Waking Up with a Billionaire (The Overnight Billionaires Book 3) (16 page)

T
his is such great fun!” Madison looked like she was about to burst from happiness as she picked up a slice of pizza from the takeout box on the balcony coffee table. “I’m so glad you decided to stay, Chloe. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed our girl time.”

Since Chloe was feeling pretty happy herself, it was hard to be mad at Madison and Eden for stopping by unexpectedly. It was a beautiful fall day. The sun was shining. Josephine Livingston Seagull was nesting contentedly on her eggs after having eaten two cans of sardines. And Eden and Madison had brought pizza…and three new bottles of nail polish. Bubbly Pink for Madison. Just Peachy for Eden. And Purple Rage for Chloe. Not that Chloe liked purple. Okay, so maybe it was growing on her. It no longer reminded her of squashed grapes. In fact, once she had the polish on her big toe, all she could think about was Grayson’s eyes and the way they looked when he painted her, or kissed her, or made love to her. Made love to her? No, no, no. She and Grayson didn’t make love. They had sex. Just sex.

She quickly screwed the cap back on the bottle of polish and exchanged it for Madison’s pink polish. She opened the bottle and covered the purple she’d already painted on her big toe. Since the polish was still wet, it turned a lighter purple that looked even more like Grayson’s eyes. She recapped the bottle and wiped the polish off with a napkin, leaving a smudged bruise of color. She frowned at it.

“I don’t know why you wanted to try it,” Madison said as she took the bottle back. “You’ve never liked pink. You’re much more Purple Rage.” She tipped her head and studied Chloe. “Although today you don’t look as angry. In fact, you do look all Bubbly Pink.”

Eden stopped painting her toenails and lifted her gaze to Chloe. “She’s right. You look happy. This wouldn’t have anything to do with your decision to stay, would it?”

“I’m not staying.”

The look Eden sent her was dubious. “Really?” She glanced in through the open balcony door. “Well, it certainly looks like you’re planning on staying. Aren’t those Chips Ahoy! in the cupboard? And isn’t that your favorite chocolate milk in the refrigerator? Not to mention the picture of me, you, and Madison at the marathon on Grayson’s nightstand?”

While Chloe was trying to get over the fact that Eden had been snooping through the house when she was supposedly going to the bathroom, Madison asked a very good question. “Why is that picture on Grayson’s nightstand? Did you give it to him?”

“No, I did not give it to him,” Chloe snapped before her eyes narrowed on Eden. “I’m surprised you aren’t still a reporter, with all the snooping you enjoy doing.”

Eden only shrugged and went back to painting her toenails. “I prefer fiction writing to nonfiction. And it didn’t take all that much investigating to figure out that you’re nesting.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Nesting.” Eden dipped the brush in the bottle of polish. “Not like Josephine, I’m not saying you’re pregnant. All I’m saying is that you’ve made Grayson’s house your home.”

“Grayson and Chloe?” Madison looked surprised for just a second before a smile bloomed on her face. “O-o-oh, that would be so sweet. Then you and Eden would be in-laws.”

Until that point Chloe had been only slightly stunned. Now she felt as if she’d been hit with Miley Cyrus’s wrecking ball. Marry Grayson? She sat up so fast that her knee hit the coffee table, almost knocking over her glass of Chardonnay. Which wouldn’t have been a great loss. She had always preferred reds to whites.

“Have you lost your mind!” she said so loudly that she startled Josephine. The bird ruffled her feathers and glared at her, so Chloe continued in a softer voice, “Grayson and I would never get married. We’re just—”

“Don’t tell me that you’re just having sex,” Eden said. “Because that doesn’t explain why you’re playing house.”

“I’m not playing house.”

“I don’t know what you’d call it. You clean, you cook, you just got finished telling us that the scratches on your arms are from planting roses in the garden. You’re playing house with Grayson whether you are willing to accept it or not.” She cleaned polish from the edge of her toenail with her finger.

Madison smiled weakly at Chloe. “She does have a point. But don’t worry, sweetie, you’re not alone. Every model at French Kiss wants to marry Grayson. That’s the reason Natalia resigned. She thought, if she wasn’t his employee, Grayson would date her—especially after he came back from Paris looking so lost and hot.” Her eyes scrunched in thought. “But come to think of it, he hasn’t looked so lost lately. Now he looks as happy as you do.”

Wanting to put an end to this train of conversation, Chloe jumped in. “Okay, so we both look happy. Good sex can do that to a person.”

Eden nodded. “She does have a point.” A dreamy expression settled over her features. “The other night, Nash did this thing with his—”

“Please,” Chloe said, “I do not want to hear the details of your sex life.”

“I want to hear about Eden’s sex life,” Madison said as she picked up the last slice of pizza. “Of course, I’m going to get to read about it soon enough when her book comes out.”

“That’s just a misconception that romance writers write about their own sex lives,” Eden said. “My book is purely fiction…okay, well, there is that one part where my hero has my heroine pushed up against the shower wall—”

“Enough,” Chloe cut in.

“You are such a party pooper, Chloe,” Madison said. “The least you could do for a friend who hasn’t had sex in forever is tell her about your sex life.”

“It’s your own fault. When are you going to stop hanging out with those old guys and start dating someone who doesn’t need Viagra and a resuscitator to make love?”

Madison shrugged. “As soon as I find a man as sweet and caring as my Georgie, Freddie, and Harry.” She stared at the slice of pizza for a few seconds before shoving it at Chloe. “Here, eat this so I won’t. You wouldn’t believe how fat I looked in the pictures from the catalog shoot.”

“You did not,” Eden said as she closed her bottle of polish. “Nash showed them to me, and you looked amazing. So did Chloe.”

Chloe stopped with the slice of pizza halfway to her mouth. “Me? What are you talking about, Eden? I wasn’t at the catalog shoot.”

Eden studied the paint on her big toe. “Of course you weren’t. I was just thinking about how amazing you looked on the last catalog cover. Why is it that you don’t want to model for French Kiss again?”

“Because I’m not the model type.” Chloe took a bite of pizza.

“I didn’t think I was the model type either,” Madison said, “but then Grayson convinced me that I was beautiful and would make a perfect model. He has that way about him.”

It was true. Grayson had made Chloe feel beautiful as well. She had gotten so used to Zac’s backhanded compliments that she’d forgotten what it felt like to be appreciated by a man. Grayson knew how to appreciate women. Not just their bodies, but also their minds. While Zac had paid little attention to what Chloe said, Grayson really listened. And maybe that’s why she wasn’t in any hurry to leave. That and the great sex.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway had Madison getting up and peeking over the balcony. “It’s UPS. I just love the way those guys look in their little Boy Scout shorts. Ooo, it looks like you’ve got a big package. I’ll get it.” She hurried through the open sliding door with a click of high heels.

When she was gone, Eden took up the conversation. “So what’s the real reason you don’t want to model? Are you hiding from someone?” Her eyes narrowed. “The cops? The Mafia? Are you in a witness protection program?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Maybe I just don’t want to sell my soul to the Beaumonts.”

Eden smiled slyly as she reached for her wineglass. “Hmm? Are you sure you haven’t already done that?”

The question made Chloe instantly defensive. “I have not sold my soul to anyone! I’m just staying here until Grayson finishes his painting for Deirdre’s benefit.” It was a lie. Both the first painting and the one for the benefit were finished. Which didn’t explain why she was still there and hadn’t pressed Grayson or Deirdre for the money they owed her. She glanced over at Josephine. The eggs. She was waiting for the eggs to hatch. That was all.

“Don’t blow a gasket, Chloe,” Eden said. “I’m glad you’re still here. And Nash is thrilled that Grayson is painting again. He’s been concerned about Grayson for the last six months—ever since he stopped sketching and then suddenly wanted to go to Paris.”

“So Nash doesn’t know what caused his painting slump either?”

Eden shook her head. “But I have a theory.”

“You have a theory on everything.”

“It comes from being a newspaper reporter. When searching for a cutting-edge story, you come up with a theory and then try to prove it with facts. I usually look for one common denominator.”

“And what is the common denominator for Grayson losing his painting mojo?” She took a big bite of pizza.

“You.”

Chloe choked, and it took Eden giving her a hard thump on the back to get the chunk of pizza unstuck from her throat. It flew out of her mouth and across the balcony just as Madison stepped out the door.

“The UPS man was no Boy Scout,” she said. “Once he got over the shock of a French Kiss model answering the door, he asked if I wanted to see his package.” She looked between Eden and Chloe. “So what were you guys talking about while I was gone that made Chloe toss her pizza?”

Before Eden could answer, Chloe spoke up. “Nothing. We weren’t talking about anything.” She reached for the bottle of wine. White or not, she needed a drink. Unfortunately, the bottle was empty.

“No worries,” Madison said. “That was what you got delivered. Two entire cases of wine.” She headed back inside.

As soon as she was gone, Chloe turned to Eden. “That is the craziest theory I’ve ever heard. How could I be responsible for his painting block?”

“Think about it. He stopped sketching and painting when you showed up. And he didn’t start up again until he kidnapped you.”

“That’s just a coincidence. Nothing more.”

Eden smiled. “Maybe, but somehow I don’t think so.”

“I chose the Syrah.” Madison stepped out the door with a bottle of wine. “Just because I love the name. Sy-rah. It sounds like an Arabian princess.” She filled Chloe’s glass and handed it to her before filling both hers and Eden’s.

Eden picked up her glass and held it up in a toast. “To Chloe staying in San Francisco.” Her eyes twinkled. “And Grayson getting over his painting slump.” She clicked their glasses before she took a sip. “Mmm, this is delicious. Where’s it from?”

“A winery in Napa.” Madison took a sip. “Casa Selena.”

The glass slipped from Chloe’s numb fingers and crashed on the balcony floor.

W
hat are you doing here, Deke?” Grayson asked when Deacon came striding into his office at one o’clock in the afternoon.

Nash, who had just been going over some sales reports with Grayson, answered for him. “I would say he’s come to take over the reins.” He grinned. “You look like hell, big brother.”

It was an accurate statement. With the dark circles under his eyes and the lines of fatigue on his face, Deacon did look like hell. He also looked annoyed that Grayson was sitting in his chair. Since Grayson was more than happy to hand over the reins to his brother, he quickly got up and joined Nash on the other side of the desk.

“What’s that on your suit?” Nash asked.

Deacon didn’t even glance at the yellowish stain on the lapel of his gray suit jacket. “Baby spit-up. I burped Michael before I left.”

“You get on me and Grayson for wearing jeans to the office, but it’s okay to wear baby puke?”

“As the CEO of this company, I can wear anything I like. But if it offends your delicate sensibilities, Nash, I’ll take it off.” Deacon slipped out of the jacket and hooked it on the back of his chair. When he turned around, Grayson couldn’t help smiling at the dark wet spots on the front of his purple dress shirt.

“Please tell me that’s water,” Nash said.

Deacon followed his gaze. “You could say that. Once the diaper comes off, Mikey thinks it’s time to let loose.” He took a seat and looked at Grayson. “So do you want to explain what’s happened while I’ve been gone, Gray? I got two calls at home this morning. One from Miles, who was in tears because you questioned his creative genius and are not using his pictures for the catalog, and one from Natalia, who was in tears because you won’t date her…even after she no longer works for French Kiss.” His face hardened. “And why are you smiling about our top model resigning only weeks before the fashion show?”

Grayson wasn’t smiling because Natalia had resigned. He was smiling because he was happy. Happier than he’d been in years. Of course, he couldn’t tell his brother why. Unfortunately, Nash had no problem telling Deacon.

“He’s smiling because he finally had sex.”

Deacon lifted an eyebrow at Grayson. “With Natalia?”

Before Grayson could answer, Nash did. “No. With Chloe.”

“Is this the same Chloe who posed for the pictures Samuel thinks we should use for the cover of the catalog?”

Grayson stopped mad-dogging Nash and turned to Deacon. “Samuel sent you pictures of Chloe?”

Deacon nodded. “And they’re quite good. Although I think they might be too edgy for the cover.”

It looked like Samuel had learned a few deviant tricks from Deirdre—like helping himself to Grayson’s art when he wasn’t around. Grayson wanted to kick himself for leaving his laptop alone with the wily old guy. “Samuel had no business copying those pictures,” he said. “They aren’t for publication.”

Deacon looked confused. “But I thought this Chloe is the same girl that you’re painting for Deirdre’s benefit. So why wouldn’t you want her modeling for us if she models for you? Or are you feeling possessive over this woman?”

Leave it to his brother to come up with the perfect word for the way Grayson felt. He was possessive of Chloe. He wanted to possess her body. He wanted to possess her mind. And he wanted to possess her soul. And since Grayson had never felt this intensely about anyone in his life, it was more than a little disturbing.

While he was trying to figure out how to answer Deacon, Kelly peeked in. “Sorry to interrupt, but your father is on line one.”

Deacon nodded. “Thanks, Kelly.” He waited until she left before he pushed a button on his phone. “What’s up, Dad?”

“I told your secretary to contact me when all my boys were back. I wanted you all together when I give you the news.”

“If you bought that fishing boat you were telling me about,” Deacon said, “I’m going to be pissed. You don’t need another boat, Dad.”

“This isn’t about the boat. Although that boat is twice as nice as the one I have and a steal of a deal. And it sure would come in handy when I take Mikey fishing.”

Deacon glanced at Grayson and Nash and shook his head in exasperation. “He’s still a little too young for fishing, Dad.”

“Well, it won’t be long. So you should really reconsider giving me the money for the boat. In fact, it would make a great wedding present.”

For a moment Grayson thought he had misunderstood. But when he looked at his brothers’ surprised faces, he realized he hadn’t. Talk about a sucker punch. Grayson felt like he was down for the count.

“What’s the matter, boys?” his dad said. “Cat got your tongues? Aren’t you going to congratulate your old man?”

Deacon recovered first. “Is this one of your jokes, Dad?”

“You should know that your old dad doesn’t joke about marriage. I’ve decided to tie the knot.”

“With who?” Deacon asked.

“My neighbor, Suzanne.”

“The one you were fighting with?” Nash asked.

“That’s the one. Turns out all that piss and vinegar was just her way of protecting her heart. And as she pointed out, all my carousing has been my way of protecting mine.”

All three of the Beaumont boys sat stunned. But his brothers couldn’t be as stunned as Grayson was. His happy feeling had long since faded, and now all he felt was a hurt so deep that he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. His father had one wife. Just one. A perfect wife he had repeatedly said couldn’t be replaced. And now he was replacing her. It wasn’t right. Donny John held most of the memories of Althea Beaumont. If he remarried, those memories would be lost. Then there would be nothing left of Grayson’s mother.

“No!” His voice resounded off the high ceiling, and Nash and Deacon looked at him as if he’d lost it. And Grayson had lost it. But he didn’t care. He had spent his entire life going along with what his father and brothers had wanted, but he refused to go along with this. He refused to let his mother slip away completely.

He moved closer to the phone’s speaker. “You want to fool around with some neighbor lady, you go right ahead. But you’re not marrying her. Do you hear me? You’re damned well not going to marry anyone!”

Without another word he turned and walked out of the office. Kelly sat at her desk with her mouth in a perfect O, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Or any other person he passed on his way to the parking garage. He needed one thing at the moment. He needed to paint.

It didn’t take him long to drive to his house. Once there he parked in the garage and looked for Chloe. He found her in the bedroom. He didn’t even glance at what she was doing before he headed to his easel.

“Get naked,” he said as he grabbed a brush and paints.

“What is the matter with you? You can’t just waltz in and start ordering me—”

He turned to her. “Please, Chloe. I need you.”

She studied him for only a second before she reached for the hem of her shirt. Grayson didn’t know how long he painted. But when he finally set down his brush, his fingers cramped, evening light filled the room, and Chloe was sleeping. Painting her had taken away the brunt of his pain, but he still felt like there was a hole in his chest. He could think of only one way to fill it.

Wiping his hands on a rag, he took off his clothes and joined her on the bed. He didn’t touch. He just looked. Her hair had grown, and her crooked bangs now hung over her eyebrows. He brushed them back, and her eyes opened. Most people thought brown a boring color, but they hadn’t seen Chloe’s eyes. They were the color of rich, fertile soil. Of decadent dark chocolate. Of freshly brewed coffee. And the emotions that flickered through them only added to their depth.

“So I guess your day was as bad as mine,” she said in a sleep-husky voice.

For a man who had trouble expressing himself, words spilled easily from his mouth. “My dad is getting remarried. He just called the office and dropped the bomb like it wasn’t any big deal—like him getting married was something we should’ve expected.”

“And how did you want him to tell you?”

He stopped touching her and fell to his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I didn’t want him to tell me. He shouldn’t be getting married. He will never love her like he loved my mother.”

Chloe cuddled next to him, resting her head on his chest. “Of course he won’t.” Her fingers ran along his collarbone in a slow brush that was soothing and hypnotic. “From what you’ve told me, he adored your mother. There’s no way that anyone could replace her.”

“Exactly. He just needs to realize that.”

“Hmm?” Her fingers stroked the center of his chest. “Or maybe he isn’t trying to replace her. Maybe he’s just tired of being alone.”

He pulled back so he could look in her eyes. “Is that why you stayed with me? You were just tired of being alone?”

“I stayed because I can’t seem to tell you no.” She looked away to study her hand that was drawing circles on his chest. “But I have to go. My past has finally caught up with me.” Her hand stopped moving. “My family owns a winery in Napa. Casa Selena. Today two cases of wine were delivered from there. It’s my father’s way of letting me know that he found me.”

At that point Grayson should’ve told her the truth about going to Casa Selena and meeting her grandfather. And if she were a calm, collected woman, he would’ve. But Chloe wasn’t calm, and she wasn’t collected. She was a hot-tempered woman who would be ticked that he’d meddled in her life. And when she got angry, her first response was to run. He couldn’t let her do that.

His hands tightened around her as he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Tell me, Chloe. Tell me what you’re running from.”

He expected her to hedge the question. Instead she hesitated only a moment before she spoke. “Most people think runaways leave because of abuse—physical, sexual, mental. But that wasn’t me. I had a perfect life. I had a beautiful mother who loved me. And a father who thought I hung the moon. I thought he not only hung the moon but he also made it. He was this bigger-than-life man who everyone respected and loved, and I was his little princess. A princess he showered with frilly pink dresses and ponies and anything my heart desired. But all I really desired was for my life to never change. Unfortunately, that wasn’t something he could give me.”

Grayson felt a hot tear hit his chest before she continued. “My mom kept the secret of her cancer from me for months. And she kept the secret of her affair with the vintner for fifteen years.”

The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. No wonder Davis Cameron had wanted to burn down the vintner’s house. But that didn’t explain why Chloe had left.

“I understand you were upset,” he said. “But why would that make you run away from home?”

Chloe lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes swimming with heartbreaking tears. “Because he isn’t my father. I guess my mom was having trouble getting pregnant, and instead of going to a fertility doctor, she decided to go to the vintner and see if he could make babies as well as he made wine.” She must’ve read Grayson’s shock because she nodded. “I know, and I can only imagine how shocked my father felt when he heard my mother’s deathbed confession. For months after my mom died, he couldn’t look at me. And I understood perfectly. Why would he want to look at someone who reminded him of his wife’s betrayal?” Her shoulders lifted in a pathetic shrug. “So I figured it would be best for everyone if he didn’t have to.”

“Oh, Chloe.” Grayson pulled her close. “I’m so sorry. And your biological father? Does he know about you?”

She nodded against his chest. “I contacted him after I ran away. I had this dream about living in an Italian villa, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the news. He took the number of the Chinese restaurant where I was working, but he never called.”

Grayson rubbed her back. “Then that’s his loss.” He paused before he continued. “But it seems to me that you have a father who wants to see you. Otherwise he wouldn’t be looking for you so hard.”

“Because he thinks that he can forgive me. And maybe he can. Maybe it’s me that can’t forgive.” Another hot tear dripped to his chest. “You told me that you hurt because you couldn’t remember your mother and the happy times. Well, I remember the happy times. I remember feeling loved and adored. And maybe I don’t want to go back and have those memories shattered. Maybe I want to hang on to the image of that perfect family.”

He understood completely. That was exactly what he was trying to hold on to. The image of a perfect family. But after listening to Chloe’s story, he had to wonder if there was such a thing.

“Maybe there are no perfect families,” he said. “Maybe it’s the expectation of perfection that destroys families. Maybe if we just accepted things the way they are, we would all be much happier.”

She lifted her head. “If you’re trying to say that I need to face my father, then you can just forget it, Grayson Beaumont. I’m not ready for that, and I don’t think I ever will be.”

“I’m not saying that at all. All I’m saying is that you need to stop running from who you are, Chloe.”

“And what if it’s too painful to accept who I am?”

“Then we’ll take it slow. When I couldn’t paint, you started me off with photographs, then eased me into painting. Let’s start you off with one truth at a time.” He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Grayson Romeo Beaumont. What’s your name?”

She stared at his hand for so long that he thought he’d lost her. But finally she took it in hers and held tightly. “Hi, I’m Selena Elizabeth Cameron, but you can call me Chloe.”