Page 12 of The Billionaire's Ride

Garret gives a slight eye roll and turns to face the door. “I got the scoop on him while we were waiting in the hall.”

“What’s the story?” Drew is mysterious, which I’ll admit is pretty hot. But it only makes me more curious about him.

I slip my thong down from under the robe. The crotch is sopping wet. Geez, I can’t remember the last guy who had that effect on me. Guess I’m keeping these. I tuck the undies in my purse, then slip on my jeans, and swap my lacy Kate Golden bra for a more practical Calvin Klein one.

“Apparently, he’s loaded. Old family money. Like, more than he would ever need,” Garret gushes, which I find hard to believe. Why does he work if he has piles of money? Plus, he doesn’t act at all pretentious or obnoxious like the super-rich trust-fund guys I’ve encountered. And I know that crowd. I grew up with those elitists, and Drew just doesn’t fit the bill. “But he’s atotal player. A modelizer. No one’s ever seen him with the same woman for longer than a few weeks.”

Guess I was right about one thing. A modelizer might be worse than being a womanizer. “Do you think that’s why he left? Because I’m not a model?”

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s secretly gay.” Garret’s gaze draws up in a daydreamy look.

I shoot him a wry smile. “You wish.”

“I do! I would’ve been all over him. I can’t believe you left him hanging the other night. And his family’s worthbillions!” Garret’s eyes bulge with the wordbillions.

“You know, now that I think about it, he knew I wasn’t a model when he propositioned me at the party. And just now. He had me right there. In lingerie. Next to a luxurious bed! Why didn’t he just take me?”

“Would you have let him?”

I chew at the dry lipstick on my mouth. Would I have let him please me in the studio with a bunch of people just waiting outside the door? The naughtiest place I’ve ever done it is in my pool. And that’s only because it’s so private it might as well be my locked bedroom. So ordinarily, I’d say probably not, but the idea of him laying me down on that bed, sliding my stringy thong down my legs, and putting his tongue on my . . . it makes my knees weak.

“I guess we’ll never know, huh?”

“Well, if he only dates women for a few weeks, then you should definitely get on that while you’re here. It would be great publicity. Kate Golden dates London billionaire photographer, Drew?—”

“Stop.” I hold up my hand. Sometimes, Garret only thinks in terms of good publicity and bad publicity. “I’ve done enough promoting my business today, don’t you think?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Honey, I’m just saying it wouldn’thurtthe business. Or you for that matter.”

When I return to my hotel room later that evening, I plop down on the bed and clutch the fine linens in my fingers, letting out a frustrated grunt. It’s been two hours since Drew walked out of the studio, and my body still hasn’t recovered. Maybe a cold shower will help.

It does a little. Plus, I’m too tired to think about it anymore. I crawl in between the sheets and close my eyes, letting my mind wander as usual. My thoughts make their way back to the studio. I can see him, standing tall over me, dark eyes penetrating my soul, a gorgeous smile, looking so delicious in the tight white T-shirt stretched around his tattooed bicep.

I shiver thinking about the way his finger barely touched my skin. The way his breath tickled my thigh, pushing me close to the edge. I imagine what his hands would feel like wrapped around my waist, his lips playing with mine, and the weight of his body on top of me as I run my nails down his sexy British back. I want him to do things to me, things I never dreamed of doing before. I moan at the fantasy.

If Drew makes me feel like I’m close when he’s barely touching me, I can’t even imagine what he’d do if I let him have all of me. Would it be amazing? Earthshaking? I’ve never had earthshaking sex before. Good sex, sure. Not incredible, but I could cross the finish line. What if Drew can get me to cross the finish line again and again and again? Not that I’ll ever find out. I suspect that was our last encounter.

Chapter Six

KATE

The next day,I ride over to my London boutique, and the memory of the photo shoot has already started to fade like a distant daydream. Which is all it was or ever will be—a fantasy. In reality, my focus needs to be one hundred percent on keeping my store and my brand viable. And not killing myself to do it.

The town car driver pulls up to a row of quaint-looking, four-story brick buildings in the West End. This is the most fabulous block, and I almost couldn’t believe it when a space opened up just as we were looking for a storefront almost three years ago. Kate Golden Lingerie is placed beautifully between a trendy designer store and a fine leather handbag and shoe store.

My stomach flips as I push my way through the glass entrance doors. I quickly scan every inch of the store for anything that’s changed in the last thirteen months since I’ve been here. Everything’s exactly the same. Even the pieces on the racks.

Looking at it now, it’s even more beautiful than I remember. Flecks of gold in the marble flooring reflect off of the elegant floating chandelier, ivory molding frames the lingerie displayed on the walls, and a black and white portrait of a lace-clad model hangs behind the counter.

“Kate, you’ve arrived!” Layla, the store manager I handpicked before the opening, walks over. Her deep black hair is swept over one shoulder of her fitted emerald dress with an asymmetrical neckline. “It’s been so long. How are you feeling?” she asks, pecking polite air kisses near my cheeks.

“I’m well!” I say with enough oomph to convince the both of us. Glancing around the store, I remember how it felt two years ago on opening night when Layla and I clinked our champagne glasses together as we toasted to the success of the new store. Owning a store that bears my name, all the way across the Atlantic, is a dream come true. Now I have to save that dream. “How’re things here?”

“We had a pretty good day yesterday. You were mentioned in a few London fashion blogs yesterday, so I think that helped.”

“Really? What are they saying?” That I’ve gotten desperate enough to pose in my own designs to promote my company?

Garret marches toward us from the back of the store wearing a paisley-patterned shirt buttoned up to his Adam’s apple and staring at his phone. “They’re saying the fabulous Kate Golden has arrived in London Town and was last seen leaving Nina Savoy’s mansion party. Early.” He draws the corners of his mouth down in an exaggerated frown like a sad emoji.

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