An Accidental Date with a Billionaire

He shook his head. “If I get her to give me another—”

“When.” She pointed at him. “What did I teach you about the power of positive thinking?”

He barely refrained from groaning. He loved his mother, but sometimes she was too much. “When I get her back, I’ll talk to her about it.”

“I’ll order Mexican, since it’ll be Friday.”

He checked his reflection, holding his breath. “Order whatever you want, Mom.”

“Really?”

He nodded absentmindedly.

Was his hair sticking up in the back?

Shit, he’d never been this goddamn nervous before. Everything about Sam set him on edge, threatened his control, and challenged his way of living—and he couldn’t live without her messing up his plans for another minute. “Wish me luck.”

“You won’t need it.”

He kissed his mother’s head. “I ordered a car to take you home.”

She nodded, picking up the envelope and pocket-sized planner on the table. “Don’t forget these.”

He’d almost forgotten the most important part of the evening. Shaking his head at himself, he said one more farewell to his mother, got in the elevator, and found his ride. He really didn’t want the first time seeing her again to be in a public setting, with all eyes on him. Maybe he should drop by her place, all casual-like, and offer her a ride there. He could play it off cool and test the waters. See if she hated him as much as he hated himself.

“To the gala, Mr. Jennings?” his driver asked, watching him through the rearview mirror.

Taylor checked the time, hesitating. “Actually…”

By the time the car pulled up to her building, he was even more of a mess than he’d been in his apartment, because he wasn’t sure if this was the right move. With Sam, he never had a fucking clue what he was doing, so it wasn’t a surprise that this was the case again. He was a fighter, a winner, and he didn’t give up on anything until he got the outcome he sought.

Normally, when he saw something, he wanted it, he got it. End of story.

Gritting his teeth, he tucked the small envelope into his jacket, opened the car door, and stepped out onto the curb. As he approached the building, the door opened, and a blonde that he recognized instantly as Sam’s friend from the coffee shop stepped out, carrying a makeup bag and a pink blow-dryer. She stopped, giving him a frown.

He bowed at her, smiling despite her obvious disapproval. “Izzy, right?”

“Yeah.” She hugged her bag. “Taylor, right?”

“Yep.” He nodded, stepping around her. “It was nice seeing—”

She moved in his path. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to offer her a ride—” He broke off because that was a bullshit response. “I want to win her back.”

“Don’t hurt her,” she said, looking him up and down.

“I won’t,” he vowed. “I swear, if she’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making her happy. There’s nothing I want more.”

She softened a little bit, her mouth not quite so thinly held. “She’s pretty set in her decision to be single.”

“I know.” His stomach tightened even more. “But I’m not.”

Shrugging, she moved out of his way. “Good luck.”

“Yeah.” His heart pounded even harder. “Thanks.”

Taylor walked to her door. Before he could knock, it swung open, and Sam stood there in a long red dress that hugged every curve of her body as if it had been created solely for her by some expensive designer in Paris—something that wasn’t possible, because his Sam would never be that frivolous. Her long hair was swept back and gathered at the base of her neck, and soft curls fell over her shoulder and down her chest. She wore red lipstick, dark eyeshadow, and should’ve been on the cover of a magazine rather than on his arm.