Torn A Billionaire Bachelors Cl(10)

“You’re two seconds from getting kicked out of here,” she whispers fiercely, her eyes shooting fire. Aimed right at me.

“Sorry! Shit.” I throw my hands up in front of me defensively, her aunt’s mutterings of “stupid Rat Boy” coming from somewhere behind not going unnoticed. “I just . . . I’m sorry.”

Marina crosses her arms in front of her chest, the movement plumping up her breasts, drawing my attention. I can’t help it, I’m a guy and she has nice ones. She’s wearing a black T-shirt with AUTUMN HARVEST written across the front in elegant gold script, her long blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, minimal if any makeup. She looks tired. There are dark smudges under her eyes and her mouth is tight. “Go on,” she prompts.

Hell. I have to say more? Breaking out in a light sweat, I forge on. “I was rude. And I didn’t mean to offend you. I had no idea who you were—”

The aunt makes a harrumph noise, but I ignore her.

“—and my friend had to point out who exactly you were a few days later.” Stuffing my hands in my front pockets, I shuffle my feet, feeling all of about ten years old and having to confess everything I’d done wrong to my dad. Waiting for the inevitable punishment that was sure to come.

“Who’s your friend?” she asks, her voice curious.

What? No ‘you’re forgiven,’ or ‘thanks for the apology’? I’m boggled. And I may as well reveal my secret source. I have the distinct feeling she’s ready to tell me to get the hell out.

“Uh . . . Archer Bancroft.”

Her arms drop to her sides, curiosity written all over her pretty face. “I know Archer. Vaguely. He owns the Hush and Crave hotels, right?”

Slowly I nod, wondering at the sudden gleam in her eyes.

“So how do you know him?” she asks.

“Where you going with this, girly?” her aunt pipes up.

“Gina. Don’t you have a cake to check on?” Marina asks pointedly.

“Crap! I do. Oh my God, I hope it’s not burning. I’ll be back.” Aunt Gina gives me the evil eye as she passes by and pushes through the door I can only assume leads to the kitchen, disappearing in an instant.

“Sorry about that,” Marina says, taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly. “So do you mind telling me? How you know Archer Bancroft?”

Hmm. Someone wants something. I can see it in the way she’s looking at me. Like her question shouldn’t matter but it definitely does. I wonder what she wants from Archer? “We go way back,” I drawl. This could be fun, making her work for it.

“Really? So are you two close?”

Best friends since high school, but like I’m going to give her that info. Yet. “Close enough,” I say, purposefully vague.

“Hmm. You know, I had this idea I wanted to propose to him, and I keep forgetting to give him a call, I’ve been so busy. Maybe you can help me with that,” she says hopefully, her eyes wide, her expression open.

Is she serious? I can’t tell. But I haven’t even earned her full forgiveness yet. “I can help you with whatever you want.”

Her gaze narrows. “You say things like that, and it sounds sexual.”

Guess this attraction between us isn’t all one-sided. Good news. Just looking at her and I want to touch her. Run my fingers through her hair. Drop a soft kiss to her very kissable mouth. She might punch me if I try though. Can’t push her too hard. “I guess I can’t help but think of sex when I’m near you.”

Her mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

Shit. Yep, there I went, pushing too hard like I can’t help myself. I need to change the subject quick. Most women who flirt with me have no problem talking about sex. This one acts like I just asked her to commit a crime. “So, what sort of idea were you thinking?”

Her expression instantly goes blank. “Like I’m going to tell you anything. I don’t even know you.”

Fine. She wants to play that way? I can play right back. “You want my help talking to Archer?”

She nods so subtly I can almost believe she didn’t do it. Almost.

“I need your forgiveness.”

“You’re forgiven,” she says automatically.

Meh. That was quick. And it really didn’t count since I know she didn’t mean it, but I’ll let it slide. “You can’t make me feel guilty about this anymore. What’s done is done.”

“Fine. Great. Works for me.” She releases another shaky breath. I think I make her uncomfortable. Perfect, because she makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

As in the I want her so much I feel like I’m going to lose it if I don’t touch her in the next five minutes kind of uncomfortable.