The billionaires practic.., p.1
The Billionaire's Practice Kiss, page 1
THE BILLIONAIRE’S PRACTICE KISS
LIMITLESS SWEET BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE
BOOK SIX
TAMIE DEAREN
Copyright © 2020 by Tamie Dearen
Baden House Books
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CHAPTER 1
“Just in case I disappear, here’s the address where I’m headed,” Ellery Akins told her roommate via the hands-free phone in her car, in accordance with the traffic laws. She hadn’t broken a single one since the accident. In fact, she usually drove five miles per hour under the speed limit. At least!
“Ellery, I wish you’d stop doing these home deliveries. There has to be a safer way to earn money.”
The world’s most cautious person, Kara had advised Ellery against taking the shopping and delivery job via the Bring-It-To-Me application. But well-paying work was hard to find in Austin, Texas, where a plethora of young students were seeking part-time employment. Ellery had applied other places, but hadn’t been hired. She couldn’t help but suspect her appearance played a part in her rejection.
“The app-user has to enter a lot of personal information, and the GPS tracks exactly where I am,” Ellery said. “It’s perfectly safe.”
“If you’re warning me you might go missing, it can’t be perfectly safe.” Kara’s East-Texas drawl made her sarcasm even more pronounced. “This guy could be an axe-murderer for all you know.”
Ellery and Kara had been roommates at the University of Texas for four years, paired in a pot-luck placement that had been a miraculously compatible match. Though, thanks to Ellery’s extended recovery time, she was now a year behind in her college hours.
“I was just kidding about going missing. I’m not really nervous at all. All my customers have been super nice. And for once, my face gives me an advantage.”
“What advantage?” Kara’s tone was laden with suspicion.
“I’ve been getting some really big tips…way more than the averages reported by the app users. Could be because they see the scar and feel sorry for me. Or maybe they just want to get rid of me as fast as possible so they won’t have to keep looking at me. Either way, I’m not complaining.”
“You know I hate it when you say things like that.” Kara’s voice had an edge to it. “You’re still as beautiful as ever. I just thank God we didn’t lose you.”
“I’m okay, Kara. I really am. My counselor says it’s a good sign I can joke about it. In fact, she released me today. So don’t worry about me.” Ellery had been released because her insurance wouldn’t cover any more counseling sessions, but Kara didn’t need to know that.
Kara sniffed. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I kind of had an epiphany the other day. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home,” said Ellery. “This is my last delivery of the day. I’m hoping I’ll get a good tip, even though I’m a little late. The Friday go-home traffic was horrible. I sat on I-35, barely moving for forty minutes.”
She didn’t mention she’d passed a wreck on the highway and broken out in a cold sweat, despite it being only a minor fender-bender. She’d had to do her special breathing to avoid a panic attack. Still, it was a vast improvement. A year ago, she couldn’t even sit in a car. Even now she refused to ride in a vehicle with a low-to-the-ground profile.
Using her sleeve, Ellery mopped the sweat off her brow. The air conditioner in her ten-year-old SUV was already struggling to handle the Texas heat, though it was still April and eighty-five degrees. She wasn’t sure what would happen that summer when it hit the nineties and hundreds. She certainly couldn’t afford a new car. It would help if she wasn’t too self-conscious to wear shorts and short-sleeved shirts. But she didn’t want to give strangers even more to stare at.
“I bet they won’t be upset. People who live in Austin ought to understand about traffic,” said Kara. “What are you delivering this time?”
“I picked up some clothes from the dry-cleaners. I think these people might be rich, because it came in a fancy opaque garment bag instead of the usual clear thin plastic. And one of the things inside was a tuxedo.”
“You looked inside? That doesn’t sound like the rule-follower-Ellery I know.
“I had to look.” Her stomach clenched. “I felt guilty about it, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t secretly transporting drugs or laundered money or something.”
“Wouldn’t it be dry-cleaned money instead of laundered?”
“Ha. Very funny.” Following her GPS map, Ellery turned her SUV into a long but wide driveway with an iron gate at the entrance.
“Wowsers! This place is a mansion. It’s huge! I’ve gotta go, Kara. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Okay. Praying it’s not an axe murderer.”
“Just pray they’re not angry I’m late. Tipping is totally optional, so if they don’t tip, I’m going to lose money on this one. Sitting in traffic burned up a lot of gas.”
“Okay. I’m praying he’s a generous, non-angry, non-axe-murderer.”
CHAPTER 2
This one is even worse than the last three.
Logan West pretended to listen to the blonde woman who stood in front of him, a garment bag hanging from her arm as she droned on about the latest episode of some television show. He nodded, though he had no idea what she was talking about. He hadn’t watched anything but the news and sports since he graduated from college. Was this what women wanted in a man? Someone who wasted hours watching the latest drama or comedy series? He’d gotten so out of touch with his generation. For that matter, he was out of touch with every generation…at least in person.
The woman stared at him, her perfectly drawn eyebrows arched high on her forehead. Had she asked him a question?
“I’m sorry.” Logan considered whether he could possibly tolerate one of the previous candidates. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
Her face scrunched, creasing her thick makeup. “Wait! Don’t you even want to see my dress? Josiah said one of us would be picked based on the dress we brought to wear to the wedding. You haven’t even looked at mine.”
He suppressed a sigh. As she was wearing four-inch platform heels and the shortest dress he’d ever seen, he had little hope for her interpretation of his request to bring a “sophisticated” evening gown.
“Yes, of course. Let me see it.” He took the bag from her, not bothering to step away from the front entryway where he’d conducted their five-minute interview. With one hand holding the hanger, he struggled with the zipper.
“I’ll show you.” Wriggling with excitement, she unzipped the bag. “It’s a Marie Mendez.”
Logan wasn’t familiar with dress designers, but a quick glance revealed a high slit on the long skirt. His ultra conservative mother would have a cow if his date wore something that scandalous.
“Thanks for coming.” He handed her the garment bag and herded her toward the door. “I won’t be needing your services, but you’ll get the five hundred dollars as compensation for reserving the weekend.”
“If you don’t like this dress, I have two others in the car.”
No doubt she had her eye on the ten thousand dollars she would’ve received if she’d been chosen.
“It’s not the dress…you’re simply not my type.” He opened the door and swept his hand toward it. “I’m sorry.”
“You know what?” Her smile disappeared, her face hardening. “It wouldn’t have been worth ten thousand to spend an entire weekend with you. You’re the rudest man I’ve ever met!” She flounced out, her garment bag whacking against his leg.
He shut the door and leaned against it, rubbing his temples to soothe his throbbing head.
Had he been rude? Probably. He’d spent so little time around people the last five years, he’d forgotten how to act. He’d shut himself away from the world, building his online empire. With many of his clients overseas, he’d even altered his sleep and working hours, sometimes going weeks without seeing the sunlight. He’d jokingly begun to refer to himself as a vampire.
As a vampire or a hermit or whatever he’d become, he’d had no opportunity to meet a woman he could take to the wedding. But Josiah, who’d stuck with him through it all, ran a modeling agency and often arranged for his clients to attend events as escorts in order to see and be seen.
“Just say the word and you’ll have a gorgeous date for the wedding,” Josiah had said. “It’ll cost you ten thousand dollars if she has to be gone the whole weekend to Houston, but that’s a drop in the bucket for you.”
Choosing a date from one of Josiah’s models had been a reasonable and smart solution. Putting it off until the day he was supposed to leave had not. Josiah’s top models had already been booked in a fashion show.
“This is my busy season,” Josiah had said when Logan had called in a panic early that morning. “Let me see…I’ve only got five suitable models who don’t already have a gig this weekend. I’ll contact them now if you’re willing to come up here this afternoon and see if you click with one of them.”
Logan’s breakfast threatened to reappear. “There are too many people in your building. I can’t handle the crowd. Why don’t you send all five to my house? I’ll pay them five hundred dollars each, just for coming.”
“Believe me, it’s tempting. But Mom is determined to go, and I don’t want her to face my stepfather by herself. I have to go.”
“Then just go with your mother. You don’t need a date. It’ll be that much more stressful to have some woman you don’t know tagging along.”
“I can’t show up with Mom. I’d look pathetic. Allegra might think I couldn’t find a date.”
“Which happens to be true.”
“Josiah, you have to help me.”
“I’ll give you some advice. Shave your face.”
“I shave,” Logan had defended. “Every Tuesday.”
“I hope you shower more often.”
“Hey! I shower every day.”
“Good for you. So buy yourself a new razor—one that works every day of the week—and shave tomorrow morning before the wedding. And get a haircut so you don’t look like you’ve been hiding in a cave for a year.”
“I’m not changing my appearance. Not even to impress Allegra.” Logan had smoothed his messy locks.
“You’re no Samson. It won’t hurt you to cut your hair, Logan.”
“Forget that.” Logan had shifted the conversation back to important matters. “Will you send the models over?”
“They’ll probably be willing to drive out there for five hundred bucks. But only if I vouch for you. So try not to be weird.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Hey! It was your idea for me to take one of your models to the wedding.”
“That was when I thought you’d made progress with your therapist about your fear of crowds or people or whatever your phobia is. Three weeks ago, you told me she’d released you from counseling.”
“She did release me. She had to, because I quit going.”
Though Josiah had groaned in protest, he’d agreed to call the five models and make arrangements for the interviews.
Only four of the promised five had shown up, and none had even been close to what Logan was looking for. Probably because none of them could possibly be as beautiful as Allegra, with her smooth porcelain skin and long spiral locks of silky brown hair.
The ring of the doorbell startled Logan out of his skin. No one could get through the gate unless he opened it. Was the blonde back to insist she be chosen? He tapped the watch on his wrist, pulling up a view from outside his front door. A different woman, holding a garment bag. She must’ve driven through the gate when the last candidate was leaving. Vain hope fluttered in his chest. He had one last opportunity to find a suitable date, though he doubted she would be any better than the others. With her head tucked down, her dark hair covered her face, but maybe it was for the best. This time, he would try not to look at her so he wouldn’t compare her to Allegra, a battle the candidate was bound to lose. Instead, he would attempt to engage her in conversation and judge her on personality alone.
Well, that and the dress. No woman deserves to be subjected to my mother’s harsh judgment.
“You’re late.” He flung the door open wide, motioning her inside, maintaining his downward gaze. Jeans and flipflops shuffled past him, and he almost laughed aloud. She’d certainly dressed casually for her interview. He shut the door behind her, staying in the entryway as he had with the last candidate.
“Where are you from?” he asked, staring at her feet.
“Uhmm…all over, I guess. My dad was in the military, so we moved all the time.” Her toes curled, almost hiding the pink painted nails, adorned with tiny white flowers.
“What did you study in college?” One of his requirements had been that the candidates have an undergraduate degree, hoping for a level of maturity that couldn’t be guaranteed by age alone.
“I’m pre-law.”
“You don’t have a degree yet? How old are you?” At thirty-one, he didn’t want to be with a teenager.
He let his gaze rise high enough to see her arms tighten, crushing the garment bag against her.
“If you must know, I’m twenty-six. I’m working my way through school.” She acted offended, as if he shouldn’t ask personal information. “Is this inquisition really necessary?”
“Are you in a hurry to be gone?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“You have plans tonight?” His jaw tightened. Why had she bothered to come?
“Nothing that’s any of your business.” Her arms pushed the garment bag toward him. “Here you go. I just need you to sign off on this.”
“Sign off?” He took the bag, which seemed too heavy for a single dress. She must’ve brought several along, an odd action if she didn’t want the job.
“Yes, sign off. Look, even if I was a little late, I need credit for coming. I don’t expect a tip, but I have to prove I got it here.”
He was pretty sure steam was coming out his ears. Josiah would get an earful from Logan about this woman’s behavior. She’d come with no intention of taking the weekend job. She’d shown up simply to get a quick five hundred dollars and be on her way. Logan had no intention of paying her under those circumstances.
Since he’d eliminated her as a candidate, he looked up, gasping at the fiery glare aimed his direction. Her indigo blue eyes were striking, and probably would’ve been huge if they hadn’t been narrowed at him. Her brown hair fell in soft waves past the tops of her shoulders. She flipped it behind them. It was then that he noticed a rather large patch of wrinkled purplish skin on the right side of her face.
“You have a scar.”
He regretted his words the instant they left his mouth. It sounded so demeaning, as if a scar would prevent someone from being a model. She probably fit right in at Josiah’s agency. It wasn’t called Remarkable Models for no reason. But he could see she’d have been gorgeous without the prominent mark on her cheek. His pity surged, but she wasn’t intimidated by his blunder.
“Yes, I have a scar.” With her jaw jutted forward, she pulled her right sleeve partway up, the entire forearm scarred, though the appearance was less purple. “I have one here, too. Do you want to make something of it?”
He’d obviously hurt her feelings, and he was embarrassed to have been so insensitive. At least he had the good sense not to ask how it had happened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“And here, too.” She yanked up the leg of her jeans, exposing more scarring on her shapely calf.
He couldn’t help but admire her courageous attitude. He could barely show his face in public, and he had no such disfigurement as an excuse. Just a social discomfort he’d nursed into a full-blown phobia. If only he had this woman’s blatant disregard for the opinions of others, he could saunter into that wedding with confidence.
“Just check the bag, please.” Her foot tapped on the floor.
“I thought you said you had plans for the evening. You still want me to look at the dress?”
“What dress? I don’t think they gave me a dress!” Her eyes squeezed shut. “Cripes! I can’t afford to make another trip over there and back.”
Her words made no sense. She must’ve misunderstood when Josiah explained the possible job.
“Josiah was supposed to tell you to bring a formal dress for the wedding.” Logan strode out of the entry into his living room to lay the weighty garment bag out on his couch. “If you don’t have the dress, what’s in here?”
“Just some shirts, three pairs of pants, and a tuxedo.”
“A tuxedo? Why would you have a…” As he unzipped the bag, he recognized his own clothes inside and slammed his palm against his forehead. His dry-cleaning. He’d forgotten all about it in the frenzy of the interviews. Realization dawned, heating his face. He was such an idiot. “You’re with Bring-It-To-Me, aren’t you? Do you even know Josiah?”
“Who’s Josiah? The guy at the dry cleaners?” She chewed her plump lower lip in an adorable manner that made something feel warm deep inside. “That’s all he gave me. I swear he didn’t say anything about a dress.”
“I’m so sorry…uh…I didn’t even get your name.”
“Ellery.”
“Ellery, I thought you were someone else. Someone who was supposed to be a blind date for a friend’s wedding. I’m so sorry I was rude.”
