Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males (189 page)

“I’m fine.”
 
But she looked down at the carpet.

“Okay.”
  
Now what?
 
He didn’t know what to do.
 
Usually women weren’t running away from
him.
 
And if they were, it was part
of some game they were playing.

“Um, do you want to come back in?” he
tried.
 
“I mean, we got that food
and everything.”
 
He gave her a warm
smile.

“I don’t think that would be the best idea,”
she said.
 
She looked up at him and
pushed her hair back from her face.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

He waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t say
anything else, just stood there, staring at him with those big blue eyes.
 
The urge to reach over and pull her
close flowed through him again, but he held himself in check, because he knew
right now touching her wouldn’t get him what he wanted.
 
And what he wanted was to be back in bed
with her.

He tried to clear his thoughts, to figure out
what else to say, what he could do to get her to come back to the room.
 
Finally, he decided it would be better
to just go for the truth.
 
Tell her
that he knew she worked for Expera, and that he wasn’t expecting anything, that
they could just talk, eat, hang out.
 
It would take every fiber of strength not to try to get her clothes off,
but he’d do it if it meant spending more time with her.

CLICK!
 
CLICK!
 
CLICK CLICK!

Before he could figure out exactly what to say,
a clicking sound echoed through the hall.
 
It was a sound he knew well, because for the past five years, he’d been
trying to dodge it.
 
A camera.
 
A flash.
 
A paparazzi.

He whirled around, looking for the offender,
wondering how they’d gotten up to the penthouse when you needed a room key to
use the elevators.
 
It was probably
some beefy looking guy from TMZ, or maybe a skinny, young twenty-something
trying to break in to the business by getting a picture of the Brooklyn Heat’s
first baseman.

But all he saw was that dumb kid from
downstairs – the bartender. Which explained how he’d gotten up here
– it probably wasn’t too hard for an employee to swipe a room key from
somewhere.
 
What a little
fucker.
 
If he’d wanted a picture,
all he’d had to do was ask when Chad had been sitting at the bar.

“Hey,” Chad said, deciding to try to be
friendly. You catch more bees with honey and all that bullshit.
 
He moved toward the guy.
 
“You want a picture with me, boss?”

“I’m not your boss,” the kid said, rolling his
eyes.
 
Then he tilted his head to
the side, considering.
 
“Although
maybe I’m about to be.”
 
He laughed
uproariously then snapped another picture.
 

“What’s going on?” Kenley asked.
 
She put her hand up to shield her eyes
from the flash.
 
This seemed to egg
the bartender on, and he started snapping faster.
 
He had one of those cameras that the
real paparazzi had.
 
Probably
borrowed it from someone.
 
What a
fucking tool.

“What’s your name?” Chad asked, struggling to
keep his tone light.

“Louis,” the kid said.
 
Which was completely stupid of him.
 
He shouldn’t have offered his name
up.
 
Chad decided after all this was
over, he was going to get him fired.

“Do you want an autograph, Louis?” Chad
asked.
 
“A picture with me for your
facebook?”
 
He gave the smile he
used on people when he wanted something.
 
It had about a ninety-nine percent success rate, and only failed when
its intended victim was batshit crazy.

“Nope,” Louis said.
 
He snapped another picture, then looked
in the viewfinder, checking out his handiwork.
 
“The Brooklyn Heat sucks ass.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say
that,”
Chad said, his instinct being to defend his team no matter
what the situation. “I mean, yeah, we’ve had our struggles, but it’s a building
year.
 
Did you see that we just got
Lawson from the Devil Rays?”

“Lawson sucks ass, too,” Louis reported.
 
He was still looking at the pictures
he’d taken on his camera.
 
He shook
his head sadly, then looked up at Kenley.
 
“You’re not very photogenic,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Kenley asked again, taking a
step forward.
 
She reached out and
grabbed the camera out of Louis’s hand.
 

He looked shocked, and then he grabbed it
back.
 
“That’s mine.”

“You took my picture,” she said,
 
“without my permission.”
 
She crossed her arms over her
chest.
 
“So give it me the camera or
else I’m going to have to call my lawyer, you little shit.”

Chad was impressed.
 
Obviously she’d never dealt with crazed
fans or paparazzi before, because everyone knew that the first rule was not to
engage them.
 
But still.
 
Just a minute before she’d seemed shy
and nervous, like she needed him to protect her, and now here she was, willing
to go head to head with this guy.

“Taking a picture of a public figure isn’t
against the law,” Louis said.
 

“I’m not a public figure,” Kenley said, “and
I’m calling the police.”
 
She
reached into her bag and pulled out her cell phone.

“No,” Louis said,
“you’re
not a public figure.
 
But
he
is.”
 

Chad sighed, seeing where this was going.
 
There was a time to play nice and a time
to say fuck it.
 
“Give it to me,” he
said, and held his hand out for the camera.
 
He made his voice sound menacing.

“No.”
 
Louis shook his head and held the camera out of Chad’s reach.
 
Chad just started, stunned.
 
This was like something that would
happen in seventh grade.
 
And
unfortunately, now he was going to have to kick this kid’s ass.
 
Chad narrowed his eyes and started to
reach for the camera, but before he could get it, Louis took off running down
the hall.
 
Chad raced after him, but
even though he was faster, the kid had a head start, and the elevator doors
closed before Chad could get there.

Shit.
 
He thought about waiting for the next elevator, or maybe even rushing
down the stairs and settling this in the lobby.
 
But there would be people down there, an
audience.
 
And even if he
could
somehow get the camera back,
someone else would take a picture of the altercation, or call in a tip to Page
Six or something, which would defeat the whole purpose.
 
Damn it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, turning back to
Kenley.

She was standing there, looking confused.
 
“What did he mean?” she asked.

“About what?”
  
He walked back down the hall
toward her, still thinking about Louis.
 
The manager – no, the
owner
--
of the hotel was definitely going to be getting a call about this.
 
And Chad was never staying here again.

“About you being a public figure,” Kenley
said.
 
“Are you really some kind of
famous financial guy or something?”

Jesus, this chick had balls.
 
Keeping up the charade even when the
whole thing had been blown wide open.
 
“Well, if we go back to my room, we can talk about it while we have our
room service.”
 
Now that he’d had a
few minutes to calm down, to get his mind off how her skin felt, how her mouth
had tasted when he was kissing her, he was able to be a little more charming.

“No.”
 
She shook her head, and crossed her arms over her chest.
 
Her blue eyes blazed.
 
“Tell me now.”

He frowned.
 
Either she was an amazing actress, or
she really didn’t know.
 
“You
didn’t….Don’t you work for Expera?”

“Expera?”
 
She shook her head.
 
“No.”
 
A look of horror
passed over her face.
 
“Wait, is
that… are they some kind of escort service?”

“No,” he said.
 
A feeling of dread was starting to
blossom in his stomach.
 
“They’re
not some kind of escort service.
 
They’re a shoe company.”
 

She gave him a blank look.
 
“You want to invest in shoes?”

“No, I don’t want to invest in shoes!
 
You really don’t know what I’m talking
about?”

She shook her head again.

“But you had a folder!” he said.
 
“At the bar, you had an Expera folder.”

“That folder was just sitting there.”
 
She shrugged.
 
“The bartender found it and gave it to
me.”

He closed his eyes.
 
This was unbelievable.
 
The whole time, she really hadn’t known
who he was.
 
And more importantly,
she didn’t even work for Expera.
 
What a colossal fucking mess.

“You better tell me what the hell is going on,”
she said.
 
Whatever had passed
between them in his room, the softness she had, was gone.
 
And now she was just angry.

So angry that Chad knew he had to be honest with
her.
 
He sighed.
 
“I’m a baseball player,” he said.
 
“I play for the Brooklyn Heat.
 
I have a meeting here, tomorrow, with
the executives at Expera about a possible endorsement deal.”

Her mouth dropped.
 
“And you thought I worked there?”

“Yes,” he said,
 
“but that wasn’t the reason I was trying
to – “

“Get out of my way.”

“Kenley,” he said. “Please, don’t – “

But she pushed past him, storming angrily down
the hall toward the elevators.
 
He
followed her.
 
“Listen,” he
said,
 
“I thought you knew who I
was!
 
I thought it was just a game
we were playing.”

“A game?” she repeated, and pushed the button
for the elevator.
 
“You sleep with
me, and then what?
 
I get a chance
to have sex with a big football star?
 
Fun fucking game!”

“Baseball.”
“What?”

“Baseball.
 
The Brooklyn Heat is a baseball team.”
 
Even as he was saying the words, he knew
how completely ridiculous they sounded.
  
Kenley stepped into the elevator.
 
“Please, just come back to my room, let
me explain.”
 
He didn’t know what to
say.
 
He was completely out of his
element, trying to convince a girl to stay.
 
He had plenty of practice getting them
to leave – but staying, that was something else altogether.

“You’re an asshole,” she said.

And then the elevators doors closed.

***

Kenley couldn’t believe this!
 
Trying to sleep with her because he
thought she worked at some stupid shoe company?
 
What kind of a screwed up person
did
something like that?
 
It was totally incorrigible.
 
She pulled out her cell phone and
wondered who she should call to tell about this.
 
It was the kind of story that had to be
shared, and immediately, before she forgot all the appalling details.

She scrolled through her contacts until she
landed on her sister Melissa’s number.
 
Melissa would understand.
 
Melissa would be completely outraged on her behalf.
 
Melissa thought all men were complete
assholes.
 

“Hello?” Melissa answered, sounding sleepy.

And then Kenley realized it was almost
midnight.
 
“Did I wake you?” she
asked.
 
“I think I woke you.”