Page 77 of How to Blow It with a Billionaire

“Gah. You know what I mean. You shouldn’t.”

“Will you,” he said, slowly and softly and full of delicious menace, “spend this evening with me?”

I wriggled happily. “You know the answer is yes. But you have to promise me this won’t happen again.”

“Since you won’t let me lie to you, I can’t make that promise.” I was going to protest again but he put his fingers gently across my lips. “I would do far more than buy some art for you, my Arden.”

“But now,” I pointed out irrefutably, “you own some art.”

“My mother has an excellent eye. Most likely, the pieces will only increase in value. In ten years or so, I can hold another auction.”

Tucking my head against his shoulder, I let myself breathe. The sweet, dark scent of Caspian’s cologne wrapped itself around me, as familiar as his touch. “I still can’t believe you did that,” I muttered. “Just to spend an evening with me.”

“I’m a very selfish man.”

“Hey, you’ve done a really good thing for what someone referred to as hypothetical beneficiaries.” I smirked into his jacket.

Caspian’s fingers moved lightly through my hair, sending shivers all the way down my spine. “Dear me. What pompous friends you have.”

“I”—eeeeep—“I hope he’s a bit more than a friend.”

“I’m sure he’s quite taken with you.”

Oh wow. Carve that out of stars and write it across the sky. I sat up again, regarding him gravely. “Yes. I truly believe he holds me in moderate esteem.”

There was a brief pause.

Then Caspian put a hand across his face and burst out laughing. And, oh God, it was beautiful—that pure, bright sound, rare as an English spring, and the flashes of his mirth-struck mouth, half hidden behind his fingers. It made me want to kiss him. Dip my tongue into his laughing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a moment or two, blinking the glitter of moisture from his lashes. “I more than moderately esteem you.”

“You mean you deeply esteem me?”

“I more than esteem you to any measure.”

“Gosh.” I clasped my hands to my palpitating breast. “Can it be that you…regard me?”

“Come here, you wretched monkey. I treasure you.”

He kissed me, long and sweet and thorough. And, by the time he was done, I was blissfully melted.

He nudged his nose against mine. “What do you want to do tonight?”

“Um, what are the options?” It was, honestly, dizzying. Caspian’s time was so insanely valuable and here he was just pouring it into my lap, as if was as abundant as Inca gold.

“Anything you want. Do you have a favorite restaurant in London? Or is there somewhere you want to go? Paris? I understand people find Paris very romantic. I could have the helicopter readied within the hour.”

That sounded…well, like something that happened to people who weren’t me. And not necessarily in the “would if only I could” sense. “You know,” I said, awkwardly, “I think I’d rather go home, have a long hot bath, order pizza, and maybe watch a movie.”

“Oh God.” Caspian drew his fingertips down my cheek. “What am I saying? You’ve barely got back. Of course you need time to rest.” He switched on the intercom, directed the driver to take us to One Hyde Park, and settled me comfortably against his side.

Although I was starting to worry he’d missed the point.

Missed the point in a significantly major way.

“With you,” I said quickly. “I want to do all that stuff with you.”

He looked genuinely startled. “You’d prefer me to stay?”