Page 2 of Who Needs a Billionaire

“Why would I do that when my life was clearly on the line here?” He forced a straight face when he said it, even though he really was messing with her. “I could’ve died tonight. Right before Christmas.”

The expression on her face fell. “You’re right. I was driving too fast. I was running late. I knew not to do it, but I looked down at my phone for a second and when I looked up, you were there.”

Okay, now he actually was angry. He’d been teasing her before, but he really could have died if she had kept looking at her phone. “You know what, maybe we should call the police and report this after all.”

Her shoulders sank. “Whatever you want to do.”

He looked at his arm again. “I want to go back to five minutes before you hit me, and I want you to put your stupid phone away.”

“I’m sorry.” She appeared devastated.

The longer he looked into her big brown eyes, the more he found himself drawn to her. He began to get lost in them for a moment, so much that he didn’t realize she’d taken his unmarred arm and was looking it over.

“Was this the arm you say I hit? I don’t see any marks or anything.” She looked up at him, and he yanked his arm away. Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down. “You’re lying about me hitting you.”

“You knocked me flat on the side of the road. Why would I lie?”

“I know I’m at fault for causing your fall, and I own up to that completely. But I’m one hundred percent positive my car did not make impact with your arm. So, call or don’t call, but I will not admit to hitting you, because not a hair on your body was touched by my car, sir.”

She said sir in the most sarcastic tone he’d ever heard, and it swirled up a fury inside him that rivaled anything he had ever known before.

“Well, ma’am, your mirror most definitely touched me. Maybe it didn’t strike me hard enough to knock me down, but it was enough to cause me to fall. And I’m sure the officer would like to know you were texting and driving when all this went down.”

“I was not!” She stepped forward into his personal space. “I told you, I looked at my phone for a second. I wasn’t texting. I would never do that.”

“It’s still against the law to be on your phone while driving in the state of California.” He took a step closer.

“I know the driving laws.” She didn’t back down, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I beg to differ.” He looked over at her car. “Does that piece of crap even pass California emissions standards?” When he looked back, her nostrils were flaring.

“Listen, I have someplace to be. I’m very sorry for what happened, but I’m not going to stand here debating with you one second longer.” At that, she spun on her heel and marched to her car.

“Don’t text and drive!” he called after her.

She grumbled something under her breath as she climbed in, shot him a dirty look over her shoulder, then drove away.

Gus walked the rest of the way to Adelia’s, annoyed and somehow curious about this woman who had almost been the death of him. Despite the accident, he felt rejuvenated by their little sparring match, and he wondered if he’d ever see Little Miss Hit-and-Run again.

TWO

After the kerfuffle down the road, there was nothing Merritt Christianson wanted more than to enjoy Adelia Allen’s Christmas party. Her heart rate was still elevated from the thought of nearly killing someone—even if that someone was a sarcastic pain in her backside.

She let out a breath to calm herself, straightened her dress, and rang the doorbell.

Adelia’s smiling face greeted her. “Merritt! You look amazing!”

“Oh, thanks. But look at you.” Adelia wore a sleek red gown, her long blonde hair styled in elegant thick waves, which harkened back to classic actresses of the 40s and 50s. She exuded glamour, and whenever she turned on that sultry gaze of hers, she seemed to channel a young Lauren Bacall.

“Oh no, you have something on your dress.”

Merritt looked down and saw the ugly line of dirt above the hem of her dress. She brushed it away as best as she could. “Good thing I wore black.”

Adelia shrugged. “That’s better. Nobody will notice.” She tilted her head to the side. “Come in. Everyone’s out back.”

She took in the foyer, where guests were greeted by three silver Christmas trees of various sizes decorated with shiny red ornaments on their branches. They entered beneath strings of white lights draped from the center of the ceiling outward, forming a tent above them that gave the room a warm and inviting glow.

“Adelia, this place! Did you do all this yourself?”

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