Page 45 of The Grumpy Billionaire
Her head jerked back as if she’d been slapped. Apparently the remark had stung.Good.I’d meant for it to.
“What people? What are you talking about?” she asked.
I gave her a smile every bit as icy as I’d just accused her of being.
“I know a lot about you, Mara. I’ve got enough money to find out anything I want to know—and I wanted to know what happened to you—for curiosity’s sake. I had someone look into you during college, and last year down South.”
I paused for a dry laugh. “I used to think I was special, but then I found out I’m in good company—or bad.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“My investigator’s report detailed a long history of short-lived relationships. You have quite a track record of loving and leaving,” I explained. “Though, maybe ‘loving’ is the wrong word.”
Grabbing my chin, I struck an exaggerated thinking pose. “I wonder… what word I could insert that would be more appropriate?”
Mara’s eyes flew open wide. A half-second later there was a loud crack, and a stinging heat flared in my cheek. Shaking out her hand, she spun around and hiked down the hill toward the parking lot.
I followed her, my heart pounding like I’d run the CVS Downtown 5K through Providence.
Though I’d been trying to get a rise out of her, I was now more than a little worried she wouldn’t get into my car again but would instead call a cab.
Or call someone at her station and demand to be picked up.
And to be taken off the story.
Sure enough, when she reached the asphalt, Mara pulled her phone from her jacket pocket, clearly about to call for a ride. Desperation danced in my brain, scrambling my thoughts and cranking up my adrenaline.
Reaching over her shoulder, I plucked the device from Mara’s fingers.
“Hey.” She whirled to face me. “What do you think you’re doing? Give me my phone.”
I held it high out of her reach. “Wait. Just wait a minute, okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was mad.”
“Join the club, asshole,” she growled, going up on her tiptoes to reach for the phone. “And this interview prep—this is done. You’re on your own.”
“Will you hold on a minute? I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
I stretched my hand toward the sky as she scowled and lunged, trying futilely to get her phone back, no doubt planning to use it to arrange things so she never had to see me again.
She grappled at my wrist, frustration and anger painting her pretty face. It probably didn’t help that I was laughing at her.
But I couldn’t help myself. She was unbelievably cute, like an irate teacup Yorkie barking and growling at a Great Dane.
“Give it to me, you big bully—I’m not kidding.”
“There’s that temper again. Your Irish half is showing,” I teased.
Mara jumped, and as she came back down off-balance, her chest crashed into mine. My free arm clamped around her waist, catching her and saving her from falling backward and landing on her butt.
Instead of releasing her when she regained her footing, I pulled her tightly against me.
Notquitesure why I did it. It wasn’t a decision actually—it was more a matter of instinct. Wanting Mara close to me was simply part of who I was.
Our faces were inches apart, her hard breaths and my laughter mixing in the tiny space between us.
The delicious scent I’d noticed on the day of our first interview attempt swirled around me, making me suddenly light-headed. And her mouth—those beautiful heart-shaped lips—were right there.
She stopped struggling. I froze as well—her temper wasn’t the only thing aroused at this point, and I was pretty sure she could feel it.
