Billionaire on the Loose (24 page)

Taylor laughed aloud.

Oh, god, he was back.

And oh, god, Taylor was still in love with him.

Her heart fluttered wildly as she handed out cake samples and completed survey after survey (luckily she had a second pencil in her backpack) but her thoughts remained squarely on the man who waited, standing about a hundred feet away and watching her with an intense, almost devouring look.

It made her squirm.

She needed to be angry, Taylor reminded herself. He'd used her. Treated her like she didn't matter. Like she was just another one of his servants hovering around to do his bidding. She'd told herself for the last six weeks that it was good that he was gone, that things should have never gotten past the one-night-stand stage. After all, she didn't regret the sex. The sex was flat-out amazing. She regretted that she'd risked her heart and gotten it broken.

But hearts were tricky, silly things. Like right now? Hers was fluttering a mile a minute because he was back.

He was back, and he'd somehow decided to find her because he wanted to talk. He didn't like how things had gone down . . . which was good, because she'd hated the way things had gone down. Of course, it was his fault, and she was still angry about it.

But . . . still.

She missed him with a powerful intensity. She'd hoped that the ache of his betrayal would have disappeared as time passed. They'd been apart now longer than they'd been together. That should have made a difference, right? It hadn't, though; she still felt as if part of her had been ripped out and the wound had yet to cauterize.

Maybe it was a mistake to agree to lunch with him after all that had happened.

I miss you.

Fuck, she missed him, too. And in the end, that was what decided her. Because despite everything, she still wanted him back. The ache of losing him hadn't subsided, and she needed closure in some way or another, or she needed to give him another chance.

So she passed out cakes and tried not to be impatient when someone chewed a little slower or was a little more thoughtful about their decision. She tried not to shoo people along when they lingered, even though she just wanted to fling the cake at them so they would leave. Eventually, though, she ran out of samples, and so she cleaned off her table, put away her trash, folded up her things, and turned to look at the big, scrumptious, patient man waiting for her. “Still here?” She tried to play it casual but her voice wobbled at the end. Damn it.

“Always,” Loch replied with a smile. He strolled toward her and took the folding table out from under her arm. “Let me get that.”

“I have a car parked a few streets over,” she told him. “Gretchen's letting me borrow it while I work in the city.”

“That's nice of her. I had no idea she was writing a cookbook until I saw your banner.” He hefted the table and began to weave through the pedestrians on the sidewalk. “Can I carry anything else?”

“No, I've got it.” Even as she said it, the empty container she'd kept the cake in threatened to fall to the ground. Damn it. She always seemed to lose motor control around him. Came from watching his ass too much, she supposed.

But it was such a nice ass, even if it was attached to a jerk.

They went back to her car and put away her stuff. For a moment, Taylor considered jumping into the driver's seat, pulling away, and forgetting she ever saw Loch. That would be easier, right? But she looked over at him as he fit the table in the back of the car and their eyes met. An excited, hopeful tingle moved through her and she squeezed her thighs together.

Bad girl parts
, she chided her body.
Bad, bad girl parts. We don't want him back unless he grovels.

That was the thing about girl parts that had been without really great sex for more than six weeks, though. They got super excited at the thought of having really great sex again.

No! She was going to stand firm against his extreme hotness.

Once the car was packed, he turned to her again. “Where would you like to go?”

Your place
, her mind immediately blurted, but she forced herself to point mutely at a nearby pizzeria. He nodded and put a hand to the small of her back, guiding her in just like they were on a date.

This was not helping with her need to tackle him. It was not.
Contain yourself, Taylor. He hurt you. He was a dick. He gave no thought to how you felt.

She ordered a slice of deliciously greasy cheese pizza, and paid for it and a can of soda. She picked up her food while Loch paid for his and sat down at a small table in the back. The place wasn't fancy—little more than a few cheap tables scooted at the back—but the idea was to eat, not to hang out. This wasn't the type of place that you lingered over your food. That would either work for her or against her.

Taylor nibbled on her slice while he sat, and then wiped her fingers on a napkin. “So. You wanted to talk?”

He nodded. “I . . . You have grease on your mouth.”

Damn it. She reached up and swiped at one corner of her mouth.

“Let me,” he murmured. Loch's fingers brushed over the opposite corner of her mouth, and then his thumb glided over her lower lip in a very sensual, not-anything-to-do-with-grease sort of motion that made her entire body tingle with need. Then he lifted his thumb to his mouth and licked it.

And lord help her, that shouldn't have been sexy, but it was the most erotic thing she'd ever seen.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“Be happy to lick you anywhere else you want,” he told her softly.

She pressed her thighs tighter together. “Not until you tell me why you're here.”

He nodded. “I should probably start from the beginning, eh?”

“That's probably wise.”

“About a year ago, my cousin, the crown princess of Bellissime, married an actor named Luke Houston.”

Taylor remembered that. She remembered it popping up in the tabloids, and she'd seen it mentioned on several of the articles when she'd done Google research on him. “Right. And people got upset.”

“Some people loved it and felt like they were the next coming of Grace Kelly and Prince Ranier.” He shrugged. “There was a small, vocal portion of the population that felt like she should have stepped down from her position as crown princess if she couldn't devote her entire life to Bellissime. They wanted to put someone else as first in line—namely, me. I was advised to come to the States under the pretense of visiting friends and family members here, and I would participate in Gretchen's wedding, and I would be firmly out of sight. This would give things time to settle down back home and then I could return. Of course, when I got here, I wasn't a big fan of New York. I wanted to go home. I resented being forced out of my home and my lifestyle and dropped here.” His gaze settled on her. “And then I met you.”

She held a breath. “And then you decided that I was a mess and you should marry me to make everyone realize you would be a bad king?”

“No,” he said slowly. “I met you and suddenly New York got interesting.”

A happy tingle started in her belly.

“When I was around you, I wasn't bored. I wasn't miserable. You were busy, but you were funny, and welcoming, and interesting. You were never predictable. You always found the good in things, and every time you smiled, it was like the room had filled with sunshine.”

Her body filled with warmth at his words. She wanted to fling herself across the table at him and press kisses on his face, but she clenched a hand around her paper napkin and forced herself to stay in place. “But that didn't stop you from deciding to marry me just to disqualify yourself.”

Loch nodded. “I was selfish. I wanted the best of both worlds, I supposed. I wanted you to stay because I enjoyed being around you. And I wanted to remove myself from consideration from the throne. I thought if I married you and we had a quick wedding, it would solve all my problems. I'd have the ability to go home and it helped that you were delightful to be around. But I wasn't thinking farther ahead than going home.” His expression grew grim. “That's on me. I figured that if the marriage only lasted for six months or a year, no big deal. I never thought about how you might feel if our marriage only lasted a heartbeat. Or how you might feel when I decided I wanted to return to Bellissime and never bothered to ask you. Or how you'd feel about being used as a pawn to keep me off the throne. I should have asked.”

“Yes, you should have. I would have said yes, you know.”

He sat back, surprised. “Really?”

“Of course. You plus hot sex plus traveling? What's the downside to that?” Taylor shrugged. “Do I seem like the type that takes myself so seriously that I would be offended that you'd suggest it? But you didn't ask, you just used. And that's the part that bothers me.”

His expression became pained, his eyes haunted. “I know.”

“And you told me you loved me and you
lied
.” Her voice wobbled. That was the part that hurt the most. “Why even say it if it's a lie? Why go that far, Loch? That's the worst.”

“Here's the thing.” His voice became soft, and his gaze held hers. “At the time, I thought it was a stretch of the truth. I didn't realize how much you'd come to mean to me until I lost you. Until that elevator shut in my face and I realized I'd let the best thing that ever happen to me walk away.”

All the protests she wanted to make lodged in her throat.

Loch reached across the table to touch her hand. “Say something, Taylor.”

“I just . . .” She sighed. “The first night we got together, it was great. I figured it was a one-night stand and no big deal. We're not people that mesh. You're a jock and I'm a computer nerd, and that's fine. But then we kept coming together and I started to like you, and I always wondered . . . what does this guy see in me, you know? I couldn't figure it out.”

He frowned and his hand squeezed hers. “You're not being fair to yourself. You're beautiful. You're funny. You're smart.”

“That's not it. It's not a confidence thing, Loch. It doesn't matter if I'm hot or not. It matters if we're running in the same circles. To those guys that play computer games and are into comics? I'm a ten in their eyes. To everyone else, I'm probably a five or a six. You? You're a ten in
everyone's
eyes. So I guess it never made sense to me why you wanted to be with me. And then when I saw that text . . . well, everything made sense. And it hurt. It made me feel worthless.”

“I'm sorry.” His thumb stroked her hand. “I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you feel worthless. That's the last thing I've ever wanted. And if you're not a ten in everyone's eyes, then everyone needs to get their eyes checked. I would change absolutely nothing about you.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Well, I might give you better balance.”

A small chuckle escaped her despite herself. His hand on hers felt good. It felt right. And hearing him admit that he'd fucked up made her feel a little better.

His mouth crooked in a wry half grin. Loch's thumb stroked over her knuckles. “I actually felt like you didn't want to be with me.”

Taylor blinked. “What? You're crazy.”

“Am I? You didn't want to tell your friends that you were with me. You wanted us to pretend we were boss and employee at the convention. Your friend Sigmund had no idea we were dating.”

Oh, hell, she really had messed that up, hadn't she? Taylor winced. “Yeah, so that's a little complicated. It wasn't that I didn't want them to think we were together. It was that . . . well, Sig was emotionally blackmailing me.”

Loch frowned. “I thought you said you guys were just friends and he was just fragile?”

“It went a little further than that.” She told him about Sig's constant threats to hurt himself, and his attempt at suicide. As she talked, Loch straightened and the expression on his face got angry.

“I can't believe the little prick was threatening you! I want to wring his fucking neck,” Loch growled. “He got upset because he wanted you for himself. I ought to—”

“Did I mention he was fifteen?”

Loch paused. “He's what?”

“He's a kid. He's fifteen and depressed. I went and visited his mother and him while he was recovering. He's taking some time off the game and trying to reconnect with the outside world.” She shook her head. Sig's situation was a bad one, but she felt absurdly . . . pleased that Loch was getting all protective and jealous. “I didn't want anyone to know that he was emotionally blackmailing me because I thought I could handle it. I thought I could talk him down off the ledge and still take control of the situation. Which was stupid, because the more stuff I tried to ‘handle' on my own, the less stuff I kept under control. I lost my job and he tried to take his own life.” She shook her head. “It's been a learning process for me, too.”

“You should have told me, Taylor. If nothing else, so I didn't freaking propose in front of everyone in your guild and drive the kid to the pill bottle.” He looked disgruntled.

“I know. I screwed up. Now we're both screwups. Happy?”

“No.” His look became somber, the expression in his gaze bleak. “Not unless I have you.”

The flutter was back in her belly. Down, girl. “So why are you back in the city? Is there more trouble back home?”

“No, my cousin is pregnant, remember? It's been announced and the public is ecstatic. No one's talking about removing her anymore. They're just all watching for the baby.”

“But . . . I thought you wanted to go home.”

“Like I said, I thought I did, too. But things changed. I changed. I went home and . . . it wasn't great anymore. Nothing was right. You weren't there . . . so I came here.”

The warm flush in her belly started to spread through the rest of her body. “Oh?”