Page 4 of How to Win the Wild Billionaire

His anxiety was his biggest secret and no one in the world had any idea that the charming, sometimes reckless, wild Digby Tempest-Vane lived with a constant, low-grade fear of being alone, of being abandoned.

Yeah, the press would love that story...

“Anyway, I wanted to give you a heads-up about the offer to purchase Saint Urban,” Muzi told him. “Let’s grab a beer and catch up sometime.”

Digby glanced down at his watch. God, he was late; he needed to hustle. He told Muzi he’d be in touch and, as he walked away from his friend, at the entrance to the still-closed bar, he noticed a flash of cream-and-brown fabric next to an ornate pot holding a miniature palm tree. Digby bent down and picked up a slightly battered, two-toned stuffed animal wearing a T-shirt sporting the slogan I’ll Always Hang with You.

Digby looked into its funny, weird little face and saw that the stuffed toy was actually a sloth. Cute. Strange but cute. Someone, presumably its owner, had pulled its short hair on the top of its head into a tiny tail and tied it up with a candy-pink ribbon. So this was a girl sloth then.

“Got yourself a new girlfriend?” Muzi teased, shoulder bumping him as he passed him. “I must say, your taste is improving.”

“Bastard,” Digby muttered, holding the sloth by one arm. Huh, it actually looked like it had Velcro on its feet and hands, allowing the thing to hang from any tree limb or surface. Clever.

He’d hand this in at the front desk and his concierge would send a text message out to all the child minders asking if any of their charges had lost a stuffed toy. It looked well loved and would be claimed within, he bet, the hour...

Digby looked around, hoping to catch the eye of the concierge but his attention was caught by a woman rushing into the lobby. Her hair was a deep golden brown, pulled back to highlight her pixie face. High, sharp cheekbones, more than a few freckles and a wide, sensuous, luscious mouth made for French kissing. She was tall, slim but busty too, all long legs and arms and frantic energy.

She looked around, obviously harassed. But her eyes were on the floor, looking for all the world like she’d dropped something. Digby looked at the toy in his hand and felt a surge of disappointment. If she was looking for the toy then that meant she was a mom...

Probably married or in a relationship.

But even if she was single, she wasn’t someone he’d pursue. He didn’t date married women or women with children—too much baggage and drama. But damn, she was gut-wrenchingly beautiful in an understated, quiet way. A confusing combination of sexy and sweet.

As if she sensed his eyes on her, her gaze tracked to him and when she saw the stuffed toy in his hand, her shoulders slumped with relief. He saw her chest rise and fall and the tension in her face ease.

Right, so the creature in his hand was important...

Digby watched as she ducked around a group of French tourists, flashing a smile at an elderly man who stood back to let her pass. She adjusted her tote bag over her shoulder and clasped a leather satchel in her other hand as she approached him, a hesitant look on her face.

“I think you have my sloth.” Her voice was deeper than he expected, holding a touch of sexy sandpaper.

“He was trying to sneak into the bar,” Digby replied on an easy grin. “I think he has a drinking problem.”

Her wide mouth tipped up in a smile and Digby caught a glimpse of neat, even white teeth. “Being the poster child for a deadly sin makes him want to drown his sorrows.”

He laughed at her quick comeback. Handing the fluffy toy over, his fingers drifted over hers and electricity raced up his arm.Wow.It had been a long, long time since he’d experienced such instant, immediate attraction. Working hard to keep his expression bland, Digby pushed back his jacket and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Do you normally carry alcoholic animals around with you?” he asked.

She looked at the creature and pulled its Velcro legs apart before slapping them together again. “Ah, no. I was a little early and took a walk outside—he must’ve fallen out of my bag along the way. Thank God you found him or else I would never be forgiven. Mr. Fluffy is an important member of our household.”

“Boy or girl?” Digby asked, thinking that he should walk away, that there was no point in drawing out this conversation. Even if she wasn’t in a relationship—and of course she would be—he never had affairs with women with kids.

He liked women who could be spontaneous, who could meet him at ten at night for a late drink or at six in the morning for an early run on the beach, who could leave for a weekend away at a moment’s notice or answer the door dressed naked.

Digby worked hard and played harder and liked being the sole focus of a woman’s attention. That never happened with someone who had kids.

“Ah, a girl. Olivia... Livvie. She’s three and she’s besotted with this sloth. She’s probably throwing a hissy fit of epic proportions because he’s missing.”

He saw the worry in her eyes, the flash of panic. He instantly, and strangely, wanted to reassure her. Not that he knew what to say. And that was weird too. He could always think of a quick comment. He could bullshit with the best of them.

But not today. And not, he realized, with her.

Digby saw his most senior concierge rapidly crossing the floor to them and sighed. They were about to be interrupted and he wanted more time with this woman, whoever she was. But time was something he didn’t have, he was running so late as it was.

“May I be of assistance, sir?” Benoit said, raising his nose as he looked at the woman and the toy in her hand. Benoit could size up the guests in a flash by their clothing, accessories and attitude, and he was never wrong.

Her plain black trousers and equally plain, light pink T-shirt were clearly off-the-rack and her shoes were scuffed at the toe. Her hair was completely natural and it was obvious she hadn’t spent more than five minutes on her makeup.

---