Page 18 of The Billionaire's Ride

She tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth again and shrugs. “On second thought, it’s a beautiful day. Let’s walk.”

Damn, I should have just swept her off her feet and taken her away. I gesture for the door. “After you.”

Out on the street, we head west, and the sun illuminates her face again. Her long legs are striking beneath that little red dress. Gorgeous. This time, I grab my camera. “Stay right there,” I say, fixing the lens on before snapping a couple of test shots.

“Wait. What are you doing?” She holds her hand out, blocking the shot like I’m the paparazzi.

“Taking pictures of a beautiful woman. It’s my job.” I tease her and take a few more photos.

Kate blushes and rolls her eyes. “Stop. This is embarrassing.” She giggles.

“This from the girl who posed in her knickers yesterday.”

“True. I suppose this is better.”

“Don’t worry,” I say, focusing on a tight frame of her face. “I’m very good at what I do.”

She walks over to me and gently lowers my camera away from my face. “You better be. I have a lot riding on this.”

“What does that mean?”

Her expression shifts into something more like worry, and she turns to walk ahead. “It means my business is losing traction. I need all the good press I can get.”

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure that happens,” I offer, and I mean it. I’ll get the photo editor only the best shots. Then again, Kate couldn’t take a bad photo if she tried. She has no idea just how beautiful she really is. The long lashes that frame her eyes, the soft cupid’s bow of her lip, and the way her hair shines strands of gold in the light. Then of course, there’s her slender arms and delicate hands, beautifully curved hips, and long, lean legs that I’d love to have wrapped around me.

“Thank you,” she says. “For that and helping me out today.”

“My pleasure.”

We walk up the road toward the art store, and every now and again, her shoulder touches mine. I want to grab her by the waist and kiss her. Even just once to take the edge off. Why do I torture myself with her?

Inside the art shop, we’re immediately greeted by Tonia. “Is that you, Drew?” She sends me a flirty wink. “In the market for more photo paper?”

“Not today, Ton. We’re looking for a sketchbook.”

Tonia cocks her head. “We?”

We? Yeah, why did I say that?

“Me,” Kate interjects. “I’m looking for your Fredricksons. They’re made here in England.”

Tonia’s flirty little smile falls. “Sorry, love. We’re out of those. We’ve got plenty of moleskins.”

“Do you know where I could get a Fredrickson?” Kate inquires further.

Tonia shakes her head. “I’m not really sure who would carry them. They’re quite expensive. But we should have a new stock arriving in about a week. Would that do?”

“That’ll be too late.”

“C’mon, Tonia. Isn’t there a way to get them here sooner? Could you do us a favor?”

Us? There I go again.

Tonia gives a long face. “Sorry, Mr.Blake, you can’t always have what you want right away.” I look to Kate. Don’t I know it. Tonia shows us to the stacks of sketchbooks, and Kate leafs through nearly all of them.

“So what’s so special about this Fredrickson book?” I ask, leaning against the shelf.

“Aside from being of the highest quality?” she says, and I nod for her to continue. “They’re my favorite. Every piece that’s ever been on display was once just a sketch on that perfect woven paper. I have some at home, but I didn’t think I’d be sketching while I was here.”

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