Page 5 of The Billionaire and the Virgin

Finally.

Rob flexed his arm and stood up. He felt achy all over, and his head throbbed. His throat felt like hell and he wanted a drink. But more than that, he wanted to find his rescuer. The polka-dot girl. Right now, she was his obsession. Because when Rob Cannon had an obsession, he clung to it like a dog with a bone, until things worked out in his favor.

And they always worked out in his favor.

***

By mid-afternoon, Rob had sent all three of his assistants away from working on ratings numbers and instead people-watching at various locations at the resort, looking for the girl he’d described. One was staked out on the beach, one at the bar, and one at the pool. No one spotted her, and it pissed him off. Either they were incompetent, or she’d disappeared. He refused to entertain that thought. Shewouldbe found. He always got what he wanted, and right now he wanted her.

But all afternoon, no sightings turned up, and in frustration, Rob decided to head to the hotel bar himself that night. She was bound to come down for a drink at some point, right? Most of the women at the resort treated the all-expenses-paid bar as an excuse to get plastered on a nightly basis. Surely she’d at least swing down for a mai tai or a piña colada. Then he could thank her for saving his life, find out what it took to get her in his bed, and get her out of his mind so he could go back to work with his head clear and his dick serviced.

So he sat at the bar in the perfect spot to watch the door, ran up a tab on good Scotch, and got progressively more annoyed. Where was this woman? He hadn’t imagined her. If he’d imagined her, she’d have been enormously endowed and not wearing polka-dots, that was for damn sure.

Rob was so lost in thoughts of his mystery girl that he did a double take when the tall man in the expensive suit walked into the bar, looked around, and then headed in his direction.Well, well, well.Rob tossed back his Scotch and stood up, extending his hand as he approached. “If it isn’t Logan Hawkings. Fancy meeting you here.”

Logan took one look at Rob’s extended hand, and then gave him a withering glance.

Well, if this wasn’t a fucking grand start, he didn’t know what was. Rob kept the smile on his face and put his hand down. He’d keep his cool, even if right now he wanted to punch someone. He needed Logan, whether he liked it or not. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

The cold man in the business suit eyed Rob’s Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, and the drink in his hand. “Security alerted me to the fact that you were here.”

“Gotta love security.” He raised his glass in a mock toast.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why you’ve chosen to lurk at my resort this week?” He sounded pissy as fuck to Rob’s ears.

Lurking, eh? Fuck you too, buddy. “Little birdie in New York told me you’d be here, and I thought I’d come say hello, since you won’t return my calls.”

“I imagine there’s a reason for that.” His hands remained in his pockets, his expression unfriendly.

This didn’t deter Rob. He was used to people icing him out because of who he was and what he produced, but damn it, there was a market there and he’d be an idiot to let opportunity go by. So his “Man Channel” was full of ridiculous game shows and lots of tits? That was what men liked, and the ratings proved it. Before The Man Channel had even been on the air for five years, he had three additional spin-off channels, a few On-Demand channels, and a robust business online with interrelated sites. Business was booming. He’d made billions off of peddling the right product to the right people.

But now that he had money and success, he wanted credibility. And that was the one thing he couldn’t get on his own. Which was why he needed Logan Hawkings. People respected him. He’d been inTime,Forbes,Newsweek, and countless other magazines, as a businessman to watch.

The only rags that Rob made were tabloids. They loved to run stories about which down-on-her-luck boozy actress he was fucking (he wasn’t), which coke-fueled orgy someone had seen him exiting (he didn’t do drugs), and anything else they could come up with. Normally, he let that shit stand because even bad publicity was publicity.

But now that he wanted to bring investors in on a new project? It was working against him.

“I’m telling you,” Rob said, his tone easy. It didn’t give a hint of the frustration he felt at Logan’s stonewall. “I have a business proposition that can make both of us real money if you’d just talk to me.”

“And I’m telling you,” Logan said in that cold, cold voice. “That I don’t like you here this week. The paparazzi follow you like bitches in heat.”

Well, that they did. “Don’t worry. Your ass is too boring for them most of the time.”

The look Logan gave him could have shriveled dicks from a mile away. He moved closer to Rob, and his voice lowered to an angry hiss. “I am getting married this week, and the last thing I want is a bunch of paparazzi mucking up the works. My bride has worked very hard to ensure that everything in this wedding goes off exactly how she wants it to, and I’ll be damned if you show up and ruin this for her. Do you understand me?”

Married? Well, that explained the growly bear act. Rob put on his most charming smile. “Congrats, man. Can I buy you a drink?”

“You can leave the premises.”

“Now, that would be a shame. I’d have to tell all the paps why I’m leaving, and wouldn’t they like to know?” Rob’s smile remained easy despite the menace he was throwing down. “I’d hate to give them fuel to stick around.”

Logan’s glare got colder.

“Congratulations on the wedding, though. I’d love to be invited.”

“You’re not invited.”

“Too bad. I’ll settle for a business meeting with you. Just a half hour of your time. I promise it’s worthwhile.”

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