Bad Bridesmaid (Billionaire's Club Book 11) Read online

Sigh.

  She turned, gave him that glare again, the one that was supposed to be scary but was really freaking adorable, and said, “You think I’m going to let you off the hook that easily?”

  No, of course she wasn’t.

  But before his discussion with Jaime, he’d never talked to anyone about this, had never done more than laugh off the comments when people—from teachers to family members to friends—teased him about his flights of fancy and his tendency to go off on his own adventures. Even his career had been something he’d fallen into—website design, predominately for travel companies. His first client had reached out to him after finding Brad’s now-retired travel blog.

  See what he meant about not finishing things?

  But truthfully, with the blog at least, he’d gotten too busy with his website business, with all the places he’d traveled, to keep up. It was either turn down clients or travel less or let the blog go.

  The decision had been easy.

  Buh-bye blog.

  But how to explain that to this woman.

  “Okay, fine,” she said, after a moment. “Maybe I will let you off that easily.”

  He snorted.

  “Be prepared for me to circle back after prickly pears.”

  “Noted.”

  She smiled at him and turned back to the pan. “What’s your favorite place you’ve visited?”

  He measured the alcohol into the metal cup, scooped up some ice, shook the entire mixture together, and then strained it into two glasses. “We’re going to be friends now?”

  “I’ve decided to forgive you.”

  His heart pulsed. “Just that easily?”

  “I’ve punished you for two days straight, not to mention laughed when you got brained by that platter.” He touched the top of his head, probing the still painful spot, and she laughed. “See? I’m terrible.”

  No, she was wonderful.

  Especially when her eyes narrowed. “But I am not sleeping with you again.”

  Now, it was his turn to laugh.

  She crossed to him, making his breath catch, his laughter cut off. And his cock twitch. Like it did any time she was in the vicinity. “I am,” she murmured, her mouth temptingly close, her floral and spice scent wafting up into his nose. “Not sleeping with you again,” she added, reaching beyond him for the glass he’d just filled then retreating back across the kitchen.

  “Why?” he asked. “You know it would be good.”

  She’d just taken a sip—or maybe, a gulp. Either way, his assertion made her sputter and cough, and then he crossed to her, rubbing his hand up and down her spine until she stopped choking, until she looked up at him, heat in her eyes.

  Her breath shuttered out. “I’m still not sleeping with you,” she wheezed.

  Their gazes met.

  They both burst into laughter.

  And Brad thought that was okay. For now, anyway.

  Baby steps.

  First laughter.

  Then, hopefully, other things.

  Eight

  Heidi

  It was the next evening, and she was having déjà vu.

  “Glutton for punishment?” she asked, lifting her brows at the tall, dark, and sexy pain in her ass currently sitting on her doorstep.

  He lifted his cell. “You didn’t text me to stay away, so I figured that I’d slide into the chance.”

  Snorting, she unlocked her door, moving inside and allowing him to trail her down the hall. “The ignoring was unintentional. My cell had to be off for my work today”—some top-secret shit, as her assistant Stef called it—“and I forgot to turn it on.” She plunked the box with the muffins she’d picked up after work and her bag on the kitchen counter, reached inside, and pulled her phone out. “See? It’s not all about you.”

  He smiled that slow and hot quirk of his lips, making her want to ignore her promise to herself.

  But she was stubborn.

  She wouldn’t be burned twice by falling for his humor and charm.

  Even if he was humorous . . . and charming.

  Friends, and nothing more. That. Was. It.

  He snagged the cell from her fingers and powered it on. “But seriously, don’t forget, next time,” he said, tone more serious than she had ever heard it. “You might get into a situation where you need it and can’t wait for it to boot up.”

  She paused. “Have you been in one of those situations?”

  Humor in his gorgeous green-brown eyes, tempering the serious. “More than one.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” He handed her phone back.

  Heidi took it and found herself hesitant, all of a sudden remembering that him coming over to hang out, especially unexpectedly, wasn’t normal. Yes, they’d eaten together the previous night. Yes, they’d chatted a bit about the places he’d visited. Yes, she’d actually had three prickly pear margaritas. But then she’d yawned, right in the middle of him telling her a story about a pickpocket he’d fended off in Italy, and he hadn’t finished his tale, hadn’t listened to her when she’d told him she was fine.

  Nope. He’d shown himself right to the door.

  And she hadn’t heard a word from him.

  She’d just slept, worked, and expected to go on with their separate lives—his guilt assuaged, her life moving right along. She even had plans tonight to set up an online dating profile for a new app Stef had recommended.

  Apparently, all the cool kids were doing it.

  Not that she was a cool kid, but it wasn’t like she had anything to lose. Plus, maybe she’d find someone who stuck around.

  “You’ll keep it on?” he asked. Or well, it sounded like a question, but his gaze suggested it was more of an order.

  All order.

  And she shivered, heat pooling between her thighs at the memory of his previous commands, of the pleasure they had found together, of the husky voice, the hard cock, the talented fingers driving her to orgasm as he’d spent the night ordering her around.

  Legs around my waist.

  Give me your mouth.

  Come for me. Now, baby.

  Sex. Just sex.

  And she wanted more. But unfortunately—no, not unfortunately. Not having more of Brad was a good thing. Self-respect and loving herself and understanding she needed more were all good things.

  Orgasms are good things, her inner devil prodded.

  But she wasn’t going there. Couldn’t—

  Me thinks you doth protest too much.

  Ugh!

  Ignoring her mental quarreling, she straightened her shoulders and lifted a brow. “Not sure why that sounds like an order.”

  He grinned. “Probably because it is one.”

  Glaring, though she couldn’t deny that part of her was amused, she hung her purse on the hook she’d installed by the door for just that purpose, stepped out of her shoes, and tucked them neatly on the rack in the hall. Organization was her life’s blood—well, organization along with Twilight, but she wasn’t about to admit that guilty pleasure to the world.

  It was only bearable that Cora, Kate, and Kelsey knew her innermost secret because she knew her friends’ own guilty pleasures, too—unicorns, Hermione Granger, and being freakishly smart, so much so that she collected post-graduate degrees for fun, respectively. Still, organization was a perfectly acceptable guilty pleasure for a woman of her age (even though she was still Team Edward the whole way), and it was easier to focus on hooks and folders and perfectly dusted shelves than on blood-sucking, teenage love, and immortal life.

  Though, just thinking about it, and she was jonesing for a reread.

  “Want another order?” he asked. “I’m sure I can rustle one up. Don’t walk alone in the dark. Always check the back seat of your car before you get in.”

  She’d been so focused on her Twilight and organizational haze that she’d forgotten they were having a conversation, particularly a conversation about orders.

  She rolled her eyes. “First, those are all examples of
the patriarchal bullshit in our society. Women should be able to walk safely any time of day or night and not have to worry about a man accosting them. Or lying in wait in their car. Along that vein, men should also be taught to respect women and their autonomy, and it’s such horseshit that women are always told to walk in groups and not to leave their drinks unattended and—”

  “You’re right,” he said. “It is bullshit.”

  Her lips parted on an exhale.

  “Of course it’s total bullshit that those are things you have to consider—or are told to consider as a woman.” A beat, his hazel eyes dimming. “But unfortunately, just because we think that things should be different, doesn’t mean they are.”

  He had a point there.

  She still didn’t have to like it. “Maybe,” she muttered. “But I’m still a grown woman, and there’s not a chance in hell that I’ll obey any orders you give, just because you give them.”

  His brows pulled together, those hazel eyes flashing, becoming more brown than green. “You’d risk your life to prove a point?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “But I’m an adult who makes her own choices.”

  End of story.

  He was still, his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched, but then abruptly that whole demeanor faded, and he relaxed, mouth turned up at the corner. “Are we having our first fight?”

  “More like tenth,” she muttered, moving to the fridge. “I suppose you’re staying for dinner.” A beat as she glanced back at him. “As fr—”

  “Friends,” he finished for her. Then smiled again. “So long as you’re good to cook for me again.”

  She’d already begun pulling out ingredients for a salad. “Is this your strategy when you’re home? Bum food off whatever stranger will take you in?”

  “When the stranger is a beautiful woman who’s not actually a stranger, and who just happens to be an excellent cook, great company, and sexy as hell?” He grinned. “Yup.”

  “Careful,” she warned.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Just spinning bullshit.”

  “Not at this moment,” he said. “That may affect my ability to get some of your delicious food.”

  “Maybe I’ll use the opportunity to poison you.”

  He snorted. “I have no allergies.”

  “Allergies aren’t poison.”

  “Conveniently, I have spent many years building up my resistance to all types of poison.”

  “A la Princess Bride?”

  “Exactly.”

  She grinned, despite herself. “Well, you have good taste because it’s my second favorite movie.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Only second favorite?”

  Heidi giggled.

  “At any rate, I’ll take it because you should see this.” It was said with such flourish that she glanced up from where she was chopping veggies to watch him pull out a DVD from the bag he carried. It was a copy of Princess Bride. “We’re soul mates.”

  She giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “No,” he deadpanned. “I’m Brad Huntington. And you’ve crushed my ego. Prepare to . . .” He screwed up his face. “Dine?”

  More giggles bubbled up in her chest. “I stand by my previous statement. Ridiculous.”

  “What can I say? I nerd out about Rob Reiner films. Well, him and Billy Crystal.”

  “Hmm.”

  He crossed over to her, leaned a hip to the counter. “Hmm, what?”

  “Hmm as in, okay, maybe we can be friends,” she said.

  He tilted his head to the side, studying her. “Because I’m a nerd?”

  “Because the only things I respect are nerds. Case in point”—she pointed at her chest—“nerd.”

  A shrug. “Well, I’ll take my victory in any avenue possible.”

  “Whatever makes you feel better.” She turned back to the fridge and grabbed some chicken, belatedly realizing that a man as big as Brad probably wouldn’t be filled up by a salad. “What else did you bring?”

  “Besides the most glorious movie of all time, you mean?” he asked.

  “The second most glorious movie,” she countered. “And yes.”

  He reached into the bag and pulled out a pint of ice cream. “I heard somewhere once that women like chocolate . . . and ice cream.”

  “Except me.” She shook her head. “I can’t stand sweet things.” Never mind that she’d pounded three pieces of the replacement cake at Kate’s wedding the weekend before—both because she had missed the dinner portion of festivities with her cake shenanigans and attempts at saving it, and because . . . she had a sweet tooth.

  A major sweet tooth.

  His face fell, and immediately she felt guilty that her joke didn’t land.

  “I’m kidding,” she quickly said. “Given the chance, I would make love to that ice cream all night long.”

  Face clearing, he said, “And here I am, friend-zoned, so I can’t partake in the festivities.” He stashed the ice cream in the freezer. “I’ll just go set up the DVD?”

  Except . . .

  “About that,” she began.

  “Oh, you don’t want to watch it? We don’t have to watch anything. I just thought—” A shake of his head. “I just thought that you might want to . . .” He trailed off, reached into his bag. “I brought a game, too. In case—”

  Her heart squeezed.

  “I do want to watch it,” she told him. “I just don’t have a DVD player.”

  He froze. “You don’t have a DVD player? I travel the world for half the year, and I have one in my tiny, postage stamp of an apartment.”

  “I don’t have one,” she confirmed. “But unlike the old man currently taking up space in my kitchen, I do have the digital copy, which means that I don’t need to have a DVD player.” She smiled smugly. “I can stream it on all my devices.”

  His incredulity had faded as she spoke, and he drifted closer. “All your devices.” He waggled his brows. “And yes, the innuendo was intended.”

  She sniffed. “You’re as bad as the girls with your dirty jokes.”

  “Hmm.” He shifted closer. “I like it when you say dirty.”

  Placing a hand on his chest, she shoved him away so she could grab a pan to cook the chicken. “Ugh. I’m still not—”

  “Going to sleep with me.” He lightly tugged a lock of her hair. “I’ve got that.”

  “And yet, you’re still here,” she whispered.

  He froze.

  She froze.

  Steady hazel eyes on hers. “Do you want me to go?”

  Three days ago at the wedding she would have said yes, and she would have meant it, too. At least with . . . say ninety-five percent of her being. The other five percent was still wrapped up in the yummy hormones and delicious orgasms. But after the night of the wedding, after last night, she—and yes, she was fully aware that this was probably exceptionally stupid—but she didn’t want him to go.

  She wanted to watch the movie with him, to listen to him tell her about his travel adventures.

  She wanted to spend more time with this man.

  As a friend.

  Only as a friend.

  Except, that line was getting more difficult for her to convince herself of, especially the more time she spent with Brad.

  Luckily for her, she could occasionally manage to ostrich with the best of them. Because tonight was all about avoiding the traitorous and dangerous thoughts in her mind and sticking her head in the proverbial sand. She would continue pretending she only liked his company as a friend and was hanging out with him just because she missed Kate.

  Obviously, she had to fill that space with someone. Brad was as good a fit as anyone.

  See? Ostrich.

  She could be good at it.

  Either way, her mental sand-head-sticking worked. She was able to turn to him, to lift her lips in a smile.

  “No,” she whispered.

  His eyes met hers, h
eld. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

  She turned back to the pan, heart pounding, only to whip back around a minute later when he began trying to tempt her away from the movie. “Oh no, you don’t,” she ordered, interrupting his expounding on the merits of the board game he’d brought. “You don’t get to tease by taking away Princess Bride after you offered it to me.”

  He stopped talking, then his eyes darkened, lips quirking. “Teasing?”

  She smacked him lightly with a spoon. “No more innuendos.” A beat. “Now make yourself useful and cut up that cucumber.”

  Mischief crept across his face.

  She smacked him again.

  Then they both gave in and started laughing.

  God, she loved laughing with this man.

  Nine

  Brad

  She’d fallen asleep right around the time Fezzik says, “Anyone want a peanut?”

  Slumping back against the cushions, her lips parted on slow and steady breaths.

  He watched her through the duel, through the hillside tumble, through the castle storming scene, and then he forced himself to get up, to quietly take care of the dishes, and pack away the leftovers. By then, the movie was over, so he scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.

  Settling her under the covers only took a moment, but the temptation to stay, to crawl in next to her, was strong.

  Except, she’d made it clear what her boundaries were.

  And he wasn’t enough of an asshole to barrel his way past them.

  After tucking the blanket around her, he smoothed her hair back from her face, smiling when her eyebrows drew together into a slight frown. Then he stepped back.

  He’d save the crawling-in-beside-her for a future date.

  Until then, he turned for the door, saw something—well, two somethings on the shelf beside it that had him pausing, considering, and then grinning again.

  He snagged them both.

  One went into his pocket.

  The other he paired with a pen and did what he should have done after that first night.

  He left Heidi a note.

  Then he let himself out of the apartment.

  Even when he wasn’t halfway around the world, he still couldn’t stand staying in one place for long.