The Billionaire's Bedside Manner (4 page)

B
ailey visited every employment agency she could find, unfortunately with little success. Although initially there seemed to be some prospects, they turned out to be either charity work or commission-based jobs, like knocking on doors.

Time and again she'd been asked about qualifications. No high school diploma. One year of an apprenticeship at a hair salon. She'd been a school crossing guard, helping kids cross streets for a while. Mainly she'd performed waitress work.

She'd been directed to a hospitality recruitment agency. Placements were available at exclusive establishments but she didn't have the experience necessary to be put forward as a candidate. Many courses to enhance her skills, however, were available. But they cost money and Bailey didn't have the time to spare. She needed to start earning. Needed to start paying back and showing Mateo Celeca she wasn't a con artist but merely someone who'd needed a hand up.

As weary as she felt after a full day trekking around the city, she tried to keep her spirits high. Her mother had always said there was good in every situation. Bailey didn't quite believe that; what was so good about having a stroke take a parent out at age thirty-five? But Bailey did believe in never giving up. Her mother would have wanted her to stay strong and believe in herself, even now when she'd never felt more alone.

In the busy city center, with traffic and pedestrians grinding by, she'd pulled out her bus timetable and had found a suitable link when a familiar voice drew her ear. Masculine. Tense. The tone sent simultaneous chills and familiar warmth racing over her skin. She hadn't heard that voice in over a year. Back then it had told her not to come home begging.

Her heart beating high in her throat, Bailey looked carefully over her shoulder. Her father stood on the curb, phone pressed to his ear, announcing his displeasure over a jury verdict gone wrong.

In an instant, Bailey couldn't draw enough breath. She had the bizarre urge to run—both toward her father and away from him. Never would she have simply waltzed up to his door and thrown out her arms, and yet now—with him available such a short distance away—she couldn't help but relive those much earlier days…times when her dad had taken her horseback riding, or suffered answering inane questions from an eight-year-old while he worked on depositions. When she'd come down with tonsillitis he'd rushed her to the doctor. He'd even taken time off to nurse her back, complete with spoon-fed antibiotics.

And that was a full year after her mother had died.

Bailey's throat convulsed at the same time her eyes misted over.

He was right there.

A now-or-never feeling fell through her middle as she
moved one foot forward, and another. Maybe he hadn't meant to sound so harsh. So final. Maybe he
wouldn't
turn her away. She was his only child, after all. Perhaps he'd cry out in surprise and wrap his arms around her. Tell her that he'd missed her and ask that she come home with him now. Straight away.

An uncertain smile quivering on her lips, she'd cut the distance separating them by half when a cab swung into the curb. Before Bailey could think to call out, Damon Ross had flung open the door and, phone still at his ear, slid into the backseat. Her hand was in the air, a single word on her tongue, when the cab cut into a break in traffic and shot away.

Her hand lowered and stomach dropped. Blinking furiously, she fought back the bite of rising tears and disappointment. But, no matter how much it hurt, that bad timing was probably best. The cab swerving in at that exact moment had saved her from herself. Her father had said she'd regret dropping out of school and while that was one thing he'd been right about, there was a whole lot more that had never needed to be said. But it was too late for those kind of regrets. Nothing could be done about the past.

Determined, Bailey walked a straight line to the bus stop.

Now the future was all that mattered.

 

She'd told him five, but Bailey didn't get back to Mateo's mansion until six. Answering the bell, he threw open the door, took in her appearance and frowned. Bailey drew herself up, entered the foyer and fought the impulse to ease the sandals off her feet, grimy with city dirt. God, she must look like an urchin in need of a warm meal and a bath.

He closed the door. “No luck on the job front?”

“There are a few possibilities.” She firmed the line of her mouth and almost succeeded in squaring her shoulders. “I'll
be out again tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know I haven't skipped town. I have every intention of going through with my end of the deal.” Taking up his offer of a loan and signing a contract that would legally commit her to paying every penny back, the sooner the better. She wanted this episode of her life over as much as Mateo must, too.

But then she stopped to take in his attire—custom-made trousers and a black jersey knit shirt that covered his shoulders and chest like a dream. His scent was hot and mouth-wateringly fresh. His shoes were mirror polished.

“Are you on your way out?”

Seemed she was destined to show up on his doorstep whenever he was about to head off.

“I spoke with a friend today,” he said. “We went to university together. I delivered his baby boy.”

“Having an obstetrician friend must come in handy.”

He conceded a smile. “Alex's wife worked in real estate,” he went on in that rich deep voice that resonated like symphony base chords through the foyer. “Rental properties. Natalie still works a couple of days a week to keep her hand in.”

“Smart lady.”

And you're telling me all this…why?

As if reading her thoughts, he explained. “Since my trip's been delayed, I suggested we catch up for dinner. Alex thought you might like to come.”

At the same time a muscle in his jaw flexed, a wave of anticipation, and apprehension, rippled between them and Bailey fought the urge to clear her ears.

“Your friend doesn't know me. You barely know me and, call me paranoid, but I have the impression you don't like me much.”

His closest shoulder hitched and dropped. “We have to eat.” She narrowed her eyes at him. Since when had “he” and “she” become “we”? “Unless you have other plans,” he finished.

Her only other plans entailed checking into an affordable hotel. The more interesting question was, “How did you explain me to your friend?”

“I told him the truth.”

“That I took money from your grandmother and you don't mean to let me out of your sight until I've paid back every cent?”

“I said you were a friend of Mama's returned to Australia.”

Bailey held that breath. His expression was open. Given she'd kept her word and come back today, were his suspicions about her character being unfavorable starting to wane? Not that his opinion of her should matter…only, if she were completely honest, for some reason they did.

He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets. “Of course, if you're not hungry—”

“
No.
I mean, I
am.
” In fact, now that food had been mentioned, her empty stomach was reminding her she hadn't eaten since a muffin several hours earlier. But…wincing, she looked down and felt the day's dust on her skin. “I'll need a shower.”

“Table's not booked till seven-thirty.”

Bailey nibbled her lower lip. There was something else. Something any female would be reluctant to admit. “I, um, don't have another dress.” From the look of Mateo's crisp attire, jeans and a T-shirt wouldn't cut it.

When his gaze skimmed her frame, her eyes widened. She'd felt that visual stroke like a warm slow touch.

He gave a sexy slanted grin. “What you're wearing,” he said, “will be fine.”

 

Twenty minutes later, showered and somewhat refreshed, Bailey followed Mateo to the garage. She was determined not to drink in the way the impression of his shoulder blades rolled beneath that black shirt or recall how delectable that
back had looked so bronzed and bare in the moonlight last night.

As much as she'd like to, she couldn't deny she was physically attracted to the man. That didn't mean she should dwell on bone-melting images of him as she had done while standing beneath the showerhead mere moments ago. She hadn't been able to pry her thoughts from memories of Mateo strolling among those lifelike statues. Worse, she couldn't help but speculate on how those strong toned arms might feel surrounding and gathering her in, or how the bow of his full lower lip might taste grazing languidly back and forth over hers….

Now another image faded up in her mind—Mateo Celeca, gloriously naked and poised above her in that beautiful big upstairs bed. Her throat immediately thickened and beneath her bodice, nipples peaked and hardened. Slowing her step, Bailey pushed out a breath. She might have been engaged to Emilio but he'd never affected her this way. No man had. Why should that be so when, not only had she and Mateo locked horns, they'd only known each other a day?

In the garage, he showed her to the passenger side door of an expensive low-slung vehicle. A Maserati, if she wasn't mistaken. Odd there wasn't at least one or two other sports cars housed in the overly spacious garage. Or, perhaps, something classier to more aptly suit his station, like a Bentley or Rolls.

The garage door whirred up and soon they were cruising down the tree-lined drive and out on to a quiet street bordered by wide immaculate sidewalks where women in designer tracksuits walked poodles showing off diamanté collars. These people couldn't have the foggiest idea how the other half lived.

“I phoned someone else today,” Mateo said, changing gears.

“Mama?” She guessed, and he nodded. “I wanted to be half settled before I called or wrote her.”

“She figured that.”

“Did you tell her that you invited me to stay last night?” She asked, feeling a little awkward over it. Not that Mama would mind in the least.

“I told her you rested at my house overnight and you were out looking for a job.” Large sure hands on the steering wheel navigated a corner. “She said you should stay until you were earning and set up some place.”

Closing her eyes, Bailey groaned as her cheeks grew hot. Mama was a lovely lady. She was only showing that she cared. But, “I'm sure you told her I'd be fine.”

“I said I'd offer.”

“You
what?
”

“I said you could stay for a couple of days until things were sorted out.”

Bailey thought that statement through. “You mean things like our loan agreement?”

He gave an affirmative grunt. “And it's not as if the house isn't big enough to accommodate one more.” He skated over a defining look. “For a few days.”

Before she could argue, he turned the conversation toward the couple they'd be dining with that night—Natalie and Alex Ramirez. But Bailey's thoughts were stuck on Mateo's offer to stay in his home. She didn't want to sponge. But a few days grace to set herself up would be heaven-sent. She was willing to work at anything to get her life back on track, and quickly. Surely a job would turn up in the next day or two.

When they pulled up at a well-to-do address, Bailey's stomach flipped. She shouldn't be surprised that the Ramirez abode almost rivaled Mateo's in size and grandeur. Of course his friends would be wealthy. But beyond that, despite her nerves, she was curious to meet people the doctor liked to
spend time with and perhaps learn a little more about the enigma that was Mateo Celeca. She only wished she was dressed more appropriately, and that she had a better pair of shoes to wear out. Dinner with this type meant more than pulling up a chair in a pizza joint.

Mateo slid out of the car. When he opened her door, she accepted his hand and a flurry of sparks shot like a line of lit gunpowder up her arm. Easing out into the forecourt, although her heart was thumping, Bailey managed to keep her expression unaffected. She'd felt this buzz before, when he'd caught her yesterday and, holding her chin, had looked into her eyes. Tonight the effect was even more pronounced. If an everyday act like hands touching caused this kind of physical reaction, she couldn't fathom how something of consequence might affect her…like a no-holds-barred penetrating kiss.

Did Mateo feel it too?

A stunning brunette holding a young child dressed in a blue jumpsuit, and a tall, dark-haired man answered the door. At the same time the man—Alex Ramirez—stepped aside to show his guests through, his wife put out her free hand. Her nails were French tipped. The princess-cut diamond solitaire was enormous. “You must be Bailey. I'm Natalie and this little fellow is Reece.” She bounced the baby and he smiled and squealed again. “Come in, and bring that handsome devil with you.”

Mateo leaned in to brush a light kiss on Natalie's cheek before shaking his friend's hand heartily then returning close to her side again, as if he could sense her anxiety. As if they might be a genuine couple.

As they all moved into a sumptuous living room, furnished with contemporary leathers and teak, Bailey took in Natalie's exquisite dress. Cut just below the knee, the lilac fabric shimmered beneath strategically placed downlights. The effect was dazzling, bringing out her complexion and intensity
of her long dark hair. Her shoes matched the dress, lilac, delicate heels. Her toenails were painted red. Had she enjoyed a professional pedicure earlier that day?

Glancing down, Bailey cringed.

Her own toes hadn't seen a lick of polish in too long to remember.

Everything in Casa Buona had been so relaxed. She hadn't needed much, although, in order to travel light—to leave quickly when she had—she'd left a number of pretty skirts and tops behind, casual bright wear that suited work at the taverna. Despite the way it had all ended, she'd enjoyed being part of the staff there, serving tables, joining in on the songs and chatter afterward when the kitchen had closed for the night.