Money Shot (38 page)

A few minutes later, she stepped out into the brisk New York air and the attendant waved her over. “Can I call for the car, miss?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The car. All of our residents have complimentary use of the chauffeured Jaguar. I believe it’s available. Shall I check?”

Miranda laughed to keep from crying. “No. I’m not a resident. Can you just call me a cab?”

“Of course, miss.”

The cab arrived and she gave the driver her address before slumping down into the dingy back seat. Blue stained vinyl and a discolored plastic divider. That was her style. Not a jaguar with a driver. Or an apartment in a five-star hotel. If only she’d been wearing glass slippers. Then maybe she’d have some hope. One of her Prince Charmings might come running to find her.

But fairy tale endings didn’t happen to average girls. As the cab turned the corner, she wrapped on the barrier. “Can you stop at the store on the corner? I need to run in for a second.”

The cabbie pulled over and she hopped out.
Ice cream. I just need ice cream and cheap wine
. Miranda hustled through the aisles, heading straight for the frozen foods when she heard her name.

“Miranda? Is that you?”

She turned around and her heart sank.
Of all the luck
. “Milton. Hey.” With a wave, she turned back toward the cases, hoping he’d get the hint. He didn’t.

“It’s been what, two months? I tried calling. Did you get my messages?”

Miranda opened the freezer and pulled out a pint of double chocolate chunk before turning toward him. Why had she even dated him at all? Misfitting, wrinkled shirt, pants two inches too short, glasses he kept pushing up his nose.
God
. He was the opposite of handsome. The opposite of the men she’d just screwed.

“Milton…I don’t think we’re right for each other. It’s nothing personal, I just didn’t feel a spark, you know?” She gave him a small smile and pushed past him to find the wine.

“I don’t think you gave us enough of a chance, Miranda. How about we start over? I heard there’s a mini-golf place open in Tribeca. We could go dutch.”

Miranda closed her eyes and shook her head.
This cannot be happening
. Grabbing a bottle of wine, she marched toward the checkout and Milton trailed behind.

“How about it?” He pushed his glasses up his nose and she set her purchases down with a thud.

“How about this, Milton? No. I am not interested in another date.”

He blinked and opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Do you understand? I’m not interested. Not now, not ever.”

Milton swallowed and gave her a nod. “I understand. Sorry to have wasted your time.” His chin quivered and he turned, scuttling out of the store as the cashier rang her up.

“You sure told him.”

Miranda spun back around and frowned. “I’m sorry?” Since when did clerks chime in on her personal life?

“You laid that on pretty thick. Looks like he’s about to go have himself a good cry.”

Shit
. Miranda winced and ran her hand through her hair. She didn’t mean to hurt Milton. But seeing him brought the stark contrast of the past few hours and her real life into sharp focus. She swiped her credit card, took her bag, and trudged out to the cab. Yanking the door open, she took a deep breath and tried to get it together.

The chances of the date working out had been slim-to-none from the start. She shouldn’t be disappointed. Hell, she should be thrilled. Not one, but
two
billionaires wanted her time for a day. And they’d paid enough money to fund Dawn’s shelter forever. But it didn’t lessen the sting or the nagging feeling that she’d been bought like a high-class hooker.

Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was a lot to pay for a night of sex, but somehow that’s exactly what had happened. James pressing his firm muscles up against her curves. Winston sliding down to spread her legs and make her come. Both of their cocks filling her up and making her moan.
Damn it
. She should have bought two bottles of wine.

Ring. Rrrrring. Rrrrrrrrring.

Ungh.
Miranda pawed at the bedside table, knocking over her Kleenex and alarm clock before she managed to snag the phone. “What?”

“Whoa. What happened to you?”

Miranda groaned and flopped back onto the bed. Dawn. The woman who’d pimped her out to support homeless cats and dogs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Was it the date? Oh my God. It was the date. Tell me you’re so sore you can’t move. Did they give you so many orgasms you broke something? Come on, tell me.”

“They took me mini-golfing.”

Silence.

Miranda sat up and blinked. “Dawn? Are you there?”

“Yeah. I’m here. They paid a quarter of a million dollars to take you mini-golfing?”

“Actually, it was kind of my idea. James asked me about my perfect date and I said mini-golf and pizza. So they bought Randall’s.”

“Shut up. They did not!”

“They did.”

“Holy shit, Miranda! So then what happened? Did you go dancing? Do too many shots? Something had to happen to make you sound like my grandpa Joe.”

Miranda blushed and bit her lip. Something happened all right. Something she now regretted more than anything. “I might have slept with them.”

Dawn squealed so loud, Miranda had to hold the phone a foot away. “Congrats! It was awesome, right?”

She grinned despite herself. “It was awesome. But—” she started, cutting off her best friend before she screamed again, “—it’s a one-time thing. They don’t want any more than that.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I just know. They aren’t really into me. It was the thrill of winning and bidding against each other. I could have been anyone, Dawn. They don’t think I’m special.”

“Oh, honey, that can’t be true.”

“Well, it is. And I’m glad. Honestly, I don’t know why I ever agreed to be in the auction. I’m not cut out to date a billionaire. Or have a one-night stand.”

Dawn didn’t give her usual snappy comeback and Miranda frowned. “What is it?”

“Don’t get mad.”

Oh no
. She closed her eyes and took a steady breath in and out through her nose. “What did you do?”

“I might have volunteered you to do something without asking.”

“Tell me.”

“Well…just…remember that it’s for the shelter, okay?”

“I’m listening.”

“It’ll only take a few hours tomorrow morning. You’ll be able to get to work by lunch. And it’s on a Monday. That’s a slow news day, right?”

Dawn was rambling, trying to play down whatever horror she’d dragged into Miranda’s life, but she needed her to spit it out.

“Just tell me, Dawn.”

“It’s nothing, really. You’ll show up, sit next to them, answer some questions. It’ll be done before you know it. Then they’ll do a feature spot on the shelter, how to donate, volunteer, everything. It’ll be amazing.”

Her stomach churned and she dragged herself into the bathroom. “Please tell me it’s not about the outrageous winning bid at your auction.”

“I’m sorry, Miranda.”

With a swallow, she opened her eyes and forced herself to look at her reflection. Puffy, mascara streaked cheeks, eyelids open a crack. Curves no billionaire wanted to date. “They’ll never agree to it.”

“They already have.”

“What?”

“I—I have James’s number from the auction. When I called I didn’t know, I’m sorry. But…He said they’d be there.”

She blinked and asked the question she’d been avoiding. “Where exactly?”

Dawn paused a beat before answering. “It’s a live television interview of all three of you. On Good Morning New York.”

ABOUT MARIE CARNAY

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Billionaires for Charity
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Part Two

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Chapter One

The headset muffled the thump and whine of the helicopter’s blades. I pressed my forehead to the window and looked down at the Barclay’s outrageous super-yacht far below. My belly jumped and threatened to heave its contents into the tight cabin. The chopper slid to the side and crystal blue ocean filled my view.

Sweat slicked my palms. The briny bite of the ocean below choked the hot cabin. I longed to throw open the window for a fresh breeze. The thought of empty air five inches to my right sent a racing chill up my spine. I looked away from the window, toward the pilot.

His eyes were focused through the glass below his feet. At the shifting deck of the behemoth below. The ship was enormous in its own right. Ashton told me it was the largest in the world. It cost over a billion dollars and was longer than a football field. Someone had to pay for that display of wealth.

Someone like my parents.

Insane.

Me. Here.

The worst sort of insanity.

I was middle-class, middle-America, middle of the road girl from the Midwest. That all changed when I met him. Ashton Barclay, the dreamiest man alive. That alone was enough to make a girl crazy.

Make your head spin. Or maybe that was the chopper diving and climbing.

Fate decided that wasn’t crazy enough. I found out months after meeting him, that he was the son and only heir of the Barclay fortune, the richest family on the planet. That was a shock. Their wealth rode on the back of their many banking operations. One of which foreclosed on my parent’s house last year. The house I grew up in. That was a horrible shock.

My past, a lifetime of memories, was snatched away by an anonymous banker that now had a face.

My boyfriend’s father.

My parents were still recovering. Maybe they never would. It would easy to hate his family, but I loved Ashton and that made things a complete mess.

In the end, maybe only one thing mattered. Ashton and I, together. I wished I believed that one-hundred-percent.

He’d asked me to meet him on his family’s annual vacation to their private island. They named it Refuge. Like the richest people in the world needed somewhere to just, you know, get away from it all.

Insane.

I was supposed to leave with them, but finals kept me stressed and occupied for a day longer than expected.

The headset crackled.

“Ms. Dunn,” the pilot said, “we’ll be setting down momentarily. We’re in a rough patch of turbulence. Nothing to worry about.”

Easy for him to say.

The helicopter slid to the side in a sickening way and the yacht reappeared below. My favorite white purse tumbled to the floor. I snatched it up, upside down, and the small volume of its contents emptied on the floor.

Dammit.

The chopper tilted to the side and the yacht bobbed below. As ridiculously large as the pristine white ship was, it still felt impossibly small to land a helicopter on.

To land safely at least.

It was my first time landing straight down, rather than in an airplane where you needed a good long stretch of runway.

The ship zoomed up at us. I clinched the dash, bracing for impact. For a fiery death.

The pilot yanked up on the stick and my belly bottomed out as we gained altitude.

“Damn shear,” the pilot said.

The pilot was impossible to read. He seemed like the type that would be just as serious about blowing out candles on a birthday cake as crash landing on a yacht that was doing its best to not stay beneath us.

My phone vibrated under my thigh. I grabbed it and thumbed it on. A text from Ashton.

AB> No puking, Charlie. Father would be unhappy. :P Look down.

I scanned the deck below and saw him on the bridge. Ashton Barclay. My boyfriend. He looked gorgeous as always. Black hair and tan skin set darker by all the polished white around him.

I texted back.

CD>Is it always horrible? One minute we’re rocketing for the moon. Then we’re about to blast a hole in the boat.

AB>It’s a super-yacht, honey. And yes, it can be rough. Hang tight. U+ME=together soon!”

The chopper dipped again. The ship’s deck rushed up at us. I cringed and pinched my eyes shut. Burning bile clawed at my throat, demanding to tear loose. I clung to the dash, probably dented it with my frenzied grip.

The cabin keeled to one side and I knew it was over. The end had come. Cue the explosion. The inferno and twisted metal.

And then the whine and thump of the chopper’s blades slowed and quieted.

This was it. We were tipping off the edge, about to plunge a million miles under the ocean waves. To die in the depths. Join the ghosts of the Titanic.

The cabin lurched again and went still.

I jumped when something touched my shoulder. Would’ve slammed my head into the roof, but the harness over my chest bound me tight.

“Congratulations, Ms. Dunn,” the pilot said, “you’ve survived your first flight in a whirlybird.”

It took a moment to unlock my clenched jaws. I peeled my fingers off the dash and massaged the life back into my cheeks.

“Thank you,” I said. “Is it always so terrifying?”

“Yes and no,” he said with a wink. “It’s often like that and sometimes worse. But after a little experience, you may come to like it.”

“I think you’ve confused me with someone far more adventurous,” I said.

His laugh crackled in the headset.

“You never know what you’re made of, until you’re put to the test.”

I certainly didn’t know what I was made of. Love or hate? Forgiveness or fury?

I was thinking of a response when the door flew open. A fresh ocean breeze whipped through and sent my brown hair into a snarled mess. I turned, wiping the whirlwind of brown out of my eyes.

My heart melted. I loved him so much. I wanted to leap into his arms and hug him until we crushed into one, perfect being.

He was that amazing.

“Welcome aboard the Singular,” Ashton said with a grin. He bowed and offered his hand. On most men, such a gesture would look foolish or overreaching. On my Ash, it seemed so natural. He truly was a storybook prince. So gallant. Such easy grace.

Ugh, why did his father’s business have to destroy lives? Mine for starters. I couldn’t tell Ash, not until I knew how I felt about it first.

Ashton looked at the contents of my purse strewn on the floor and the empty purse in my hand.

“Makeshift barf bag?”

“Very funny.”

He gathered up my things and dropped them back into my purse.

I clawed at the restraints around my chest and couldn’t get the buckles to budge. Ash reached in and snapped them open. He tugged the headset off as I leaned over into his muscled arms and collapsed. He swept my legs up like it was our wedding night. I snagged my purse as he pulled me out into the hot, morning air.

My full breasts rested on chiseled chest. My dress blew up and revealed white panties. I wanted him to see them. To see me. But not out here. In front of the pilot. In front of his family that I had yet to meet. I flattened the material down.

“I’ll have Ramon get your bags later,” he said.

“It’s just my backpack.”

“That’s it?”

“You’re the one that told me to pack light,” I said.

He laughed.

“Sorry, I’m used to people weighing down the chopper so much it becomes a dangerous, clumsy bird. You could’ve brought more than one backpack.”

“Now you tell me,” I said. “No matter. I’ll be fine. As long as I can use your toothbrush.”

“I plan to kiss you so thoroughly that not sharing one would be pointless.”

He pecked my lips and pulled me close. Held me easily, like I weighed no more than an infant.

It wasn’t true of course. My ample curves certainly seemed heavy enough to me. I’d always been too conscious of them. Thinking I was fat. Thinking I weighed too much. Thinking I wasn’t good enough. How could I not? I wasn’t like the popular girls in school. Not like the girls in the magazines. Not like girls who got boys like Ashton. I’d never felt comfortable with myself.

Until he entered my life. Entered my heart. In a way that no one ever had before. I’d do anything for him. I knew we were forever. It should have been that easy.

He kicked the door shut and carried me away from the slowing blades above.

I nibbled his ear.

“I love you, Ash,” I said.

He kissed my cheek.

“I love you, Charlie,” he said.

We were
so
forever material.

I just had to convince his parents now, without killing them in the process.

Chapter Two