Bad Bridesmaid (Billionaire's Club Book 11) Page 10

  “Noted,” he said. “So, does this mean you’ll go ice skating with me?”

  “Are you asking me on a date?”

  “Are you going to say yes?”

  “Isn’t ice skating a little pedantic of a date for you?”

  He smiled. “I don’t know.” A shrug. “Depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “On whether or not you say yes.”

  She laughed, arms tightening around him. “I’d say yes.”

  Joy bubbled in him. “Okay then, will you go ice skating with me, Heidi Greene?”

  “No.”

  His jaw dropped open.

  “But I will go on a date with you.” A beat. “Even if it’s ice skating.”

  He blinked, trying to keep up with the circles this woman was spinning around him and understanding that he probably never would be able to. Then he shrugged, began tracing light circles on her back again, and decided he didn’t care.

  Not when it meant that he’d just scored a date with this woman.

  Fourteen

  Heidi

  He didn’t take her ice skating.

  But he did take her to prison.

  To Alcatraz, that was.

  “It’s funny,” she said as they leaned against the railing of the ferry, wind blowing through their hair, The Rock, coming into view in the distance.

  “What’s funny?” he asked.

  “I grew up here, and I’ve never done any of the touristy things. No Alcatraz, no cable cars or Lombard Street. Hell, I’ve only ever done Ghirardelli Square and Pier 39 when relatives visited and wanted to hit the tourist traps.”

  “Well, there are far more exciting things to see in California besides the stuff that makes it on the postcards.”

  “That’s true.” She turned to look at him. “So, why bring me here?”

  “You only agreed to one date,” he said, eyes twinkling. “This is my backup plan in case you don’t agree to a second.”

  She laughed. “Backup plan because you’ll lock me up until I agree to it?”

  “Precisely,” he said. “Either that, or I hope that you’ll be so bored with the history that you’ll fall asleep, and then I can have my way with you.”

  “So romantic,” she muttered dryly.

  A swathe of pink exploded on his cheeks. “I—shit—I didn’t mean it that way. I wouldn’t take advantage of you—”

  She touched his hand. “I know you wouldn’t.”

  “I just meant in the sense of an evil genius taking over the world, not that I would do something you didn’t want.” He winced. “Shit. I sound like an asshole.”

  She rested her palm on his chest. “It was a joke,” she assured him. “I got it. So, maybe it’s not the best one I’ve heard”—a smile—“but I’m glad you at least understand consent, and how something like that might not land properly. You’re a very evolved man,” she added lightly.

  He rolled his eyes.

  But she was serious.

  He was thoughtful and compassionate . . . and protective, while also doing laundry. Capable, a little bossy without minding when she pushed back . . . and he also made coffee.

  Maybe he truly was the Unicorn.

  She felt herself slide a little deeper down the rabbit hole.

  Especially when she glanced up into those hazel eyes to see them edged with concern. “Plus,” she said. “I am interested in the history. I heard a lot about Alcatraz growing up, so I’m excited to expand my knowledge of all things tourist trap.”

  He relaxed, capturing a strand of her hair that had escaped her ponytail in the gusty winds and tucking it behind her ear. “Should we walk across the Golden Gate next?”

  “Yeah, no,” she said, shuddering. “That’s a step too far for me in my newly-donned tourist hat.” Snorting and shaking her head, she watched the ferry slice through the surf, the bay water blue tinged with brown and breaking into whitecaps as it bounced against the hull. It was chilly, fall turning into winter, and yet with Brad next to her, standing close enough that his entire body was surrounding hers and blocking the wind, she was perfectly comfortable.

  Silence lapsed between them as they both took in their course across the Bay, and though it was beautiful, the fog curling in ribbons across the sky, Heidi couldn’t help but reflect on the week. It had been precisely fourteen days since she, Brad, and Fuzzy McFeatherston had participated in their cake disaster, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

  They’d had nine nights together.

  Nine nights that ranked up there with the best ones of her life, even though they’d hardly done anything—just eaten together, watched TV, cuddled on the couch . . . and in her bed.

  Yes, that fact terrified her.

  But . . . she was firmly addicted and had just decided to accept her fate.

  She’d ride this ride to the end, and hopefully, knowing that there would be an end meant that her heart wouldn’t hurt so much when Brad decided to flit off.

  Or—her pulse thrummed with possibility—maybe he’d stay and—

  Enough.

  So, yes, these last two weeks had been wonderful, filled with easy conversation and warm arms. The evening of her creek shenanigans he’d stayed late, watching bad reality TV and then the various segments from all the late-night shows posted on YouTube that had struck her fancy before finally slipping out around midnight. He’d pressed a kiss to her forehead, leaving her drowsy and snuggly tucked under the covers. And when she’d woken up the following morning, it was to find that he’d prepped her coffee pot to automatically brew and had left a muffin under some plastic wrap on a plate on the counter.

  Then that night, he’d coaxed her from work to Molly’s for dinner.

  Okay, truthfully, it hadn’t taken much coaxing . . . because Molly’s.

  And while dinner wasn’t quite as good as breakfast—because they didn’t have the normal amount of freshly made baked goods—it was almost as good. They’d scarfed down hot sandwiches made on freshly made bread, had slurped up steaming soup laden with veggies and plenty of potatoes, and she’d washed down the huge portion with the best pomegranate iced tea she had ever tasted.

  And then they’d gone back to her place to watch more bad reality TV—though this time it was from her couch and not her bed—and he’d left around midnight again.

  The following evening, he’d called to say he’d gotten stuck in traffic returning from a beach in Santa Cruz, so they hadn’t hung out, hadn’t cuddled on the couch. And . . . she’d missed it.

  Which had made her stomach squeeze, her pulse flutter.

  Because she’d known then that she was already hooked on Brad.

  Hooked on the dangerous, dangerous man.

  But he hadn’t seemed to notice her disquiet—or maybe he had, she realized, remembering the conversation and how he’d drawn her back in with a funny anecdote, how he’d continued to talk with her until she’d relaxed again.

  Then he’d finagled an invite to her condo the next night.

  He still hadn’t stayed over, and she hadn’t asked him to, even though she’d wanted to.

  He’d just kissed her on the forehead again then slipped out the front door.

  And wash, rinse, and repeat.

  He’d coaxed her to Molly’s for breakfast one day before work—saying he just had to try the freshly baked pastries. Another evening they’d walked hand-in-hand on the trails behind her house. Two nights ago, he’d shown up with a big bag of takeout without a word, not long after she’d mentioned that work that day had been exhausting. And on the couple of days he was off doing Brad things and not cuddled up with her on her couch, he’d called just to chat, and they’d ended up talking for hours.

  More light, fun times. More warm conversations. More forehead kisses.

  And now it was Saturday, and she was here with him. On a date.

  And somehow, she knew there would be no more forehead kissing.

  Or maybe, more accurately, it would be replaced with a different kind
of kissing. Her body liked that thought. Her heart was hopeful. Her brain . . . well, it had already decided it was going to take a back seat to the rest of her.

  “Wow,” he murmured.

  Heidi blinked, reorienting herself as she realized they’d arrived at the dock on the edge of the island located in the middle of the Bay, the decommissioned prison sitting atop it. There were more buildings than she’d expected, and it was also taller, with sharp cliffs leading almost straight down to the bay.

  “You better not fall down this one,” Brad murmured into her ear.

  She laughed, startled. “You’re joking about it now?”

  “I’ve witnessed several more of your so-called clumsy skills,” he said, his hot breath still on her skin and making her shiver. “Do you remember the incident just last night when you somehow managed to get your hair stuck on the knob of the cabinet?”

  She remembered all right.

  She also remembered the gentle fingers untangling the strands, the way her body had reacted so intensely to his proximity.

  “Rude,” she muttered, even though she was definitely affected by his proximity even now. A woman had to have some pride, and if she couldn’t muster at least a modicum of sarcasm, where would she be?

  “The truth,” he said. “And my point is that I think I can afford a small joke.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “At least this one is better than your prison joke.”

  He hissed out a breath. “Ouch, that’s cold,” he said, stepping back and taking her hand. “You’re right, but damn, that’s cold.”

  Giggling, she tugged him toward the stairs that would take them to the bottom level of the ferry, where they could disembark. “Come on, I need to get my audio tour and visit the gift shop.”

  “And here I’d prepared myself to play tour guide,” he said dryly as they hit the bottom step. “I even have one of those little flowers so you can easily find me in the crowd.”

  “Do you really?”

  His expression went serious, and he reached into his back pocket.

  Her mouth dropped open.

  But then he grinned, holding up his empty hand. “Seriously, though, I did do some research before coming. Redoing the visitor’s center’s website is next on my client list.”

  “Isn’t it run by the government?”

  “I have a contract with the government,” he said and leaned close. “And now that I’ve told you that, I have to kill you.”

  She swatted him. “Stop joking around,” she told him. “Because seriously, that’s awesome. How long have you had the contract?”

  “For a few years. The actual National Parks Service site is run and managed by the government—I would never have the capacity to set up something so vast. But a lot of the visitor’s centers and tourist attractions are run by an outside company.” He shrugged. “I did that company’s main site maybe five years back, and then a higher up in the tech department asked me to do a spread for Crater Lake. Now, I’ve been slowly working my way through a lot of the national parks’ visitor interfaces. They do the actual functionality and building. I just advise on design and useability.” He continued to hold her hand as they walked down the gangway. “Next week is Alcatraz, and since it’s here, I figured now would be as good a time as any to see The Rock.”

  “Wow. That’s really impressive.”

  Another shrug. “Not really, and certainly there wasn’t any skill involved,” he said, “I’m just lucky that this fell into my lap and I could make a career out of it.”

  “They wouldn’t keep you on if you weren’t good.”

  He glanced down at her, eyes dancing. “Don’t you know anything about our government? It’s a giant pile of incompetence and overspend.”

  “Ah, so optimistic,” she teased.

  “Realistic is more like it.”

  “Okay then,” she declared. “I will be the barometer of all things talented. You’ll show me a portfolio of your work, and I shall decree whether or not you’re worthy.”

  He tugged a lock of her hair, blowing in the breeze. “Should I get you a crown, too?”

  She fought back a smile. “Obviously.” A beat. “And a scepter.”

  He mimed making a note. “I’ve got it on my mental checklist.”

  “More like your mental bullshit meter,” she said.

  A tap to his nose. “Ding. Ding. Ding.”

  She glanced up at him, totally losing her fight with the smile, seeing that he wore an answering one in return. “I also feel obligated to point out,” she said, “that you’ve taken me on a date so you can work.”

  His mouth dropped open.

  “Am I right?”

  He shook his head, a band of pink appearing on his cheeks. “No, I— That’s not what I was doing. I just thought that since you said you hadn’t seen a lot of touristy things and I was getting ready to work on this that—”

  “Work,” she repeated in a sing-song voice.

  His lips parted. Closed. Parted again. “Shit. I’m an asshole.”

  She went on tiptoe, let her mouth drift close to his ear, and felt a thrill weave through her when he shivered, at knowing that he was just as affected by her as she was by him. “But you’re my asshole,” she whispered.

  He turned his head, eyes blazing with emotion as they met hers. Then his lips quirked. “Yes, I am.”

  Heart pounding at the undertones in the conversation, knowing that neither of them was sincere about the asshole part, Heidi forced her gaze away and concentrated on just breathing. They’d reached solid ground. The ferry-load of people were weaving their way up the path to enter the historic site, and they were all but alone under the partly cloudy day, the wind in their air, the faint scent of the Pacific Ocean just beyond the Golden Gate filling her nose.

  It was a beautiful day with a beautiful man, and she was having the time of her life just chatting and joking and walking with him.

  If that wasn’t the Unicorn, she didn’t know what was.

  And that was when Heidi lost her battle with self-control.

  Rising up on tiptoe, she kissed him.

  And not on his forehead, either.

  Fifteen

  Brad

  He was stunned into stillness for a heartbeat.

  Then he kissed her back.

  He’d been thinking how beautiful she was with the sunlight dappling her skin, the wind ruffling her hair, the laughter dancing in her eyes. He’d been thinking how much he wanted to kiss her, how hard it was becoming to resist the urge.

  And now she’d just tugged him to the side of the path, had pressed her soft, curvy body to his, and kissed him.

  His lips parted automatically, his tongue sweeping forward to tangle with hers, tasting the faint hint of coffee and chocolate and banana on her tongue—the woman was obsessed with those muffins, and he was going to do his damndest to keep up with her demand for them. But it wasn’t off-putting, even though he wasn’t a big fan of either chocolate or banana. Instead . . . it was coming home. It was Heidi.

  It was perfect.

  So perfect, in fact, that he’d dipped his hands under her shirt, fingertips brushing the silken skin of her abdomen on the appetizer to heading north when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “You can’t do that here,” the female voice said.

  He pulled back, blinked dazedly as he turned, trying to get his bearings. “I’m sorry, what?”

  His vision cleared enough to remind him where he was, for him to see that it wasn’t just a woman standing behind them, but a guard with an official badge and uniform and intense-looking duty belt.

  The guard lifted an eyebrow. “I’d suggest you either start your tour, or you end it.”

  Heidi giggled—one pure burst of sound that had Brad fighting back a smile. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We’ll go get started.”

  The guard nodded. “Carry on—” Her eyes narrowed. “Well, not carry on”—she waved a hand—“but please, proceed with touring the facility.”


  Another tiny giggle that did nothing for his self-control, but he managed to stumble out another apology, to tug a chortling Heidi up the path and away from the guard, all without them getting thrown in the brig or finding themselves packed onto the next ferry back to the mainland.

  “Your fault,” he muttered.

  “Yours.” A beat. “You need to stop being so charming.”

  “I can’t help it,” he said. “It’s a gift.”

  “One the entire world gets to benefit from?” she asked archly.

  “Exactly.” He stopped just past the turnstile after they’d paid for their tickets and glared down at her. “But as for the point at hand, I seem to remember you as the one doing the kissing.”

  She sidled closer. “I seem to remember you kissing me back.”

  Well, she had him there.

  “Come on,” he said, instead of conceding the point. They picked up their audio guide—Heidi had wisely opted out of his tour—then put on their headphones as they walked into the first room.

  Cavernous. Cold. Gloomy.

  He hated it instantly, and the audio of the tour wasn’t much better, adding to the oppressiveness of the place, making him regret that he’d even thought to bring her here, especially on a date.

  She slipped her headphones off, glancing around the room, eyes dimmed.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Her brows pulled together. “What? We just got here.”

  “I hate it,” he muttered.

  “Well, it certainly isn’t sunshine and rainbows,” she said, “but don’t you have something for work you should be doing?”

  Asked so innocently that he nearly missed the teasing in her eyes.

  “I’m not going to live that down, am I?”

  “I’ll pretend to forget about it if you pretend to forget I lost that battle with the cabinet knob.”

  “Done.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said, sticking her hand out so he could shake it. “And I’m fine with going. I don’t like it here either.” A shiver. “Though part of me thinks we should push through and learn what we can.”