An Accidental Date with a Billionaire

“It didn’t say that, it just said it was over after I brought you home.” He slid the car into park. “I’m guessing it was to make it perfectly clear that if anything happened inside someone’s door, it wasn?

?t because of the auction.”

“You don’t think they wanted to prostitute the men?” she asked.

“Probably not. I mean, if so, they would have charged a hell of a lot more for me.”

Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “Jesus.”

“Nope, still just me,” he quipped.

She dropped her head back against the seat, shaking it slowly.

He leaned closer, staring at her with a hint of a frown. “But, you see, I don’t do second dates.”

She nibbled on her lip. “Me either.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Yep, I’m a one-and-done kind of girl.”

He whistled through his teeth. “Nice.” She was beautiful, kind, and charitable, but she didn’t date. Why?

“So what are we supposed to do?” She pretended to think, tapping her chin and squinting. “If I go in, the date is over, but we didn’t eat yet.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t go in,” he stage-whispered. “As long as you don’t go home, we’re still on our first date, right?”

She turned to him, her eyes shining with…mischief? Or was that excitement? He had no idea, but damn it, he wanted to find out. He wanted to find out everything he could about Sam…and then some. “Pull back out onto the road before it’s too late.”

For a second, guilt hit his gut. But he’d meant what he said. He didn’t do second dates. “But your clothes—”

“Are fine,” she said, grinning. “Right?”

“You look absolutely perfect to me,” he said with 100 percent honesty.

She snorted. “Don’t lay it on too thick, charmer. You got the yes, so drive.”

There she went again, shooting down his usual attempts at charming her, and making him want her even more. “Yes, ma’am.” He buckled up and added, “Safety first.”

“Of course,” she said, bowing at him.

He bowed back as best he could while sitting. “My lady.”

“Drive,” she commanded frostily, sticking her nose up.

He, the guy who’d been voted most likely to be a Grinch by his colleagues at last year’s Christmas party, was pretending to be a chauffeur and trying his best to make her forget that he was the very thing she didn’t want him to be.

“Tell me something no one knows about you,” he said, pulling out onto Broad Street.

“No one?” she squeaked.

“Or at least, not most people.”

She fidgeted with her seat belt again. “Uh…let’s see. I once had money. A lot of it.”

“Had?” he asked carefully.

“Yes, had.” She stared down at her lap. “Now I don’t.”