The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire(16)

I had such a hard time figuring out what to wear on this date. Telling me he’ll pick me up at 3 o’clock doesn’t give me a lot of information about what to wear. In the end, I went with a sweet, teal blouse and my slim cut black capri dress pants with sandals. I figure there’s little chance that we’re going anywhere too stately at this time of day. I grab my purse and a light sweater out of the messy front closet when Janelle comes stumbling down toward the bathroom. Even at this hour, she’s still wearing her fuchsia, plaid pajama pants, and a stained, gray t-shirt. Her hair looks like a chia pet all strewn in every direction like it’s defying gravity just for spite. She stops cold, scratching her thigh and checks me out.



“Going on a job interview or something?”



“No, why?”



“I dunno, you don’t usually wear make-up and shit.”



“I have a date.” I smile as the words cross my lips. I like the way they sound.



“You? Seriously? Crazy.” She keeps stumbling on her journey to the bathroom. It’s one of the longer conversations that we’ve had as roommates.



When I reach the front lobby of my building, I see Matthew waiting for me. He looks like a magazine ad, leaning against the hood of his car, cell phone in hand, casually waiting for me. He’s dressed in fitted jeans and a thin, plaid shirt that looks like he must have struggled to get the buttons to cooperate, it’s so snug over his sculpted frame. I take a photograph in my mind. I would take one with my cell, but that would just be weird. Even if this goes south, and there’s no future in the cards for us, I want to remember the moment that a man this gorgeous was waiting to take me out.



Making an effort to walk at a normal pace, I close the gap between us. When he looks up from his phone, his eyes inch along every part of me like I long for his tongue to. Whoa, wait, where did that come from?



“Kendra, you look beautiful as always.” He places his hand in the small of my back and kisses me on the cheek. He smells faintly of cologne. I breathe it into my lungs deeply like it’s the very oxygen I need to survive. His light, musky scent puts me right back into the eye of that hurricane. I don’t even care that this guy is supposed to be bad news, there’s just something about him that makes me feel like I’m living for the first time in my life.



It isn’t until he opens my door for me that I actually notice the car. I’m not a girl who’s easily impressed by someone’s ride. Most of the time I don’t care about cars at all, but this one is so sleek I almost want to whistle at it. The slate gray, two-door Ferrari Spider must get him a lot of attention from the ladies. Not that he needs a car for that.



He drives like a damned maniac, what is it with this guy? I’m clutching onto his soft leather seat like it’s gonna save me from my impending death if he doesn’t slow down. “Are we in a hurry?” I squeak.



“Sorry,” he chuckles, slowing down a bit. “I don’t get to take her out for a spin as much as I’d like. I get a little carried away sometimes.”



“You don’t say,” I laugh. “So where are we heading?”



“Well, I thought we could get some fresh air. It’s a beautiful day out. It’d be a shame to waste it in some gallery or restaurant.”



“What did you have in mind?” Please don’t let it be some speed boat or something. I know this guy loves living fast, but the thought of stepping on a boat totally freaks me out.



“You’ll see.” He smirks.



I’ve never been more relieved to see Central Park! When we pull into the garage at the Time Warner building, and Matthew pulls a backpack out of the trunk, my worries float away. I can’t help but steal glimpses of him as we make our way over to the park. He’s right. It’s a warm, sunny day out. The kind of day that makes you love New York even more. Even under the direct sunlight, Matthew’s skin looks flawless. I can feel the stares of onlookers as he leads me to a nice spot under a maple tree and pulls a thin blanket out of his bag. It doesn’t click in until he starts pulling containers and plates out, lying them down on the blanket, that he’s setting up a picnic.



I’m thankful I didn’t wear a short skirt and heels as I take a seat beside him on the red, checkered blanket. When he starts opening the containers, I’m surprised at the spread. Potato salad, cole slaw, veggies and dip, and roast beef sandwiches on cheese buns aren’t the fancy foods I was expecting from a billionaire. “This looks great!”



“Dig in,” he smiles.