The Billionaire’s Forgotten Fiancée (2 page)

“I don’t let women who aren’t warming my bed stay here.”

She gave him a slight smile. “If you want me gone, find me some comparable lodging. Any five-star hotel will do. If not, I’m staying here and I’m definitely
not
sharing your bed.”

He snorted. She talked big now, but she’d change her tune soon enough when she realized he was serious. Either way, he was going to have her in his bed that night.

He dialed the travel concierge on his speed dial. Unlike most travel agents who only booked hotels and flights, the one his family used arranged for everything related to family travel.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Pryce. How may I help you?” came a professional voice.

“Need a room at a top hotel near our family vacation home in Thailand immediately.”

“Certainly.” A few moments later, the woman said, “I’m afraid there aren’t any.”

There aren’t any?
“I thought May wasn’t the high season.”

“It’s not, but none of the acceptable hotels are showing any availability. The earliest is three weeks from now.”

“But that’s June!”

“That’s correct.”

His hand clenched around the phone. Suddenly all of the resorts and hotels were fully booked from May until June? He didn’t think so. What the hell was Dane playing at? “Did Dane tell you to do this?” he asked point-blank.

“No, sir. I haven’t heard from Mr. Dane Pryce since—”

“Forget it,” Shane managed to maintain a civil tone. That jerk-off had probably reserved every vacant room in the area.

When he hung up, Ginger quirked an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Everything’s booked.”

She didn’t seem surprised. “Well, guess that’s it.”

“There’s a reason why Dane’s an asshole.”

“Oh, there’s more than just one. And don’t forget to add ‘bastard’ to the list.” She punctuated that statement with a smile. It was so unexpected and sweet it hit him like a punch to the gut.

Before he could recover, she went upstairs, her hips sashaying. He ran his hand over his mouth. It didn’t matter.

He’d have her anyway.

* * *

Ginger went upstairs to the bedrooms. Peeraya had put her bags in the guest suite across from the master bedroom suite, which she assumed Shane was using.

If the housekeeper was surprised at Ginger’s request to be in a separate room, she didn’t show it. But then Shane’s family wasn’t known for normal interactions. Ginger had often wondered why his parents kept the property on the beach anyway since the family rarely vacationed together anymore. And she knew for a fact that Shane’s parents had remodeled the master bedroom suite so it now had two connecting bedrooms.

The guest suite was smaller, with a queen-size bed, but decorated with a feminine touch in pink and pale gold. Shane’s sister Vanessa used the suite whenever she was in the area. The vintage four-poster bed was done in wrought iron, and a pale lace canopy hung over the frame. Ginger ran her hands along the pink sheets, enjoying the cool silk.

She perched on the edge of the mattress. Her heart had slowed now that she was away from Shane, and she felt like she could breathe normally again. She couldn’t believe how he could affect her like this even after everything that had happened between them the previous year. When he’d looked at her mouth with that scorching intensity, all the wicked things they used to do had flashed through her mind, and she’d wanted to pull him down for a kiss as her panties grew moist.

But she knew better than to give in to temptation. The Shane she used to know was gone. This new Shane was different…harder and more cynical. Besides, she still had no idea why he’d fled. Everyone around them said he’d “left”, but that wasn’t the right word.

When she’d come home after an out-of-town photo shoot, he’d been gone. Just…gone. No note, nothing. The walk-in closet they shared looked like it had been ransacked; piles of clothes were on the floor, and some of the dresses and jackets were hanging lopsided. His dressers had been in the same condition, and the bathroom had been missing all of Shane’s things.

She’d been so worried and concerned. But no matter how many emails and texts she’d sent, he never responded. She’d called him numerous times, but they’d all gone to his voicemail. Eventually she’d needed to talk to him, and it was his older brother Mark who’d told her Shane was in South Africa taking nature photos.

“Is he in a jungle or something?” she’d asked.

“What do you mean?”

“He isn’t responding to my emails or texts.”

“Huh.” Mark shifted his weight. “Well. I don’t know. I heard from him not too long ago.” He cleared his throat. “It sounded like he’s a little busy. I’m sure he’ll call you soon.”

Sure. If Mark had believed that, he wouldn’t have looked at her with such discomfort. She didn’t think he knew exactly what was going on with Shane, but he knew something was up. And the worst part of it was she couldn’t just wait until Shane worked out whatever problem he’d had.

When she’d flown to Johannesburg to see him, she’d found him with another woman. A tall, gorgeous blonde who looked like she should be on the cover of a fashion magazine. Ginger had been paralyzed, feeling by comparison like a drab mouse in her comfortable travel t-shirt and Capri pants. She’d been so stunned she hadn’t even been able to tell him the reason why she’d traveled all that distance to track him down, even as he pushed her out of the suite.

It had taken her over a month to bring herself back home, and more months before she’d started to feel normal again. She wasn’t going to let Shane shake her now. All she had to do was drag him home. The time for reconciliations was long past. She was never going to leave herself vulnerable again.

One ring. Two. Three…

Shane muttered, pacing, as Dane didn’t answer. Finally there was a click.

“Dane Pryce. Leave a message.”

With an effort, Shane unclenched his jaw. “It’s not going to work the way you want. I’m not coming home like some damned puppy just because you snap your fingers.” He hung up and threw the phone on the couch.

Damn Dane and his interference.

Shane didn’t necessarily want to regain his memory as soon as possible. Sure, it was inconvenient when he couldn’t recollect something that people seemed to think he should. But that was a poor reason to rush back to a home he didn’t remember when something was telling him he didn’t want to go “home” and surround himself with his family. After having dealt with Dane for a while, he was beginning to think his subconscious was pretty smart.

He tossed himself on the couch and stared at the skylight in the vaulted ceiling. Fat clouds tinged with the palest gray glided like a group of blimps. One thing was clear. Despite his initial assumptions, he had to admit Ginger was his real fiancée after all.

When he’d left the hospital, he’d researched his family. Google had been incredibly helpful, giving him lots of interesting information about his parents and siblings. His father was a womanizer who slept with any female who was young and pretty. His mother bore all of it with a polite smile. That had made Shane shake his head. Nobody would’ve blamed her if she’d brained her husband.

Then there were his brothers. They all dated models, heiresses and actresses. Gorgeous, leggy women only, please. His sister dated…no one, apparently—probably living like a nun—and worked way too much while drinking copious amounts of alcohol if her career trajectory was to be believed. The Internet didn’t have much about Shane himself, though, maybe because he was the boring and sedate one, without any titillating gossip. The most significant mention of him was the fact that he was engaged to the high school sweetheart he’d been dating since his sophomore year.

Given the kind of pricey private schools his family had attended, he’d assumed his fiancée would be a wealthy heiress or something, not a woman like Ginger who obviously didn’t come from money. As a matter of fact, he was certain her family couldn’t have afforded to send her to the high school he’d gone to.

Women will always want you for your money
.
Enough money can make up for any flaw you have
.

He didn’t remember who’d told him that, but he knew it was true. At the hospital in South Africa, he had his own private room with two dedicated nurses and a doctor who’d come by frequently to check up on his condition. After a day or so of being confined, he’d gotten restless and taken a walk through the hospital. Other patients were in shared rooms with only thin, gauzy curtains around their beds for privacy. Harried nurses took care of them, and doctors rarely spent more than a few moments with each patient before moving on.

What was the difference between him and them, except for the size of their bank accounts?

Not even his looks mattered. He knew he was young and attractive. Apparently he’d been blessed with the famous Pryce profile—a classic, clean line that made all the men in his family ridiculously handsome. But it was the money that really made the difference. People wouldn’t have scurried to please him otherwise.

And women were no different.

So when Ginger had shown up, claiming to be his fiancée, he hadn’t believed her. He’d assumed she was some sort of con artist, trying to take advantage of his memory loss. She’d tried to tell him things that she said were important, but he hadn’t had the patience to listen to a line of bullshit.

Of course, he would have acted differently if he’d known she was his real fiancée.

Peeraya brought in more Thai orchids, and he waved at her.

“
Sawadee-ka
,” she said, bowing. She didn’t put her hands together since she had two huge bouquets.

“Peeraya, have you prepped dinner already?”

“Not yet. You want for anything particular?” she asked.

“Phad kra praow seafood,” he said, as it popped into his head.

“It very spicy.”

“So?” Did he like spicy food? He shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“You want mild?”

He shook his head. “Just make it like you normally would.”

Peeraya nodded slowly. “All right, sir.”

* * *

The phad kra praow was disastrous. Not because there was anything wrong with the ingredients. The seafood was fresh, and everything, even the calamari, had the most perfect texture.

The problem was the chopped chili peppers. Peeraya had used both red and green. The red variety was already painful enough, but when he’d accidently bitten into a green one, thinking it was a piece of green bean, it felt like the back of his throat would explode.

Since Ginger was on the other side of the table, he surreptitiously spat out the chili pepper and drank some of the cold tamarind tea. The sweet and tangy brew helped, but it wasn’t enough.

Ginger on the other hand seemed to enjoy the dish just fine. She even ate one of the green peppers with her rice without any problem.

He tapped the rim of his glass. Why had he specifically requested this mouth-incinerating abomination? Was it because he somehow knew she’d like it?

“Peeraya, you’re amazing,” Ginger said. “I’ll never be able to eat Thai food in L.A. again. You’ve ruined me.”

The housekeeper blushed. “Thank you, madam.”

Ginger grinned before turning back to her food.

There was an open pleasure in the way she ate—her flushed cheeks, the soft curve of her mouth and sparkles in her eyes. She also liked the tamarind tea, and it was obvious she was a deeply sensual woman.

What was she like in bed? No matter how he raked his memory, he couldn’t recall. Was she fiery and a little bit naughty, or was she on the sweet and demure side to match her golden “all American sweetheart” looks?

It would be mind-blowingly good no matter how she was. He was certain of it, or his body wouldn’t be craving her like this. He wouldn’t be having this tight longing in his gut, and his cock wouldn’t be hardening at the way she licked the glistening sauce from her lips.

After eating about a quarter of the food, he put his fork down. He wasn’t going to be able to finish it, so he was going to watch her instead for the rest of the dinner while thinking of a way to get her into bed. She was using a guest suite for now, but it was probably because she was peeved at the way he’d treated her in Johannesburg. He’d apologize, then they could have makeup sex. To show her how sorry he was, he’d lick and suck and taste her until she came against his mouth. Then he’d make her orgasm until she couldn’t remember why she’d thought it was a good idea to stay in the guest suite in the first place.

* * *

Ginger swallowed the last bite of her food. Shane had that hooded look on his face, which she knew meant he was having dirty thoughts.

It used to make her hot and whisper naughty things in his ear as she got more and more turned on. But now she was too guarded to be that open with him. Dane had been very specific about what he wanted—bring Shane home and she was done. And she wanted exactly that, nothing else. Being around Shane any more than she had to was foolish. She wasn’t a naïve girl in love anymore.

Nor did she believe love could be enough. There were things other than a lack of love that could destroy relationships. Because if love could cure everything, the two of them wouldn’t be here right now and she wouldn’t have lost so much.

She got up. “I’m going for a walk.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“Alone.”

“It’s late. I wouldn’t feel comfortable you out there by yourself.”

She snorted. “This place is pretty heavily guarded. There aren’t any unsavory characters lurking around in the dark.” The property no longer had armed guards after the military coup, but it still had guards who looked like they ate nails for breakfast. It was fenced off as well, and she doubted anybody wanted to come in badly enough to tunnel through. Small waterproof lanterns strung on palm trees along the beach provided some light, so people didn’t stumble around in the dark.

Shane ignored her and followed her out. They didn’t link their hands like they used to—she decided to carry her shoes instead, hooking the straps in her crooked fingers—but his presence was impossible to ignore as he walked next to her. He was so big and warm, like a furnace. The briny breeze did very little to cool her heated skin.