The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(25)

I pulled up to valet parking and Jude and I got out. He paused by my car while I shouldered my handbag and walked toward the shopping center entrance. I could sense him following behind me.

After strolling past a few stores, I stopped and turned around. “Do you have to do that?”

He took a few steps closer. “Do what?”

“Follow me.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“I mean follow me at a distance. Are you staying back there so you have a better view or something? Because I really don’t think anyone is going to jump out and attack me.”

His eyes darted around, like he was verifying my assessment. “Probably not. I’m just trying to stay out of your way.”

“Can you just walk with me? It feels weird to have you back there.”

“Sure.”

I kept walking and he fell in step beside me. “See? Better. Now I can pretend we’re friends out shopping.”

He didn’t reply.

I took my time, although I knew where I was going. My first stop was Jimmy Choo.

I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with my level of wealth. I’d grown up an orphan, raised by grandparents who hadn’t planned on returning to the parenting starting line. I’d worked my way through college. At one point in my early twenties I’d been so poor I’d lived on ramen noodles and cheap coffee.

Now I wore custom tailored suits and drove a six-figure Tesla.

I felt a strong sense of responsibility to use my resources well. I was working on creating a charitable foundation to organize my donations and charitable giving. My secret goal was to give away enough money that I dropped out of the billionaire category. Although with the way Spencer was thriving, that would be harder than it might appear, since much of my net worth came from ownership in the company.

But I also didn’t feel guilty indulging sometimes. I’d worked my ass off to earn everything I had. Money didn’t buy happiness, but it did buy security—something I appreciated deeply—and the most fabulous heels in existence. Shoes were my favorite indulgence.

Jude stood near the front of the store while I looked over the selection and chatted with the clerk. Wasn’t he bored? He had to be bored. I glanced at him a few times, but his face betrayed nothing. He didn’t look bothered or irritated that he had to stand in a shoe store while his client shopped. The man was a master at masking his thoughts. He didn’t seem to be feeling anything at all.

Brick wall. Or maybe a statue.

The clerk came out with several pairs of shoes for me to try. I sat on a tufted stool and put on the first pair. They pinched in a way I didn’t like. I could tell without even walking in them that they weren’t going to work. I slipped my feet into the second pair—red suede pumps lined with crystals. They were bright and glittery and fabulous. I had no idea where I’d wear them, but I loved how brash they were.

Heels were my little rebellion. I’d spent most of my childhood being teased for my height. I hadn’t even tried on a pair of high heels until I was out of college, assuming tall girls couldn’t wear them. But now I wore them almost daily. I loved them. I loved the way they made my legs look. And I loved that they added inches to my already tall frame. They were my private fuck you to every asshole who’d made fun of me as a kid.

“Those look incredible on you,” the clerk said.

I stood and took a few steps in front of one of the full-length mirrors. The shoes felt fabulous, and I loved the way they looked. I planted one toe on the floor and angled my foot to get a better look.

A hint of movement in the mirror caught my eye. I could see Jude’s reflection behind me. He was staring, but not like a bored statue. He’d tilted his head ever so slightly and his eyes were on my legs. My long legs in a short skirt.

He was totally checking me out.

I felt a flush of heat and glanced at my face in the mirror, hoping I wasn’t blushing. Thankfully there was only a hint of pink in my cheeks.

My eyes darted back to his reflection, but he’d looked away. Maybe I’d imagined him watching me with heat in his gaze. Had there been something other than professionalism in Jude’s expression? Had I caught a glimpse of the man behind the wall?

I tried on a few more pairs but ultimately left with just the red ones. I thanked the clerk and Jude held the door, then fell in step with me.

I didn’t have another store in mind, so we wandered past meticulously curated window displays and bubbling fountains. Mostly it felt good to be away from all things work. Brandy had been right, I’d needed this.

And I could grudgingly admit that it didn’t ruin anything to have Jude along. He didn’t talk much, but we strolled in comfortable silence. And any hint of anxiety I might have had about being in public since the incident in the parking garage was nonexistent. Jude was here. I was fine.

But I didn’t need to spend an entire day shopping. My mind was already flitting back to my to-do list. I’d taken a break. I could finish out the day in my home office. Let Jude have the rest of his Saturday to himself.

Agent Provocateur, one of my favorite lingerie stores, caught my eye up ahead. I thought about Jude’s statue impression in Jimmy Choo—and that glimpse I’d caught of him in the mirror. It had only been for a second, and maybe I’d imagined it. But I wondered if I could crack that stony fa?ade again.

“One more stop,” I said with a smile and veered toward the entrance.