The Billionaire Dating Game: A Romance Novel (3 page)

“Um, he was tall. And, like, muscle-y.”

“Muscle-y?” My sister raised her eyebrows.

“And he had really nice eyes,” I said. “Light blue-green eyes.”

“What about his hair?”

“Uh, dark hair. Dark brown, almost black.” I thought of the dark stubble on his chin and how it had rasped against my skin when he kissed me harder. Heat pulsed through my body. I knew exactly who I would be thinking about tonight when I touched myself in the bathtub.

It was harmless, I told myself. Just a mini-crush on a guy I’d never meet again in my life. One kiss, that was all.

One unforgettable kiss.

Emma snapped her fingers at me.

“Yeah? What?”

“I said, what does he do for work? What’s his name?”

I blushed even harder. Emma dropped the applesauce spoon into her lap.

“Oh my GOD! You don’t even know his name? Lisa, you
slut
!” She burst into laughter.

“It was just a kiss!” I said.

“That is amazing!”

“Amazing? Really?” I put my hands on my hips.

“This is so totally unlike you!” She was nearly hysterical with laughter, and I couldn’t help smiling a bit. “Oh man, Lisa, you just made my day!”

“I’m glad that having a kiss-slut for a sister is all it takes to make your day,” I said, suppressing my grin.

“Are you going to see him again?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t really have time to date right now, anyway. With how busy I am at work…” I trailed off. Emma had heard all my excuses before.

Tonight, though, she didn’t push me.

“Well, hurray for breaking the no-kiss streak, anyway!” she said. “Good for you, big sister!”

Arlen, wanting to join in the celebration, grabbed up the spoon and waved it around, conducting an invisible, applesauce-covered orchestra. A lump of applesauce flew across the room and splatted on the TV screen. Emma took the spoon away from her, and she started bawling.

“Aww,” Emma said, grabbing a napkin to wipe up the mess.

“Need me to clean her up?” I asked. I was somewhat grateful that Arlen had provided a distraction from the conversation. I really didn’t want to talk about kissing a perfect stranger anymore. I couldn’t explain what had made me do it. Even worse, I couldn’t explain what made me
like
it.

“Sure,” Emma said. “I think she’s coming down with another cold.”

“Another one?”

“I don’t know. She’s been cranky all day, and she started coughing again.”

As though on cue, Arlen coughed once, then buried her face in Emma’s chest, still wailing. I picked her up and hoisted her up onto my hip. She protested weakly, swatting her tiny fists against my arm.

“Bathtime for you, princess pie,” I said. Then, to Emma: “She’s getting heavy.”

“She’ll be a year old… what, next month?”

“A year old! Almost a grownup.”

“Almost to the terrible twos.”

“This princess will never be terrible. Will you, baby?”

Arlen was the sweetest baby, always had been. It was only when she got sick that she started crying. I kissed her on the top of her head. Her silky light-brown hair was already starting to grow out longer.

“Careful,” Emma said. “I don’t want you coming down with what she’s got.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said. “I can’t imagine I haven’t already been exposed to those germs a hundred times over.”

“Thanks, sis.”

Emma plopped back on the couch and rubbed her eyes. She looked utterly exhausted. Normally I took over taking care of the baby in the evenings, but today she’d been on duty all day. Reason number seventeen why I shouldn’t be spending my free time dating. Which reminded me…

“Did Joey’s check come today?” I asked casually.

“Ugh. No.”

“You should—”

“I should call him, I know, I know,” Emma said. “Look, I didn’t have time to call him today. Maybe tomorrow, if it doesn’t come then. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, not pushing the issue. I knew she hated talking to her ex. But rent was due in four days, and his check was already a week overdue.

She saw the worry on my face.

“I promise, Lisa,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

“Great!” I said, forcing a brightness into my voice. “No problem!”

I could tell that she didn’t want to talk about it. Emma blamed herself for getting knocked up by a guy who ran away. It was the same thing that had happened to Mom, she said. She had made the same mistake all over again.
She won’t have two parents,
Emma had complained.
She doesn’t even have grandparents. She only has me.

Who am I, chopped liver?
I’d told her.
We’ll be her parents. Together.

I tried to live up to my end of the bargain, but holding down a full time job at the same time was tricky. I had no idea how my mom had managed it for so long.

By the time I finished with Arlen’s bath, Emma was passed out cold on the couch. I set Arlen down next to her and she instinctively drew her arm around the little girl, pulling her into a snuggle.

I tucked a blanket over both of them and lay down on the reclined couch next to them. Our apartment didn’t have room for both a bed and a couch, so this was the most comfortable solution we had found. And Arlen loved sleeping between the two of us.

“Lah!” Arlen said softly.

“Yeah, you and me both, baby,” I said, chucking the little girl under the chin and readjusting the blanket around her.

“Sorry your date sucked,” Emma said.

“Yeah. You know what?”

“What?” Emma mumbled sleepily.

“Between you guys and a blind date, I’d rather be here with you.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

Emma smirked, her eyes still closed.

“That’s so lame.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“You’re so lame.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I know.”

“Love you, lamebutt,” she said.

“Love you too, dorkface,” I said.

I propped my pillow behind my head and opened my laptop. Hopefully I could get this article finished before I went to sleep.

I made the mistake of checking my email. There were three messages from my boss in my inbox, and two of them were labeled URGENT. Neither one of them was really urgent, but I plodded through everything he wanted me to do. By the time midnight rolled around, I hadn’t even written a single word for the new article.

Mac leapt up onto the couch and sat right on top of my laptop keyboard, purring loudly. If that wasn’t a sign to stop working, I didn’t know what was. I put my laptop away on the floor, and the fat gray cat curled into my lap, kneading his paws on my thigh.

“Just like a guy,” I murmured, stroking his soft gray fur. “All you want to do is jump straight into bed. No foreplay, huh, buddy?”

He purred in satisfied agreement. And I thought of the man in the mask, the one whose voice had turned me to Jello on the inside. The one who had kissed me. I let out a small contented sigh. A good kiss was worth it. Even if he was a crazy nut wearing a mask, it was worth it.

Emma was asleep, her body curled protectively around Arlen. Both of them were snoring softly, and Arlen had her mouth slightly open, her rosebud lips pinker than normal. I let myself drift into slumber alongside them, my thoughts finding again the reflective gaze of two green-blue eyes behind a black mask and the heat of two strong hands pressing against my hips.

In the darkness, under the ever-present rumblings of the city, you could almost hear the sound of three girls sleeping.

Chapter Four

“Why haven’t I found Mr. Right yet?” I asked. My pen tapped idly against my knee and I ate another gummi bear. Normally the little sugar rushes would propel me through an article, but this one was proving difficult.

I leaned backward in my chair and called out the door. “Help me out with this, Jessica!”

“Um, maybe it’s because Mr. Right is out drinking at the Tavern and you’re still here at work,” Jessica said. She leaned against the door frame, two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. “And before you say anything, Robert is on a double shift today, so we’re both working late. I have an excuse for being a boring workaholic.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

She handed me one of the coffees, and I took a sip. Caffeine and sugar. If that didn’t get me writing, nothing would.

“Daniel told me you didn’t give him a chance,” Jessica said.

“I gave him plenty of chance. And you told him that I was desperate!”

“You are desperate! You’re wondering why you haven’t found Mr. Right yet? We’ve been over this.”

I sighed and pressed my fingers to my temples.

“No, I mean, that’s the article I have to write,” I said. ‘
Five Reasons You Haven’t Found Mr. Right Yet.’”

“Oh.” She grimaced. “That’s an awful title.”

“Tell that to Clarence.”

“I will.”

“He’ll take it from you better,” I said. “I don’t even think it’s grammatically correct.
‘Five Reasons You Haven’t Yet Found Mr. Right?’
Does that sound British?”

“Did he come up with this idea for you?”

“More like he shoved the idea in my face and told me I needed to get ‘relevant.’”

“He really ought to do a better job being a manager,” Jessica said. “It’s getting ridiculous how much he pep-talks me.”

“I think he’s trying to pep-talk your pants off,” I grumbled, popping another gummi bear.

“Did he tell you he was just trying to give you a helpful suggestion to make
Moi Magazine
better’? I love all of his helpful suggestions. They’re so… helpful, you know? Except for when they’re not. Every single time.”

“How is a clickbait article supposed to make me
relevant
?” I asked. This wasn’t a new rant, but Jessica listened like it was. I loved her for that. “I want to write something
important
for women. This…this…”

“It’s crap,” Jessica said, taking another sip.

“It’s worse than crap!” I cried out, throwing my pen against the wall. It left a little mark on the wall next to all the other pen marks created from all of my boss’s helpful suggestions.

“It’s sexist.”

“It’s demeaning. How can people even read this?”

“Lisa. Look,” Jessica said. I knew she was about to start in with one of her oh-so-reasonable explanations. “It’s Clarence’s job to sell magazines. Of course he’s going to lean towards article titles that are… sensationalist.”

“Sensationally dumb.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to write the whole article that way.”

“This is impossible,” I moaned, my head falling onto the pile of papers on my desk.

“Come on,” she said. “Nothing’s impossible. Let’s brainstorm. Why haven’t you found a boyfriend yet? Be honest.”

“Because all men are immature assholes.”

“That’s… okay, that’s probably too honest.”

“Sorry for the brutal truth.” My mind flickered to the man in the mask. What he’d been saying—wasn’t that exactly what I’d been feeling all this time?
Empty
?

No. He wasn’t a real guy. He was a weirdo, someone I’d only met for a few minutes. No matter how much his words had resonated with me, that didn’t mean that he was mature, or intelligent, or anything at all. He was a good kisser, and that’s all I could say with certainty.

“What’s another reason?” Jessica asked. She was ticking them off on her fingers.

“Because my standards are too high,” I said. “And I’m a perfectionist. Well, that’s what Emma says.”

“Your sister isn’t allowed to give you dating advice,” Jessica said, wagging her finger over the rim of the coffee cup. “Not after Joey.”

“She doesn’t have the best taste in guys,” I allowed. “But she knows me better than I know myself.”

“You’re so lucky to have a good sister. And an adorable niece.”

I looked up at Jessica. Her eyes were focused far away, as though imagining the sister she never had. She was all sexiness, wearing an eggplant-colored pantsuit with a cream turtleneck sweater underneath. Her chunky turquoise necklace matched her teal pumps and her belt had brass and turquoise accents on the buckle. Her perfectly curled hair hung over her shoulders.

I stared down at my own outfit: a black jacket over a white blouse and black pants. My hair was up in a frizzed-out half-ponytail; I hadn’t even bothered to brush it today before coming in. Of course she would be the one with the sexy boyfriend. I was dressed like an FBI agent from the eighties.

Jessica was the fashion editor, the one with her column inside the front every week. She had a quarter-page spread whenever she went to a new fashion event. She was perfect. And yet, Jessica sighed with jealousy whenever I talked about Emma and Arlen.

I shouldn’t be so hard on myself
, I thought. I wasn’t in front of the cameras like Jessica was. On our website, she was ‘the face of
Moi’
, and her videos brought in a ton of ad revenue. My own job at the magazine was a lot less exciting. I just made sure everything was running and filled in the gaps whenever somebody forgot to do their job. Apart from getting Clarence’s lattes, I wrote articles when we needed filler, made up surveys, and put together graphics most days when Tony was too hungover to finish his work. I didn’t have a degree, so I got stuck doing all the work nobody else wanted to do.

If Jess was the face of
Moi,
I was the spandex that kept all the bumps from showing.

“You’re so goddamn stylish,” I said. “That’s reason number two I haven’t found Mr. Right. I’m a hot mess.”

“You have too much work to do to worry about fashion,” Jessica said.

“Weren’t we supposed to go shopping for me? I seem to remember some New Year’s resolution about revamping my wardrobe.”

“You said you had too much work. And then you needed to lose twenty pounds first,” she reminded me.

“Reason number three I haven’t found Mr. Right: I need to lose twenty pounds.” I plopped the bag of gummi bears down on my desk with a glum pout.

“Oh! Which reminds me, did you get my email about making the graphic for
Who Wore It Best?
”

“It’s already in your inbox,” I said.

“You are a lifesaver.”