The Billionaires: The Bosses (Lover's Triangle 2)

Bayli couldn’t disagree, despite her earlier ruminations that she’d been weepy enough of late. So she shed a few tears for all the tension and hopelessness she’d been feeling that she’d never wanted to burden anyone with. And then wiped her cheeks and lifted her chin.

“Mom would frown over this sort of self-indulgence,” she said.

“Yeah, well, something tells me that Dori Styles—that’s Dori with an i and Styles with a y”—Jewel perfectly imitated Bayli’s feisty mother—“won’t be frowning upon her beautiful daughter landing a TV show and two famous and highly eligible, hot-hot-hot bachelors.”

“Let’s hope she’s not the only one,” Bayli mumbled.

“What are you talking about?”

With a sigh, Bayli said, “Apparently, Rory and I have gone viral, although I have yet to be identified as the woman he laid a huge kiss on at the Seventy-ninth St

reet Greenmarket on Sunday. Soon as that cat’s out of the bag, I’m sure my in-box will be flooded with an endless stream of nastygrams from all of his admirers.”

“Great publicity for the show,” Jewel said. “And one delish tidbit about you and Chef St. James. I’ll have to check it out.”

“Traitor.”

“Hey, no nastygrams coming from me. I just want to see how the guy kisses. Make damn certain he’s worthy of you. Especially in my dress.”

“How’d I know it would all eventually come back to your dress?”

“Because it’s always all about the dress. Just make sure no one comes on it.”

“Jewel!”

“Teasing!” She nudged Bayli with her shoulder. “It was a joke, girlfriend.”

“Why do I suddenly feel queasy?”

“Oh, shut up.” Jewel laughed. “Try this baby on and we’ll decide whether your hair will be up or down. I have shoes and accessories. A wrap. Not that Christian Davila and Rory St. James are going to notice any of that. They might not even feed you before they cart you off to their bed.”

“Jewel!”

“Again with the verbal outburst. Come on, now. Off to the bathroom you go. If I have to call someone in to nip and tuck, be damn sure I will.”

“We’re the same size,” Bayli retorted.

“Yes, and please post that on Facebook, Miss Model. Better yet, send a selfie to Rogen and Vin in the dress so they can see my clothes fit your soon-to-be-famous figure. Wait—” She shook her head. “Scratch that last one. You’re much too gorgeous. Don’t send selfies to my men. Just … don’t.”

Bayli laughed. “I’ll try to control myself. Really, it’ll be difficult, what with wanting to steal them away and all that.” She snickered. Then frowned. “Well, to be honest, if I were still in River Cross and had never met Christian and Rory, I just might want to steal away at least one of them. I mean, seriously, Jewel. To keep such smart and sexy men all to yourself.”

Jewel twirled her around and said, “Go. Now. I know where your interests lie, and it isn’t with Rogen and Vin.”

“Ah, so true.” She headed to the bathroom but stopped just before pushing the door open. She turned back to Jewel. “Thanks for flying all the way across the country to bring me a special dress for a special evening.” Emotion tickled her nose, misted her eyes. But she kept herself in check this time.

Jewel nodded. “Only for the very best of friends.”

* * *

Christian was in the dining room of Davila’s NYC, making the rounds with the customers when she walked in.

As it happened, his Columbia roommate, Gene Eckhart, was in the middle of another dissertation when Christian’s attention was instantly snagged. Gene’s gaze apparently followed Christian’s and he snickered.

“Jesus, Davila,” he said in a friendly, chiding tone. “I think you’re being stalked. And that makes you one lucky son of a bitch.”

“Don’t I know it?” Christian briefly clasped his buddy on the shoulder, then said, “Enjoy the crème brûlée. I have a date.”

Christian started to move away. But stopped in his tracks when Bayli did the same, just beyond the round table in the foyer. Her gaze swept through the bar area and then the dining room. She spotted him. Smiled radiantly.