The Billionaire's Ex-Wife Read online

  "Cinderella said to Snow White: 'how does love get so off-course?'"

  She powered through to the chorus; when Sam's voice joined in with hers unexpectedly, a pleasant shiver of surprise raced through her body. Their voices blended so well together, it sounded like they had been rehearsing this moment for their entire lives.

  The background singers on the recording took over and started chanting: "this kiss, this kiss". Trinity let her mic fall to her side. She gazed around, suddenly unsure what to do with herself during the lull, but such was the risk one took when singing live. She glanced at Sam, grinning, to see what he would do to fill the time before their big finish.

  The big finish came earlier than expected. Sam, who had replaced his own microphone on the stand, suddenly seized her around the waist and pulled her tightly into him. The bar erupted in a frenzy of ecstatic cheers as he pushed the hair back from her face and swooped in.

  Their lips collided in a stunningly well-timed kiss. All the old instincts came tumbling back: Trinity melted against the strong circle of his arms, letting Sam take charge of her completely as she succumbed to a moment of pure bliss. He wasn't always the one calling the shots when they kissed, but when the mood took hold of him, and he took hold of her….

  Trinity sighed into Sam's lips as the barroom seemed to fuzz and go out of focus around her. The music, even the cheering that accompanied their unexpected merger, was soon drowned out by the frenzied beating of her heart. Her blood pumped, sending a sweet rush all through her as Sam caught her next breath and deepened the kiss. The hand at her cheek swept into her hair, his fingers plunging through the gentle waves she had chosen to wear down for the evening. He tightened his grip on her scalp in the same instant his tongue pushed its way past her lips. She moaned as she received him, and had the sense to be glad Sam's mouth stifled that, too. They had never locked lips like this in front of so many people, not even at their own wedding. She definitely didn't need anyone else knowing just how vulnerable she was in that moment.

  When Sam finally pulled back, Trinity clung onto his shoulders to keep her knees from buckling. She stared up at him, and saw her own stricken expression mirrored in his breathtaking blue eyes. The cheering all around them slowly bled back into her awareness of the moment.

  Oh God. Not only had she just kissed her ex-husband, but they had an audience.

  She pulled away with a sheepish grin for show, and even went so far as to give a little bow. All a part of the act, folks. She was good at putting out fires back at the agency, and she was confident she could snuff this one before it even started…

  ...until Sam stepped to her again, and Trinity knew he wanted that second kiss the crowd was calling for. She wanted an encore, but she couldn't let herself have it. She smiled for show and playfully pushed against his chest, before stepping down off the stage and passing the DJ her mic. She didn't look for Sam as she wound her way between the tables back to the VIP booth.

  She had let Sam get too close, and now look what she had to show for it. She was haunted by the lingering pressure of his mouth against hers, and now there was a room full of witnesses to her weakness. She had warned herself about staying firm now that they were no longer married. Thankfully, nobody but Eddie knew the full story, and she intended to keep it that way. She intended to not let it happen again.

  "Wooo!" Eddie hollered, half-rising out of the booth as soon as she was within fist-bumping distance. "You guys killed it, Trinity! I had no idea you could sing like that!"

  "I had no idea Sam could sing like that," Trinity replied as she slid back into the booth. It wasn't long before the heat of Sam's body joined her again. She smiled, broad and all-encompassing, and looked everywhere but at her ex-husband. Did she imagine it, or was he sitting a lot closer than before? Maybe it was the lights from the stage that had heated him up, but his presence beside her radiated like a furnace.

  "Mr. Jameson—" Mr. Hikamori's cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled as he basked in the afterglow of their performance. "I was just telling Eddie that you have totally blown me away this evening. I'll admit I had my reservations about signing on with you initially."

  "Is that so?" Sam picked up his abandoned Manhattan, before setting it back down again when it became apparent Eddie had refreshed it for him. "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "No! No! I'm the one who's sorry," Hikamori persisted. "I had heard rumors that you were uptight. Unadaptable to ideas and inflexible to change."

  Trinity took a loud sip of her drink and tried to ignore the way Sam's body increasingly gave over to petrification beside her.

  "All unsubstantiated shit talk," Eddie quickly jumped in.

  Hikamori nodded vigorously in agreement. "You have really impressed me tonight, Mr. Jameson. This is why I love going to the karaoke bars—you never know what unexpected things you're going to find out about the people you are with. That's what I want to bring to our ad campaign: unpredictability. Courage. I want our customers to cheer our boldness and our competitors to tremble at our hidden reserves of strength."

  "I'll drink to that!" Eddie said. "Congrats, Mr. Hikamori. I think we've just established ourselves as partners."

  "Congratulations, Eddie. Sam." Trinity raised her glass, and the four of them leaned in to toast together. "I'll see that a contract's drawn up tomorrow. Shall I fax it over to your office, Mr. Hikamori?"

  "That will be fine. Thank you, Miss Patterson."

  The use of her maiden name shouldn't have startled her as much as it did now. She'd had more than enough time to get used to it—still, she could tell it startled Sam as well. Eddie glanced between them, before starting in casually: "You know, Mr. Hikamori, for a guy who claims to love the Great American Eighties, I have yet to see you prove it. What do you say to a duet?"

  "You're on." Mr. Hikamori laughed and followed Eddie out of their booth. He clapped a hand to Sam's shoulder, before moving off after Eddie to hunt for the bucket.

  "Thank you," Sam said quietly once Hikamori was out of earshot.

  His gratitude surprised Trinity. She set her drink down and turned into him "For what?" she asked.

  "For going up there with me. For being more than just a cheerleader tonight." Sam's hand found her knee beneath the table and squeezed it. She didn't draw back. "No, that's not right. I'm not giving you enough credit. You've always been more than just a cheerleader, Trinity. You...thank you. We couldn't have locked in this client without you."

  What could she say to that? How could she tell Sam that his gratitude meant more to her than even the unexpected kiss they shared? He was seeing her—really seeing her—when so often in their marriage she had felt overlooked and unappreciated.

  Trinity's hands hovered indecisively in her lap. She longed to slide her fingers over Sam's, to fit them in between his knuckles and lace their hands together on her knee. A more physical, needy part of her ached for the hand on her knee to ascend up her skirt, without any permission or guidance. She wanted Sam to take advantage of their sudden privacy the same way he had taken advantage of his time on stage. She wanted to see a side of him he had never shown her before. She wanted him to blow her away.

  "Oh, and Sam?"

  Trinity jumped, and Sam's hand withdrew as Eddie unexpectedly returned to the table. He swooped in and snatched Sam's Manhattan for himself, raising his eyebrows as he leaned in. "I've been thinking more about that sexual harassment seminar. Maybe I'm not the one that would benefit the most from it, you know?"

  "Eddie." Sam hissed the warning between his teeth. Trinity turned away to hide her amused smile. She pretended to admire the bar's reproduction of "Dogs Playing Poker" hanging overhead.

  "I'm just saying." Eddie clapped his brother on the shoulder, a lot harder than Mr. Hikamori's earlier pat of approval. "I'm not the one kissing Jameson Agency employees."

  Chapter Five

  Sam

  The cool kiss of the frosted beer in his hand, unlike other kisses experienced this past week, was grounding. The
shape of the pint glass perfectly complemented the American Imperial Stout he drank, and Sam took another sip to make sure every detail still tied together the way he wanted.

  Eddie's brownstone was as expansive as it was expensive; still, Sam preferred to work from the solitary table by the window rather than take over Eddie's (admittedly unused) office space. The sun was just beginning to set below the New York City skyline, its filtered rays throwing an inconvenient glare across his laptop screen. He shook out his sleeve and checked his watch. He'd been at it for a cumulative four hours, with only occasional pauses to stand and stretch and top off his stout. Anyone else would be satisfied in calling it a day, but Sam was determined to work out the rest of his plan for networking the L.A. event. The sooner he completed the brainstorming stage, the sooner he could get to work on solidifying every detail of the important evening. He liked to know far in advance what he was heading into.

  A knock at the door roused him from contemplation. Sam blinked and glanced across the room, unsure if he had heard right and disinterested in investigating.

  "You forget your key again? It's open," he called out to his brother. His gaze returned to his computer screen, but snapped back up the next instant when he saw the long-legged figure folding itself through the doorway.

  "Sam!” Trinity exclaimed in bewilderment. "I thought I recognized your voice! I mean, not that I wouldn't…anyway. What are you doing here?"

  Sam sat back, any thoughts of completing his networking plan now out the window. "I'm staying with Eddie while I'm in town."

  Trinity raised an eyebrow. "What? The two of you are staying here together?"

  "Our schedules rarely allow us to cross paths," Sam replied. "In fact, I'm not sure why he even pays rent on this place. He may as well have never left Barbados for all the time he spends here."

  "You’d like that, wouldn't you?" Trinity mused as she set her bag down by the door. Sam watched her body bend in a graceful, unselfconscious arc, and couldn't find the words to argue for or against her statement. Would he have liked to have avoided being called across the country to be put in charge of onboarding his idiot brother? Of course. Would he have resisted the assignment as strongly, knowing she would be around every corner? He found it increasingly doubtful.

  He decided to ignore Trinity's bait. He didn't want to start a fight, at least not this early in the evening. Perhaps an argument was unavoidable, but that didn't mean he couldn't attempt to table it for now. "I assume Eddie's the one you're here to see," he said as he rose. He closed his laptop and pushed it aside.

  Trinity nodded, her loose hair falling over one shoulder. She was dressed casually, but she looked no less beautiful for it: her hair was damp from a recent shower, and her makeup was minimal, but her natural radiance was undeniable. "I just wanted to swing by and congratulate him personally," she explained as she toed off her shoes. Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on her clear intention to stay. He was afraid of spooking her. "I just got an e-mail that Eddie's landed a meeting with Goldfinch. They want to sign with us."

  "Goldfinch? As in Adrianna Goldfinch?" Sam stared at Trinity as he tried to assess whether she was joking. He decided it was more efficient to just come out and voice his doubts. "You've got to be kidding me."

  "Nope." She was suppressing a smile, that much he could see, but it didn't look to be at his expense. Her eyes shone with her own excitement at the news. "Eddie did what the rest of us couldn't. All it took was a phone call and Goldfinch is snared. They don't want anyone else to represent them."

  "I must be dreaming," Sam muttered. "Nobody can get on the phone with Adrianna, much less get her to sign."

  "I'd all but given up on them," Trinity agreed. She returned his smile with an ecstatic one of her own, finally acknowledging her own excitement. The expression was enchanting. If there hadn't already been a history between them, Sam would have been intent on making some tonight after a smile like that.

  She continued to hover in the doorway, and seemed suddenly uncertain about whether she should enter. Sam rose and crossed decisively to the liquor cabinet. "Let's celebrate," he said as he pulled open the tiny glass door. "What will you be drinking? The usual?"

  "Look at you," Trinity said approvingly as she alighted on a stool at the kitchen's bar to watch him work. "Drinking? 'Celebrating'? Don't tell me you've actually learned to cut loose a little out there on the West Coast."

  "You just like to pretend I'm a monster who doesn't know how to have fun."

  "Who's pretending?" Trinity inquired. She batted her eyes, and Sam snorted. He was in too good a mood to dispute the point further. He pulled the freezer open, but Trinity held her hand out before he could go for the gin.

  "I'll have a Manhattan, actually."

  "Look at you," Sam echoed, but he couldn't ignore the way his stomach flipped at Trinity's sudden change in preference. A Manhattan was his favorite drink. He closed the freezer and went for the whiskey instead. "Is bourbon okay?"

  "As long as it's in the proper glass."

  Sam snorted. "Can we joke about something else other than my…proclivities this evening?"

  "I don't mind staying on the subject of proclivities." Trinity leaned on her elbows and rested her chin in her hands. Sam tried not to let on that he watched her watch him as he went about measuring out her drink. "I've missed this. Watching you make drinks. If you weren't—you know, a zillionaire—you'd be a killer bartender, Sam."

  "I can be both," Sam replied. "Although I don't think you give yourself enough credit for being my biggest fan. Then again, maybe that's purposeful."

  "I am your biggest fan," Trinity said earnestly—so earnestly that he knew it couldn't be anything other than a joke. "I'm serious, Sam. If you wanted to forget all this ad agency nonsense and open up a bar somewhere, I'd be first in line."

  "No you wouldn't," he said, "because I'd never make you wait. I'd have the bouncer maintain a long queue for appearance's sake, but there are no lines where you're concerned."

  "That's no way to run a business," Trinity mused as he slid the Manhattan her way. "I'd be your only customer if you kept everyone else out."

  "It'd be the only way I could get you alone." The words were out of his mouth before he could think of a way to terminate the fantasy. This sudden segue back into reality wasn't one he had planned on, but Trinity didn't look affronted by the turn. If anything, she was looking at him with an expression of cautious optimism.

  "You've got me alone now," she murmured.

  As if Sam wasn't aware. As if every time he looked at Trinity, sitting there with her legs crossed, he wasn't as blown away by her as the first time he ever laid eyes on her. He stayed in the kitchen, keeping the breakfast bar between them for her sake. He didn't know what he might be tempted to do without a physical boundary.

  "But I haven't got you," he insisted.

  "No," Trinity agreed. "You haven't got…me."

  "And maybe…" He leaned his hip into the counter in the quest to be nearer to her. "…that's too much to ask right now. You've always known I was a shrewd negotiator. I'm used to coming out on top."

  "All or nothing," she volunteered in a whisper.

  "But I'm willing to revisit my original offer," he persisted. "I want to take you out on a date. Please, Trinity. I'm asking you to give us a second chance."

  He waited with bated breath for her response. Trinity fingered the stem of the cherry garnishing her Manhattan, sliding it around and around. No clear acceptance of his offer came, but no ready rejection either.

  Maybe she just needed that extra push.

  Sam came around the side of the bar. Trinity sat back in her stool, and lifted her eyes to study him. He was close enough that he could see the gorgeous starbursts of brown in her otherwise green eyes; as he watched, her pupils expanded a little. He had read somewhere once that dilating pupils gave away unvoiced attraction.

  He decided it was more than enough to work with.

  Sam slid his hand along her cheek
bone, and watched as Trinity's eyes fluttered closed at his touch. Did she know how her gaze had betrayed her? Did she care? This was finally happening. It was a homecoming, yet Sam felt as if he was allowing himself to touch Trinity for the first time. She was the same woman he had married, and yet she was also all-new. There were depths to her, experiences, that they hadn't shared—that he needed to know.

  And anyway, the karaoke kiss was too good not to repeat.

  Sam leaned in. Trinity parted her lips at the last moment to receive him, and his mouth collided with hers. She had yet to taste the Manhattan he had made for her, but her essence was sweet all the same: she tasted like spearmint, and he leaned in to sample her further. His tongue swept the seam of her lips and she parted for him obediently, instinctively. It was the old signal, and she couldn't help but respond now with an invitation. Sam thrust his tongue past her teeth into the warm satin of her mouth, and Trinity moaned at the intrusion. Her tongue rose to greet his, and in his eagerness to savor every inch of her, Sam nearly pushed her off the stool.

  Trinity's hands came up to cling onto his shoulders as his fingers threaded down to the roots of her hair. He made a fist; she gasped. She let him tug her head back, exposing the exquisite column of her throat, and his lips returned to relish the region that had been denied him so long. He nipped and kissed his way along her neck until she was practically trembling to pieces beneath him.

  "Sam…" His name escaped her quivering lips. Sam groaned his response and shifted closer. His free hand found the curve of Trinity's waist, and he dragged her off of the stool before she could form a real protest. Her gasp of surprise cut off whatever defense she had been ready to mount.

  Not this time, Sam thought as he pushed her back against the wall. He pinned her wrists together above her head as she squirmed half-heartedly. Not again. You can't deny this thing between us anymore. I won't let you.

  "I have to have you, Trinity." His fingers glided down to her cleavage and began to push their way beneath her collar. The top button on her blouse worked itself loose, then another, until his hand disappeared completely beneath her shirt. "Come back to me," he murmured. His lips were so close he tasted the aroused little catch in her breath. His cock stirred to life between his legs. His invading fingers pushed past the stiff scalloped fabric of an unfamiliar bra, but he knew too well what lay beneath it. Trinity's nipple was already taut by the time he overtook it.