Page 64 of No More Billionaires

“Is there something you haven’t told me… secret husband tucked away in the suburbs? Triplets you forgot to mention? If you’re worried about your parents’ house or something, you should know I don’t care about—”

“No,” I interrupted rather forcefully. “It’s nothing like that. I’d just feel more… comfortable meeting you at the restaurant. Please.”

Larson stayed quiet, studying my face for long moments before he answered.

“Well, all right. You’re making it kind of hard to surprise you, though. How about this—meet me at my condo and leave your car there, and we’ll drive together to the restaurant. In fact, don’t even go home first. We’ll just go somewhere casual and eat earlier. I’ll run in and change, and we can go from there. Okay?”

“Okay… good plan.”

I was surprised when a feeling of disappointment settled over me. As soon as he’d suggested dinner, I’d actually pictured myself wearing something cute tonight, putting on a little makeup for our date.

Clearly, Larson had been thinking of taking me somewhere nice, and for the first time in a long time, I actually wanted tolooknice.

For him.

I want to look nice for him.Yikes—that was different.

Larson glanced at his watch. “I guess we’d better get back. So, I’ll walk you to the parking garage after the show and you can follow me, okay?”

I nodded, and he gave me a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek before taking our lunch trays to the trash can. We walked back to the newsroom together.

But not too close together.

TWENTY-ONE

Alone with You

“Wow. I love your place.”

I stood in the foyer of Larson’s condo, taking in the décor and the incredible panoramic view of Atlanta.

The high-end interior design shouldn’t have surprised me. He was a member of one of America’s wealthiest families—how could he not have a posh place?

“Thanks. You want a drink or anything while I change? I’d have offered to cook dinner for you, but I can’t cook.” He gave me an apologetic smile so winning, it made up for any lack of culinary skills. Permanently.

“I like to cook. I’ll make you dinner soon. Something thatdoesn’tinvolve beans, tuna, and salsa. Or Spam.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said with a wink and disappeared down the hallway. His raised voice came from the other room. “Feel free to look around. Or have a seat and be comfortable. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

I did wander around the living area, peeking into a gorgeous powder room, wishing (again, for the first time in months) I had at least some lipstick in my purse.

Walking along the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, I admired the city scape and drooled over the professional-grade appliances in his kitchen.

In keeping with what he’d said, they looked as if they’d never been used. I couldn’t wait to remedy that tragedy.

There was a plastic drugstore bag on the kitchen counter, standing open. Knowing I shouldn’t, I peeked in anyway.

My nosiness was rewarded with the sudden onset of nervous anticipation. The bag contained nothing but a box of condoms and a receipt.

“Okay, all set.”

Larson’s voice caused me to jump away from the counter in a guilty startle.

“Did you do some exploring?” He came to me with a smile and placed a hand on the small of my back, gently steering me to the door.

“A little bit.” My face heated to the point it probably matched my red sweater. Yep—some makeup would’ve come in very handy.

We went to a brewpub in Little Five Points called the Wrecking Bar. Above ground it was a historic Victorian-style home, complete with a semi-circle of grand white columns gracing the front. We took the stairs down to the basement where the brewpub was located.

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