Page 3 of The Playboy Billionaire

Only this time, her smile remains, her eyes twinkling.

My intrigue grows.

Who is this woman?

It’s been a long time since I spoke to anyone who isn’t in awe of my last name. Is it possible, or could this be an act?

“Are you drinking alone?”

“I’m waiting for friends,” she explains, as her phone pings on the bar in front of her.

The name Samuel flashes up on the device, and I’m surprised when my ribs grow tight.

“Damn you, Samuel,” she says, picking up her phone and reading the message she’s received.

“Is everything all right?”

She turns, her shoulders dropping. “My friends got held up. They’re going to be late.”

“Well, I’m happy to keep a fellow Brit company. Until they arrive.”

“It’s fine,” she says.

I shrug and move to stand. “No worries, have a pleasant evening.”

I go to turn but freeze when her hand lands on my arm.

“I’m sorry, that was rude. Please finish your drink. I’d like the company while I wait.”

I turn my head away and smile, sitting back beside her.

“Business or pleasure?”

“Pardon?” she asks.

“Are you in New York on business or for pleasure?”

Her smile illuminates her face, and my breath catches.

“Pleasure. I’m here visiting a friend. He’s been touring with the London cast of Mischief. Tonight is their last night in New York. We’re going out to celebrate. How about you?”

“Business, with some pleasure on the side.”

I shoot her another grin.

She shakes her head… tough crowd.

“How long are you here for?”

I wonder if I can see her again after tonight.

“I leave tomorrow,” she says, her gaze returning to her drink. “Then it’s back to reality.”

“What is reality?”

“I’m a dancer,” she says.

Well, that explains the toned legs and arms. My body hardens as I imagine those thighs wrapped around my waist or, more interestingly, around my head. My body temperature rises, although I clamp down on it.

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