Page 85 of Nailing the Billionaire

Quickly, I retrieved the fluffy bathrobe from the bathroom before venturing out. He’d probably hired a cook to make him breakfast, and the poor lady didn’t know he wasn’t here.

When I rounded the corner to the kitchen, I found him with his back to me, working at the stove.

Dennis turned. “Sleep okay?” He didn’t have a cook after all.

I nodded and walked his way. “Uh-huh. How’s your brother?”

He pointed to the breakfast bar attached to the island. “Coffee’s on the counter. Cocoa powder is on the end, if you want.”

I wrapped my fingers around the hot cup of java. “Thank you. How’s your brother?”

“Josh gave us quite a scare last night, but according to the experts, he’ll be okay in the long run. He has a tube in his skull to monitor the inter-cranial pressure.”

I shivered at his description. It sounded pretty damned serious to me. “But he’ll be okay?”

“Nothing broken. A nasty bump to the head, but he’s already driving the nurses crazy. Good thing he has the thick Benson skull.”

I spooned some of the cocoa he offered into my coffee and stirred. “What happened?”

He turned off the stove and brought the two frypans over to the counter. “He was driving home and had an accident is all we know. I’ll find out more later.”

“That smells wonderful.” It looked it as well.

“Omelets.” He slid them one at a time onto plates.

“When did you get back?”

“About four.”

“You should have woken me.”

“After last night, you deserved the rest.” He lifted the empty wine bottle I’d left on the counter. “And after emptying this, I probably couldn’t have woken you if I’d tried.”

I broke eye contact. “I didn’t drink the whole thing.”

“Did you pour the rest down the sink?”

I shrugged, unwilling to lie.

He picked up the plates and walked toward the table in the nook.

I followed with my coffee mug.

The news was playing softly on a TV mounted on the wall.

He set the plates down and held out a chair for me before taking a seat himself. “I want to apologize for the way Melissa acted last night.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Sure it is. It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t invited you.”

“You forget, I sort of invited myself.”

“It’s still on me.”

“I had a wonderful time, up until—”

“The eruption,” he offered.

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