed my hands together excitedly. The doors separated and she stepped out, mirroring my joy.

I opened my arms. “Meg! It’s so good to see...” I didn’t finish, my smile creeping downward when I saw she wasn’t alone. It didn’t have anything to do with some weird bff, territorial thing. It was more my brain slowly registering who the guy was. The cropped gold and brown hair. The chiseled jaw, the mouth accentuated by a goatee. The sea foam green eyes. She’d spoke of him, usually after one drink too many or after she claimed that he was a ‘type’ and that was the reason she and Cade would never happen. This guy with the smug grin on his face was the man that she fell for so hard that she related to the kids that doodled hearts in the margins of their notebook.

Mark Winters. The PE teacher that broke her heart.

Megan noticed my snarl and gave me a glare that I flat out ignored.

“Leila, this is Mark.”

I just burned a hole right through him, taking the Colgate, ‘ain’t I fine’ curve of his lips, balled it up and spat it out. I didn’t say a word to him for two reasons. One, I had my bestie’s back...and from the things she told me about how he ogled anything that twitched her hips even after she told him about her trust issues, he was the kind of guy that mother’s warned their daughter’s about. Bad news. Gorgeous eyes, bodies that didn’t quit and tongues that only knew how to lie. So I was SO not gonna be fake and play buddy-buddy with this guy.

And two, just what was Megan thinking bringing him to my engagement dinner? This obnoxious guy who obviously spat on fidelity was her date to a celebration of me and Jacob devoting ourselves to each other? I was flabbergasted.

But Megan was the one looking at me like she was confused. “You remember Mark, right?”

“Oh yes,” I said roughly. I snatched the bottle of wine he was holding out as a peace offering, going back and forth between cracking him over the head with it and using it to knock some sense into my friend.

As if Jacob could sense something was about to go down, he appeared at my elbow, easing the bottle from my grip. “It’s always good to see you, Megan.” He shook Mark’s hand. “Why don’t I show you around while they catch up?”

Mark leapt at the opportunity, oblivious to why I wanted nothing to do with him but conceding the fact that things were dicey at best.

As soon as Jacob wheeled him to the next room I turned to my amnesiac friend. “What’s going on Meg?”

“What do you...?” She frowned then let out a clipped laugh. “OH. You mean Mark.”

“Yes, I mean Mark,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “Mark that you work with. Mark the Woman Eater. Mark that’s a spitting image of your ex in every douchey way.”

She dropped the act almost instantly. I hated invoking the ex-boyfriend card, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Is this about Cade?” I grilled.

“What?” she snorted. “What does that have to do with Cade?”

“You told me he’s been calling. And you claim you don’t like him.”

“And I don’t,” she reaffirmed brusquely, her fair skin turning redder by the second. “Which is why I’m here with Mark.”

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