Page 24 of How to Win the Wild Billionaire

He’d invited her out for a ride and she’d hemmed and hawed and then hemmed and hawed some more. After promising that he wouldn’t stop anywhere where he would be recognized or, worse, photographed—a complete novelty because his dates tended to want to be seen on his arm—she finally agreed to join him.

At that point he hadn’t had a destination in mind but, on hearing that Bay preferred casual and very low-key, an idea occurred. While waiting for her to change—he’d told her to wear jeans and flat boots—he’d texted Muzi and told him that he was heading for Kwezi’s if he wanted to join them.

Muzi might or might not; either way it was sure to be a fun night out. He was with Bay, how could it not be? And best of all, their destination, he was sure, would surprise Bay. She wouldn’t expect him to take her into the heart of Gugulethu, one of Cape Town’s oldest townships. Hell, he’d never expected to take a woman there either. He couldn’t think of a single woman he’d ever dated who wouldn’t wrinkle her pretty nose at the thought of joining working-class folks at a working-class place. His dates expected haute, innovative cuisine and extensive wine lists, not barbecued meat and cheap beer.

Bay had spoken a little about her travels, how she always sought out the places where the locals ate, and he knew she wasn’t squeamish or snobby. Bay, he’d come to realize, didn’t give a rat’s ass about expensive champagne and modern cuisine, about seeing and, more important, being seen.

In fact, she’d told him, quite emphatically, that she did not want to appear in any social column. Ever.

Luckily, he’d never encountered a reporter, photographer or any of Cape Town’s A-listers at Kwezi’s Tavern. Kwezi’s was his, Radd’s and Muzi’s secret, the place they headed to when they wanted complete anonymity.

He could’ve, Digby thought as he took the off-ramp and stopped at a traffic light, left Bay at home and met Muzi here on his own but...

But the hell of it was that he enjoyed Bay, liked her company. She was a great designer and had a fantastic work ethic, but she was also quick and witty and thoughtful. And so damn sexy he frequently forgot to breathe.

Digby tightened his grip on the throttle and sighed. What had he been thinking when he suggested that she be in control of their going-to-bed timing? God, he hoped she caved soon because not having her was driving him crap-bat insane. When he wasn’t having his Radd dying dreams, he dreamed of her naked and writhing and he frequently woke up at the crucial moment, hard as a rock and groaning. Sleep, never easy, had become something he started to dread.

He really had to start getting his attraction to her under control. Yeah, he liked her, adored her body, couldn’t wait to get her into bed but...

But that was it.

He didn’t believe in love, didn’t want it in his life. He couldn’t see himself ever having what Radd did with Brin. He couldn’t imagine himself engaged or being in a committed relationship. First, he’d been on his own, doing his thing, for a damn long time and didn’t think he could change now, but more than that, he didn’t want to...

He wasn’t brave enough. He knew what it felt like to have love and then to lose it, to feel like he was being ripped apart. Why would he ever put himself in that position again?

No, the sooner he and Bay slept together, the sooner he could get her out of his system. The sooner he could move on and return to his normal life.

So, genius, let me ask you this...

The light turned green and Digby tried to ignore the sarcastic voice coming from deep in his soul.

If sex is all you want, then why didn’t you stay in her empty house and try to seduce her there? Why is she on your bike? Why are you taking her to one of your favorite places in the world? The place that you’ve never, ever taken a girl before?

Good questions and, annoyingly, not ones he had answers to.

From the minute she climbed on the back of Digby’s bike, Bay cursed herself for accepting his invitation out, terrified that, despite his promise, he’d take her somewhere where he’d be recognized, where someone would photograph them together.

If that happened, she might put her custody of Liv in jeopardy, and Bay mentally kicked herself. She’d started to, fifteen times, maybe more, ask Digby to take her home, but on his bike, their faces hidden by the black helmets and visors, they were unrecognizable. And she loved flying down the highway, the warm wind whipping her cotton shirt, confident in Digby’s handling of the monstrously powerful bike.

She’d see where they ended up, she decided, and if she felt that there was the slightest chance of recognition, she’d ask Digby to take her home. And he would, she knew that for sure.

But of all the places to eat in the city, she hadn’t expected to arrive at a colorful tavern in Gugulethu. There were plastic tables and chairs outside the restaurant, filled with jovial patrons tucking into mounds of barbecued meat.

Inside the tavern, rows of wooden tables left little space to walk, and to one side sat a bank of display fridges. Inside the fridges were plastic tubs of meat, waiting to be cooked on open fire behind the restaurant. Digby, after greeting the owner and the man behind the display case, ordered steak and ribs, a soda for himself and beer for Bay. He asked after Muzi but was told he hadn’t arrived yet.

The tables were full to bursting and Bay wondered where they’d sit, but Kwezi, the owner, led them to the middle of the room and booted two teenagers out of their seats. When Bay protested, he waved her words away, telling her that they were young, they would survive. She and Digby sat down in the middle of what was a jolly party and were instantly welcomed by the other customers at the table. Nobody, she was sure, knew who Digby was and if they did, they didn’t care.

Bay was completely surprised at how at ease he, a multibillionaire, was in this working-class restaurant. Despite having eaten in the best eateries in the world, owning one himself, he didn’t seem to care that the plates were mismatched, that there wasn’t a wine menu or servers. He was also perfectly content to wait in line for his meat to be cooked, to eat with his fingers.

Her boss, the lover in her dreams, was anything but a snob. His lack of entitlement and ability to talk to anybody anywhere made him, if it was at all possible, even more attractive in her eyes.

She hadn’t thought that was possible but here she was, falling a little deeper...

After eating more meat than she normally did in a month and drinking a few beers and laughing at the quips of the middle-aged couple to her right, Bay leaned her shoulder into Digby’s and turned her head to smile at him. “Having fun?” he asked.

“So much fun,” Bay replied. “This was not how I expected to spend Friday night. I wanted to be at home, relaxing, but I’m here and I feel like Iamat home. And I am so relaxed.”

“That could also be the three beers you’ve had,” Digby told her on a lazy grin.

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