This Crazy Little Thing (A New Adult Billionaire Romance) Read online

  The fight left her in a loud huff. “Oh. The machine. I didn’t think to check messages this morning.”

  “Come inside before someone calls the police thinking there’s a problem.” He caught her hand and pulled her inside, and while she should have been ohhhing and awwwwing at his incredible foyer, all she could do was stare into two impossibly deep, dark eyes and enjoy the buzz of instant arousal his innocent touch sparked.

  “Did you say you’re hungry?” he asked.

  “Among other things,” she heard herself answer.

  “Come on. I’ll get you something to eat. What’re you in the mood for? The usual? I had a dinner party last night. Have some leftovers.”

  Her hand in his, and feeling vaguely like she was floating above the ground rather than treading upon it, she followed him down the hall toward the kitchen, asking, “What’s the usual?”

  “What do you mean?” Reaching for the refrigerator, he glanced over his shoulder.

  She shrugged. “Just making small talk, I guess.”

  “You’re acting weird tonight.”

  “I am? How? I’ve hardly spoken.”

  “Well, that for one. And…I don’t know. Besides the food thing, something’s different.”

  “Well, I did just suffer a scare from finding my car on the back of a flatbed truck, walking several miles to a gas station and then risking my life in Mabel’s car to get here. That might have something to do with it.”

  “Mabel’s car? How’d you end up with her?”

  “Bumped into her at a gas station.”

  “What was she doing at a gas station? Her tank’s full. I filled it this afternoon.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t carry anything out of the store, at least not that I saw.”

  He pulled out a plate covered with foil and set it on the counter. “Are you thirsty?”

  “Yes. Do you have any diet cola?”

  “Diet cola?” He slowly turned and studied her with narrowed eyes again. “Looks like you, and sounds like you…but it can’t be you. Do you have an identical twin?”

  “No, why?” Trying to appear casual, she lifted the foil from the plate to get a peek at the food. It didn’t look appealing at all—kinda resembled slimy fish parts with green unmentionables, like something she’d seen those poor schmucks eat on Fear Factor—but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “Oh, this looks fabulous,” she lied.

  “I have an Evian. Will that do for now?”

  Wow, the fancy water. I’ve never tried that. “Sure. Thanks.”

  He pulled out a chilled bottle and handed it to her then unwrapped the plate and carried it to the snack bar at the end of the natural stone counter. “Enjoy. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She plopped on a swivel stool, spinning around to face him. “Where are you going?”

  “Be right back.” He patted her hand like she was a little insecure kid—which she was not, thank you very much—and left the kitchen, leaving her to investigate the clammy food on her plate. Evidently it was either meant to be eaten cold or she didn’t rate the extra time it took to heat it in the microwave.

  Figuring explanation number one sounded the most reasonable, since he had bothered feeding her in the first place—after all what was another couple of minutes—she lifted the friendliest-looking piece, some kind of rolled up thing, and held it to her nose.

  Gag! It reeked! Must be spoiled. She set it down and reached for something else…and then another…and another.

  Despite the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day and was ready to gnaw on the artificial vegetables in his table centerpiece, nothing on the plate smelled edible. With Jason still missing, she went back to the refrigerator to see what else she could find.

  Ah ha! Now this was better! Thin-sliced roast beef, whole wheat bread, Swiss cheese and honey mustard would make one superb sandwich. In the cupboard she found some nacho chips. Before starting work on the sandwich, she ripped those suckers open, packed a handful into her mouth and chewed, and refilled every few seconds as she stacked the meat and cheese on the bread. Sandwich completed, she lifted it to her mouth, inhaling the scent of meat and mustard, then took a bite.

  Now that was good eating! Relishing the flavor, she closed her eyes in ecstasy.

  “What are you doing?” He sounded annoyed.

  She opened her eyes and realized he wasn’t so much angry as he was confused. Swallowing first, she motioned toward the plate with the slimy, stinky food and said, “That stuff didn’t smell right. I hope you don’t mind I made myself a sandwich.”

  He wrung an article of clothing in his hands. “Um…you don’t eat red meat. Haven’t had any in almost five years.”

  “I do today.” She took another bite to illustrate and smiling, chewed and swallowed. “I’ve forgotten what I was missing. This is delicious. Dead cow is good.” She watched as he continued to twist the fabric in his hands. “What are you destroying there? If you don’t stop, it’ll be nothing but rags.”

  “Destroying?” He looked down at his hands. “Oh. I found this for you, since you said you were cold.” He dropped it next to her on the counter, leaning just close enough to give her a minor case of the warm fuzzies.

  Cold? I’m not cold anymore. With a hot bod like yours so close how could a girl be cold? “Thanks. That’s very sweet.”

  “It’s just an old sweatshirt, but it’ll keep you warm.” He looked like he wanted to say something more but didn’t.

  “What?”

  He took a step backward and shook his head. “It’s…nothing. Do you need a ride home?”

  “Wow, anxious to get rid of me so soon?”

  “Kind of.”

  His honesty floored her and she didn’t know what to say. What had happened between them, she wondered. What had Monica done? It had to have been Monica’s fault. Jason seemed much too kind and considerate to be the guilty one. “At least you’re honest,” she finally managed to say before taking another bite of sandwich. “Do I have time to finish my food first? I didn’t eat all day. I’m starving.”

  “Sure.”

  “Will you drive me home or will you get someone else to do the dirty deed?”

  “Yes, I’ll drive you. Who else would?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Evidently he didn’t have a chauffeur. “I thought maybe you’d get Mabel to do it,” she said, deciding to make a joke out of it.

  “So that’s it!” he slapped the countertop with his palm. “Where’s it hurt?” He rushed forward and inspected the top of her head.

  “Hurt? What?”

  “Your head. Did you hit it on the dashboard riding with Mabel? I know what kind of driver she is. You must have a concussion. You’re acting so different. Either that or…you wouldn’t…would you?” He stared into her eyes, which made her uneasy, like he could see it wasn’t really Monica he was talking to.

  “Would what?”

  “If you think this sudden metamorphosis into a decent human being is going to change my mind about you…about us, you’re wrong.”

  Aha! It had been Monica’s fault. Why didn’t that surprise her? It seemed for all Monica had, she didn’t appreciate any of it, hunky, rich boyfriend included. Shame on her!

  “I’m not trying to convince you of anything— Well, it might be nice if you’d give me back the car—”

  “So that’s it! All this to convince me give back the Lexus? You little, conniving—”

  “Whoa, before you start throwing insults, at least let me explain. Yes, I came to ask you why you had the car towed away but I’m not putting on an act for anything. I was hungry, so I ate. I wasn’t going to eat some smelly, slimy raw fish guts or whatever that stuff is so I raided your refrigerator for something that looked edible, which just so happened to be the product of a land-dwelling species. Shoot me. Sheesh! Who would’ve thought a sandwich would cause such an uproar.” Disgusted with how things were progressing, wishing he’d toss aside his need to figure out why she’d changed and just
kiss her, she shoved the plate away. “I’m finished. Will you take me home now?”

  “It’s not just the sandwich.”

  “Whatever.” Now that had to sound like the old Monica he knew. Maybe being rude would set him at ease. She walked across the kitchen toward the front door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out.”

  “That’s the wrong way.”

  “It is not. This is the way…” She looked up and down the hallway, certain she’d seen that painting and those doors before…hadn’t she?

  He caught her shoulders in his strong hands—she liked men with big, strong hands—and stared into her eyes again. “Do you have amnesia?”

  “I don’t think so…” Was this the opportunity she needed? He wanted some sort of logical explanation. Amnesia sounded logical—at least a whole lot more logical than a wish on a meteorite. “…well, maybe. I am feeling a little funny.”

  “I’ve heard about stuff like this. Do you remember what happened?”

  “No. Nothing. I just woke up this morning…uh…not feeling myself. I mean, I looked in the mirror and I knew who I saw, but it was like that wasn’t me.”

  “That doesn’t sound good at all. Maybe you should go to the hospital.”

  “No way. And sit there all night just to have some doctor tell me nothing’s wrong? Uh-uh.”

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “No, I’m not going. I hate hospitals. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m probably just a little stressed out.”

  “Fine, then I insist you stay here tonight so I can keep an eye on you. You never know what might happen. You probably shouldn’t be alone.”

  Never know what might happen? She liked the sound of that. “Well…if you insist…” Would he sleep with her? Her body tingled at the thought of curling up alongside that very masculine, very sexy body she suspected hid under the baggy sweatpants and loose T-shirt he was wearing. What was he doing putting more clothes on? She wanted him to take what he’d had off.

  “You can stay in any room you like.”

  How about yours?

  “I promise I won’t try a thing.”

  Bummer!

  “What do you think?”

  She feigned indecision. “Oh I don’t know. Do you think that’s such a good idea, considering, you know? Besides, I really should go home. I don’t have any of my things here and I need to go to work in the morning.”

  “I’ll drive you. I can take you home early so you have time to dress then drop you off at work when you’re ready.”

  “That’s awfully nice of you, Jason.” She smiled, sensing a bit of chemistry as she leaned closer. “Thanks. For being so great about this. I mean, you were a jerk for having my car hauled away, but at least you didn’t throw me out and leave me to find my own way home. Why’d you do that anyway? Take the car?”

  “Insurance. You let the policy lapse again. I told you the last time I can’t afford to have you driving the Lexus without insurance. It’s like driving a billboard that says ‘Sue me, I have money’. I’ve already paid out two settlements and those had been for tiny fender-benders in parking lots. I can’t imagine what I’d have to pay if you hit someone hard. You and your reckless driving are putting me in the poorhouse.”

  “Oh.” Sheesh! Who could blame him if that was true. “I understand.”

  “If the insurance is too steep, how about we find you another car? Something that’s cheaper to insure?”

  “I guess that makes sense.” She nodded and stepped into the hallway, shuddering as he rested his hand on the small of her back.

  “Good. I think you should call off work tomorrow and we can go car shopping.”

  “Oh no. I can’t. I mean I’d like to…” Climbing the stairs, she turned around to face him and got instantly lightheaded. With her standing one stair higher, they were almost nose-to-nose. She could easily lean just a bit and kiss him. And it was encouraging to see him looking as tempted as she felt.

  Was this the reason she’d changed places with Monica? Maybe it hadn’t been about work or that silly yogurt ad. Maybe she was supposed to make things right with Jason, right whatever wrong the real Monica had done.

  All in all that didn’t sound like a bad deal. In fact, it sounded like a whole lot of fun…if she could remember why she was doing this and keep her heart out of it.

  Falling in love with another woman’s boyfriend was not a good idea. Nope, not at all.

  Chapter Four

  Who the hell was this woman?

  Jason pulled back the instant before their mouths met and stared into her eyes. It was Monica on the outside. No doubt about it. Same traffic-stopping smile, blue eyes and long blonde hair. Same body with surgically altered boobs and lipo-sculpted hips and tummy. Same long legs that made every guy on the planet drool when she wore a short skirt.

  But inside there was something different. Could amnesia be the cause? Would it change her into a completely different human being? He highly doubted it.

  Monica was still Monica.

  It might be close to impossible, but somehow he had to remind himself of her more devious side. The one that had tricked him before, taken advantage of his impulses to take care of the women in his life.

  Monica would not wiggle her way into his heart again!

  He shook his head, trying to clear it, and hoping the motion might send some much-needed blood to his brain. She’d come very close to seducing him, but he’d make sure she didn’t succeed. While he nursed his guilt for having had her car hauled away, even if for a valid reason, he’d keep an eye on her until she had a means of transportation she could afford to maintain on her own. After that, he’d cut the ties. No need to cling to her any longer.

  Just one night. Come hell or high water, by tomorrow he’d make sure she had a car. She wouldn’t need his help any longer.

  He just had to make it through one short night. Eight, maybe ten hours.

  Unfortunately, based upon the expression on her face, she wasn’t about to make it easy for him. If there was one thing Monica knew, it was how to play him. Damn her for being so good at it!

  They were over, he reminded himself. She’d sold his grandmother’s collection of pottery for peanuts, for God’s sake. She’d treated him like a convenient ATM for the past year, pushing a few buttons until he paid out. It had gotten to the point where he’d been disgusted with himself every time he succumbed, but damn it, he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  Weak. He’d been weak. But not anymore!

  Gathering up what remained of his wavering will, he gently nudged her forward. “Let’s get upstairs before one of us falls.” Both literally and figuratively. Damn, he wanted her. Something fierce. He wanted to taste her, to feel her, to hear her sigh his name as she climaxed. He wanted to hold her until morning. He wanted to serve her breakfast in bed and lie next to her, smoothing her sex-tousled hair after she ate. Stop it now or you won’t be able to resist.

  “Jason?” She reached forward and rested a palm against his cheek. “Would you believe me if I said I was truly sorry?”

  I want to believe that but I can’t. I’ve heard it too many times before. “No.”

  “I wish we could start over again. Pretend like we were complete strangers and do things right.”

  Why are you telling me this now? Damn it, stop! I can’t listen to this. “I can’t. We were never right for each other. We want very different things in life.”

  “Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

  He gave her another gentle nudge and she took several steps up before stopping and turning again to give him another imploring look, batting eyelashes and all. “No way. It’s too late for that now. We can’t go back. We can’t change who we are, although you seem to be making one hell of an effort. You’re you. I’m me. And together we make a mess.”

  She smiled and her eyes glittered playfully. “A mess. I like that.” Turning, she climbed the rest of the stairs and walked straight to his bedroom doo
r. “Can I stay in this room?”

  “No. That’s my room. You know that.”

  “Even so, you said I could stay in any room I wanted.”

  Shit. I should have known she’d do this. “Fine, but I won’t be sleeping in there with you.” He opened the door and followed her inside.

  “Will you stay for a little while? Can we talk? I’m still a little shaken from earlier. I don’t think I can sleep.”

  “I have cable TV. Watch a movie.” He pulled out a pair of sweatpants from a drawer and handed them to her then walked back toward the hallway and safety. He was confused, didn’t know his mind. While her outside—her physical beauty—did nothing for him anymore, the mystery of what she seemed to have become inside absolutely fascinated him. He could spend all night talking to her, trying to discover who she was. It was as if someone else had taken over Monica’s body. Of course that was impossible!

  “Please?” She walked across the room and opened the bathroom door. “I promise we will just talk. Nothing more.”

  He felt his resistance draining.

  “Pretty please? You can stay way over there,” she said pointing at the love seat positioned in front of the fireplace. “And I’ll stay over here on the bed. I won’t do anything naughty. We can just talk.”

  “Fine.”

  She beamed. “Thanks. Be right back. Gonna go change.” She went into the bathroom.

  Feeling both defeated by his lack of willpower and intrigued by the opportunity to talk to the woman who had overnight become a fascinating stranger, he dimmed the lights, lit the gas fireplace and sat in the loveseat. Then he prayed to God for strength and turned as he heard the bathroom door open.

  She bounded out with far too much energy considering the hour and flopped on her stomach on the bed.

  “What do you want to talk about?” he asked.

  “Do you have any ice cream? Late night gab sessions aren’t the same without Ben and Jerry. Oh, and nice fireplace. It’s very romantic.”

  “It was chilly in here,” he offered as an excuse, feeling guilty as if he’d done something wrong. He decided not to take a stab back by pointing out the fact that she never ate ice cream, always lectured him about how bad it was for him. She had to know what she was doing by acting like her antithesis. “I might have a little bit left. Want me to go down and check?”