Bad Girls Do: a Billionare Romance Novel (The Everly Brothers Series, Erotic Romance Book 3) (20 page)

She shoved a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “I didn’t think you were.”

Shit. What an idiot he’d been tonight. Right now he could have been lying snug in his bed with Diane’s warm, sated body wrapped tightly around him. Instead, he was sitting on a bar stool in Zoey’s dank old pub, three seconds from puking his guts out.

He’d simply let her go. Tucked her into a cab and let it drive away, knowing she didn’t understand why.

That she might think he didn’t want her anymore.

“I have to tell her,” he announced. But when he stood, the room spun a lazy circle. Reeling, he grabbed onto the bar top for support.

“Whoa there, loverboy.” Zoey grabbed onto his shoulder, righting him. “I agree you need to let her know exactly how you feel, but you probably need to be a bit more sober when you do it. Especially if you want her to take you seriously.”

Sam frowned at her. He had a feeling he was right, but at the same time, “I want to see her.”

“And you will.” Zoey gently ushered him back onto the stool. “Tomorrow, when you’ve had a chance to sleep some of that whiskey off.”

She slid back behind the counter and started stacking up the empty glasses lining the bar. “Hang on tight for a few. I’ll lock up and we can get out of here. I highly doubt you’ll make it home without passing out. My place is closer. You can sleep there tonight.”

Much as he longed to argue with her, Sam was just sober enough to realize that Zoey was right. If he stumbled up to Diane’s drunk off his ass—assuming that he even managed to make it that far without passing out—she would rightfully doubt his sincerity.

Tomorrow he would go over to her place and they would finally discuss this thing between them for real. Lay it all out. He would tell her he wanted more than a casual fling. And if she tried to deny that they could have more, the way he’d been doing until now…

Well, he’d just have to do whatever it took to convince her otherwise.

Chapter Sixteen

A
fter tossing and turning for hours, Diane had finally managed to fall asleep. But her dreams were plagued with visions of Sam, telling her he didn’t want to be with her anymore. That she was boring. Bad in bed. They progressively got worse until, at seven in the morning, she finally abandoned any further attempts to sleep.

Thanks to her dreams, it felt like she’d tossed and turned half the night, and the beginnings of a headache pressed behind her eyelids. She didn’t even have the promise of work to distract her, since today was Saturday.

Last night’s vow to give Sam space weighed on her chest like a heavy stone. Even though she knew it was the right move, she couldn’t fight the selfish desire to hear Sam’s voice. She needed to know if things were going to be alright between them.

It can wait, Diane.

But no matter how much she urged herself otherwise, after several minutes of internal struggle she found herself sitting up in her bed and reaching for her cell phone. Dialing his number.

The phone rang several times before Sam’s sleep voice answered. “Mm…hullo?”

Something panged inside her chest at the sound of his voice. God, when had it happened? When had she gotten it so bad for him, without even realizing it?

“Um, hi, Sam.” Her fingers tightened on the phone. “It’s Diane.”

She winced even as she said it. As if he wouldn’t know who she was by the initial sound of her voice. At least, she hoped he would, considering all the time they’d spent together lately.

He made a sleepy sound and murmured, “Hey. What time s’it?”

His tone set her worries at ease. Relaxing her back against the headboard, she said, “Early. I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay.”

“Mm, good.” He yawned and Diane started to smile. But then she heard another voice in the background.

A woman’s voice.

Shock made her shoot straight up in the bed. Gripping the phone tightly, she listened for the voice again, but now there was only the sound of Sam’s deep breathing.

Had she just imagined that? Maybe her mind was preying on her, trying to make her worst fears come to life.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she managed to choke out.

“Sleeping,” he said, with another yawn.

Before she could say anything else, the voice sounded out again. And it was most definitely feminine.

The whisper of the words “back to bed” drifted over to her. Then Sam said something she couldn’t make out, his words muffled as if he held his hand over the receiver.

Her heart stuttered as the truth smacked her in the face. There was no mistaking it.

Sam was in bed. With another woman.

Sudden pain wrenched her chest, stealing the breath from her lungs. She doubled over at the unexpected agony.

What the hell?

“Hey,” Sam said into the receiver. “Can I call you back in a little bit?”

After his girl du jour left, he meant? Did he really think she was that desperate? Or maybe he wanted to wait until his latest conquest left before explaining to Diane that he didn’t want to see her any more.

Well, he could save it.

“I-I gotta go,” she all but garbled out, then hit the End button so he wouldn’t hear the angry cry that tore from her mouth next.

Half numb with shock, she stared at the screen. At Sam’s name, right on the recent calls list. The letters danced in front of her wavering vision, all but mocking her.

With a loud growl, she rose onto her knees and threw the phone hard across the room. It hit the opposite wall and broke apart, the case and battery hitting the ground with a resounding thump.

If only that had been his head, the bastard.

How could he? How could he move on to the next girl just like that? They’d had sex
last night
, for god’s sake! It had been one of the best experiences of her life. And how long afterward had he waited before finding someone else? A few hours?

Minutes
?

Grabbing her pillow, she punched it hard to alleviate the anger pulsing in her veins, but it was no use. No manner of imagining it was Sam helped.

“I hate him.” She gave the pillow a few more thwacks. “I hate him!”

But that wasn’t true, was it? Quite the opposite in fact.

Much as she’d tried to deny it, she’d been falling for him from the moment he’d sat down beside her and suggested she try her naughty side out on him.

“I suck.” She couldn’t even do bad right. Bad girls weren’t supposed to care. They weren’t supposed to fall in love. Time to face the truth: when it came to being bad, she was an utter failure.

Her anger gave way to the sorrow that had been building beneath the surface. Abandoning her attempt to tear her pillow apart, she collapsed back onto the bed and gave in to the tears blurring her vision.

She didn’t know what she’d been thinking. That they would somehow find themselves in a relationship, the Playboy and the Repressed Daddy’s Girl? It was laughable.

He’d been blunt about it from the start. This was a hookup, nothing more. Hell, she’d even agreed with him at the time.

But still, if it had been nothing more, how could he have looked at her like that? Held her that way? Like he could never get enough. Like he never wanted to let go.

The way he’d acted this past week, it had made her question everything between them. Made her fall for him. So even if he
had
never made any promises, one thing was still clear.

“Sam Everly is an
asshole
.”

And she…

Sniffling, Diane wiped at the river of tears streaming down her cheeks.

Apparently, she was a total fool.

***

His brain still foggy from the unexpected wakeup call combined with the apparent vat of liquor he’d drowned in last night, Sam stared blankly at his phone. The way Diane had sounded before she’d hung up set off a chorus of warning bells inside his head, but it was taking too long for his mind to catch up.

Something was clearly wrong. What was it?

He shifted on Zoey’s couch, where he’d slept off his high for the past several hours. It wasn’t the most comfortable of sleeping places, but he could’ve slept on the floor last night and been none the wiser.

“So?” Zoey called from across the countertop separating her kitchen from the living room.

“So, what?”

She gave a beleaguered sigh and stumbled over to the refrigerator door in her blue and white striped pajamas. “Do you want some coffee, or are you going back to bed?”

Just then it clicked. His heart clenched and he shot up into a seated position. “Oh, shit.”

Zoey snatched the jug of milk and slammed the door shut, turning to eye him curiously. “What?”

He furiously thumbed through his phone, pulling up Diane’s number and dialing it. “That was Diane. She hung up on me. I think she might have overhead you and thought the worst.”

It took a second for Zoey to catch his drift. Once she did, she cringed. “Oops.”

The phone gave one short dial before going to Diane’s voicemail. Cursing, he hung up and dialed again, but got the same result.

Sam’s heart sank as he considered what Diane might be thinking right now. Dropping the phone, he raked a hand through his hair. “It’s going straight to her voicemail.”

“That’s not good.” Zoey’s lips twisted into a frown as she came around the counter and into the living room. “You really think she might believe you hooked up with someone else last night?”

He wanted to say no. Damn, did he ever. But he’d made no promises. And the way he’d left things last night…

Man, he’d all but shoved her into that cab in his haste to get away from her. Combine that with her viewpoint on his bad boy reputation, and it added up to a whole heap of trouble.

“
Shit
.” He swiped his shaky palms over his eyes to clear his blurry vision. “I fucked up, big time. I have to go see her.”

Zoey nodded her head resolutely. “Yes, you do.”

He stood and began to search out his socks and shoes.

“One bit of advice before you go?” Zoey wrinkled her nose. “Shower first. You reek of alcohol.”

Zoey had a point. Considering that, for the first time in his life, he was going to tell a girl he’d fallen for her, a shower was definitely in order. He could afford the two extra minutes it took.

He hoped.

“Good call.” With those words, Sam raced toward Zoey’s bathroom.

Chapter Seventeen

D
iane indulged in a half hour of tears and self-pity before forcing herself to rise from her bed and step into the shower. She grabbed her bath sponge and scrubbed her skin until it was raw, all the while angrily admonishing herself.

Look at you. You’re pathetic.

The whole reason she’d started her Bad Girl To-Do list was to empower herself. And instead, what was the first thing she’d gone and done? Only the stupidest thing a girl could do: fallen for the stereotypical bad boy. Just think how disappointed her mother would be to hear that.

She had to stop feeling sorry for herself. Chalk this whole experience up to a harsh lesson learned.

Maybe her father had been onto something when he’d tried to set her up with Andrew. There had been no spark between them, but if Sam had taught her anything, it was that attraction would only lead to heartache.

From now on, she’d leave the naughtiness to those who could handle the consequences. As for herself, she’d go back to being plain old, boring Diane. At least
that
Diane didn’t get hurt.

With that resolution firmly in mind, she finished up in the shower and searched out a drab heavy knit sweater and pair of slacks. Maybe she’d head over to the art museum for a few hours. Call up Angela and see if she wanted to meet for lunch. What she
wasn’t
going to do was mope around the house, even if it was Saturday.

She headed downstairs and started toward the kitchen for an apple, when she came face-to-face with none other than her father.

“Oh, Diane,” Daniel said, lifting one brow. “Glad to see you up and about so early on a Saturday.”

The note of approval in his tone would have been funny if she’d been in a better mood.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“Join me for breakfast?”

He motioned toward their massive dining room, where he ate every morning. Personally, she hated the room. It was large and stiff, and she tried to spend as little time there as possible outside of the occasional dinners she had with her father. But she couldn’t think of a good reason to say no. Besides, wasn’t this the main reason she’d moved to New York City, to spend more time with her father?

Funny how the prospect wasn’t so exciting now that she’d gotten to know him a little better.

She followed her father into the dining room, where she proceeded to sit while Anita, the on-staff cook, carried in several trays of breakfast items and assembled a plate with all her favorite foods.

“Thanks, Anita.” She smiled at the elderly Hispanic lady who’d worked for her father for several years.

“De nada.” Anita leaned in to murmur, “Are you okay, mija? You seem…sad.”

Leave it to her to notice, instead of Diane’s father.

She gave Anita another shaky smile. “I’m good.”

Daniel waited until Anita had left to comment, “You do look a bit tired, dear. Did you not get enough sleep last night?”

“Not really,” she mumbled.

“Perhaps you should take a rest later.” Moving seamlessly on from that topic, he said, “I have a meeting with my accountant in the afternoon. I expect to hear that our profits from investments increased by at least twenty percent over the past year.”