The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake(16)

"That's not smart," he told her in a low, gentle voice. He brushed the  sweaty strands of hair off her forehead. "You need to remember that  you're eating for two now."

She nodded. "Sometimes I forget."

"You stay here and I'll get you some water and a snack, all right?"  When she murmured agreement, he raced down the path, looking for a snack  machine or a gift shop, anything. By the time he found it, he was  drenched in sweat-some of it from nerves at the sight of seeing Greer  collapse like that-but he got a bottle of water and a package of peanut  butter crackers and then raced back to where he'd left her.

When he came back, the stubborn woman was sitting up on the bench. She  managed a wan smile for him. "I'm really sorry, Asher. This wasn't how I  planned today would go-"

"Quiet," he told her, and pulled the cap off the water and then knelt  at her side, holding it to her lips. "Drink. And then you're going to  eat these crackers."

She sipped at the water obediently, and his heart slowed from its mad,  fearful gallop in his chest as the color returned to her face. She held a  hand out and he gave her a cracker, then watched with a bizarre sense  of satisfaction as she nibbled on it, then asked for another.

Minutes passed, and Asher's entire world consisted of feeding Greer and  making sure she drank enough water. Taking care of her. Hell, if she'd  have let him, he'd have ripped her shoes off and massaged her feet, but  he was going to take what he could get.

When she finished the last cracker and the bottle of water was empty, he put a hand on her knee. "Feel better?"

"Much." She primly removed his hand from her knee. "Thank you."

He tried not to feel disappointed at that small rejection, but damn.  "Good. I'm going to walk you back to your car. You need to get out of  this heat. And then I want you to go home and eat a big meal. Lots of  proteins and carbohydrates. Then, when you're done with that, take a hot  shower and relax for the rest of the day." He picked her glasses up and  held them out to her.

She plucked the glasses from his hand and scowled at him. "Don't tell  me what to do. I have entirely too much going on to take a day off. I  have to call a dozen caterers and see who can squeeze us in, and then  there's staff for valet parking for the day of the wedding, and I need  to call about cakes, and-"

When she stood, he stood, too, and tried to pick her up in his arms again.

She batted at him, angry. "What are you doing?"

"If you're not going to relax and take it easy, I'm going to force you  to." He ignored her flying, ineffective fists, and cradled her against  his chest. "The wedding can't go on if the planner passes out all day."

"Fine," she bellowed, shoving at his chest. "Fine! You win! I'll go  home and eat an enormous meal and then spend the rest of the day in  bed."         

     



 

He put her down.

"With my phone," she amended. "And my laptop. But in bed."

Small victories.

***

Even though Greer swore she was fine, Asher insisted on following her  home and didn't relax until she was pulling her rental car into the  driveway at the Dutchman castle. Only then did the breath he'd felt like  he was holding all afternoon escape him.

God, he'd felt as if he'd aged a hundred years in an hour. Seeing Greer  collapse like that had made him realize just how delicate she was . . .  and just how much she meant to him. They'd been such close friends all  through college and he'd taken her for granted: the late nights she'd  stayed up studying with him, the times he was sick and she'd made him  chicken noodle soup, the unwavering support she'd given him, the way  they both liked the same sappy black-and-white movies.

Seeing her faint had just clinched in his mind that she was his, and  he'd do anything to win her back. It was clear that his Greer had a  spine of solid metal under that sweet, demure exterior, though. He  mentally replayed her quiet removal of his hand from her knee over and  over again.

He needed a plan to win her back.

All right, then. If he was going to create a fake wedding just to get her closer to him, he'd take advantage of that closeness.

If Greer was around him daily, there was no way he couldn't break down  those barriers she'd erected. She'd loved him once; he could get her to  love him again.

He hoped.

He needed more than just being around her to win her back, though.  Hell, he'd been around her today and where had that gotten him? She'd  been so stressed she'd forgotten to eat and had nearly passed out at his  feet. Furtive meetings weren't the answer.

They had to be together, and constantly. It was so easy for her to  shoot him down, now that she was convinced he was terrible at sex.

All right, then. He'd have to convince her otherwise. But how?

As he drove back to his hotel on the strip, a plan began to form in his mind.

***

"Augusta, what's this meeting on my schedule at noon?" Greer studied  her phone, frowning, as she headed into her father's personal  assistant's office on the second floor of the Dutchman castle.

Augusta looked up from her laptop, a pinched frown on her long face.  "Mr. Sutton asked me to set that up. It's a daily check-in on the  wedding proceedings. Make sure you and the brides and the groom-or his  stand-in-are all on the same page."

"Ah." She stood there like an idiot as Augusta went back to work, her  gaze returning to her computer. "And . . . is Mr. Sutton going to be  there?" Please say no. Please say no.

The look on Augusta's face was something between Really? and I don't have time for this shit. "Of course."

"Of course," Greer echoed, and turned and marched out of the room.  Well, nuts. A daily meeting was a good idea, because herding Bunni,  Tiffi, and Kiki was a lot like herding cats. But seeing Asher daily?  That she could do without. It still hurt her down to her soul to see his  handsome face. This was not going to help her heart heal any faster.

But she was low on choices, wasn't she? Her father had been scarce ever  since announcing the wedding. He was in California meeting with a  stockholder today and would return in a few days for the engagement  party that had been hastily thrown together. Just two hundred of his  closest friends . . . and representatives from every media outlet  available.

Greer's stomach was in knots just thinking about it. Today, though, she  remembered to eat. She munched on a protein bar as she went over her  notes from the endless calls she'd made yesterday. She'd found a wedding  baker willing to take on the task of the ornate cakes for the upcoming  wedding for a hefty rush fee, but caterers were still iffy. Even though  it would be a massive media event, most places were already booked. It  was too much for Marta and her assistants to handle on their own-the  poor cook was already baking up a storm in preparation for the  engagement party and had enlisted three of her grown children to help  her. Greer had promised them all bonuses. But a wedding with an  ever-changing guest-list of hundreds? She wouldn't inflict that on  Marta. She'd just have to call further out. Check a few outlying cities.  Maybe they could even fly in a caterer if they could get him/her  experienced temp staff. She nibbled on the protein bar as she considered  options and wrote notes to herself. She could make this happen. It  would just require thinking a little more outside the box.         

     



 

"There you are," Kiki said, interrupting Greer's train of thought. The  "blue" triplet was wearing a baby blue string bikini with a scarf tied  at her hips. She was stunningly gorgeous, and her smile was friendly.  She was also standing in front of Asher. "Look who I found!"

"Lucky you." Greer sat up straight in her chair and adjusted her  glasses on her face as Kiki and Asher entered the dining hall. She hated  to think it, but they would have made a really magnificent couple. They  were of a similar height, given that Kiki was in stiletto heels, and  her big blonde hair was artfully tousled, held off her face with a pair  of designer sunglasses.

And of course, Asher looked like the type of billionaire playboy that  would be with a high-maintenance blonde like Kiki. He wore faded jeans  with a navy blazer and a pale blue shirt, the sleeves of both rolled up  at his forearms. It was paired with a navy skinny tie and sunglasses,  and Asher's hair was swept back off his face in his usual casual style.  On a lesser man, it would have looked like he was trying too hard. But  on Asher? He just looked . . . perfect. Breezy, cool, and too chic for  someone like Greer to have ever slept with.

Why did that make her stomach sour? Why did she care if he looked like  the perfect match for someone like Kiki and not someone like her? Greer  smoothed the front of her yellow summer sweater that she had over  subdued gray slacks. Both were tight in all the wrong places . . . and  she'd just brushed a boatload of crumbs off her boobs. Ugh. "Are you  both here for the meeting?" She hid her wrapper and pulled her paperwork  closer to her spot at the table. "We're missing two triplets."