Babysitting the Billionaire(12)

It wasn’t until she had stepped out of the bathroom that she heard the pounding at the door. She started for the door at a run. What if something had happened to him?

She didn’t even look out the peephole, but threw the bolt and jerked the door open.

Beau Kurck sat on her stoop, a box of tequila beside him. And a crazy-wide smile rainbowing across his face.

“Beautiful May in June,” he croaked, likely thinking he was crooning. She looked past him, wondering how many of her neighbors were witnessing this.

“Nobody but the man with the golden-haired yappy dog,” Beau said happily. The condo association president. Fantastic.

“Get yourself right in here now,” she said, trying to whisper but sounding more like a hiss. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not nearly enough.” He lurched to his feet and handed her a plastic bag of groceries. He picked up the box, which had more than one kind of bottle from the clinking she heard, and stepped across her threshold. “Finns can hold their liquor.”

“Not all Finns,” she said, leading him in and to the right. She set the bag on the kitchen counter. Pretzels, frozen pizza, and more Finn Crisps, along with the leftover chili and fries from Ben’s.

“This kitchen is smaller than mine,” he said, pushing the now-empty bag to the side to set the box on the counter. “I’m not even sure the tequila mix will fit in that tiny icebox.”

“You didn’t need to buy the biggest one.”

“I did so. And I got one for you, too. And some tequila.”

She didn’t say anything. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. At this rate, she’d need another shower to get to sleep. Or a big ole drink.

“I’m sorry,” he said. She looked up at him, startled. “I realized when I saw you go in your house alone what an asshole I’d been to you today. Since we met, really. I’m sorry I scared you in the restaurant. I’m sorry I don’t know how to treat ladies right.” He looked so forlorn she reached out for him, and then pulled her hand back. That was not her role. Her role was to sober him up, get him in a taxi and to the hotel, and keep on the high and narrow.

But he’d apologized, and he looked like he meant it. And hotel rooms are lonely, and sterile. And his hair was in his eyes, and somebody should push it to the side. And maybe kiss him all better.

She pinched her nose harder, but her wayward mind already was conjuring pictures of this Beau, splayed across the bright blue of her futon. They matched.

So be it. She reached up and around his shoulder, catching him in a side-hug. “I’ll drink with you if you want. But remember, I’m no Finn.”

He squeezed her back. Was that a sob? But when he let her go, there was no trace of tears. She must have imagined it.

He stalked past the counter and into the combined dining room/living room/studio as if he were sober. Like a cat, looking at everything quickly instead of sniffing it. He must have decided all was well, for he slipped out of his suit coat and started unbuttoning his shirt.

With every button he loosened, May’s temperature rose a notch. Two down, and a hint of light brown chest hair. Three, and a nipple was exposed. She swallowed, suddenly flushed and bothered.

“Whoa there, cowboy. What’s up?”

“I’m sick of this monkey suit. Do you have anything that would fit me?” He paused, on Number Four, belly button, and looked up at her. At least he looked a little sheepish before he burst into bitter laughter.

She’d do anything to stop that poisonous humor. “Wait. I do think I have a shirt at least. The slacks, well…”

“We’ll stick with the shirt. I can unbutton the trousers.”

May scurried across the tiny hall and into her bedroom before her blush hit full-on. From the lower drawer, she pulled out the team Penguin shirt she’d done last year. Coming back around the corner at a quick clip, May froze mid-step.

All the buttons were undone; the shirt was at his waist. His back was as beautifully sculpted as his face. He must work out every day. She hoped she wasn’t smiling inanely. The T-shirt dropped out of her nerveless hands and onto the floor.

He heard the sound and turned, then grinned. “Enjoying the show?”

May remembered to shut her mouth and swallow. He rolled his hips as he walked toward her. She didn’t remember his gait as being so rolling, or so hot. He stopped an arm’s length away, looking as if he were trying to gauge her mood.

She scowled. “You know you have a hot bod. What of it?”

He grinned. She thought he was going to touch her, and if he touched her, she thought, she was going to explode right then and there. But he bent down and picked up the T-shirt.