Need (Bad Boys with Billions Book 3) Page 3

  With ten minutes to go until her arrival, I surveyed my apartment and found it lacking.

  The furniture I’d been grateful for when Ella and I moved in now looked shabby compared to the places where I knew Carol spent her time. Would she take one look at this dump with its scratched wood floors, lumpy mismatched sofa and armchair and bolt before I even had a chance to learn how much she hates pizza?

  Cheap wine cooled in the fridge, and since it had been a nice day, I opened the windows, hoping the bay’s brine proved more seductive than the neighbor’s fried onions. I wish I’d bought one of those scented candles I’d stocked that morning at the store.

  Even more, I wished I’d kept my big mouth shut long enough to at least listen to Uma’s job description. Judging by her card, she didn’t need me for odd jobs or lawn care. Of course, her business had something to do with sex, but maybe in a classy way? Who knows, maybe if I’d taken her up on the offer, I could have earned enough to buy a nice recliner, or at least matching wineglasses.

  By the time eight-fifteen came and went, and Carol still wasn’t there, I got antsy.

  Was she standing me up?

  Could I blame her if she did? Hell, she was the female version of Liam, only a helluva lot better looking. She didn’t have his money, but she sure wasn’t hurting. Since moving out here, my life had never felt more dissatisfying. All around me, it seemed like the world moved at a frenetic, always rising pace, yet I stood still. Yeah, I would eventually have my business degree, but these days, who didn’t? I needed more—an edge. For a woman like Carol to take notice, I needed to climb the success ladder two or three rungs at a time.

  A knock sounded on the door, and my stomach clenched.

  I hadn’t called Carol for a very specific reason—I had nothing to offer. That night on the beach, on neutral ground, none of what we’d shared had been about anything other than following the basic human instinct to escape pain by seeking pleasure. Now? Without Ella and Liam’s wedding driving us to do the ordinarily unthinkable, what more was there to even say?

  I opened the door planning to turn her away, but then she looked so beautiful in her blue skirt and a silky blouse, which seemed to glow from within just like the half-dozen pearl strands around her neck, that I froze. She wore her long, blond hair up, and my eyes laser-focused on the sexy hollow at the base of her throat.

  “Hey,” was all I could manage.

  “Hey, yourself.” She kissed my cheek, then glided past on a magic carpet woven from her signature orange blossoms. “Got wine? It’s been one of those days . . .”

  “Yeah. Sure.” I lurched into action, crossing the short distance from the living room to the kitchen. “What happened?”

  “Nothing in particular. After hanging up with you, I got in a phone fight with my mom. Then got caught trying to sneak out of the office, and ended up staying even later than usual to track down a carpenter Liam wants to hire for the house remodel.”

  “Does it bother you?” I turned my back on her to unscrew the cap from the wine. The house she’d referred to was more like a mini-palace Liam had given Ella.

  From the corner by the Thai place, a street-musician jazz trio started their nightly gig. The music drifted through the screens, dancing with the curtains.

  “Does what bother me?” She’d tossed her purse on the ratty armchair and settled herself on the sofa.

  “Working for Liam—seeing him every day.” I poured two glasses of cheap merlot. “I couldn’t do it—be around Ella that much.” I downed half my glass before delivering Carol’s. “She reminds me of everything in my life that I can’t have.”

  “Thanks.” Carol took a few sips, setting her glass on the side table before slipping off her heels, then curling onto her hip with her legs tucked neatly alongside me. I took another drink to keep from kneeling in front of her to suck one of those black-tipped toes or run my hands up the hint of bare thigh teasing me from beneath her skirt. “What do you want—besides Ella?”

  You. I forced a smile. “How about this weather?”

  “Don’t want to talk about her?”

  “No.” The whole one-sided relationship made me feel pathetic. I finished off my glass, wishing for something stronger.

  “You were the one who asked me about working for Liam.”

  “Sorry.” I fetched the wine, topping off both of our glasses, then rejoining her on the sofa. “Rewind.”

  “Done.” She blew me a kiss.

  “Favorite color?”

  “Platinum.”

  “Favorite movie?”

  “Used to be Pretty Woman. Now . . .” She swirled the contents of her glass. “Wanna skip the small talk and get right to the good part we both know is coming?”

  Yes. No.

  Fuck. I said, “This isn’t going at all how I’d imagined.”

  “How’s that? I mean, considering we’re both on the rebound, what else is there to discuss? Sex between us wasn’t just good, but phenomenal. My life is too messy for a real relationship, and—”

  “Your mom—why the fight?”

  “Long story.” She groaned, arching her neck, unwittingly showcasing her elegant throat. It would be so easy to close the distance between us and unbutton her blouse, but then what? I didn’t want to be that guy. “Let’s just say I have more than a few regrets about the girl I used to be.”

  “Let me guess—you fell off your pretty pink pony? Daddy bought you a Beemer instead of a Jag for your birthday?”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Ella never told you my back story?”

  “Why would she?”

  “Great question. Assuming she had casts quite the spotlight on my own sense of self-importance.”

  “Or, more accurately, reflects the degree to which Ella obsessed over your boss.”

  “I’ll accept that.” She held out her glass. “Refill?”

  I topped her off, then poured the remainder into my glass. I set the bottle on the floor. “We’re a couple of lushes,” she said.

  “True. Want me to run out for more?”

  “We can go together, then grab something to eat.”

  “I’ve got pizza coming, and a fridge full of beer.”

  “Even better.” Her smile was contagious. “Can’t remember the last time I had pizza.”

  Score.

  The delivery guy came and went.

  We demolished dinner and a twelve-pack as fast as we had the wine. What was it about her that had me feeling off my game? Maybe because the more we talked, the more I genuinely cared, which I’d never seen coming.

  Working my faint buzz, I blurted, “You don’t belong here. You look like a Fabergé egg plopped in my cardboard tray.”

  “Where do I belong?”

  “Somewhere fancy—Paris. Back on the yacht Liam chartered.” That was the first time I’d met Carol. Ella was fresh from escaping her bastard ex, and Lord Liam had celebrated the occasion in style. Was I jealous? Hell, yes. I wanted yacht rental and a private jet in my man arsenal. It wasn’t that I begrudged Liam his success—he’s a great guy. But I had to have something more for myself than stocking and sacking groceries.

  “You seem to have the wrong idea about me.” She finished the last beer. “When I was three, Dad took off for greener pastures. Mom cleaned rich people’s houses for a living, and barely made enough to pay rent on a nasty old trailer. She tried making it homey, but there’s only so much you can do with Dumpster treasure.” Mind blown.

  “Something not everyone knows about pre-Ella Liam—and I’d appreciate you keeping this on the D-L—but like mine, his early years weren’t so great, either. When he first got money, he used to save people. You know, like find down-on-their-luck types and play Fairy Godfather. Most times, it worked out great. Others, not quite what he’d expected. I was a project for him. He found me when I worked the drive-thru at an Arby’s. At first, we shared a whirlwind romance.” She crushed her beer can. “Then, he got bored, and I was cast aside like last year’s cellphone—but with a bett
er severance package. He sent me to college, then hired me—I think at first out of pity, but I worked my ass off to prove myself indispensable. And here I am, still standing—only the dream of us one day reuniting is dead. And I’m okay with that. I have to be. Ella’s my friend, and so is Liam, and now, there’s going to be a baby . . .” Sometime during her speech, her barely blue eyes had gone shiny with unshed tears, and she pitched the beer can across the room, where it landed with a clatter. “I want that, too, you know? My Happily Ever After. So many times, I thought I’d had it, only for my happiness to vanish like smoke. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To want something so many others take for granted?”

  I laughed. “You think I’ve never wanted my own storybook ending? I had a full ride to engineering school and then my mom got cancer. Everything I’d worked so hard for went to shit.”

  “Is she okay? Your mom?”

  “No. And when she died, so did my dreams. I took a shit job and pretty much gave up on life ever getting better. I met Ella and for a hot second, thought she might be the key to starting over, but we both know how that turned out. Now, I’m angry and bitter and hate everyone who smiles.”

  “We’re a match made in heaven.”

  “I’d drink to that, but we already downed all my liquor.”

  Her laugh made me feel something I hadn’t in a while—hope.

  She held out her hand, and I took it. “Wanna walk off all those carbs? Maybe replace them with even more? There’s a great little place two blocks south that’s right on the water. Their martinis are to-die-for and the surf-and-turf is perfection.”

  “Sounds good, but I can’t.” Just when I thought life might be looking up, as usual, it took a dive.

  “Why?” She dropped my hand. “Previous plans?”

  Yeah, like paying rent.

  But I couldn’t tell her that. Seriously, a night out at the place she was talking about could easily run a couple hundred bucks. That might be pocket change to her, but me? Fuck. “I’m sorry—really. But I have to study. Another time?”

  She rose, grabbed her purse, slipped on her shoes, then turned for the door. “I thought this was maybe the start of something nice, but—”

  “It was. Is.” I stood, too. “I’ll give you a call, okay?”

  “Don’t bother.”

  “Are you good to drive?”

  “Suddenly way too sober.” Her tight laugh reminded me of Ice Queen Carol, but the more we were together, the more I wondered if that was just a front. “It’s been real.”

  “Carol . . .” Barefoot, I followed her into the stairwell. “Don’t leave like this.”

  She kept right on walking. Clipped echoes from her high heels punctuated each step.

  I chased her down the stairs and through the entry hall, but in front of the building’s shared bulletin board stepped on a thumbtack. Fuck. “Carol!”

  In the time it took to yank the tack from my heel, she’d reached her car.

  I could have kept chasing, but why? What good would it do to make her stay when I barely had enough cash in my wallet to grab another six-pack, let alone a night’s worth of martinis and fancy food? I hated this.

  Lying to Carol.

  Feeling like shit about who I’d become.

  The next time Uma stopped by Food Mart for ice cream and chips, I’d apologize for being an ass, then tell her I’d take the job—whatever it entailed.

  Carol

  I wasn’t in any shape to drive, so as soon as I’d moved my car beyond Nathan’s line of sight, I walked to the restaurant where I’d wanted to go with him. I sat alone at a table for two on the water, drowning my sorrows in three watermelontinis and a still mooing steak.

  I told myself I hadn’t expected anything from my date with Nathan, but that was a lie.

  At the very least, I should have gotten a replay of what happened at the beach.

  Instead, our time had been an odd mash of awkward small talk blended with snippets of depth promising enough to have made me want more than just great sex. The real Nathan wasn’t what I’d expected. But then, what about him had I really known?

  A little past midnight, I called an Uber to take me to my bay-view San Francisco condo.

  My car would be safe enough in Sausalito overnight. I, on the other hand, would not.

  One more drink, and I feared my inhibitions would be lowered enough for me to go charging down the street to demand why Nathan hadn’t wanted to take me to dinner. What was it about me that hadn’t been good enough? Now that he knew my past, had that turned him off? Why had I even told him? I never talked about my dad leaving, and I sure as hell never brought up the way Liam and I met.

  At this time of night, Morris Tower’s lobby was thankfully dead, so I slipped off my heels after paying my driver—a sweet college-type who looked intent on earning enough to cover next semester’s textbooks. I tipped him a hundred for asking if I needed help inside.

  The elevator ride to the thirty-fifth floor was uneventful. Inside the one-bedroom I usually considered my sanctuary, I gazed out at the expansive city and bay view and instead of being dazzled by its beauty, I was depressed by how many people those lights represented and how alone and isolated I felt.

  I dropped my heels and purse to the marble foyer floor, then wandered into the kitchen for wine. I grabbed an open bottle of Shiraz, then headed for the oversized soaking tub that had sold me on this unit. It filled the master bath’s entire window wall. I suppose some freak out there with a telescope could get his jollies from the view, but what did I care? I’d worked hard for this body, and while I wouldn’t be signing up for Playboy anytime soon, I sure wasn’t embarrassed for anyone to see me naked.

  I stood at the foot of my bed and had stripped to my bra and G-string when I barely heard my cell ring above the running water. The tone was the silly singsong one I’d assigned to HUNG Nathan, so I didn’t bother to answer. But then voicemail chimed and I couldn’t resist hearing whatever stupid BS spilled from his stupid-handsome mouth.

  After getting the rest of the way naked, I grabbed my wine and phone, setting them on the imported glass-tile tub surround. After turning off the waterfall tap, then easing beneath orange blossom–perfumed bubbles, I took a fortifying swig of wine, then listened to Nathan’s message.

  “Hey. Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been a pussy and just told you straight up that the only reason I didn’t want to continue our night was that I couldn’t afford to take you to dinner. The pizza and wine already blew my budget, and how fucking embarrassing is—” The rest got cut off.

  Which made my too-tipsy self sad. But then I couldn’t stop smiling, because the boy I was crushing on liked me—really liked me. I mean, I guess. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but drunk me was adept at reading between the lines.

  Drunk me also had no inhibitions about calling boys first.

  I hit the speed dial on his number.

  He answered on the first ring. “I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re adorable. Why didn’t you just ask me to pay?”

  “And destroy what little’s left of my already pathetic ego?”

  “Wanna come over? I’m in the tub, and wouldn’t mind company.”

  “I wouldn’t mind being your company, but I’m drunk off the cheap vodka I found behind my Cap’n Crunch, and even if I weren’t, I can’t afford a cab, and assuming you live in Palo Alto, it’d take all night to find you by bus.”

  “What if I don’t live in Palo Alto? What if right now, from my tub, I can see you?”

  “I’d say you either live on my couch or have X-ray vision—in which case, that could come in handy if we ever need to pull a bank heist or check for alien implants or broken limbs.” His throaty laugh warmed me faster than the wine. I was a little girl again, giggling and twirling on a dandelion-strewn backyard. Running, running toward the city pool for summer’s first cannonball. Licking the base of my ice-cream cone before it all melted. Longing, warm and golden and filled with childlike
anticipation, bathed me in morning sun—only my high-on-life buzz wasn’t so much about sex, but more. That elusive sense of belonging it sometimes felt as if I’d searched forever to find.

  “Sorry,” I said, curiously out of breath. “No superpowers, but I do have a super bay view.”

  “Then you live in the city?”

  “Uh-huh . . .” Please, come over. Please.

  “Damn . . .”

  “See? It’s not all that far. I could send a cab for you—and pay.”

  He sighed. “And there we are—right back where we started. Look, I might have a lead on something. Might pan out to be nothing, but it could be good.”

  I sighed. “God, Nathan. I have plenty of money. If our roles were reversed, this wouldn’t even be an issue.”

  “Look, I don’t wanna fight.”

  “Neither do I. Come over. Let’s pick up where we left off at the wedding.” It would be so easy—not just falling into bed with him, but adopting the same rescue role with Nathan that Liam had played with me. But after I saved him from not-all-that-horrible Sausalito, what then? Clear a space for him in my closet, then move him into my condo? Shower him in cash and credit cards so he could pretend to be the titan he claimed he wanted to be? And when he realized money wasn’t the answer to his problems, and grew to resent me—what then? Did I gift him with the same severance package Liam had given me?

  Where was the joy in that? I’d rather be alone.

  He groaned. “My mental image of you in the tub is gonna send me to the shower.”

  “I get it,” I said. After my fast-forward montage of realizing that he’d never be happy— fulfilled—until making his own way, I really did understand why he didn’t want to come over. But that didn’t make it easier to swallow.

  “I’m just drunk enough to admit I like you. If we’d met under different circumstances . . .” He prefaced a long pause with a sigh. “I’m not proud of this, but I can’t deal with you wearing the pants. I need to take care of a woman—not the other way around.”