The Billionaire and the Virgin (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #1)(36)

He did about five minutes later, rounding the corner of the tropical gardens, an irritated look on his face. He slipped his sunglasses back on as he headed toward her, shoulders tense. “It’s taken care of. Those f*cking jackasses won’t bother you again.”

“Did you tell management?”

“No, I had a talk with them. They listened to me and they’re going to leave you alone.” His jaw was set, stubborn. “Dumbasses.”

“That must be the guy that Logan’s upset about,” Marjorie said. “He told me at lunch that some tabloid creep is here on the island trying to get his attention by crashing the wedding. We should tell him about it.”

“Tabloid creep? Who, that guy?” He thumbed a gesture back at the bushes. “He’s a peon. Like I said, he’s handled.”

“Yes, but Logan will want to know that I ran into him. Think—if he’s attacking girls like me, he’s probably attacking everyone that walks past. Logan’s going to be so upset—”

“It’s taken care of, Marjorie,” Rob said in a firm voice. He put his hands out for her. “Come on. I don’t want to give that guy another thought while we’re on our date. I’d rather think about you and me.”

She put her hands in his and let him help her up. As soon as she stood, she winced.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “Just my ankles. They throb a bit. That’s what I get for running in these shoes.” Her grimace was apologetic. “Which, by the way, are incredibly gorgeous and far too expensive.”

“Hush,” he told her. “And sit. Let me look at your ankles.”

“They’re fine,” she protested again, but when he turned that stern look on her, she promptly sat back down on the gazebo steps again and smoothed her dress over her knees.

“Give me your foot,” he said, indicating the same with his hand.

Reluctantly, she lifted one long leg and extended her foot toward him. He took it in hand, tilting her leg high enough that she had to quickly stuff her skirts down around her leg to keep from flashing anything inappropriate. Rob pulled the shoe from her foot and set it down on the pavement, then proceeded to rub his hands along her foot, caressing the bones and muscles.

“How does this feel?” he asked her.

“Ticklish,” she admitted, squirming a bit when he pressed his thumb to the underside of her foot. “And it doesn’t hurt there. It’s my ankles.”

“I was getting there,” he said, his voice returning to its normal playful timbre. “Can’t blame a guy if he just likes touching a pretty woman’s feet.”

And she blushed all over again, feeling shy.

He continued to massage and manipulate her foot, his fingers eventually moving up to her ankle. As he touched her, Marjorie felt a little weird and flushed . . . and achy. It was embarrassing, especially because her nipples were responding in kind.

“Feel better?” Rob asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she said quietly.

But when she held her hand out for her shoe, he pointed at her other foot. “That one, too.” And so she had to sit there and endure more of the awkward-but-exciting touches as he massaged her other foot and ankle. She was relieved—and okay, a little disappointed, too—when he finally released her other foot and then picked up her spangly shoes, holding them out to her.

“Thank you.”

“Quit thanking me. I hate that you had to run here like you were scared.” That angry look settled on his face again.

“Let’s not think about it,” Marjorie said, getting to her feet and testing things out. Everything was good again, other than she felt a little boneless and content from the foot massage. When she stood to her full height, she was easily half a foot taller than him in the heels, and the awkward feeling returned. “You sure you want to go out with me in these?”

“You are utterly and completely gorgeous,” Rob said. “And I love the way you look in those. Don’t make me buy you a pair of stilettos for every date that I plan on taking you on.”

“I’ll return them,” she threatened, finding her voice. “You can’t make me take them.”

“I bet I could.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I bet I could find the strappiest, girliest, tallest shoes out there and you’d love them so much that you’d keep them no matter how you felt.”

“I wouldn’t!” Her protest sounded weak even to her own ears. Tall, girly shoes? Lordy, she was weak.

“What’s your favorite color? I’m guessing you like bright things despite that boring-ass dress. I think a pair of bright red f*ck-me heels would look gorgeous on your feet. What do you think?” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they began to walk through the gardens.

“I think they sound terrible,” she lied. Gosh, they sounded lovely. “I’d never wear them.”

“You’re a shitty liar,” he told her, amused. “It’s adorable.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling a little cornered. “Rob, seriously, I couldn’t accept shoes from you again. These are too much as it is. I bet they were easily six hundred dollars—”

“Actually I think my assistant told me they were three grand.”