Page 8 of Faking It with my Bestie's Billionaire Brother

I shook my head in response. "No, of course not. I'd do anything for her."

He gave me a polite smile. "Good, we are on the same page about that, then."

I looked at him thoughtfully. He was clearly up to something, but if it concerned Penny, then I needed to know. That woman already took on too much by herself. She loathed asking for help.

I always thought that was why we did so well as friends because I was bossy and insistent enough to make sure she got help, whether she liked it or not. This moment seemed like one of those times where she might need my assistance, and as her best friend, I would do whatever needed to be done, even if it meant spending extra time with her annoying big brother.

"Fine, but if I have to go to this dinner, I get to pick the place," I told him, marching to my desk to put down the tools and grab a Post-it and pen.

"I guess that's…acceptable," he choked out, and I had to smile at how much it seemed to pain him.

I scribbled the name of a place along with the address and handed the Post-it to him, our fingers touching in the process. I yanked my hand back as if he had shocked me, because it truly felt like he had, but it wasn’t possible. It was just my overactive imagination getting to me, right?

I looked up at him carefully, and he watched me with veiled eyes before he finally seemed to remember himself and look down at the Post-it. His expression showed a thread of dismay.

I bit back a smile. "Don't worry, you'll thank me later—this dinner will be the best thing you'll ever put in your mouth."

He raised a dubious eyebrow and went to speak, but I decided right then and there that I was going to continue to take charge of the strained situation, especially if this man got me wet over the mere touch of his fingertips against mine.

"I'll meet you there at eight," I announced as I began gathering my bag and my gradebook.

He cleared his throat. "I can send a car for you—"

"No need. I'm a big girl, and I can get around just fine on my own, thank you very much."

"Right, well, I'll see you at eight, then," he said, seeming a little unsure as he backed out of the room and then gave me one last smoldering look before he finally turned away.

As soon as he was clear from the doorway, I sat in my desk chair and let out a long breath. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what have I gotten myself into." One look, one little touch of his fingers, and I was putty beneath his hands.

I straightened in my chair, collected my bag and gradebook again, and walked out of my room with fresh determination. Whatever this meeting was about, I needed to go there with a cool head, not one that was eager to pick up details for a sculpture, or worse yet, to get more images to put in the filthy, little pleasure bank in my head for later.

No, I needed to go in large and in charge. That was the Moretti way.

Chapter six

Spencer

"Are you certain, sir?" My driver asked for the second time.

I cleared my throat and assured him, "Yes, Terrence, I'm sure."

My driver of more than two decades was slightly alarmed at the Post-it in his hands, but he dutifully put the car in drive and began heading towards this mysterious location called the "Tasty Torres."

I had no idea where we were going, and I hadn't had time to check online. As soon as I had returned home, Ralph had been in my ear, wondering if I had "sealed the deal." He'd been most aggrieved when I told him that we weren't quite there yet. I assured him that I was taking Ava out to dinner, where we could talk privately and calmly, and not where Penny might walk in. I needed Ava to understand how important this plan was without worrying about my sister overhearing us.

Still, as we drove through Friday night traffic to a place that I wasn't sure was a restaurant or a gentlemen's club, I was surprised at the nerves bunching together at the bottom of my stomach.

I was in my forties, for God's sake. I did not get nervous anymore, especially not over a young woman with wild hair and big, brown eyes; that would be ridiculous.

That woman is also your baby sister's friend.

Funny, that voice could remind me of that tidbit again and again, but it didn't stop some of the images that had risen unbidden in my mind.

If only she hadn't handed me that infernal Post-it. It had been the briefest of touches, and yet, it had sent a jolt of excitement straight to my groin.

Terrence slowed the car to a stop at an area with picnic tables and a large trailer. "This is the address, sir, but there doesn't appear to be any restaurant here."

And that was when I saw her. Ava was no longer in her clay-splattered overalls with a bandana holding her wild hair back. Instead, all that hair was flowing out in all its glory, the setting sun behind her making her appear like some sort of fire goddess.

---