The Billionaire and the Virgin (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #1)(15)

“Because they were shi— er, not nice people?” Damn. He probably shouldn’t cuss around her. She was a sheltered virgin, right? So his normal foul-mouthed conversation was probably a no-go. He eyed the cleavage she was currently trying to tug her clothing over. The night was a windy one, and her nipples were visible through the thin fabric.

And if he was going to be a gentleman, he wasn’t going to stare at them, goddamn it. Not matter how much he wanted to reach over and touch them.

“Well, that, too.” Marjorie said, drawing his attention back to the conversation. He forced himself to meet her gaze, and couldn’t remember exactly what they were talking about. She glanced around as the boat sped through the dark waters and hunched over a little, crossing her arms over her breasts.

“You cold?” He moved to take his jacket off and offer it to her.

“Not cold.”

He studied her, trying not to look down at those enticing and too-obvious breasts. “You sure? You seem . . . uncomfortable.”

She gave him a shy smile. “I’m not dressed all that nice for a dinner date. Not like you.” She licked her lips nervously as she studied his suit, and he wanted to taste that darting tongue. “I didn’t bring anything dressy to the island.”

“You look fine. Don’t worry about it.” It was he that should be feeling all out of sorts. He was in a goddamn suit. With goddamn cufflinks, for chrissakes. But he’d dressed up for his date with Marjorie, sure that she wouldn’t want to go out with a guy who tended to wear a slobby t-shirt and jeans to four-star restaurants. Right now he felt a bit like a f*cking show pony. Which was a bit ironic, considering that Marjorie practically had her tits hanging out of her dress.

Not that he was complaining about that part. It just didn’t seem . . . virginal. That’s all.

Then again, in his line of work, he didn’t exactly fall over a lot of virgins. Maybe this was just how they all dressed nowadays.

She glanced around as if seeking something to talk about, then looked back at him. Her eyes were full of amusement. “This boat must have been expensive to charter just for two people.”

“Maybe it was.” He had no idea. He didn’t really look at price tags anymore.

“You know you didn’t have to get this just to impress me. I would have been just as happy eating dinner at one of the resort restaurants.”

He wouldn’t have been, though. With his luck, Logan would show up, and he didn’t want anything interfering with his date with his cute blonde amazon now that he had her to himself. Don’t tell me how easy a date you are or I’m going to end up disappointed if this date ends with anything less than your legs wrapped around my face.

Of course, that’s what Normal Rob would have said. Nice, Datable Rob said, “Don’t be silly. I wanted to treat you.”

Man, Datable Rob was such a bland putz. He hoped Marjorie appreciated him, though.

She was smiling, though, and leaning over so much that her tits were about to pop out of that flimsy dress. Christ. It took everything he had to keep eye contact with her. “So do you date a lot, Rob?”

It should have been a coy question, but Marjorie’s wide-open gaze told him that she was serious . . . and she probably wouldn’t like the answer. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he could snap his fingers and get more * than a regular man could ever dream of.

But she was watching him with that earnest expression and Rob realized that he was probably just as rusty at dating as she was. The girls he normally “dated”? They approached and propositioned, and he let some of them f*ck him in exchange for getting on TV or getting into an exclusive party. That wasn’t really dating. Dating was spending time with someone that you were interested in to learn more about them. He sure as shit didn’t want to learn anything about the parade of disposable tits and ass that were readily available.

So he said, “Yeah, I guess I’m pretty out of practice, too.”

She leaned in, and he got another glimpse of those gorgeous shoulders and a hint of cleavage. “I won’t hold it against you.”

Will your thighs? Hold it against me, that is? But Bland Rob smiled and said, “Why, thank you.”





Chapter Eight



The boat ride ended far too soon, and they made it to Le Poisson, a ritzy little restaurant near the docks of a neighboring island. Chinese paper lanterns lined the docks and white tableclothed tables lined the patio, and there was the faint sound of live music from inside.

As they walked into the restaurant, he watched her visibly tense and her hands went to hold her short, floppy skirt down. He’d known that was coming. Le Poisson was a black-tie sort of place and she was wildly underdressed. Still, if she acted like she owned her look, no one would think anything of it. But judging from her hunched shoulders and unhappy expression? that was too much to hope for.

Rob put a hand to the small of her back in solidarity and guided her forward. “No backing out now.”

Marjorie looked over at him, startled. “Oh, I wouldn’t. That’d be rude. And I want to be here with you.” Her smile grew overbright, and he wondered if that was Marjorie’s version of flirting. It was awfully toothy. And was rudeness the only reason she wasn’t backing out of this date? Damn. His ego had just taken a massive beating at the thought.