Page 55 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife

"You did what?" His eyes widen, and his jaw drops. I've never seen him look more astounded in my life, and I've seen many expressions on his face. "Repeat that for me please, Sabrina."

"I posted an ad with your picture and phone number in a couple of places around town, basically saying that you were a billionaire, and you were looking for a wife and that you didn't mind if..." I paused.

"I didn't mind what?"

"Well…that you would take them on sudden trips to Paris, and they shouldn't mind if you were sarcastic and some other stuff."

"You did what? How many places did you post this?"

"I don't know," I say, mumbling under my breath.

"Sabrina."

"I mean, I didn't count, Wes. I'm not 100 percent sure how many. Maybe fifty or sixty. Maybe 100.”

“Oh, my gosh. So there are 100 posters of me all over the city in random places. Is that why I'm getting so many calls?"

"I didn't think you would get that many, but yeah, maybe."

"Oh, my gosh. Sabrina, what have you done?"

"I'm sorry. I mean, it was impulsive, and I wasn't really thinking and..." I wrinkled my nose. "Are you terribly mad at me?"

He lets out a deep sigh. "I can't say I'm happy, but let's go get these posters and take them down."

"That's not going to help," I say, shaking my head quickly and looking away from him.

"Why are you averting your gaze from me, Sabrina? What else do I not know?"

"Nothing much," I say innocently. "Well, I mean, this one is really not my fault."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I kind of placed a small ad in a newspaper because I thought it would be fun and that's what they did in the olden days."

"Uh-huh. And?

"And what?" I say, sitting up and trying to get off the bed. He wraps his arms around my waist and doesn't let me move.

"Sabrina," he says, whispering in my ear. The feel of his breath is ticklish, and I feel a shiver run down my spine.

"What"? I say, trying to sound as innocent as possible. I have a feeling he's not going to take this news quite as well as he took the other news.

"Sabrina, tell me what's going on."

"Why do you keep saying my name? It's not like I've forgotten it already."

"Tell me."

"So, the newspaper editor may or may not have seen the personal ad and gotten really excited because I guess you're kindof a big deal, being handsome and an eligible bachelor. And well..."

"Well, what?"

"You may or may not be on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow, and your phone number may or may not be a part of that. I'm so sorry. Maybe people aren't going to see it. It's not like it's theNew York Timesor anything," I say, trying to repeat the words that had been said in my conversation with Erica.

"I'm going to be on the front page of the paper tomorrow," he groans, "with a personal ad saying I'm looking for a wife?"

"Yeah, maybe. Kind of. I'm sorry."

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