The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(31)

“Is it to prove to yourself you haven’t lost your touch, or is this a situation like when I met Gena?” Luc’s eyebrow rose knowingly. Watching him go gaga over a girl was a sight to be seen. He’d been as confused as Tag was right now.

“Gimme a break. You married people get extra points for recruiting singles into your secret society or something?”

“Uh-huh.” It was a blow-off, and Lucas knew it. He pressed his lips into a smirk and stood from the bench. Lucas started out of the gym, but not before leaving Tag with a parting jab. “Heading home to the rug rats. Keep me posted on whatever is happening with you and the dodger.”

“She’s not dodging!” Tag called after him.

“Whatever you say!” was his buddy’s response as the doors to the gym shut with a bang behind him.

Tag leaned back on the bench and conked his head on the wall. He wasn’t done with Rachel yet, for better or worse. As he grabbed the bag and headed for the weight room, he had a premonition his friend wasn’t as far off the mark as Tag would like him to be.





Chapter 9



Tag sat, elbow on his kitchen table, chin in hand. He watched Rachel’s tongue flick out to touch the side of her mouth as she drew a line on the paper in front of her and thought again how he’d like to take her mouth captive.

She’d been mapping out bar designs with him for a few hours, and he was impressed with her ideas as well as her ability to concentrate on the project in front of her without once wavering.

His concentration had been shot since she arrived. She wasn’t wearing a sexy, sleek dress, but the stretch pants and long sweater paired with a knee-high pair of boots made her look cozy and cute. Her lips were free of gloss, her hair down in soft blond waves. She looked warm and touchable, and, as he knew after cradling her against him, achingly soft.

He’d been reeling from Lucas’s suggestion that she was dodging. Not the best confidence booster, but then Tag had never needed his confidence boosted before, had he? New territory all around. If the woman across from him was unmapped territory, he wanted nothing more than to explore her from head to toe.

Problem was, he didn’t know whether to hack past her boundaries with a machete or lie in wait like a photographer waiting for the perfect shot of a timid deer.

“You should come to Hawaii with me,” he blurted. Okay, machete it is.

Her pencil stilled on the paper and her lips softened, her mouth parting.

“Crane Hotel on Oahu,” he elaborated. “That’s the pool bar you’re drawing. It’d help if you were on site advising. Talking to the staff. I’m better hands-on.”

Her top teeth came down over her lip. He kept going. Kept hacking.

“Snow’s killing me,” he said. “I could use some sand and ocean and sunsets. Couldn’t you?”

Moreover, he could use some alone time with her where she didn’t run to work or back to Oliver’s apartment. He didn’t think she knew why she was running, and he was still perplexed why he was chasing. What he did know was that she’d burrowed under his skin, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop wondering what they’d be like together.

Together together.

He would concede that part of the allure of Rachel was the challenge, but mostly it was her. Her quick comebacks and hesitation. The way she stared at him with her eyes but feigned disinterest with her mouth. She was a mystery he wanted to solve, and the key to uncovering her was getting out of their my-penthouse-or-yours routine.

She flipped the pencil to the eraser end and tapped the pink nub on the paper. “I have a job.”

“Take a vacation.”

“I don’t have vacation. I’ve only worked there a few months.”

“Take an unpaid vacation.” No wasn’t an option. He needed to get out of here. She needed to get out of here. Them getting out of here together was an even better idea.

“I—”

“I need your help,” he said sincerely. He tapped the drawing with the tip of his finger. “A fresh pair of eyes on the bar would be a huge service. Consider yourself a consultant for Crane Hotels. Any food, drinks, and accommodations are on me.”

When he expected another no, she surprised him with “I have my own money.”

He blinked, surprised. And relieved. That was definitely not a no. He refused to let her pay for anything. If he were to hire another consultant, he’d book a room, provide a per diem for food and drinks. No way would Rachel shell out her own money for those things.

“It’s settled, then.” He sensed if he pushed her on the money thing, she’d balk.

She licked her lips and shook her head, her blond waves moving like silk over her shoulders. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Boy, did he have a few suggestions. Every last one involving her and nothing between them but a thin layer of sweat.

“Meaning?” he asked instead of saying what he was thinking. Machete, yes, but no need to use a bulldozer.

“Meaning…” She abandoned the pencil and turned toward him, leg folded beneath her on the kitchen chair. She let out an exasperated sound and put her hands over her face, then raked her fingers through her hair.

“You’re nervous. Around me.” Every inch of her body language said so.