Wife Wanted (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)(39)

 

“I think you need a moment alone there,” he teased.

 

“You know, that might not be a bad idea.” She took another bite and watched him eat his ice cream. He was methodical in the way he kept it symmetrical on the cone. She grinned innocently and asked, “What is it you do for a living, Ben? I don’t think you ever told me.”

 

“Nothing exciting. Just a tech monkey, really.”

 

“Sounds better than what I do.”

 

He leaned forward on his elbows and took a huge bite out of his cone. After he swallowed, he shook his head. “It’s really not. I just play around with code all day long, sitting in my office, trying to avoid all the meetings I can.”

 

“Ha. I just have files to keep me company down in the bowels of the building.” He didn’t say he worked for Yancey’s company, but he didn’t even mention the name of the company. No matter. She’d figure it out eventually. “Usually, I spend my days talking to myself.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of craziness now and again. Oh here, you have a little bit…” He reached out a hand and wiped a small smear of ice cream gently from her cheek. He smiled, then glanced away, his face turning a bit red. Phoebe smiled as she wiped the rest of it off her face. “I, uh…wanted to ask you something.”

 

“Yeah? What?”

 

He fiddled with the rest of his cone and glanced anywhere but her face. Whatever it was had him nervous. She hadn’t seen him nervous before. At least not like this.

 

“Do you…like to dance at all? I know a great club not too far from here.”

 

He said it in a rush, and Phoebe had a feeling that was not what he’d wanted to ask. But she answered anyway. “I’ve never really danced very much.”

 

“Well then, seeing as I’m a pirate, I think I might kidnap you and take you anyway.”

 

Phoebe’s heart fluttered in her chest. If only he could kidnap her for real and take her away from the madness that had become her life.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Phoebe couldn’t stop laughing as she and Ben stumbled up the stairs to her apartment door. She reached into her purse for her keys, having to stop and catch her breath. “I can’t believe you did that!”

 

“I didn’t know what I was doing!”

 

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to get the key in the lock. “You looked pretty at home up there with those three guys.”

 

“You didn’t take a video did you?”

 

“You’ll never know,” she said as the door finally swung open and she flipped on a light. “Want to come in for a bit?”

 

She thought he would say no and head back down the hall. That was usually how her dates went. But Ben straightened and said, “I’d be delighted.”

 

He followed her inside and closed the door. She felt his eyes on her as she went around and flipped on the living room lamps and the light in the kitchen. “Well, this is home. Can I get you some coffee? Or wine? Ben?”

 

She turned to find him staring at the grey suit jacket still hanging by the front door. The way he looked at it, reached out to touch the sleeve and felt inside the pockets, made it seem like he either had a very strange fetish for suit jackets, or he knew that jacket.

 

“This…how long have you had this?” he asked.

 

“A week? A little more? Some guy gave it to me when I was at the cemetery visiting my dad’s grave,” she said, heading over to him. “It was pouring with rain and he said his friend said to give it to me.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” he said as he took it off the hook and slipped into it. The jacket fit like a glove.

 

“It was yours? You were there that day?”

 

“My grandfather died last week,” he said as he glanced up. “I saw you through the rain. You looked just as distraught as I did and I had…Frank…take you the jacket. I wanted to do more for you, but I had to take care of some things.”

 

“What things?”

 

He took the jacket off and hung it back up on the peg. “That is a story for another time.”

 

She was barely a foot from him and saw a flicker of pain in his blue eyes as they deepened in color. He was haunted by something, and she wanted to know what. She wanted to understand what went on inside this man’s head, this man with the beard and the silver stud and the beautiful tattoos on his arms. He closed the distance between them and reached out a gentle hand to cup her cheek. Phoebe leaned into his touch, the warmth of his skin slightly rough against her soft face. He bent down, and she stood on tiptoe to meet the kiss.