The Ruthless Caleb Wilde - Page 7

She needed him.

And he needed wheels. He’d come here by taxi but from the looks of things, it might take a long time for one to cruise by.

They walked to the corner. Caleb took out his cell phone and hit the pre-programmed number for the private car service he used when he was in New York. He was in luck. One of their limousines had just dropped off somebody only a couple of blocks away.

He held her close while they waited. A couple of minutes was all it took before a long black car pulled to the curb. The driver sprang out and opened the rear door.

The girl turned toward Caleb.

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

He was tempted to say he’d introduced himself earlier but she obviously didn’t remember the incident. Besides, he wasn’t proud of it.

“Caleb,” he said. “And you’re …?”

“Sage.”

The name suited her. Sage grew wild on El Sueño. It was strong and enduring. And beautiful. Like her. Why had he ever thought her only pretty? Even now, with black gunk under her eyes, she was lovely.

“Well,” she said again, “thank you for …” She paused. Her face took on color. “Oh.”

“What is it?”

“How much will the ride cost?” She patted a tiny sequined wristlet that he’d assumed was a bracelet. “I keep my money and my keys with me. Nobody trusts the lockers so—so, the thing is, I have money but I don’t think it’s enough to pay for—”

“Why would I let you pay?”

“No. I mean, I couldn’t permit you to—”

“I was going to call for a car anyway,” he said, lying through his teeth. “Seeing you home will just be a slight detour.”

“Seeing me …?” She shook her head. “Going with me, you mean?”

Caleb nodded.

“Oh no,” she said quickly. “Really, that isn’t—”

“It is,” he said, softly but with steely determination. “I’ll take you to your door, make sure you’re safely inside, and then I’ll leave.”

She nibbled at her lip. He could almost see what she was thinking. Was he going to turn into her worst nightmare, too?

“Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up his hand in the time-honored Boy Scout signal because he couldn’t come up with any real way to convince her that his intentions were honorable.

Besides, giving things a light touch was better than giving in to the anger still boiling inside him.

Finally, she nodded. “Thank you again.” She turned, started to step into the limo. At the last second, she swung toward him. “I should tell you … I live in Brooklyn.”

From the way she said it, she could have been talking about Outer Mongolia.

“That’s okay,” he said as somberly as possible. “My inoculations are all up to date.”

She stared at him for a couple of seconds. Then she laughed. It was a wobbly laugh, still, hearing it made him feel good.

“You’re a nice man,” she said softly.

Tags: Sandra Marton Billionaire Romance
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