Billionaire Bachelors: Stone

“My father would have expected me to take care of you. That’s the point.” He calmly sat back against the banquette, unfazed by her aggravation, an elegant giant with the classic features of a Greek god, and she was struck again by how handsome he was. When they’d entered The Rainbow Room, she’d been aware of the ripple of feminine interest that his presence had attracted. She’d been ridiculously glad that she was wearing her black Donna Karan today. It might be a few years old but it was a gorgeous garment and she felt more confident simply slipping it on. Then she remembered that his money had paid for the dress, and her pleasure in her appearance drained away.

“I’m sure your father would be pleased that you’ve done your duty,” she said with a note of asperity. “But we will not continue to accept your charity.”

He grimaced. “Bullhead.”

“Look who’s talking.” But she couldn’t resist the gleam in his eye and she smiled back at him despite the gnawing feeling of humiliation that had been lodged in her belly since the day she’d found out she was essentially a pauper. “Now take me back to work. My lunch hour is almost over.”

He heaved an impatient sigh. “This is against my better judgment.”

She leaned forward, making her best effort to look intimidating. “Just think about how miserable I will make your life if you don’t. I’m sure your judgment will improve quickly.”

He shot her a quirky grin. “I’m shaking in my boots.”

He didn’t want to notice her.

She had been an unofficial little sister during his youth, and his responsibility since her father had died. She was ten years younger than he was. He was her guardian, for God’s sake!

But as he handed her back into the car after their meal, his eye was caught by the slim length of her leg in the elegant high heels as she stepped in, by the way her simple dress hugged the taut curve of her thigh as she slid across the seat, by the soft press of pert young breasts against the fabric of the black coat as she reached for her seat belt.

He’d seen her standing in the store long before she had noticed him, her slender figure strikingly displayed in a black dress that, although it was perfectly discreet, clung to her in a way that made a man want to strip it off and slide his hands over the smooth curves beneath. Made him want to touch, to pull the pins out of her shining coil of pale hair and watch it slither down over her shoulders and breasts, to set his mouth to the pulse that beat just beneath the delicate skin along her white throat and taste—

Enough! She’s not for you.

Grimly he dragged his mind back from the direction in which it wanted to stray.

He hated the idea of her wearing herself out hustling in retail for eight hours a day, and he figured he’d give it one more try. The only woman he’d ever known who really enjoyed working was his mother. Faith shouldn’t be working herself into exhaustion. She should be gracing someone’s home, casting her gentle influence around a man, making his life an easier place to be. He knew it was an archaic attitude and that most modern women would hit him over the head for voicing such a thought. But he’d lived a childhood without two parents because his own mother had put business before family. He knew, despite all the Superwoman claims of the feminist movement, that a woman couldn’t do it all.

Diplomatically he only said, “Why don’t you go back to school for the rest of the semester? Then this summer we can talk about you finding a job.”

Her eyes grew dark and her delicate brows snapped together. “You will not give me money. More money,” she amended. “I’m not quitting work. I need the money. Besides, it’s too late in the semester to reenroll. I’ve missed too much.”

He looked across the car at her, seated decorously with her slender feet placed side by side, her hands folded in her lap and her back straight as a ramrod. Her hair was so fair it nearly had a silver sheen to it where the winter sun struck it, and her eyes were a pure lake-gray above the straight little nose. She had one of the most classically lovely faces he’d ever seen, and she looked far too fragile to be working so hard. The only thing that marred the picture of the perfect lady was the frown she was aiming his way. The contrast was adorable and he caught himself before he blurted out how beautiful she was in a snit.

Then he realized that beautiful or not, she was as intransigent as a mule who thought she was carrying too heavy a load. “All right,” he said. “You can keep doing whatever you want. Within reason.”

“Your definition of reason and mine could be quite different.” Her tone was wry and her frown had relaxed. “Besides, in eight more months, you won’t have any authority to tell me what to do. Why don’t you start practicing now?”

He took a deep breath, refusing to snarl. He nearly told her that no matter how old she got she’d always be his responsibility, but the last thing he needed was for her to get her back up even more. Then he recalled the image of her stricken face, great gray eyes swimming with the tears she refused to give in to as she told him how she’d found out about her financial affairs, and he gentled his response to a more reasonable request. “Would you at least consider a different kind of job? Something that isn’t so demanding?”

She was giving him another distinctly suspicious look. “Maybe. But I won’t quit today.”

He exhaled, a deep, exaggeratedly patient sigh. “Of course not.”

When the taxi rolled to a stop in front of Saks, he took her elbow as she turned toward the door. “Wait,” he said before she could scramble out.

She turned back and looked at him, her gray eyes questioning.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

Could her eyes get any wider? “Dinner?”

He knew how she felt. He hadn’t planned to ask her; the words had slipped out before he’d thought about them. Good Lord. “Um, yes,” he said, wondering if thirty was too early for the onset of senility. “I’ll pick you up. What’s your address?”

She lived on the upper West Side, in a small apartment that would have been adequate for two. But he knew from the talk they had shared over lunch that she had at least two roommates from the names she’d mentioned.

“How many people do you live with?” he asked dubiously, looking around as she unlocked the door and ushered him in.

“Three other girls,” she answered. “Two to each bedroom. Two of us work days and two work nights so it’s rare that we’re all here at the same time.”

Just then, a door opened and a girl in a black leotard and denim overalls came down the hall. Stone examined her with disbelief. She was a redhead, at least mostly. There was a blue streak boldly marching through the red near the left front side of her curly hair. She had a wide, friendly smile and green eyes that were sparkling with interest.

“Well, hey,” she said. “Like, I hate to tell you, handsome, but you so do not fit in here.”

He couldn’t keep himself from returning the grin. “My Rolex gave me away?”

“Gretchen, this is Stone Lachlan,” Faith said. “Stone, one of my roommates, Gretchen Vandreau.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Gretchen dropped a mock-curtsy, still beaming.

“You also, Miss Vandreau.” He grinned again as her eyes widened.

“Are you—oh, wow, you are! The Lachlans.” Her eyebrows shot up as she eyed Faith. “Where did you find him?”

“Actually I found her,” Stone said. “Faith and I are old friends.” He turned to Faith. “Are you ready?”

“Ready? Like, to go out?” Gretchen looked from one to the other with delight. “You go, girlfriend.”

“It’s not like that,” she said to Gretchen.

“Depends on what that is,” Stone inserted.

Faith turned and glared at him. “Stone—”

“Better hurry, I have reservations for eight.” He felt an odd sense of panic as he gauged the mulish expression on her face. Was she having second thoughts? Was she going to back out? He had to battle the urge to simply pick her up and carry her back down to the car.

She retrieved a black cape from the small coat closet with her friend chattering along behind her. He stepped in to help her on with the garment, and they went out the door to the sound of Gretchen’s enthusiastic, “Have a blast!”

He took her elbow and urged her into the elevator, conscious of a ridiculous sense of relief sweeping through him as they exited the cramped apartment. It was only that he felt it was his duty to take care of her, he assured himself. Faith didn’t belong in a crowded apartment or behind a counter in a department store. Her family had intended that she be gently raised, probably with the idea that she’d marry a polite young man of the upper class one day and raise polite, well-mannered upper-class children. After all, she’d been sent to the best private schools, had learned the sometimes ridiculous rules that accompanied moving in society.

He wished the idea didn’t fill him with such a sense of…unease. That was all it was. He wanted the best for her and it would be up to him to be sure any suitors were suitable.

He surveyed her covertly as they stood in the elevator, waiting for the ground floor. Her blond hair was smoothly swept back into a shining knot at the back of her head and the harsh lighting in the elevator made it gleam with silvery highlights. She was chewing on her bottom lip; he reached out and touched it with his index finger to get her to stop. Alarm bells went off in his head as a strange jolt of electric awareness shot through his body.

He stared down at her. She had her gaze fixed on the floor and he had to restrain himself from reaching for her chin and covering her lips with his own. What would she taste like?

Then he realized what he was thinking…totally inappropriate thought to be having about a girl who was like his little sister. Again.

Little sister? Since when do you wonder how your little sister’s curves would feel pressed up against you?