The Billionaire Scoop: A BWWM Romance (Secrets & Deception Book 1) (4 page)

J
im could hardly believe
his luck.

The woman he couldn’t keep his eyes off of, the woman who surprised him by sitting next to him and letting him unload on her, watching him with sympathetic brown eyes—that woman who stirred him in ways he dared not explore at the moment was inviting him over to her apartment? To stay for a day, maybe two?

What the heck was she thinking?

Her accent gave her away long ago—she was obviously not from around here and hadn’t been here long; just a warm-hearted southern belle still way too trusting in the big city, street smarts not yet acquired.

Sure, people went home with a stranger from a bar or club all the time all around the country, but Maribel clearly hadn’t been hunting for man-meat.

And now, out of the goodness of her heart, she was offering a perfect stranger temporary sanctuary.

What do they call that? Southern hospitality?

He was warmed by the thought and endeared to her even more, but part of him was a bit upset with her.

How could she be so careless?

Sure, it was working out in his favor, but what if he had been some sort of predator? Not so decent?

Did decent men leave their fiancée at the altar?
a nasty voice reminded him.

Well, perhaps ‘decent’ wasn’t quite the right word, but only
he
knew that he wouldn’t harm her—she had no way of being sure of that and yet...

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll take you up on the offer.”

While he stayed with her, he would give her a quick lesson about the city; he’d repay her for her kindness with practical, possibly life-saving advice in exchange for her sympathetic ear and place of refuge.

The poor girl had no idea what she was getting into.

He felt protective of her; she was a sitting duck in New York.

And he’d try as hard as he could to protect her from himself, to keep his hands off of her and not scare her by letting on the thoughts and urges he was fighting to suppress—the curiosity about how her lips would feel against his, how her slim frame would feel pressed against his much larger one.

He definitely didn’t want to take advantage of her, despite his carnal curiosity.

Though he felt more than friendly toward her, he needed to continue to be decent and be a friend to her as she was being to him.

O
nce Maribel flipped
on the light, he took a good look around the unit.

“Hm. Cozy,” he said, trying to keep his face neutral.

He couldn’t believe people actually lived in places this size.

Maribel’s eyes shot to him and he could tell she was trying to read what he really meant.

“I know it’s immensely smaller than you’re used to—smaller than what I’m even used to, but real estate here is...different. Anyway, it’s just me for now, and I don’t really need much more than this while I get settled. Hopefully, once I secure a job…” She shook her head almost violently—as if trying to shake out the next few words. “Drink?” she said with a smile, definitively changing the subject.

He almost said no right away, but actually being in the small quiet space with the beautiful woman before him and her door closed behind him had activated a beast he needed to do everything in his power to tame.

A drink would help him relax before he started to frighten her with his restrained desire.

“What have you got?” he asked lightly.

She looked away briefly, looking embarrassed.

“Well, I haven’t had time to really stock up just yet, but I’ve got some orange juice, champagne…”

“Great! I feel weird about having champagne by itself since it seems so celebratory, and while I’m happy to have dodged a bullet tonight, I know a shitstorm’s around the corner, so let’s go with a mimosa.”

She smiled an especially radiant smile and something stirred within him again, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she turned to make his drink.

As he watched her pour, her eyes shot to his briefly, and he realized the intensity of his gaze had probably unnerved her.

He tore his eyes away and glanced around her apartment once more to help put her at ease.

He didn’t want her to suddenly change her mind and try to kick him out because she’d finally realized the error of her ways inviting a strong male specimen into her tiny home.

She’d already told him too much, she probably realized—she was all alone, far from home, with not a single friend nearby.

He’d be her friend; he’d assure her of it. She had nothing to worry about.

“So what made you travel all the way from Alabama to the Big Apple?”

“Oh, I had a job prospect I was pursuing that didn’t quite pan out, but I mainly felt ready to leave small-town life behind and see what else is out there in a general sort of way. I’ve always imagined living in a big city—since I was a little girl. Here’s your drink!”

Why did it sound like she was cramming as many words as she could into one sentence?

He took the mimosa and downed it in one gulp.

“Oh!” she said in surprise, reaching her hand out. “I can get you another.”

He nodded and she refilled his glass.

He noticed she didn’t make herself one.

“So what kind of jobs are you looking into?”

She seemed to be avoiding his eyes deliberately.

Surely, he’d toned down the predatory gaze he’d undoubtedly frightened her with earlier?

“I’m pretty open to a number of possibilities. Let me grab your bedding.”

She disappeared, returning with a comforter and a pillow, looking apologetic.

“I wasn’t expecting company, and I haven’t yet built up a linen supply so it’s just these…”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing for having just moved here and living within your means, Maribel. I’m very grateful you have taken me in for the night, and the couch and this bedding will do just fine. Seriously—you have already done more than I could have asked for.”

She seemed to relax, smiling at him in a way that twisted him again.

What was it about her that made him feel so warm and sort of tingly all at once? Like he would do anything to please her?

She was irresistibly cute, no doubt, but that smile—it made him feel…
accomplished
for having teased it out of her.

How silly was that? Getting such joy from seeing her smile that way?

How on earth could he be so invested in her happiness? Her opinion of him?

How was it he suddenly felt like he had some schoolyard crush?

He needed another drink.

He indicated his empty glass. “Do you have anything stronger by any chance?”

“What, vodka? Scotch? I’ll make sure to have those ready in case this happens again.”

Jealousy and possessiveness suddenly raged through him.

The thought of her opening her home to another man like this...

“I’ll have another glass of mimosa if you don’t mind.”

“You mean another shot? The way you’ve been downing them…”

He watched her make his third drink.

“You shouldn’t just do this for people,” he said as she handed him the refill.

It seemed she snickered a little, but he wasn’t sure.

He hadn’t slurred or anything, had he?

Then he remembered he hadn’t eaten after he’d thrown up earlier, and that he’d already been drinking when he met her at the bar.

“Letting strange men into your home—not smart.”

“I’m aware. It’s just...like I said, I went with my gut and it said you’re all right.”

“You’re lucky I am, but the city is a dangerous place for women like you.”

Her brow furrowed.

“You shouldn’t be so trusting,” he continued. “Promise me you won’t do this again.”

This time, she definitely giggled.

But this wasn’t funny!

She was being nice to him, but in her naïveté, she had no idea the position she put herself in, and he meant to tell her all about how careless her kind actions were again and again till she understood, but the alcohol was finally, mercifully, starting to kick in.

“I promise,” she said solemnly, her eyes twinkling as she put a hand on her chest and held up two—or three—fingers.

God damn, she was beautiful.

He wanted nothing more than to pull her to him and take her in his arms, wrapping her in them and holding her close.

He wanted to feel her soft curves against his hard planes, sniff her hair and take in her overall scent.

She looked like she smelled like strawberries.

He wanted to tilt her chin up, bring his lips to hers.

“We can talk more tomorrow if you’d like—if you’re still here, I mean,” she said suddenly.

He realized she was getting ready to retreat to her bedroom—a room that was a mere five or so feet away from where he’d be sleeping. A room that he wanted to see the inside of more than anything else in the world right now, with her in it. On the bed.

Stop it, Jim—get your mind out of the gutter.

“What are your plans?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Tomorrow, the next day…”

“I have more interviews and prep to do. Maybe a little shopping for vodka…”

She smiled at him again, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile back.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Her smile wiped away clean, and he was sorry he’d spoken until he realized her eyes still held a spark—plus something else he couldn’t quite pin down but was definitely in his favor.

Was it hope? Hope for what?

“Good night, Jim Craig. You’re a bit tipsy, so I’ll let that slide.”

“I mean it, though.”

She shook her head a little.

“Anyway, we’ve both had a long day and I look forward to hearing more about…whatever you want to tell me. Tomorrow. I’m afraid I accidentally put you out of commission enabling your desire for more spirits. Do you want me to help tuck you in?”

She had asked it almost mockingly so he knew she was kidding, but he’d be damned if he didn’t watch her try.

“I’d love it,” he said, trying to suppress a grin.

She looked startled.

He shrugged. “Like you said, I’m tipsy, so I probably need help getting ready for bed.”

She disappeared momentarily, and he thought she’d silently denied his request, but she returned with hangars, eyeing his tux.

She gingerly stepped closer and closer to him, then moved to help him out of his jacket.

Her hands brushing his arms fed the flame inside of him, and he tried to concentrate on the textures in her floor tiles as her fingers slid over his limbs, burning trails through the cloth.

His heart sped up as she slid the jacket off, and he worked on keeping his hands to himself as she arranged it onto the hangar.

Then he started unbuttoning his white dress shirt.

Her eyes widened as she turned back to him, worried gaze glued to his fingers as he loosened button after button.

He couldn’t help but smile as she stood staring, her mouth hanging open slightly, her cheeks clearly flushed as his fingers moved lower and lower.

He certainly recognized
that
look.

“I believe we’ve reached the end of that!” she said brightly, belying her panicked look. Her widened eyes darted to his. “I have nothing to offer you to sleep in, and I’m not about to watch you strip down to your undies, so I’m gonna head to my room now,” she said, thumbing backward.

Jim laughed, happy for the brief moment of humor, for they had undoubtedly reached dangerous territory.

The act of her helping him out of his jacket had made his cock fully erect, and with more blood leaving his brain to travel south, adding to the alcohol buzz, he definitely wasn’t thinking straight.

He wasn’t thinking at all, really—only fighting all the parts of him demanding that he do what he usually would, had this been any other woman.

And had you not been engaged. That’s right, buddy—don’t forget that; you didn’t get married, but you’re still technically engaged.

“Thanks for everything, Maribel. I’ll take it from here. See you in the morning.”

She smiled a muted smile and he watched her quickly disappear into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

He chuckled.

He didn’t blame her one bit.

Sure, the door wouldn’t stop him had he been anything other than what she expected him to be and what he expected of himself, but it was a clear message.

If he acted on the feelings raging through him, he knew it wouldn’t take much to convince her to sleep with him, but no way was she ready for anything more than the friendship she was offering him, and no way was he going to violate her trust or take advantage of her vulnerability.

Knowing she’d be putty in his hands somehow made it easier for him to do the right thing.

Had he considered her a challenge, he might have been tempted to test her limits more, but it was clear she was sweet and genuine, and her needs were simple. Seduction could be as simple as moving one step closer to her.

She was in no way prepared for a guy like him; it would be like taking candy from a baby.

He removed his slacks, and, down to his T-shirt and boxers, he settled on the couch, wrapping the comforter around him and trying to find a good position as his head settled into the pillow.

Oh, god it smells like her
, he thought as he sniffed the pillow hard, taking her scent in like some drug. 

His cock stirred again.

Down, boy. It’s not like that. At least, wait until you’ve officially broken it off with Lucy. Deal? Deal.

T
he sound
of a blaring alarm filtered into Jim’s consciousness, and he opened one eye and looked around.

It took him a moment to register his surroundings, and waking up in a strange place might have sent him into panic before, but he had dreamed of the woman a few feet away from him all night, and the dream was still somewhat fresh.

He was actually disappointed he hadn’t awakened in her bed—his dream had walked him there at some point, to his utmost pleasure.

The alarm stopped yelping, and he stayed in place, listening to Maribel shuffle around, then tried to wrestle his brain from the gutter when he heard her enter the bathroom and start the shower.

He failed miserably, imagining droplets of water on her nude, silky brown skin.

He tried hard not to imagine her completely in the buff—focusing only on an image of her lovely face turned up toward the shower spray, her eyes closed, her arms crossed over her chest.

He congratulated himself for keeping his fantasy clean.

He longed to join her and see for himself what she looked like naked, but settled for the vague fantasy.

What’s wrong with you, Jim? She’s not some piece of meat!

But Jim knew it wasn’t just a matter of sexual urges—the young woman had gotten under his skin somehow, made him curious about every part of her.

He had blabbed on so long about himself the previous night, he didn’t get a chance to know her at all. 

He knew her name and that she’d just moved here from the south—that was basically it. And that she was too trusting.

Wait—he now also knew that she had simple tastes, judging by her apartment.

What else?

What was she hoping to accomplish here? 

What job did she miss out on?

Did she have any brothers or sisters?

When was the last time a man had shared her bed?

Again, the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head as he thought of her with someone else and he fought to contain it.

Where did he get off feeling so possessive of this kindly woman?

Why did he feel like...?

He shook his head and sat up, hoping being upright would help him think straight.

He hadn’t even figured out what his next course of action would be today.

At the moment, left up to him, there was no way he was leaving Maribel Gibson’s apartment that day or even the next; in fact, maybe he could concoct a story that would encourage her to invite him to stay for a few days.

He checked out the apartment again.

It looked even smaller in the daytime.

He realized he was being selfish; no need to crowd the young woman’s tiny space just because he hadn’t had enough of her yet.

Just one more day—then he’d risk going back to his penthouse and get out of her hair.

By then, he would have figured out what to do about Lucy and his dad and the whole mess, and sort his life out from there.

He’d send Maribel a bouquet of flowers for her hospitality and remind her to be more cautious in the greeting card accompanying it, then wish her well, leaving himself open to friendship with her.

He chuckled to himself.

Who the hell was he kidding?

One way or another, he’d keep looking in on her. And it wasn’t because he just wanted to be her friend.

“I can set up the coffee,” Jim shouted once he heard the shower turn off.

“That would be awesome,” she said once the bathroom door opened.

He resisted trying to peek at her as she left the bathroom.

She had probably taken all her clothes in there anyway, to make sure he didn’t catch her in a towel.

He slipped on his slacks then headed to the kitchen and stared at her coffee-maker for a few moments.

The thing was primitive as hell; he had forgotten how to use one like it.

Other people brought his coffee to him, and when they weren’t around, he had extra fancy machines do most of the work.

But, of course, the simpler the machine, the easier to figure out, right?

“It’s dummy-proof,” he said to himself as he filled the water.

Just in time, he realized he had forgotten the filter.

Who the hell uses this shit anymore?

“You sure you’re okay in there?” her voice called out.

“I’m nailing it!” he shouted back, almost knocking over the container of ground coffee.

“This is going to taste like shit,” he mumbled to himself, staring at the generic container. “I’m not drinking coffee-flavored sewage.”

While the coffee percolated, he wondered what he should do next.

Would she even let him stay in her home while she was gone? 

No way was she that trusting.

But what else was he supposed to do? 

People would be looking for him in all his usual places, the press had, no doubt, been alerted…

“Hey,” Maribel said with a smile, wearing just a bathrobe.

No makeup yet and she still looked beautiful.

“How did you sleep?”

“Fair enough,” he said honestly. “In peace, at least. It’s been great having some space from…everyone, really.”

“What do you think’s gonna happen?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“No clue. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet, and I’m still not ready to talk to anyone.”

“Well, definitely feel free to stay here, but I’m taking off for a few hours as I run around and try to get someone to hire me.”

“Listen, I might be able to help you get started with something if you’d just tell me what kind of job you’re looking for.”

“Oh, I don’t take handouts.”

“This is pretty much how the world works, luv—it’s who you know that gets you in more likely than what you know. I’m not exactly in good standing right now with my dad and perhaps his cohorts, but I’ve got my own contacts, my own thing going. I can help you out.”

“And then what would I owe you in return?” she asked, her gaze direct and full of meaning.

“Nothing,” he said gently. “I’m not expecting any kind of...repayment. Consider it me returning a favor—you have given me a place of refuge when I need it most.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said, looking a bit perturbed. “I wanted to help you.”

“See? Same here. Besides, it kills me to think of you running around out there as...
trusting
as you are. I feel like I need to tuck you in somewhere safe—for your own good.”

“Excuse you? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I’m not saying you’re not, it’s just that it disturbs me how easily you invited me over. Listen, I’ve lived here a long time, and I’m just giving you a little city boy advice: trust no one. How are you getting around, anyway?”

“Subway—like everyone else.”

“I’m serious, Maribel—keep your eyes open, hold your belongings tight, be wary of people bumping into you, position your valuables where they can’t be grabbed or pick-pocketed, don’t hold anything for anyone—no matter how pitiful they look…”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Like if someone says, ‘can you hold this box/chain/whatever’ for me, the answer is always no. Otherwise, don’t be surprised if they try to make a scene and say you stole it or otherwise make you pay for it. And for god’s sake, for future reference, avoid traveling at night alone. Maribel—and I mean this quite affectionately—you just look like a victim.”

He grinned at her tightened expression.

“I knew you’d get mad, but I’m being honest—you look out-of-place, no matter how much you think you’re blending in. You’re clearly a visitor, a tourist, and therefore, you look like an easy target. Please don’t be insulted—I’m just giving you a quick rundown because if you’re going to survive out here, you need to develop some survival techniques. Street smarts. You’re not skilled in martial arts, by chance, are you?”

She let out quick laughter as she shook her head.

Relief washed over him that she was no longer on the defense.

“Look, I’m sorry if it seems like I’m coming down hard on you, but it’s from a place of genuine concern. You seem sweet, you’ve been kind to me; therefore, I like you, and I’d hate for you to get hurt in any way. I’m just doing what I can to help you out since you won’t let me place you in an office somewhere.”

She giggled.

“Please don’t make light, Maribel.”

Her smile looked less mocking, but her eyes still sparkled as she said, “You can call me Mari.”

Warmth gathered in his chest.

“That sounds about right,” he said quietly.

J
im felt
like the wind had gotten knocked out of him once Mari reappeared all ready to go.

She had disappeared into her bedroom after grabbing a cup of coffee and reemerged looking all made-up and professional, and he wanted so badly to pull her to him.

It felt so right to be there with her, so natural to wake up and see her, share morning coffee with her, watch her prepare for the day.

As she got ready to leave, she cheerfully reminded him of food delivery places she’d taken note of, leaving all sorts of numbers behind, and, as she headed for the door, he reached for her, halting her steps and spinning her around to face him as he brought them closer.

Before he knew it, his lips had found hers.

She melted into his embrace and let him kiss her for all of two seconds before she pulled away violently.

Shame flooded him.

“Christ, I’m so sorry, Mari—I don’t know what got into me. It just felt so natural…”

She took a step back, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

He knew she was as affected as he was, but her face was riddled with indecision.

She looked struck—confused and aroused all at once.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” she said before disappearing through the front door.