Page 18 of Scarlett and the Big Bad Billionaire
So far, I’d done nothing but embarrass myself in front of this guy. I’d gotten blind-drunk, skinny-dipped with him, then stripped in front of him and passed out.
As I was not exactly mybest selfright now, anonymity was my friend.
Besides, what was the point? As nice as he seemed to be, I’d never see this guy again.
Which is why his suggestion that we spend my non-honeymoon together was actually kind of brilliant.
Maybe Maddie was right. A week of sun, fun—and possibly getting to know that incredible inked bodymuchbetter—and my broken heart would be on the road to recovery.
Or at least approaching the on-ramp.
At the very least it was a great way to delay dealing with reality.
I still wasn’t sure what my gut was saying, but my mouth said, “Okay, “Wolf,” you’ve got yourself a deal. No names, no strings, one week of non-honeymoon fun, and then we’ll go our separate ways.”
He smiled and extended his hand for a shake. “Deal… with one addendum. If at the end of the week, we’ve fallen madly in love, I reserve the right to ask for your number—and your real name.”
“That—is not going to happen,” I assured him. “You should go back to your hotel and get dressed. Our first tour starts at noon.”
CHAPTERFIVE
FLESH AND BLOOD
Gray- Three years later (Today)
“You really shouldn’t have troubled yourself,” Mrs. Hood said as she watched me change a lightbulb in one of her Baccarat crystal chandeliers.
It seemed like every time I was here, another light in the old house had gone out. Finally, I’d made a trip to the hardware store and bought some LED bulbs guaranteed to last twenty years. I was in the process of replacing them all.
“I could have hired a handyman. Or done it myself,” she said. “These old legs still have some life in them yet.”
“It’s no trouble,” I assured her.
At eighty-nine years old, there was no way Mrs. Hood should be climbing ladders, and as a home security expert with Viridian Security, I shuddered at the idea of her inviting random strangers into her Eastport Bay mansion.
Not only did she have a houseful of priceless art and antiques she was physically helpless.
I’d been hired to install new security systems for her collection of old masters’ paintings, Flemish tapestries, eighteenth century Qianlong Dynasty porcelain, and antique French furniture, but I’d finished the job months ago. Since then, I’d been checking on her frequently to make sure she was okay.
“Well, you deserve an extra piece of blueberry pie,” she said. “Had it delivered fresh from Nooky’s this morning. Best pie in town.”
“You’re spoiling me now. You know how much I like sweets.” I stepped off the ladder and grinned at the diminutive white-haired woman, elegant even in a pair of cuffed boyfriend jeans and a pink-and-white striped button down.
She patted my stomach. “You need some spoiling—and fattening up. Besides, I’m bribing you to stay around a little longer. I need you to help me write out some checks for my bills. My hands are so shaky it takes me about an hour for each check and still looks like chicken scratch. It’s embarrassing.”
“When are you going to sign up for online bill pay?” I asked.
“When pigs fly,” she said baldly and let out a loud laugh.
I followed her to the enormous kitchen, where the checkbook and pie waited on a modestly sized wooden dining table. Serving myself a big piece, I dug in and watched Mrs. Hood leaf through her bills.
“It’s getting to where I can hardly read these,” she said. “Thank you for helping me, son.”
“I’m glad to do it, but I feel kind of funny messing around with your financial stuff,” I confessed.
“Pish tosh. You already know I’m rich. If I can trust you with my Renoir and my Colonial silver collection, then I think I can trust you with my checking account. Most of my money is in stocks anyway, though there is quite a lot of cash still upstairs in the safe in Stuart’s old office.”
I cringed and held out my hands. “Don’t—I mean, you shouldn’t tell people that stuff.”
