Alpha Billionaire’s Bride, Part Two (BWWM Romance Serial) (5 page)

“Figures,” Agatha said as she slowly slid off the bed. “It
finally gets to the good stuff about my client and
he
turns off the
show.”

Ian shook his head. “There are so many televisions in this
house that I can’t count them all. If you must, watch that nonsense on one of
those.”

“Come on, Agatha,” Sasha said, tucking baggies of what
looked like snacks under her arms. “We’ll watch it downstairs in the theatre
room. Maybe they’ll mention your name. You know how you love that.”

“I would not love that. I’m all about you. It’s all I care
about.” She stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at her cell. “Hold on a
sec, I think I found Mr. Talleyrand’s email address.”

Ian scowled at Sasha, who took the hint and grabbed her
mother’s wrist, towing her from the room.

He marched over and closed the door behind them then turned
back to Jada who looked tiny sitting alone on the big bed. “I’m sorry about
that. If you want, I’ll throw them out.”

“Oh, no, they’re okay,” Jada said. “Well, Sasha is, anyway.”
Her small, brave smile tugged at Ian’s heart.

She looked adorable in her oversized, fluffy robe, and sexy,
too, with her dark hair shining, pulled back into a simple, sleek ponytail. Her
lower legs were bare and shapely, stretching out in delicious coffee-colored
contrast to the white robe and bedspread.

It wasn’t lost on Ian that one tug of the tie around Jada’s
waist would be all it would take to reveal what she wore underneath that robe.
He hoped she wore nothing under there. Nothing at all. Not a stitch. Nada.
Jada. Damn.

Feelings stirred in places that, frankly, shouldn’t be
getting stirred up in the current situation. But then, it had been those
feelings which had kept him from returning to the city that morning, hadn’t it?
He couldn’t part from the lovely Jada.

“How did you sleep?” he asked. “Has Elly been taking good
care of you?”

“I slept fine and Elly’s wonderful,” Jada answered. “But I’m
kind of embarrassed about last night. I said some things that—”

He held up a hand. “You have nothing to be embarrassed
about. If it makes you feel any better, I thought you were wonderful.”

“Oh,” she said, glancing away. “That’s kind of you,
considering everything.”

Ian frowned. She took too much on herself, when it should be
on him. “It’s for me to apologize to you. I should have explained everything
before those two made it to the dining room. My only excuse is that I was too
busy feeling sorry for myself to think about what you were feeling. I’m truly
sorry for that, and it won’t happen again.”

She looked up at him through long, curling lashes. “That’s
okay. I can’t blame you for it. Anyone would be sorry to have to deal with an
angry Agatha.”

“That isn’t why I was sorry for myself, or, not much of it.”
Ian stiffened his spine for his confession. “I was disappointed they were here
because I wanted to keep you all to myself. I didn’t want to share.”

Jada smiled at him and warmth built in his chest.

She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a voice
chiming out from the bed covers.

“Ahem. Sorry, you two,” Marina said via the cell’s speakers.
“I’m still here.”

Jada snatched up the phone. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I
am
saying something.”

“I’ll call you back later.”

“Okay, but—”

Jada ended the call and shoved the cell into her pocket.
“Gosh, that wasn’t awkward, was it?”

Ian found himself scuffing a heel on the floor then forced
himself to quit the schoolboy reaction. “I ... er ... can’t believe I forgot
she was on the phone.”

Jada began to laugh, the appealing sound alleviating the
awkward tension. “Leave it to Marina to let us go on like that before speaking
up.”

He relaxed and couldn’t help but grin at her pleasure. “She
must be a playful person.”

“That’s one way to put it, I guess. ‘Nosy’ would be more
accurate.” Her smile dimmed. “I’m kind of worried about her though. The press
has been after her, trying to interview her about you and me, so she’s hiding
in a fleabag motel outside Springers Glen.”

“Do you think she’s in danger?”

“No, I just feel bad. It’s kind of my fault she can’t go
home. But I can’t control what happens, obviously. So I’ll have to accept it,
right?”

Now there was a notion Ian couldn’t begin to fathom.
Accepting that he couldn’t control everything? Ridiculous. He wasn’t about to
say that to Jada, though, and ruin the mood. “None of this is your fault. You
didn’t cause it. My bet is that we’ll know by the end of business tomorrow
exactly who or what caused this situation, and then you can put the blame where
it belongs.”

“Maybe you’re right.” She scrunched up her forehead in
thought. “I don’t believe that Agatha is the one who did it, by the way, not
today. I was watching her earlier and realized that she’d be crowing right now
if she had pulled something like this off. She’s so full of herself, she
couldn’t stand not to take credit for how it’s boosting Sasha’s image.”

“Good point. Back to the drawing board, huh?”

“Nope. I’ve got a new suspect. Sasha.”

Ian cocked a brow. “I can’t see Sasha doing it.”

“Think about it. She was completely unfazed by the whole
thing. Didn’t care a bit how it made her look, nothing. She was way too
unconcerned. And she acted too casually when she explained to Agatha how the
marriage license fiasco could be turned into a publicity boon. Almost like it
was a practiced speech.”

“True, but—”

“Wait, I’m not done. I still haven’t told you her motive.”

“Which is?”

“She wants out of the closet, permanently. She came up with
this whole racket as a way to convince Agatha to let her be out and proud.
Remember how she sold it? She said they could claim that your betrayal turned
her permanently off of men and made her a lesbian. Agatha saw dollar signs as
soon as Sasha gave her the right angle to sell Sasha’s sexuality. It’s pretty
clever if you think about it.”

“I guess so, except I can’t see Sasha going to so much
trouble. She’s kind of flighty to plan something so complicated. And I’m pretty
sure she was joking. No one believes you can turn gay out of the blue anymore,
do they?”

Jada frowned, cute, tiny vertical furrows forming between
her brows. “Hmm. That’s a consideration. Also, there’s the whole issue of how
my name got into it. Same problem with Agatha. There’s no way to explain my
getting dragged into this.”

“They may have picked the town randomly and then got your
name off internet yellow pages as a resident.”

“Maybe. How weird would that be? I mean, almost like we were
destined to meet or something. Not that I think we have a destiny or anything
... anyway ... Sasha tops my suspect list now.”

Ian took the plunge he’d been planning when he decided to
come to Jada’s room in the first place. “Maybe we could discuss it more, later.
Consider all the possibilities. Would you like to go on a picnic? It’s perfect
weather today. I can ask Mrs. Best to make us up a basket. We could go to one
of my favorite spots on the grounds, near the arched—”

“Yes,” she broke in, her enthusiasm charming Ian. “I’d love
to go on a picnic with you.”

“Great. Shall I come for you at eleven?”

“Could we make it noon? Deb gave me a massage last night,
and got me to agree to let her wax and mud pack me this morning. I don’t know
how long it will take, but surely she’ll be done by noon.”

“Noon is fine. Enjoy yourself. Deb’s great at what she
does.”

He turned to the door and heard Jada’s soft tread behind
him. He had to get out of that room before he took her in his arms and pulled
on that tempting tie around her waist.

She said goodbye to him at the door and closed it softly
behind him. He stood in the hallway, rocking on the balls of his feet,
extremely pleased with himself. He made a mental list of everything he needed
to do to create the perfect picnic, and made note of a few other things to
accomplish before calling for Jada.

His step was jaunty and he whistled a happy, tuneless ditty
as he headed off on his tasks.

JADA STROLLED DOWN THE STONE path, her hand on Ian’s sturdy
forearm. Spring sunshine warmed her bare arms and the top of her head, the
breeze carrying vernal-fresh scents of forest and lake.

She was glad to be there with Ian and was buoyed up with
gratitude. She had a near-irresistible impulse to skip.

“It’s not far now,” Ian said. “This is one of my favorite
spots on the property.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

She sneaked a sideways glance at her handsome companion. He
was just so ... so ... put together, but with an underlying ease. He didn’t
have to work to look like he did. His appearance and demeanor were effortless,
unaffected, as natural to him as breathing. Jada guessed it came from a life of
affluence and professional success beyond most people’s wildest dreams.

His presence certainly lifted her spirits. Walking with him,
his spell-binding confidence spilling onto her, added bounce to her step.

When Ian had called for her at her room, he had sucked in a
deep breath as he looked her over from head to toe. For the first time in her life,
Jada felt beautiful. Ian did that, giving her the nonsensical idea that she was
prettier when in his company, funnier, smarter, more sophisticated.

Admittedly, her hairstyle and clothes added to that feeling.
She should have worn shorts or pants, but she hadn’t been able to resist the
sleeveless, breezy shirtdress in the palest of greens with intricate
hand-embroidered accents and a line of several dozen tiny pearl buttons running
down the front. Elly had chosen sandals for Jada with pearl details on the
straps.

Deb, who was as wonderful with hair as she was with
massages, had worked Jada’s hair into an exquisite bun with braids winding
through and around it. A mother-of-pearl stickpin speared the bun at the base.

But for all of the gorgeous add-ons, it was the way Ian
looked at her, the appreciation in his gaze, his desire, which made her heart
skip a beat and made her think she might be beautiful after all.

She didn’t know how he managed these feats. Ian made
everything better. He simply did.

They turned down a new path and Jada noticed Lydia Pepper
standing ahead. She wondered what the head of estate security was doing in the
forest.

Lydia nodded a greeting when Ian and Jada approached. Lydia
was a tall, imposing, attractive woman, around Jada’s age. Jada couldn’t look
at her and not think, “Now there’s someone who seriously has it together.” She
presented a crisp, professional appearance in her dark blue uniform.

“The perimeter is secured, sir,” she said snappily to Ian.
“All access points covered. Potential breaches identified and confirmed
elsewhere.”

“Good, thank you,” Ian said. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Just doing my job, sir. I dare a single chipmunk to breach
our line.”

Ian laughed. “Chipmunks aren’t the enemy, Lydia. Agatha
Brimgore is another matter. You have my permission to use any means at your
disposal to keep her out.”

Lydia nodded with the slightest of grins quirking up a
corner of her full mouth. She stepped aside and beckoned them forward.

“What’s that about Agatha?” she asked Ian.

“I’ve got a security detail out here to make sure we’ve got
privacy for our picnic. The last thing I want is Agatha or Sasha barging in,”
he explained.

“So we’ll have privacy, except for the security people
surrounding us.”

“It’s a wide perimeter. They won’t be near us.” He gave her
a sly look. “We’re going to be all alone. Does that worry you?”

A tiny thrill shot up Jada’s back. “I don’t know. Should
it?”

“That’s a coy answer.”

“That’s because I’m flirting.”

“I know.”

“Then quit pointing it out.”

“I’m flirting back at you,” Ian said.

“I guess I don’t mind it then.”

“The flirting or being alone with me?” he asked.

“Both.”

They shared a smile. Jada’s step became even perkier, and
Ian walked taller than ever, swinging the massive picnic basket in a wide arc.

They soon arrived at their destination, the arched bridge.
It was three or four times of the size of the small arched bridge back near the
house, and spanned over a wide spot in a healthy creek which fed the lake
downstream. The beauty of the bridge and surroundings made Jada feel like she’d
stepped into a fantasy movie.

The wooden structure had elegant lines and an intricate
pattern of multi-colored brown pebbles paving the walkway. The railing was
burnished smooth, polished by the touches of thousands of hands. It was
fairy-tale superb and she half expected a troll to pop out from under the arch
and demand five gold coins if they wanted to cross.

“This is gorgeous,” she said, trailing fingertips over the
patinated surface. “It seems ancient, yet your grandfather built it?”

“Not this piece. He found it in Japan and had it shipped
here. It’s several hundred years old.”

“Gorgeous.”

Ian’s expression sharpened. “Indeed.”

She stood at the railing and took in the surrounding area. A
canopy of trees stretched out over the creek, filtering sunlight through leafy
branches, sparkles flashing on the surface of the meandering current.

Trailing tendrils of a weeping willow tree created a shadowy
enclave on the grassy bank. Had she been a child, Jada would have been drawn to
that tree, creating a pretend house under the tree’s leafy, rustling walls of
greenery.

Cattails and reedy bushes lined most of the shoreline. Off
to one side, she noted a clearing half-circled by towering trees at the forest
edge. A large, colorful blanket was spread on the grass, with bright pillows
sprinkled about. She noted two large silver buckets filled with ice and
bottles.

She nodded in the clearing’s direction. “Our picnic spot?”

“Of course,” he said. “Do you approve?”

She considered a joking comeback, but opted instead for
sincerity. Something about the place and the moment demanded it. “It’s
absolutely perfect. Thank you.”

He was pleased, she could tell.

They headed to the picnic site, Ian helping her lower
herself onto what must have been a cashmere blanket. She smoothed her dress,
tucking it around her legs so she didn’t flash parts which would be unladylike
to reveal—for now. She smiled to herself.

Ian settled near her, cross-legged with the basket in front
of him. Dappled sunlight played over his dark hair. He looked relaxed in his
lightweight trousers that rode low on his hips, and in his loose,
open-throated, lawn shirt with sleeves rolled partway up his muscular forearms.

“Shall we see what Mrs. Best packed for us?” he asked.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Nope, only the chicken. I requested that. You can’t have a
picnic without cold fried chicken, and Mrs. Best’s is so good, it can bring
tears to your eyes.”

He flipped open the lid of the basket. Beautiful china
plates, white linen napkins, real silver dinnerware and delicate crystal
glasses were stored on flaps. He set those aside and began pulling out
container after container of food.

There were fresh vegetables with a heavenly-smelling
artichoke dip, tangy pickled beets, a vinegary cucumber and onion dish, creamy
campanelle pasta salad with cherry tomatoes and sweet corn, on and on it went,
all the way down to the bottom of the basket with muffaletta sliders, iced
strawberry tartlets, assorted cheese and fruit, a long loaf of crusty French bread
and of course, crispy fried chicken.

“Um,” Jada said, “Mrs. Best was aware this picnic was for
two people, right?”

“No worries. We’ll give the leftovers to Sasha.”

Ian poured Jada a glass of the fruity sangria that had been
chilling in the silver buckets. It was delicious, and Jada savored each sip.

They chatted as they tasted the different dishes.

“What did you want to be when you grew up? When you were a
kid, I mean,” Ian asked. “Did you always want to be an accountant?”

Jada smiled. “Yeah, I used to dream of squeaking out
deductions under the glow of one of those lamps with a green shade. Actually, I
went into accounting because it seemed like a secure career for the future. You
can’t escape death and taxes, they say, and I’m not cut out to be a doctor or a
mortician. Too squeamish. Did you always want to be a billionaire tycoon?”

It was his turn to smile. “No. But I knew I’d go into
business like my grandfather. When I was really young, I wanted to invent a
time machine so I could visit the dinosaurs.”

“I wanted to live under the sea and catch jellyfish with
Spongebob and Patrick.”

Ian laughed. “Not me. I hated Squidward.”

“I was gonna kick him out and live in his house.”

“An excellent idea.”

As they chatted, Jada was surprised to discover that thanks
to television and movies, pop culture in general, they shared more history than
she would have guessed. Ian, raised with every luxury, a world traveler before
he was a teenager, had watched the same TV shows and listened to much of the
same music as Jada, a middle-class girl raised by parents who saved up all year
for a few camping trips during their meager vacation time.

She learned Ian’s parents weren’t interested in business
endeavors. His father was a well-known plastic surgeon who specialized in reconstructive
surgery, the money he’d inherited from Ian’s grandfather allowing him to do
charitable work for children from low-income families in America and abroad.
For all his fine qualities, Jada understood him to be a driven, loner type,
whose vision was focused more on the wider world than on the narrower,
childhood needs of his only son.

Ian’s mother hadn’t spent much time with him either when he
was young. She’d divorced his father before Ian turned five and used the
settlement to travel to Europe where she chased after minor royalty and the
fast-living social scene. While Ian’s father had never remarried, his mother
was currently on her seventh husband.

Ian had been left with his grandfather, who hired staff to
help care for the young boy. Ian was sent off to boarding school by the age of
ten, and only saw family during school holidays and special occasions.

Ian told his story as if there was nothing to be sorry about
having absent parents and a grandfather who could spare scant time for him. He
never intimated that his childhood was lonely, or in any way damaged by adult
family members who left most of his upbringing to paid staff and teachers.

Perhaps, Jada thought, that’s how it was for a certain class
of people, for Ian’s class. As for Jada, hiring others to raise your children
for you was an unthinkable concept.

She realized she’d have to rethink everything she thought
she knew about this man, that there was a gulf between the two of them which
ebbed and flowed, widening and narrowing as it passed through different aspects
of their lives.

The more she got to know him, the more she wanted to know.
Plus, it didn’t hurt that Ian was the finest looking man she’d ever seen, and
he made her feel tingly without even touching her.

They ate their fill of Mrs. Best’s delicious food and still
wound up packing away nearly as much as they’d unpacked. For dessert, Ian
opened a small container of strawberries and with a flourish, pulled a bottle
of icy cold champagne out of one of the silver buckets.

“I shouldn’t have any,” Jada said as Ian dropped a perfect
strawberry into a champagne flute then filled the glass with bubbly. “You may
not believe this, but I’ve drunk more in my short time here than I have in
months and months.”

He handed her the glass and poured one of his own. “You’re
not much of a party girl then.”

“What do you think?”

He took a sip of his drink, watching her lips as she tasted
the champagne and ran the tip of her tongue over the glass brim to gather up an
escaping drop of sparkling liquid.

“I think not,” he said. “I also think I’ve been so taken
with you that I never asked if you have a boyfriend, or a lover. Do you have a
lover, Jada?”

Something about the way he said “lover” set off tremors
inside her. She swallowed hard. “No.”

His eyelids lowered. Bedroom eyes. There they were, bright
blue and sexy as hell, focused entirely on her. What a rush.

“I can’t imagine you spend much time alone,” he said, “as
beautiful as you are.”

Gulp. She kept it together. “I work a lot. Late. It’s hard
to meet men when you’re too tired to go out.”

“Their loss is my gain then. At least, I hope it’s my gain.”
He drained the last of his champagne, catching the strawberry between his
perfect white teeth and biting it in half. He took the remaining half in his
fingers and slowly leaned forward, moving in close to her.

He held out the strawberry. It nearly touched her lips.
“Would you like a taste? They’re very sweet and juicy.”

Unthinking, she licked her lips. She couldn’t miss the way
he watched her tongue. She opened her mouth and he held the strawberry as she
bit it away from the stem. A tiny drop of juice spilled down her lower lip, and
Ian scooped the droplet up on his fingertip.

She chewed the sweet fruit slowly as Ian offered his finger
to her. Did she dare? Her insides had gone haywire, nerve endings misfiring,
pinging around her body, her brain gone foggy as she found herself caught in
Ian’s gaze.

Heaven help her, she was going to dare.