Page 26 of The Damaged Billionaire

As promised, thirty minutes later, there is a knock at my door, and I open it to see Tennyson standing before me, looking tired with Bob in tow. The two make a very good-looking sight, Tennyson is in his jeans and white top that is stretched over his well-formed chest. His broad shoulders and thick arms are nearly my undoing and my grip on the door tightens a little so I don’t do something stupid like jump him.

“Hello, boy, look at you so cute and cuddly,” I coo as I squat down and give Bob my full attention so I don’t swoon over his owner. I scratch behind his ears, which earns me a slobbery kiss in response.

“Hey, I’m up here. Do I get a greeting like that?” Tennyson quips, but his eyes are soft as he takes me in. His shoulders are relaxing now that he is in my home.

“Hello to you too,” I say in a mock coo and scratch behind his ear, but his hand shoots out and grabs my hips and he pulls me close, giving me a peck to the forehead. The move looks innocent enough, but there is so much electricity running between us all the damn time that we could power all of New York City.

“You drive me crazy, woman,” he mumbles. This new familiarity between us is nice, even if the urge I have to strip him naked runs wild in my mind.

“Come in,” I say, opening the door wider and letting them both in before walking to the back door and opening it for Bob who shoots out and immediately starts running and exploring my small yard. I peer out, ensuring Betty is not in the way, but the coast is clear.

Turning back around, I see Tennyson sitting slumped at the kitchen counter, looking at me. He seems even bigger in my small cottage, taking up the counter space, and his presence almost takes over the room.

“You look exhausted,” I say with a small smile, although I am concerned. I wonder if he is sleeping.

“The mutt keeps me up all night. Crying every time I turn out the light. I have to sleep with the hallway light on. Then last night, I finally got to sleep, only to wake up and he was on my bed. Do you have any idea how much those Egyptian cotton sheets cost? Now there is dog hair all over them,” he says, rubbing his tired eyes.

“He will settle down. Coffee?” I ask, moving around the kitchen.

“In an IV would be great,” he murmurs, sighing.

“What are you doing here, Ninja?” Josh asks with bite, not offering a warm welcome to Tennyson as he walks into the kitchen, dumping his dirty cereal bowl in the sink. He eyes Tennyson warily, and I can only assume it is because this is the first man who has been in my home—ever. It’s cute that my twelve-year-old best friend is so protective. He will make some girl very happy one day, I am sure of it.

Tennyson’s brow crumples, and he looks at him with confusion on his face before his eyes flick to me for information.

“Michelangelo, wasn’t it?” Josh asks, opening the fridge and peering inside, before grabbing an apple.

“Soccer ball kid?” Tennyson guesses, and I watch the interaction with interest.

“Surprised you remember. Thought an old guy like you would have suffered memory loss,” Josh quips before he takes a bite out of the apple, and I cough to stifle my laugh.

“I’m not old!” Tennyson almost yells at Josh as he struts out of the room, back to the living room where he is holding my TV hostage.

“I’m not old,” Tennyson murmurs to me as I slide across his coffee. “Although today I feel fucking ancient.”

“Early night tonight, then,” I offer, standing next to where he is sitting at my small kitchen counter.

“Yes. You coming?” he asks, then takes a sip, his eyes staying on mine as he watches me over the rim of the mug. His constant teasing about wanting me continues. If only it was that easy. My body quivers at the thought. I want to. Jumping into Tennyson’s bed is an inviting prospect, one I think about often.

“Tennyson.” I catch myself and growl his name in warning, my eyes flicking to him over the top of my own coffee cup. My body betrays me more times than not when I see him. But my work and my business are important to me. I wonder for a moment if I could have both. Would it be possible? Logistically, yes, but is it smart, for either of us right now? I really don’t know. Maybe I should just throw caution to the wind. Be more like Saide and live a little.

“I know. I know. Professional boundaries, I get it. So, the photo shoot is booked?” he asks, and we dissect his diary for the coming weeks. Something I usually do on Mondays in his office, but he has now saved me a trip.

“So we have a shoot with Natasha Libermans. She is a photographer for the Manhattan Men’s Magazine, does lots of editorial and fashion shoots. I have arranged for a stylist to have a rack of men’s designer clothing collections from fashion week, and I want both suit and corporate shots, and maybe something a little more relaxed,” I say, already picturing how handsome he will look in everything.

“You will be there with me, right?”

“Yes, Tennyson, I will be there,” I confirm with a nod, his eyes on mine. “I will even meet you at your office and we can go together.”

“Good. What else do we have going on?” he asks, almost finished with his coffee, and my eyes raise in question.

“IV, remember,” he says, and I get busy making him another one.

“We have the business dinner with Harrison and Beth coming up,” I mention.

“Shit, I forgot about that. You’re going to be there?” he asks me again, clearly not happy to go without me by his side.

“Someone has to keep you in line. Besides, it is good for business to start mingling and networking with some of Baltimore’s finest.” I am happy to attend his event, but it is much bigger than I first thought. The stress I have to look after Tennyson and hope he does a good job in front of the governor is building. I need to show them how far he has come, because so far, he is doing a great job.

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