Page 5 of The Billionaire's Princess

“Bye,”I repeat.

More laughter at my expense, followed by good-natured waves as they head back to their table, leaving me alone with Carly and a pounding heart.

She raises a brow at me. Represses a grin under the guise of pursing her lips. “Where’s my drink? I was promised a dirty martini.”

“I was promised a dirty martini,” I say, signaling for the server to bring us two more.

“Your brothers seem quite lovely.”

“They’re a nightmare.” I throw in a dramatic shudder just to make sure there’s no further question of her taking off with one of them. “Between the nose picking and the bedwetting, they’ve disgraced the family a thousand times over.”

She laughs again, this time a full-throated edition that engages her sparkling eyes and dimples.

I watch greedily, trying to remember that this is not my first smile, laugh, flirtation, woman or, God willing, hookup. But feeling my skin sizzle as I try to dial back my excitement, it sure feels like it.

“Christ,” I mutter, shaking my head at myself and ruffling my hair with both hands.

She looks bemused. “What?”

I tell myself to slow it down. But the words pour out, unstoppable.

“I’ve been dying to make you laugh. I thought I could handle it. But that’s not a normal laugh. It’s been spiked or something. It went straight to my head.”

She doesn’t know what to make of me. I can tell by the vague frown between her brows and the way she chooses her words.

“Don’t bother flirting with me, sir. I already told you it won’t work.”

“You said something about not fucking me tonight,” I say, shrugging. “Neither one of us believed it at the time. Still don’t, as a matter of fact.”

She glares at me, oblivious to the server as he drops off our drinks and fades into the woodwork.

“You’re a cheeky prick, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” I assure her.

“And why would I waste my time with such an arrogant arse, pray tell?” she demands.

I lean closer, dying to touch her as I rest my elbows on the table.

“Careful,” I say, giving her a pointed once-over that lingers on her eyes, lips and cleavage. “You’re going to want me inside you before the night’s over. Don’t make it too hard to get yourself back on the playing field.”

She makes an outraged sound, her face flooding with color. But before she can let me have it with both barrels, as she clearly intends to do, her phone buzzes on the table. Lobbing a final glare in my direction, she checks the display and scowls.

“Well, this is brilliant,” she says. “Now my friend Michele’s gone and canceled on me.”

“Works for me,” I say with a cheery toast.

“I’ll just bet it does.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I had nothing to do with her not coming.” I pause to reconsider. “Other than hoping and wishing for it.”

She rolls her eyes, unable to entirely quash her amusement. That’s about the time that the pianist ends his solo set and a new performer takes the mic, introduces herself and launches into a tender and plaintive rendition of “Since I Fell for You.” The one thing the setting needs to become even more spellbinding than it already is. I watch her sing the opening few notes, then turn back to Carly.

She levels her gaze on my face. Steady. Smoldering. Expectant.

Honest to God, it’s all I can do to think a coherent thought when she looks at me like that.

I open my mouth, my voice on a three-second delay.

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