Page 41 of The Billionaire Experience

“So my guest bed rivals Kelly’s couch?”

“Definitely. I love Kelly but she’s going through it right now with her ex-husband. She can be…a lot.”

“Those transitional times are hard. You’re in one, you know. I would think you’d have a lot to commiserate with when it came to relationships. Wasn’t your ex a dick?” It was more of a hope than an actual question. Not that he liked the idea of Reagan dating a jerk, but from a purely selfish standpoint he’d like to hear about how he’d one-upped that loser.

“He was a nice guy.”

Brody pulled a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. “Nice guys are as boring as plain white toast.”

“Are you saying you’re not nice?”

“I’m saying that when a woman describes a guy as ‘nice,’ it usually means he didn’t know how to please her.” He waved the egg carton. “And they usually mean that in more than one way.”

She opened her mouth but closed it again, unable to argue with his logic. Intuitively he’d known that her former boyfriend had been a dry-as-toast, disconnected loser who hadn’t given her what she needed or deserved—in the bedroom and out.

“Lucky for you, I know how to please a woman in myriad ways.” He gave her a cheesy wink. “Ready for your world-famous Bromelet?”

“Did you just say Bromelet?”

“It’s my signature dish.”

“As tempting as it is to?—”

“Be pleased by me?” he interrupted, hoping to change her mind. The word no was speeding at him faster than a bullet train. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had my omelet.”

“Thanks, but I should get going.” Her gaze darted to the front door. “I have to swing by the apartment and change. If I have clean laundry. Then there’s the grocery, the bank, and I need to stop by the post office to check my PO box.”

“A simple no thanks will suffice.” He offered a smile, slighted by the list of excuses. “It’s not a requirement to stay for breakfast.”

“What if I come by later to work on the shelves in the closet?”

“You make your own schedule.”

“I would stay, but I also need to pick up some paint, and?—”

“Reagan.” He touched her arm lightly. “It’s fine.”

“I promise to return your socks.”

This was beginning to feel like a bad one-night stand without the sex. He kissed her forehead. “See you later. Keep the socks.”

Her throat worked when he backed away. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d taken a lingering look at his mouth. His gaze dipped to her lips, but the moment he lowered his head a fraction of an inch, she muttered a hasty goodbye and then bolted out the front door.

“Something I said?” he muttered to himself. He cracked a few eggs into a bowl. “Omelet for one, I guess.”

Then the front door opened, and he felt a smile crest his mouth. “Change your mind? Can’t blame you. I make…” When he looked toward the doorway, his smile fell. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Jaylyn dropped her purse on the kitchen table. “Your handywoman practically bowled me over in her haste to leave. What’d you do?”

“Offered her breakfast. She said no.”

“She turned down a Bromelet?”

He was somewhat mollified by the disbelief in his sister’s voice. “She had to run errands and didn’t have time to eat.”

“She stayed here?” Jaylyn came closer to the stove as he fired up a burner and set a pan on to heat.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. She left something behind and came to pick it up. By then she was too tired to drive, so I offered her the guest room.”

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