A Billionaire for Christmas Read online

  Heath cursed under his breath and looked away. “I had no idea.”

  “How could you?” She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand across her damp cheek. “But I can’t risk Murphy getting involved. He’s a wonderful brother and I love him so much it hurts, but he could ruin everything if he starts his whole big, bad protector act around me and blows my cover. Understand?”

  It took several agonizing seconds of silence before Heath finally nodded. “How much longer?”

  “For what?”

  “For you to get the intel you need and to finish this story?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe two weeks?” She shrugged, frowning. “Why?”

  “You might not want a protector hanging around, but you need one.” Heath pushed off the brick wall and crossed his beefy arms, though he still didn’t allow her enough space to get around him and escape. “I promised Murphy I’d look for you and make sure you were safe. A promise I intend to keep. Your story’s important though too, and I get that. So, let’s make a deal. You can keep running your undercover investigation, but only if I’m along for the ride. As your bodyguard.”

  “My bodyguard?” She snorted. “I don’t—”

  “Yeah, you do. Besides, I’ve got lots of contacts in the government from my time in the military. CIA, FBI, the Pentagon. I can help you get the proof you need to nail this bastard’s ass to the wall.” He widened his stance, giving the impression he could stand there all night, if needed. “So, what’s it going to be? I haul you upstairs right now and make a call to Murphy, or you accept my help and we go catch us some bad guys?”

  “Those are my choices, huh?” She tapped her finger against her bottom lip, making a show of considering it when what she really wanted to do was stomp on his toes for acting like such an abominable ass. He wasn’t the boss of her, no matter what he might think at the moment. “And who’s to say I won’t agree, then ditch you later and do my own thing anyway? Didn’t think about that did you, He-Man the Barbarian?”

  If her insult struck home at all, he didn’t show it. Instead, he chuckled and grinned, in that smug, arrogant, thoroughly adorable way of his. She clenched her fists to keep from punching him. “You won’t run off, because I don’t intend to let you out of my sight for the next fourteen days. Where you go, I go. Eating, sleeping, whatever.”

  “Showering too?” she said, going for snotty but ending up somewhere around breathless again as images of the two of them naked and slick in a tile shower together cascaded through her mind. His muscles pressed to her soft curves as he stroked her and licked her and made her cry out his name in ecstasy…

  As if sensing the path her naughty mind had taken, Heath’s grin widened and his eyes grew brighter as passion flared in their depths. “That could be arranged too, if you want.”

  Want?

  Her brain snagged on that word. Well, shit. It didn’t matter what she wanted. This was a business deal, nothing more. Flirting and fighting aside, she needed to be careful around this guy. He’d been friends with her brother for far longer than he’d known her and she knew damned well where his loyalties truly were. She also had no doubt he’d make good on his threats too. She fully intended to tell Murphy what was going on and let him know she was okay, at the right time and in the right way. Her family came from hearty Irish-Jewish stock and Murphy was the kindest, sweetest, most easy-going guy to be around—until you threatened something he held dear. Then all bets were off. He’d be pissed as hell when she finally did contact him and she couldn’t risk him blowing all this for her. Not now.

  Aileen exhaled slowly then held out her hand. “Fine. Deal?”

  Heath glanced down at her hand, then back up to her face, his grin fading a bit as he wrapped her frigid fingers in his warm, leather-covered ones. “Deal. But we keep this above board, no more flirting, no more temptation. This is business, understand? And you are the little sister of my closest friend. I’ll be your shadow and you promise not to do anything reckless or stupid or dangerous again.”

  She nodded and he let her go, stepping back to allow her to move out from the wall. Funny enough, she missed his heat almost immediately. “Right. Let’s start by going back upstairs so I can change.”

  “You can change at my place.” Heath took her arm and led her out to the main street where he hailed a taxi.

  After they were settled in the backseat and he’d given the driver directions, Aileen finally got a word in edgewise. “What exactly am I supposed to change into when I get there? All my stuff’s in my apartment. Well, other than the small stash I keep at the MacLeans.”

  “I’ll get you new stuff.” He looked her up and down. “What size are you? Four, maybe six? Definitely petite.”

  She wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove his “petite,” but he was already on his phone, making calls to God knew where. She slumped in her seat and stared out the window at the passing scenery. The sky had become overcast again, threatening more snow on the way. The sun had gone down about an hour prior so all the holiday lights were on, casting the slush and ice in pretty pastel colors. The taxi headed toward SoHo and Aileen started to get curious. Last she’d heard from Murphy, Heath lived in a condo close to Central Park.

  Then again, maybe he’d moved. Wasn’t like she kept tabs on the guy or anything.

  A few minutes later their cab pulled up in front of a non-descript brownstone on a quiet side street. Heath paid the guy and got out, then offered Aileen his hand. She stood on the sidewalk and stared up at the remodeled jewel from the late nineteenth century. “Wow. Is this your place?”

  “My father’s actually,” Heath said, leading her up the front steps to a black painted door. “It’s between renters at the moment, so it worked out well for me.”

  “What happened to your condo by Central Park?” she asked as she followed him inside a Victorian-style foyer complete with intricate carved fretwork decorating the entrance. “Got bored?”

  “No, actually. Got squatters.” He gave a rueful chuckle and locked the front door behind them. “Daveed and Mel are living there for the time being. Until they get married and get a place of their own.”

  “Oh.” She followed him into a renovated living room with gleaming hardwood floors and a beautiful beaux-art white marble fireplace in one wall. “That’s generous of you to give up your home like that.”

  Heath shrugged and sorted through his mail. “Daveed’s like a brother. Same as Murphy. And it’s not like you haven’t done the same. As far as I know, Murphy and Shayma are still shacking up in your apartment. Unless they’ve moved back into her suite at The Plaza. Not sure. Have to check on that one. Either way, both your brother and Daveed were waiting for me back at your place, so we came here instead. A deal’s a deal, right?”

  “Right.” Suddenly feeling very silly in her Santa suit, Aileen fidgeted in the corner of the grand space. Her mind stuck on what Heath had just said. “Wait a minute. Who’s Shayma?”

  “You have been gone a while, haven’t you?” Heath chuckled. “Shayma’s your brother’s girlfriend-slash-soon-to-be-fiancée.”

  “Oh.” Well, didn’t that make her feel even more like an idiot. She twisted her Santa hat in her hands and glanced around again. “So, about those clothes you said you’d get.”

  “Yep.” As if on cue, a knock sounded on the front door and he walked over to let in two women and a man carrying a plethora of shopping bags from all the finest New York stores—Bloomingdales, Saks, Neiman-Marcus, Bergdorfs. They set about laying out everything from jeans and T-shirts to lingerie and PJs, socks and dresses and even a few evening gowns.

  While she gawked at the clothes, Heath walked them back to the foyer and gave them each a wad of cash before locking the door behind them once more. Aileen was in awe. Seriously. She’d known Heath and his family had billions, but she’d never imagined she’d have her very own Pretty Woman moment with him. “Uh, there’s no way all this stuff is for me. I can’t possibly wear everything. And how do we know it e
ven fits?”

  “Oh, it’ll fit. Trust me.” He ran an assessing gaze over her again, and she’d never felt more naked or wanton in her life. “I’ve got an eye for things like that. Plus, those shoppers are my personal assistants. They know what I want better than I know myself. Now, why don’t you take all of this to the guest room and start trying it on?” He pointed down the hallway. “You can take the room across from mine. It’s all ready to go. After you’re settled, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  He walked out of the room, a man obviously used to being obeyed, and she did as he asked. She found the guest room to be more than adequate—it was nearly as big as her entire apartment with an enormous walk-in closet straight out of Carrie Bradshaw’s dreams and an en-suite luxury bathroom with marble tub and separate travertine tiled walk-in shower with dual showerheads. She nearly wept with joy. Living undercover for the past month might’ve gotten her closer to her story, but it had left a lot to be desired in the pampering department. Between hustling back and forth to change at the MacLeans and avoiding seeing anyone she knew at any cost, things had been stressful to say the least. By the time she got all her clothes situated and tried on several outfits—all of which fit her perfectly too, damn him—she finally got a chance to try out her new bathroom. Heaven on earth, that’s what it was. The hot water from the massaging showerheads helped ease her aching muscles and left her feeling drowsier than ever.

  After drying off then pulling on a pair of her new flannel PJs, these in bright Christmas red with tiny green wreaths festooned all over them, she headed out to find Heath. From his damp blonde hair and charcoal gray robe that set off his stormy eyes perfectly, he’d had the same idea as her. The sight of his bare feet beneath the hem of his black silk pajama pants set off a funny flutter of butterflies in her stomach, as did the glimpse of toned, tanned chest visible through the open V of his robe. Damn, but the man really was devastatingly handsome, especially all relaxed and tousled like he was now. Molten desire unfurled within her and spread like honey through her body before she could stop. She wanted Heath Goldwin, III, no doubt about it, even if she could never have him. It would be wrong. They’d made a deal to work the EnKor case together. Not to mention it would be weird. He was her brother’s best friend. But man oh man, the fantasies she could have. Like tracing her tongue along his stubble-covered jaw, down the strong column of his tanned neck to the thudding pulse point at the base of his neck and beyond. A small moan lodged in her throat and she bit back the sound before it escaped.

  At least she thought she had. But then she glanced up and found Heath watching her, his gray eyes filled with an answering need and more than a little wariness. He cleared his throat then looked away fast, a slight frown puckering the space between his brows. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. I’m going to bed so I can hit the research earlier in the morning. And just in case you get any ideas about reneging on our deal, this place is wired for security tighter than Fort Knox, courtesy of my father, and I’m a very light sleeper. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Why do you want to help me, really?” she asked, arms crossed to hide her stiff nipples. The last thing she needed was for him to realize how much he affected her. “Is it all about your promise to my brother?”

  “Yep.” He didn’t look at her as he said it, just kept shutting off lights and securing doors and windows. “That about sums it up.”

  “I don’t believe you. And I’m too tired for the tour tonight.” For some reason, she wanted to get a rise out of him, shatter that cool, untouchable wealthy-man persona he wrapped around himself like a shield. “And I’ll pay you back for the clothes I wear. I don’t need handouts.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean no?”

  “I mean no. No tour tonight. I’m too tired as well. And no, you won’t pay me back for the clothes and no you don’t need handouts.” He walked down the hall to what she assumed was the kitchen and secured it for the night before returning to where she stood in the living room. He stopped at the keypad on the wall and punched in numbers, which she did her best to read from where she stood. He seemed to notice that too, dammit, and shielded the pad with his hand as he finished up. “What you really need, in my opinion, is a good spanking.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” A loud beep issued, then a countdown from five to one. The lock on the front door gave a sinister snick as the security system sealed them in for the night. So much for her plans to wait until he’d fallen asleep to get out of there. Heath leaned one muscled shoulder against the entrance to the living room, watching her with a narrowed gaze, his robe gaping open even more to reveal firm pecs dusted with a light smattering of golden hair that formed a line through the center of his toned, taut abs and disappeared beneath the belt of his robe. Her mouth went dry as desert sand. And now all she could seem to think about were images of Heath sitting on the sofa with her draped naked over his lap as he paddled her behind.

  Not helpful. Not at all.

  To keep from melting into a puddle of goo on his pristine hardwood floor, Aileen fell back on her usual defense—sarcasm. “Look, Christian Gray, I appreciate your whole bad boy billionaire with a penchant for kink persona you’ve got going on here, but I’m not into that hurts-so-good scene, got it? And you try to lay a hand on me, you might not get it back.”

  A small smile formed on his firm lips. “Is that so? You think you can take me out? Don’t forget I’m ex-military.”

  “And don’t you forget I’ve been taking care of myself a long time. I’ve got a black belt in Krav Maga and I’m not afraid to use it. No one touches me without my permission.”

  Heath pushed away from the wall, approaching her like a panther stalking his prey. “Is that so? Good to know. It’s been awhile. Maybe we’ll have to fight it out at the gym sometime. See who’s really got what it takes.”

  “I can answer that for you right now,” Aileen said, her tone growing huskier and louder as her pounding pulse filled her ears. “That would be me. You might have more muscle, but I’m smaller and wily and that gives me the advantage. I’m warning you, mister. Don’t fuck with me.”

  He stopped mere inches away, close enough that his heat and scent surrounded her—soap and musk and warm, clean male. Close enough that she could reach up and run her fingers along the stubble on his jaw and feel the soft bristle of it for herself. Close enough that if she leaned in slightly she could brush her lips over his and finally taste him.

  “And I’m warning you,” he growled, his breath panting like hers, “don’t test me. You won’t like the results.”

  With that he walked away, leaving her to stare after him, more hot and bothered and needy than she’d ever remembered being for another man in her life. All this over the last man on earth she should ever want—her brother’s best friend and the one person who could ruin everything she’d worked to achieve over the last few weeks.

  With a sigh, Aileen headed for bed, shutting off the living room lights on the way, certain sleep would be hard to come by tonight despite her exhaustion.

  4

  “Good morning, Sunshine,” Heath said as Aileen stumbled into the brownstone’s kitchen, looking like death warmed over. He didn’t miss her flat glare or the fact she seemed to be staring at the empty coffee pot like she’d just lost her favorite puppy. “Don’t worry,” he said, taking pity on her at last. “The carafe over here is full.”

  “I don’t do breakfast. Sorry,” she said, slumping down into the chair across from his at the table and grabbing the pot. “Guess I should’ve told you that before you made all this food.”

  Heath snorted. “I didn’t make this, I ordered it. From the little diner down the block. Best brown-sugar bacon in town.” To prove his point, he took another large bite of it from the strips on his plate. “And all of this is actually mine. I might’ve been persuaded to share, but now that you’ve disparaged my favorite meal of the day, I don’t think I will.”

&nb
sp; Now, it was Aileen’s turn to snort. “I didn’t disparage breakfast, I just said I didn’t do it.”

  “Same thing.” He downed several bites of fresh strawberries—out of season; being rich had its advantages—followed by a healthy mouthful of smoked salmon and cream cheese on an organic whole wheat bagel. “Why don’t you eat in the morning? You could stand to put on some weight.”

  “Please. I’m healthy. I’m fine.” She shook her head and gulped her black coffee. “Why are you so concerned about my eating habits anyway? Don’t we have more important things to discuss today? Like how we’re going to nab Senator Lawrence. I called my office at the paper. They’re going to messenger over the work laptop from my desk today so I can continue researching remotely.”

  He finished his bagel then wiped his mouth, sitting back to watch her closely, his inner analyst on high alert. A work computer would have all her links and information along with her passwords. If he could get that intel to Daveed, then they could hack into her research and find out for themselves what she’d uncovered. “What proof do you have of his dealings with EnKor?”

  Her crestfallen expression told him everything he needed to know.