More Than a Billionaire(11)

“All my travel in the past year has been for work.” It just hadn’t all been for Sherbrooke Enterprises. In fact more than half of it had been for the Agency.

“If you say so.” She looked away then back at him again. “Who was the woman with you in London? It’s driving me nuts that I can’t remember her name. She’s a model, right?”

He didn’t want to discuss any of the women he’d been spotted with over the past year. “Neither. But she wants to get into acting. Her father is the new Russian Prime Minister, and her family owns several businesses, including numerous resorts and casinos around the world. We met at one of them. And for the record, Nadia asked me to the movie premier.”

“She’s beautiful.”

He saw no reason to comment on that statement. After all, she was right; Nadia Danilova was gorgeous. Just not his type.

“You’re the first woman I’ve asked out in a while.”

Kiera bit down on her lip, but her smile still escaped. “Too busy?”

“That’s part of it.”

He worked hard, but that didn’t mean he had no social life. Instead, it was more a case of not meeting anyone he cared to get to know better. In fact, the desire he’d experienced dancing Saturday—and again on Monday—had been the first he’d felt in a long time.

“What about you?” They’d discussed many things over lunch, but not once had she mentioned a boyfriend.

“My job isn’t all that conducive to an active social life. I dated someone in Paris for two years, but he didn’t want to move here with me. We’re still friends and text sometimes.”

No guy in her life; he shouldn’t like the sound of that, but he did. A lot.

“Since we both have no social life, do you mind if I hang out here for the afternoon and watch television? I’ll even buy pizza later.”

Both her grandfather and father might be gourmet chefs, but the girl he’d known all his life loved pizza. Especially pepperoni and mushroom.

“You, my friend, have yourself a deal.”



For what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon, Kiera shot a look at Gray, then looked back at the super heroes on her socks. Man, she wished he’d called rather than just show up. Then she wouldn’t be sitting there in jeans so old they could buy a ticket to a PG-13 movie and socks decorated with super heroes. Okay, maybe her jeans weren’t that old, but they had holes in both the knees and she’d had them since before she’d moved to Paris. Granted, she didn’t have to impress Gray, but that didn’t mean she wanted to look like a slob, either. Especially considering he looked great today as usual.

The jingle for a popular snack food company started up, and Kiera realized the television show had gone to another commercial.

“Does anyone watch commercials anymore?” She hit Fast-Forward.

“Someone in the marketing department could answer you better than me, but that commercial is making me hungry for cake. And someone in this room did promise they’d make me cupcakes if I wanted.”

She’d baked enough that she could whip up cupcakes in her sleep. “So I did. And you promised me pizza.” Kiera switched off the television. “I’ll get started on my end of the bargain if you handle yours.”

“Deal.”

Gray smiled at her and an overwhelming urge to put space between them sent her toward the kitchen.

“There’s a take-out menu in the drawer next to you.”

She liked cooking and experimenting with dishes too much to order take-out often. Still, she pulled out the too-lazy-to-cook card at times and called for delivery. Since she’d moved to Lincoln, she’d tried several different places and the pizza restaurant located on Mendon Road in Cumberland was, by far her favorite or at least her favorite that would deliver.

Kiera measured out flour while Gray placed the order. For several minutes afterward, the entire apartment remained silent. She didn’t know what he was doing, and since he remained almost as far from her as possible in the small apartment, she didn’t turn around to look.

Maybe he was playing a game on his phone or checking his email. Either activity should keep him occupied while she baked and continuously reminded herself that this was Gray Sherbrooke. She shouldn’t be thinking of him as anything but an old friend. She didn’t need to impress him. Well, unless he planned to open a gourmet restaurant somewhere. And if he planned to do that, she better prepare something besides chocolate cupcakes.

“Do you need any help?”

She spun around, her arm clipping the mixing bowl, almost sending it to the floor. Somehow, though, Gray managed to catch it before flour went everywhere.