Page 15 of The Billionaire Experience

“Is it?”

He became momentarily distracted by her mouth—the perfect full bottom lip, the delicate cupid’s bow on the top. “A bulky guy named Tony shows up to repair whatever has busted in my penthouse.”

“Where’s your penthouse?”

“Manhattan.”

She hummed noncommittally and continued into the basement. He presumed that she presumed he had a lot of money. Maybe that was why she’d pointed out every minor thing needing fixing.

These light switches are installed backward. Up is off and down is on.

This ceiling fan takes a specialty bulb they don’t make any longer.

This vent grate is stuck. Replacing it would let in a lot more A/C in the summer.

She’d tapped the grate with the toe of one Converse, and he’d bent down to test it. It hadn’t budged. How had she known it was stuck just by looking?

As she’d continued down her list of things that could use some TLC, he’d grown more and more overwhelmed. He hadn’t intended on a full handyman schedule alongside the taxing work of drafting a book.

“You have concrete walls down here.” Reagan slapped a gray wall with the flat of one palm. “This basement is drafty in the winter. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to insulate and drywall.”

“Hopefully I won’t be here by then.” Brody scratched his cheek, wondering again if Reagan was arbitrarily running up the bill. “I’m writing a book. When it’s done, so am I.”

She didn’t appear surprised or impressed, which was usually one of the two reactions he received.

“Do you live nearby, Reagan of Reagan’s Repairs?” She had no problem prying into his life, so he saw no reason not to return the favor.

“I’m in between residences at the moment. I’m staying with a friend.”

Guy friend or girl friend, he immediately wondered. What was her story? He wasn’t typically this inquisitive upon first meeting a woman, but then again, the women he met were busy interviewing him. Not that he was famous, but at the upper-crust cocktail parties he attended, his agent swept him through the room on a wave of trumped-up introductions. Reagan didn’t seem impressed by him, which might have been what he liked most about her so far.

“If you decide to go with the drywall idea, you could split this space into bedrooms. That would make it more appealing for new buyers.” She rubbed the wall again, almost lost in thought when she said, “I always liked the idea of an office with an attached workshop down here.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d referred to his house like she’d been in it before. A detail he’d noticed in the short time they’d spent together.

She sucked in a breath that lifted small shoulders. His gaze ricocheted from her flooring green eyes to the fingertips gingerly touching her parted lips.

“So.” He snapped out of his stupor to ask, “How about that beer?

CHAPTER FIVE

Reagan grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge in the garage, smiling to herself as she leaned into the familiar appliance. Ike had kept this fridge stocked, not only with beer but also with confections he’d picked up at the bakery. Cheesecake, birthday cake, donuts…the man had a sweet tooth, and she had taken over lecturing him about it after Grandma Betty died.

Alberto had stopped using the chainsaw some time ago. When she stepped into the house from the side door, Brody was paying him using an app on his phone. Which reminded her that she’d forgotten to transfer her credit card payments into her bank account this week. Dustin had lectured her about setting up an automatic transfer, but she’d been too busy to look into it. She made a mental note to finally scratch that off her list.

Once Alberto left, Brody nodded at the beers in her hand. “You’re supposed to let me serve you, not the other way around.”

“You were busy.” She handed over one of the uncapped bottles.

“Glass?”

She tipped the bottle to her lips and drank down an ice-cold sip. It tasted absolutely delicious. “No, thanks.”

His smile did that sideways tip thing it’d done earlier. The same one that had warmed her cheeks and caused parts of her to tingle. She turned for the front door to escape the assault of his…well, everything. “We should sit outside.”

“Not too cool for you?”

“The sun’s out. I’d hate to miss a second of that.” Especially during the normally gray spring.

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