The Billionaire Dating Game: A Romance Novel (2 page)

“Nickel for your thoughts.”

I opened my eyes. The man who’d sung the last song was standing next to me, leaning casually against the wall. He was still wearing his mask. I realized that his eyes were more of a blue-green than pure blue. They sparkled as he looked at me, only a couple of feet away.

“You’re overpaying,” I said, recomposing myself. “Most thoughts are only worth a penny, I’ve heard.”

“Inflation’s a bitch,” he said. There was an accent, hidden only shallowly underneath his words. “But I think you’re worth it.”

Blood rose to my face, and even though it was a cool spring evening, I felt hot. Who was this guy? He was keeping his distance between us, but that was somehow worse, as though the tension between us snapped through the air.

“I don’t know,” I said. “My thoughts are pretty dark right now.”

“I understand that. It’s desperately hard to find a good guy.”

“You heard all that?” I put my hand on my forehead and shook my head. “Oh, God.”

“Let me give you my credentials,” the man said. He was grinning behind his mask. I couldn’t stop looking into his eyes. They crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “One: I’m an insensitive boor. Two: I’m probably dumber than you. Three, I have a superficial, unsatisfying career—”

“Wow, sounds great already.”

“But I do have a near-perfect memory,” he teased. I didn’t remember him stepping closer to me, but it seemed like his body was nearer to mine somehow. I swallowed to get rid of the dryness in my mouth.

“My. You’re quite the catch. Remind me why I want a dumb, insensitive man?”

“You’ll look so much better by comparison.”

A smile crept to the edge of my lips.

“So I should date the worst man I can find?”

“Exactly.”

I burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry I sent that guy packing, then.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m
much
worse than him.”

The hipsters had all gone back inside, and we were left alone on the sidewalk. The coffee shop was in an out-of-the way neighborhood just outside of Midtown, and right now the street was quiet. For a moment, I felt like New York had emptied out, and we were the only two people left in the city.

“So what do you say?”

“To what?”

“How about a kiss?”

He reached out and caressed my arm as he asked me. It was the first time he had touched me, and my muscles tensed as his hand cupped my elbow. His thumb stroked the back of my upper arm lightly, sending flashes of sensation through my body. He wasn’t pulling me at all, but I felt like his entire body was a magnet drawing me toward him. The distance between us seemed to crackle with energy.

“I don’t even know what you look like,” I said, stalling. For some reason, I felt like I was playing with fire. The way his hand cradled my arm showed his strength—but he was holding back.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Are you hideous?”

“No.” He smiled for only an instant, and then the smile disappeared into seriousness. “There’s another reason.”

“I can’t give my heart away to a guy who doesn’t show me his face,” I said, although if he had bent to kiss me right then I don’t think I could have pulled away.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your heart. I’m only asking for a kiss.”

“Just a kiss.”

“Just a kiss,” he echoed.

“What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Why do you want to kiss me?”

Why was I pushing back so hard? I didn’t know what I was scared of.

“Because of how you looked at me during my song.” His voice was soft and low, and his thumb never stopped stroking the back of my arm. I felt like I was being hypnotized.

“How did I look?”

“Like you knew what it was like to have an empty heart.”

My throat closed up. All of my air had gone from my lungs, and I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to. When this man touched me, every part of me yearned to throw myself forward into his arms. And when he spoke, I wanted to drown myself in his words.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, speaking each word carefully. Again, I noticed the accent flickering in and out of his words.

I could have stopped him. I could have pulled away. I could have said no.

But I wanted him to kiss me so badly that I couldn’t breathe.

He was right. I had an empty heart, and I needed something to fill it. Even if it was only a kiss. Even if it was a stranger, someone I had never met before. Even if I didn’t know what he looked like.

His other hand came up to my chin and his fingertips ran lightly along my cheek, back behind my ear. He threaded his fingers through my hair as he cupped the back of my head. Then his mouth was on mine, and his other hand was clasping the small of my back. Every part of me burned as he arched me against his body.

His lips were hard and urgent, but he wasn’t only kissing me with his lips. He was kissing me with every part of himself—his hands, his arms, his chest. As he deepened the kiss, I felt him press against my thigh, hard and wanting.

I gasped at the intimacy of the touch, but the gasp was swallowed by his kiss. The electricity that had crackled in the air between us had met, the connection points arching energy through my nerves. It was late, but I suddenly felt more awake than I had in a long time. Each touch of his awakened a new part of my body.

Every bit of my mind was sent whirling away, and all that was left was pure sensation. His hand, strong and kneading at the small of my back. His arms like iron vises keeping me from falling. His chest, broad and muscled, turning me against the wall. I was vaguely aware of a small, greedy noise in my throat and then I realized that it was me, whimpering, pushing up against him, needing more.

He cupped my ass, squeezing, and I fell apart inside. I was wet, melting from the heat he was sending through my body. This—this was what I wanted. Someone who could take me in his arms and make me forget that the world existed. Forget maturity. Forget intellect. This was pure, physical need, and his kiss promised me complete satisfaction.

I don’t know how long he kissed me. It might have been a few seconds or a few minutes. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. And I realized what I had been scared of, why I hadn’t wanted to give him permission to kiss me.

I was scared of the desire that he awakened with the press of his hot lips. I was scared of the need that coursed through my veins, insistent and wanting.

I was scared that I needed
more
.

When he finally lifted his lips from mine, my knees were trembling. I leaned against the wall, unwilling to show how weak I was. From his smile, though, I could tell he knew what he had done to me. I tried to catch my breath as he loosened his grip from around me. His hands still rested on my waist, one on each hip. The touch of his fingers seemed to burn through the thin fabric of my dress.

I stared up into his eyes. The irises sparkled green-blue, like a stormy sky reflected off of a skyscraper. And I was struck with an intense desire. I reached up to his mask.

He caught me by the wrist.

“Please,” I said, my voice suddenly small and uncertain. “Show me your face.”

His mouth twisted, and he looked from side to side. The only people on the street now were the hipsters, who had come out and were walking away from the coffee shop. Finally, he nodded.

He slipped his hand under the mask and tipped it up, revealing his face.

His features were dark and defined. His eyebrows slanted down on his smooth forehead, and his nose and cheekbones were all strong lines. I don’t know what I’d expected, but I hadn’t expected this. He was attractive enough to be a magazine model. His light eyes searched mine.

“Well?” He seemed to be expecting something.

“Well what?”

His brows arched quizzically and a strand of his dark hair fell forward onto his face.

“Is that all you have to say?”

I laughed nervously.

“I don’t know what you were worried about,” I said. “You’re definitely not the ugliest man in existence.”

His words stopped on his tongue and he shook his head, like I had given the wrong answer.

“Is it the freckle on your left cheek?” I asked, letting a teasing note come into my voice. “You shouldn’t be so self-conscious about it. I mean, everybody has a freckle or two. Not me, of course, but then again, you
did
want me to look better by comparison—”

The man let the mask snap back on his face as two girls came laughing out of the coffee shop. He watched them go, then turned back to me.

“What’s your name?” he asked. There was an urgency in his voice that hadn’t been there before. His nervousness was contagious. I hitched my purse up higher on my shoulder. What was I doing here, kissing a complete stranger? It was insane.

“What’s yours? Zorro?”

“I’m not telling you,” he said flatly.

“Fine,” I said. “Then you can hardly expect me to tell you—”

“What’s your name?” His mouth was a hard line on his face and his hand pressed against my hip.

“Look, I have to go.  Really. Thank—thank you for the kiss.” My whole body was hot and flushing, and I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I pushed lightly at his arm. He seemed to realize that he was still holding me and let go abruptly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just—never mind.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “Never mind. It’s nothing. Have a good night, okay?”

I stepped away from him. The air was suddenly cold on my skin.

Crazy
. This whole night had been crazy. I needed to get home. I turned to leave. Where was the nearest metro station?

“This was just a kiss,” he called out after me. I turned to see him standing in the middle of the sidewalk, watching me walk away. Black suit, black mask, black hair. And eyes like the sky.

“Right,” I said, and a strange feeling went through my chest, pressing down on my heart. “Just a kiss.”

Just a kiss.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Chapter Three

I trudged back up the stairs to the apartment and pushed the door open. Mac darted across the room and wound himself around my ankles, purring. I reached down to pet him and only touched the tip of his bushy gray tail before he darted away again.

“Thanks, Mac,” I muttered. “Guess I can’t keep any guy interested in me.”

I bit my lip as my thoughts drifted back to the guy in the mask. I hadn’t stopped thinking about that kiss the whole way back.

“Lah!” Arlen cried, waving a fist in the air.

“Good to see you, too, Princess Arlen,” I said, smiling as she toppled backwards into Emma’s lap in a fit of coughing.

“Hey, lamebutt,” Emma said, kicking me lightly in the ass as I walked by the reclined couch. She had a jar of applesauce open, and half of it was already on her blouse.

“Hey, dorkface. What are you two doing up?”

“Arlen woke me up and insisted that we watch a
Project Runway
marathon. Didn’t you, baby?”

“
LAH
!”

The TV blared about dresses and models and which super gorgeous woman looked best in their super gorgeous outfits. I wondered idly if I could ever judge a fashion show without going on a murder spree.

“There’s mac and cheese in the microwave for you.” Emma lay back on the cushions and tried to interest Arlen in a spoonful of applesauce. Arlen swatted it away.

“You are a blessing in a world filled of cruelty, my dear sister,” I said, heading over to punch a minute into the microwave. I dumped a can of catfood into Mac’s dish and he came running.

“Bad date?” my sister asked.

I sank back onto the countertop that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment.

“It was… rough.”

“Not Mr. Right?”

Instantly I pictured his face in my head. Not Daniel’s. The man in the mask. When he’d pulled up the mask, I’d seen his eyes searching mine for something. An answer to a question he hadn’t asked.

I wondered what he was looking for.

“Hello? Lisa?”

“
Lah!
”

Arlen’s voice snapped me back to reality.

“Huh? Yeah. I mean no, he wasn’t Mr. Right. He was Mr. Very, Very Wrong.”

“Then why were you twirling your hair just now?”

“What?”

“Whenever you’re thinking about a guy you like, you futz with your hair.”

I flushed. My fingers flew back down to the countertop and gripped the fork for my mac and cheese.

“I just need to trim my bangs, that’s all.”

“Oh my gosh! You
did
like that guy!” Emma sat up, suddenly alert. “Tell me about it! What happened?”

“No, no, no. It wasn’t my date,” I said, embarrassed to talk about it.

“Then who?”

“There was this guy performing, and I saw him after the show…”

The memory of the man’s hot kiss burned on my lips. The way his hands had come around my waist, drawing me close. Like he wanted to pull us together completely. Like he needed the same thing I did.

I shook my head, getting rid of the thought.

“It was nothing,” I said.

“Don’t you lie to me,” she said, and waved the applesauce spoon in my direction. “Little sisters know when you’re lying. Who is this guy?”

“He’s a nut,” I said. “A handsome nut, but definitely a nut.”

“And why are you blushing?”

I stuck a fork of mac and cheese into my mouth so that I wouldn’t have to answer, but Emma was already hot on the trail.

“He kissed me.”

“He
what
?!”

“It was just a kiss,” I said, echoing the guy’s last words to me. “He was attractive and that was it.”

“Lisa, you haven’t kissed a guy in forever!”

“It hasn’t been forever!” I protested.

“It’s been like, six months.”

“That’s not forever.”

“It’s almost forever,” she amended. “Okay, so spill. What did he look like?”

I thought of how he’d stepped up on stage. So perfectly confident in front of a roomful of people. The way his strong arms had strained his suit when he leaned against the wall. How could I describe the way he’d made me feel when he looked down at me from the stage?