Billion Dollar Bear: BBW Paranormal Billionaire Romance (Bad Boy Alphas) (4 page)

Becca thought having dinner with him
meant dining in one of the five star restaurants that would no doubt be located
in a posh hotel like this – an embarrassing enough thought, considering
she was nowhere near dressed for such a place, but she was willing to deal with
that for the sake of spending a few more hours with Jericho.

     
Why she
was so eager to spend more time with him when she would be spending all day with
him tomorrow?
That was a question she didn’t want to think about right now.
She couldn’t hide the look of surprise when, instead of heading out to a
restaurant, he led her to the private elevator, and up to the eighth floor.

      “What are
we doing here?” she asked as he pulled out his keycard, trying to sound
nonchalant, even as her heart started to race.
Surely he wasn’t actually
planning to spend the evening with her in his room?

      The card
reader light blinked green, and he pushed open the door, and then stepped aside
to allow her to enter first. “Room service will bring us a fantastic meal
shortly,” he explained. “You’ll love it.”

      “Oh, I
don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she began, hesitating in the doorway, but he
shook his head.

      “It’s a
great idea.”  His handsome face was wreathed in shadows, but she could see
the Cheshire cat-like grin on his face that told her that yes, this really was
an awesome idea and she’d be a fool to walk away from a man like this. 
She found herself trembling, not in fear, but with desire. “Come inside…please.”
He belied the command with a warm, gentle smile that was hard to resist, and
before she knew it she’d stepped over the threshold, and into his room.

     
No, not just a room
, she corrected as she looked
around,
an incredibly lavish suite
. The place was decorated in cream and
gold, with touches of mahogany on the chairs and tables, and the bannister
lining a staircase that no doubt led to the bedroom, or rooms above. Below,
where she stood, was a spacious living room, and beyond that a long mahogany
dining table already laden with covered silver trays. Behind the table, peeking
out from beyond a wall, was what looked to be a fully equipped kitchen.

      “This is
practically like a flat,” she murmured. “It’s fabulous.”

      “It’s quite
comfortable.” Jericho was suddenly beside her. He took her hand and led her to
one of the long, rectangular windows. “But I chose this room for the view, more
than anything else.

      He drew
aside the heavy curtain, and she smiled at the sight of the Eiffel Tower,
blazing gold in the evening sky. The sun had already disappeared beneath the
horizon, but a few straggling rays of gold and pink seemed to merge with the
tower’s luminescence, as if it derived it’s light from the Sun God himself.

      “Wow,” she
said after a long moment. “This is a wonderful view of the tower.”

She felt him move in behind her, and
before she knew it, his masculine heat had warmed her skin, sending a surge of
intense, electric energy through her body.

     
“I want you to take me there
tomorrow,” he murmured softly in her ear, his lips nearly brushing her
sensitive lobe. “So we can stand at the top, and watch the setting sun.” He
didn’t add the word ‘together’, but the unifying word hung between them and
they both knew it. A shiver of desire rippled through her, and she looked down
for a minute to compose herself, knowing he could sense her feelings, and the
impact he was having on her.

      “We’ll
definitely make that happen,” she told him, looking up with a smile, and then
turned toward the table before she could be caught up in the spell of his
beguiling blue eyes. “Now tell me, what’s for dinner? I’m starving!”

      It turned
out Jericho, not having much experience with French cuisine, had ordered pretty
much everything under the sun, moon and stars that the restaurant had to offer.
There was roasted pigeon, duck foie gras, lobster, steaming bouillabaisse and
poached scampi – and that wasn’t even including appetizers, or dessert.

      “I think
your eyes might have actually been bigger than your stomach this time around,”
she groaned, sitting back in her chair. She placed a hand over her belly and
glanced at the remnants of the meal. Jericho had adopted a similar pose, eyes
closed as he tilted his head back, and the fact that he was completely ignoring
the half-eaten sweetbread still sitting on the table told her she was right.

      “I asked
them to send up all of their most popular dishes,” he said after a long moment,
lifting his head with what looked like great effort. “I guess they interpreted
that to mean ‘all of their dishes’.” He managed to haul himself out of his
chair, and then held out a hand to her. “Why don’t we move to the living room.
I imagine we’ll be a lot more comfortable there.”

      Nodding,
she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to one of the lemon-yellow sofas.
Sitting back amongst the plush cushions, she let out a sigh of contentment, and
closed her eyes. “That was so good. Thanks, Jericho. I haven’t had a meal like
that in a long time.”

      “You’re
welcome.” She felt, more than heard Jericho settle his large frame on the
opposite end of the couch, and wondered how such a huge man could move so gracefully.
Recognizing that as going into were-bear territory, she steered her mind away
from the topic, her brain suddenly switching from the mesmerizing, satisfaction
of an incredible meal to the realization of what it must have cost him. “That meal,”
she said, and then looked around the room, “and this suite must have cost a
fortune.”

      “As did
the tour I booked.” He chuckled, and Becca thought she caught an edge to his
smile, but it disappeared as swiftly as she’d seen it.

She silently berated herself for being so
rude.
Why the hell did she just say that?

“Don’t worry Becca, I’m good for it. The
family business pays well.”

“Is that right?” Becca plucked one of the
diamond-pattered yellow and brown pillows and hugged it to her chest as she
eyed him curiously. “And what business is that, exactly?”

      “Real
estate.” Jericho squashed the flicker of guilt that manifested in his chest.
What
was there to be guilty about?
Just because he wasn’t telling her he actually
owned the company didn’t mean he was lying to her. “We buy and sell a lot of
commercial properties, usually for large corporations.”

      “Ah, I
see.” Becca fumbled with the pillow a bit, suddenly feeling out of her depth.
The man wasn’t just a were-bear, he was also apparently something of a
corporate big wig, and though she’d given tours to plenty of those types, she’d
never had dinner with any of them. Who did she think she was to be sitting here
in this fancy hotel room, stuffed with an expensive dinner, and holding what
was probably a three-hundred dollar pillow in her hand?

      Jericho
sighed, his face suddenly darkening. “And now I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

      Becca’s
heart twisted a little at the sight of the unhappy expression on his face. “Am
I that easy to read?”

      He only
shrugged, then picked up one of the wine glasses sitting on the coffee table,
and twirled the glass stem between his fingers. “It’s not the first time a
woman has changed her mind about me once she’s learned more about who I am.”

      The twist
in her heart turned into a full-on stab of guilt. “I don’t begrudge you for
your money,” she explained quickly, “Nor do I want it from you. It’s just… I’m
sure you’ve had many more beautiful women up to your hotel rooms before
throughout your many travels.”

      Jericho
barked out a surprised laugh, his handsome face twisting into a cynical
expression. “Once upon a time I might have lived that kind of lifestyle, but
I’ve spent the better part of the last decade buried in work. I could hardly
remember what it was like to just be spontaneous, and free. This is the first
vacation I’ve taken in ages, because it finally occurred to me that I wasn’t
really living my life at all.”

      Becca
instinctively took his hand, wanting to comfort him. “I think I can understand
what you mean…” she said slowly, “And if what you’re trying to say is that
you’d like to be treated like a normal guy, I can do that.”

      The
cynical expression melted away into a soft chuckle. “Do you really think you
can manage that?” he asked teasingly.

      Becca
laughed. “Yes…I certainly can.”

      “Good.” He
stroked the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand, and a tingling
sensation swept up her arm, briefly stealing her breath. “And just so you know,
none of the other women even came close to holding a candle to you.”

“That sounds like such a line.” She
replied, with a smile.

“Does it, really?” He replied, his voice
suddenly taking on a low growl that made her nipples hard. “Because I’ve never
had any desire to say that to anyone before.”

      He
released her hand, and in the span of time she sat there gaping at him,
floundering for something to say, he’d picked the bottle of Cabernet up from
the table, along with the shiny silver corkscrew that lay next to it. “Would you
care for some wine?” he asked, with a wink.

      She raised
her own. “Are you having any?”

      He eyed
the bottle dubiously for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s a bit of a waste on me,
but sure.” He popped the cork, then filled both glasses on the table, and
handed one to her.

      Becca
watched as he took a sip of his, then she sampled her own glass. It was dry,
with just a hint of cherry, and she liked it immediately. “What do you mean,
it’s a waste on you?” she asked.

      Jericho
raised his brows in surprise, and then chuckled. “I keep forgetting that you
don’t know much about shifters,” he said, shaking his head. “Full-blooded have
incredibly fast metabolisms, which makes it very hard for us to retain any kind
of drug, or alcohol content in our blood stream. Therefore, we can’t really get
drunk or high.”

      Becca eyed
him incredulously. “Seriously?”

      He lifted
his glass to her. “Seriously.” Then took another drink.

      “Not even
a little buzzed.”

      He grinned
at her a little over his glass, which was nearly empty. “We can get a little
buzzed, but it fades pretty quickly unless we keep drinking.”

      Becca
glanced dubiously at her drink again. She didn’t know how she felt about
getting tipsy in front of a man who apparently wasn’t affected by alcohol. It would
make her vulnerable; give him an upper hand she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to
relinquish. But as she watched him sitting there, dressed in a fitted t-shirt
and jeans, and sipping wine as though he hadn’t a care in the world, she
realized she felt completely safe with him. Something inside her told her that
this man would never force her to do anything she wasn’t ready for, no matter
what kind of state she was in.

      Lifting
her glass to him, she drained the contents, and then handed it to him for a refill.

      He raised
a brow. “I didn’t realize this was a competition,” he said as he refilled it.

      She
smiled. “It’s not. I just wanted the boost.” The wine warmed her, and she
relaxed a little more into the pillows with a thoughtful frown. “You know, I’ve
always been able to hold my liquor a lot better than any of my friends. I
always wondered if that was a byproduct of my heritage.” She shrugged. “I guess
now I know.”

      Jericho
gazed curiously at her, sensing that she was opening up a little more. “I
imagine that you might have… other… questions, about your heritage?”

      Becca eyed
him warily. “I might. Are you offering to answer them?”

      Jericho
inclined his head. “Absolutely… you can ask me anything.”

      Becca
paused for a moment as she considered. “I guess I’ve never really had the
opportunity to ask anyone about shifters before,” she admitted with a laugh.
“Everything I know, I’ve gleaned from the internet and what books I could find,
and from a few supernaturals’ I’ve encountered in this town that didn’t have any
interest in killing me – and they didn’t give out information for free.”
She wrinkled her nose.

      Jericho
raised a brow. “A witch? Or soothsayer?”

      Becca
frowned. “Fortune teller, yeah. Most of the ones out here are bogus but… I
sensed something different about one of them, and thought she might be able to
help me.”

      Jericho
nodded. “Though we have few magical talents ourselves, we are able to sense
magic in others. You’ll always be able to detect the frauds from the truly
magically talented.” He shifted a little so that he leaned forward. “If you
wouldn’t mind telling me… what exactly have you managed to learn about shifters
so far?”

      “Well,
from what I know werewolves go through a mandatory change by the light of the
full moon, but for some reason, for were-bears it’s by the light of the
half-moon.” She glanced out through the windows at the crescent moon hovering
in the night sky. “Too bad we can’t test that hypothesis right now.”