Bad Engagement (Billionaire's Club #10) - Elise Faber Page 0,26

over.

“You need to take lessons from him on emoji-etiquette.”

“From the toddler?”

She nodded.

He laughed. “Is this a lesson of more is better?”

A snort. “I take it back.” She smiled at him, the barrier still there, but hidden beneath brown eyes sparkling with amusement. “Stick with your book.”

Fun. Teasing. Sweet. Smile that fucking took his breath

Actually listening to him when he talked. Touching him when she forgot she was supposed to be keeping her distance—a squeeze on his leg, a brush of fingers on his arm, his jaw.

And now she’d sent him a text in the middle of the night.

I’m sorry about Lori. You deserve someone who sees the wonderful man you are inside.

Absently, he rubbed a hand over his chest, his heart aching.

Sweet. See?

But also, completely blind to the fact that she was wonderful on the inside as well, blind to the notion that a man wanted to wrap himself in the warmth of her, to capture the light in her soul and hold it captive.

Because someone had made her believe she wasn’t worthy of that.

Which circled back to his notion of Jaime being all in for this woman.

First, he wanted to get her some fucking glasses so that when she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw how wonderful she was. Second, he wanted to hunt down the asshole or assholes that made her believe differently.

But in reality, he couldn’t do either of those things until he managed to get through her shields.

Well, luckily, he wasn’t an idiot.

He recognized a good thing when he saw it, knew that she was worth the effort to gain her trust.

Which was why he didn’t text her back.

Instead, he got up and showered.

Instead, he went down to the Farmer’s Market and picked up a bouquet of sunflowers, a half dozen pastries, and two coffees—a mocha for her, just black for him—then drove to her house, glad that they lived close enough that the early Saturday morning drive to her place made the drinks’ temperature drop to drinkable rather than cold and unappetizing.

He parked in front of her house and felt the bottom drop out of his plan. Or hell, maybe it was the bottom dropping out of his world, him plummeting through the hole, falling and falling further.

He’d been thinking he would text, and if that didn’t work, then he’d call her, and then if that didn’t work, he’d go up to her front door and knock or ring the bell.

He’d even gone so far as to convince himself that she’d open the door and would be standing sleepily on the other side wearing fluffy pajamas, her hair askew, cozy sheep-shaped slippers on her feet.

Yes, he had an overactive imagination.

But even his overactive imagination had not imagined short-shorts and a hoodie. He hadn’t been able to picture Kate bending over a flowerpot on her front porch, her luscious ass and long, long legs on display. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to conjure up the unzipped hoodie, the thin and worn tank top beneath.

Thankfully, he was already parked at the curb. Otherwise, the gorgeous flowers she had lining the walkway that led up to her house might have ended up under his tires.

Straightening, she turned, that gorgeous ass disappearing. But he wasn’t disappointed, not when he got to meet those beautiful eyes through the windshield.

He grabbed the sunflowers, the bag of pastries, and the coffees then popped open the driver’s side door.

“Jaime?”

The soft question greeted him before he closed the door behind him, and the sound of his name on her tongue sent heat arrowing toward his cock.

But he wasn’t here to be led around by his cock.

He was here with a plan to win over this smart, sweet, beautiful on the inside and out woman. To chip a hole through the concrete and make a place for himself in her heart.

So, he kept his tone even and walked over to her, handing her the flowers. “Morning, Red.”

Her voice was husky. “Morning, Jaime.” She bit at that bottom lip. “Thank you,” she murmured. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes dipped down, lingered on all that exposed skin. He was thanking whatever God had created short shorts when he let his gaze come back up, connect with hers. “Morning, my sexy Red.”

Okay, so maybe not being led around by his cock by this woman was an impossible task, especially when all she had to do was breathe and he was hard.

Pink painted itself across her cheeks, and her lips parted as she inhaled a shaky