The Billionaire's Forgotten Fiancée

“So?” Did he like spicy food? He shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“You want mild?”

He shook his head. “Just make it like you normally would.”

Peeraya nodded slowly. “All right, sir.”

* * *

The phad kra praow was disastrous. Not because there was anything wrong with the ingredients. The seafood was fresh, and everything, even the calamari, had the most perfect texture.

The problem was the chopped chili peppers. Peeraya had used both red and green. The red variety was already painful enough, but when he’d accidently bitten into a green one, thinking it was a piece of green bean, it felt like the back of his throat would explode.

Since Ginger was on the other side of the table, he surreptitiously spat out the chili pepper and drank some of the cold tamarind tea. The sweet and tangy brew helped, but it wasn’t enough.

Ginger on the other hand seemed to enjoy the dish just fine. She even ate one of the green peppers with her rice without any problem.

He tapped the rim of his glass. Why had he specifically requested this mouth-incinerating abomination? Was it because he somehow knew she’d like it?

“Peeraya, you’re amazing,” Ginger said. “I’ll never be able to eat Thai food in L.A. again. You’ve ruined me.”

The housekeeper blushed. “Thank you, madam.”

Ginger grinned before turning back to her food.

There was an open pleasure in the way she ate—her flushed cheeks, the soft curve of her mouth and sparkles in her eyes. She also liked the tamarind tea, and it was obvious she was a deeply sensual woman.

What was she like in bed? No matter how he raked his memory, he couldn’t recall. Was she fiery and a little bit naughty, or was she on the sweet and demure side to match her golden “all American sweetheart” looks?

It would be mind-blowingly good no matter how she was. He was certain of it, or his body wouldn’t be craving her like this. He wouldn’t be having this tight longing in his gut, and his cock wouldn’t be hardening at the way she licked the glistening sauce from her lips.

After eating about a quarter of the food, he put his fork down. He wasn’t going to be able to finish it, so he was going to watch her instead for the rest of the dinner while thinking of a way to get her into bed. She was using a guest suite for now, but it was probably because she was peeved at the way he’d treated her in Johannesburg. He’d apologize, then they could have makeup sex. To show her how sorry he was, he’d lick and suck and taste her until she came against his mouth. Then he’d make her orgasm until she couldn’t remember why she’d thought it was a good idea to stay in the guest suite in the first place.

* * *

Ginger swallowed the last bite of her food. Shane had that hooded look on his face, which she knew meant he was having dirty thoughts.

It used to make her hot and whisper naughty things in his ear as she got more and more turned on. But now she was too guarded to be that open with him. Dane had been very specific about what he wanted—bring Shane home and she was done. And she wanted exactly that, nothing else. Being around Sh

ane any more than she had to was foolish. She wasn’t a naïve girl in love anymore.

Nor did she believe love could be enough. There were things other than a lack of love that could destroy relationships. Because if love could cure everything, the two of them wouldn’t be here right now and she wouldn’t have lost so much.

She got up. “I’m going for a walk.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“Alone.”

“It’s late. I wouldn’t feel comfortable you out there by yourself.”

She snorted. “This place is pretty heavily guarded. There aren’t any unsavory characters lurking around in the dark.” The property no longer had armed guards after the military coup, but it still had guards who looked like they ate nails for breakfast. It was fenced off as well, and she doubted anybody wanted to come in badly enough to tunnel through. Small waterproof lanterns strung on palm trees along the beach provided some light, so people didn’t stumble around in the dark.

Shane ignored her and followed her out. They didn’t link their hands like they used to—she decided to carry her shoes instead, hooking the straps in her crooked fingers—but his presence was impossible to ignore as he walked next to her. He was so big and warm, like a furnace. The briny breeze did very little to cool her heated skin.

“It’s nice to be out here without the MIB,” he said, his voice light.

“What?”