Page 29 of Filthy Rich

“I don’t think I should stay, Caleb. I—I really don’t know what you want from me—what you are expecting…” Well, that sounded awkward. Did I just ask himthatquestion? God. “But maybe I should get a hotel room?—”

“I’m not expecting anything from you, Brooke. It’s just an invitation from me to you because it’s the right thing to do. I feel responsible for not delivering you in time to make your ferry. Now you’re stuck in Boston for the night.” He grinned at me in his cheeky way—the one he’d somehow perfected to look utterly devilish without the obnoxious and lewd. “I do have a big house and I’d like you to stay. And really, if you think about it this way, youshouldget a feel for the space you’re going to be renovating. It can be preliminary research for the project.”

I took a deep breath and considered his logic. He had a good point on getting to know the penthouse I’d been hired to design. I decided to be blunt and ask him the question I really wantedanswered. I’d know better what to do after I’d heard from him. “But what is going on here with you and me?” I asked, flicking my fingers back and forth between us. “Is this you trying to get me into bed?”

“Literal answer or figurative?” he asked easily, as he reached for my hands and enfolded them in his to rest on his chest. “I won’t lie and deny wanting to be with you. You’ve totally captivated me from the moment I first spoke to you. You’re beautiful and funny and smart, Brooke. And I am a human male. Everything’s in working order just as it should be.” He tilted his head down toward his crotch and smirked. “Trust me.”

I couldn’t help cracking a smile at his announcement, but there was no way in hell I was going to get caught having a go at his cock, so I just focused on his blue-and-gold eyes instead. Why was this beautiful man so persistent with me? He could have any woman he wanted, and from the pictures on the Internet, he’d had many. Models, celebrities, heiresses: they were the women from his world, not someone like me. Caleb really didn’t have a clear picture of my past. He might think he wanted me right now, and surely wasn’t the first guy to think with the brain that lived in his trousers. But if he knew everything—he probably wouldn’t want me then. I didn’t know that answer yet.

I liked the feel of his hands around mine, but realized he’d conveniently trapped me by holding them together against his chest. He had me right where he wanted me. I stared at his lips and remembered how they’d felt against my cheek when he kissed me there: soft, determined, erotic even. I would wager Caleb Blackstone was spectacular in bed.

He drew even closer and whispered, “Let’s just say I won’t turn you away if you find yourself considering it.”

I tugged my hands out of his grip. “Well, thank you for the honesty, but I won’t fall into bed with you, Caleb. I don’t do that with men I’ve just met?—”

He put two fingers gently on my mouth and stopped me. “That was my literal answer, Brooke. The figurative one goes something like this: Of course I don’texpectyou to sleep with me. I’m not trying to take advantage of you, and this is not some orchestrated seduction on my part. I’m just letting you know I’m very interested. Nothing has to happen that you don’t want to happen. And nothing will happen unless you want it to. I will always respect your choices.”

Well, he said all the right things. I’d give him props on that. I supposed it was stupid to pretend I wasn’t feeling attracted to him. I totally was. I could tell he was attracted to me. Again, not a surprise, but I knew it was just biology at work.

“Better answer?” he asked, with a smile.

I nodded again. “Thank you again for being such a gentleman. It’s a very different experience for me.”

“Why does that bother me and please me at the same time?” he asked wryly.

“I said it was a different experience for me, not that I didn’t like it.”

“I know. I can work with it, beautiful Brooke Casterley with the sexy voice.”

Deep. Trouble.

Did I mention I was in very deep trouble with this man? “All right, Caleb Blackstone with the beautiful eyes, I accept your invitation to stay over at your penthouse, but on one condition.”

“Name it,” he fired back confidently.

“You’re taking me to Target first so I can get a few things for this slumber party you’ve invited me to.”

He clearly did not expect me to demand a shopping trip to a discount store like Target—whose doors he’d probably neverdarkened—but maybe Caleb liked surprises, because he threw his head back and laughed.

Then he lowered the partition and said, “Isaac, Miss Casterley would like to go to Tar-zhay.”

Caleb appeared amused as he followed me around Target, gathering up the things I wanted. He pushed the cart for me but didn’t say a lot. Mostly he observed, and I had the strangest feeling he was taking notes in his head as if he was...learning. Had he never been inside a Target before? Did billionaires even shop for themselves, or did other people do it for them? I would never allow someone to shop for me. I loved shopping, and lucky for me it was a huge part of my job to search out the unique and artful accent pieces thatmadethe room and showcased the individuality of the client. Flea markets were some of my favorite places to find treasures. I wondered if Caleb had ever been to anything like a flea market.

Nothing was more uncomfortable than being stranded without necessities in a strange place. If this was indeed going to be my first experience with the space I’d be transforming, then I wanted to enter into the process on my terms and feeling at ease. Which meant having my own toothbrush, some clean knickers, and something to wear to work tomorrow morning at the very minimum. I always carried a bit of makeup around in my bag, so I was covered on that end. I didn’t like going faceless, either. I loved my makeup and that was just my preference. Maybe it gave me some sort of perceived shield from the world, but I totally needed it.

I found a really soft sweaterdress in black that hit just above the knees. It would do nicely for work tomorrow and would pairwell with my boots. A large-checked, fringed scarf in cream and black pulled it all together. In the lingerie section I grabbed a three-pack of lace boy-shorts knickers in pink, baby blue, and black polka dots. I watched for Caleb’s reaction when I tossed the package into the cart.

He was paying attention all right.

Because he picked up my new knickers and gave them a thorough inspection before bestowing another of one his signature cheeky grins. All men were such teenage boys at heart—apparently even sophisticated billionaires couldn’t keep back the giggles when holding a pack of ladies panties in his hand.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Caleb?” I couldn’t help asking the question.

“Very much, Brooke,” he answered quickly. “Thank you for bringing us to Target. It’s quite a different experience for me.”

It was very close to what I’d said to him earlier about him being a gentleman. “I’m almost finished. I just need to find something warm for sleeping and a weekender bag.” I plucked the pack of knickers away from him and tossed it back into the cart.

Again with the cheeky smile.

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