Her Bossy Billionaire (Love in London 1)

From the desperation in Tom’s voice Jack knew there was no way Tom was waiting or that he’d asked her here just for muesli. His brother was about to go over-board again mere weeks out from the biggest event of his career. Well, Jack wasn’t going to let it happen. Not this time.

“I’ll sort it for you,” Jack smiled as he spoke, hoping Tom wouldn’t hear the anger riding inside.

“Fantastic.”

Jack rang off, even more annoyed by the audible relief in Tom’s answer. He scowled at the mess of ingredients on the bench and then across to the woman who’d no doubt heard most of that conversation. “Seems your muesli is really important.” He grimaced. Given the mess already, he supposed he should let her make it—seemed she was halfway there already. But then she could leave. “How long does it take to make?”

“A couple of hours. I need to toast some things separately and then combine them.” She banged the knife down rapidly—machine-gun style.

“You need to do it more quickly than that.” Jack knew Tom had gone straight into another training session and would be at least three hours but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Why?” More chopping, even faster.

Jack decided to be honest. “I don’t want you here when Tom gets back.”

Her eyes widened and the knife hovered above the all-but-pulped fruit.

“I don’t want you distracting him,” he clarified.

“Distract—” she broke off and cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t distract him.”

Jack kept looking at her and waited for the penny to drop. She was smart, it didn’t take long.

“But I wouldn’t. I’m… I’m… I’m not his type,” she choked, color flooding her face—her astonishment both visual and audible. “That’s not why…” she trailed off.

She knew Tom’s type? Which meant she knew more than a bit about Tom—about his “distraction” a couple of years ago? Yeah, she wasn’t as innocent as she was making out. The embarrassed look was pretty Oscar-worthy though.

“Maybe he’s matured,” Jack murmured.

“Okay.” She abandoned the chopping altogether and pointed the small knife in his direction. “You think he’s ‘matured’ and yet you think he’s chasing me only weeks out from the biggest race of his life?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

It was Tom’s taste in women that had matured, but definitely not his ability to control himself when he fell in love. Tom fell hard, that was his problem. And the bigger problem for Jack was that he could totally understand why in this case.

“What’s in this for you?” Jack asked. What did she want from Tom? “He can’t endorse your product, you know. He’s subject to all kinds of clauses in his contract. Forbidden to do anything in terms of new sponsorship deals until after the season.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” She clipped the words the way she sliced the apricots—quickly.

“So why?” Was she genuinely interested in Tom? Or would she be interested in any guy who might help out her business? Yeah, Jack was wary and he didn’t want any more pressure put on Tom than was necessary. His brother didn’t need to be hurt the way he had been before.

She poured the bag of hazelnuts onto a tray. It made a hell of a din for two seconds. She picked up the tray and slid it in the oven, banging the door shut before whirling to face him. “Because he asked me to.”

“So you’re doing it out of the goodness of your heart?”

“You don’t think that’s possible?” Her brown eyes fixed on him. But it wasn’t only defensive anger he saw in them, there was also accusation—like she was assessing and finding him wanting. “Can’t someone help another out—just as a friendly favor—without there being some kind of ulterior motive?”

“It’s possible,” he answered bluntly. “But unlikely. There’s always more to it.” As his business had gotten increasingly successful, he’d discovered there was often something more to what appeared to be simple requests. Yeah, he’d become cynical.

“Not in this case. Tom wants my muesli, I’m making it for him. And okay yes, he’s paid me to make it. End of story.”

“So if he’s paid—if this is something you produce, why can’t he buy it from a shop? Why do you have to make it here?”

Her gaze dropped, as did her shoulders—so slightly. “I’m not making any for the shops at the moment.”

“But you do?”

“Of course I do,” she said lifting her chin, her spirit—and volume—returning. “That’s how he’s had my muesli before. He’s bought it.” She tightened her grip on her knife and went back to decimating apricots.

“How did he know how to track you down if there isn’t any in stores now?” Jack needed to know how long this had been going on.

“You should get a job with MI5,” she snapped. “Why don’t you call him back and ask him? He’s the one who tracked me down. He called me. He asked me. He’s the one who’s paid me already. Not because he’s interested in me, or I in him, or because I want anything else from him. He ordered, paid and here I am.” She shrugged her shoulders, looking at him like he was a crazed conspiracy theorist.

And Jack almost believed every word—all except the Tom wasn’t interested bit. She was beyond cute by any guy’s standards, but the timing for Tom sucked. It was out of the question for him to start seeing her now. As for Jack—well, he wasn’t encroaching. He picked up the bottle of bronze liquid, deciding to change the topic while he internally processed. “Why not honey?”

Her expression lightened as she glanced at it. “Maple has a more subtle flavor. More delicate.”

“More refined?”

“No, more natural.”

“It’s sure as hell more expensive.”

“Actually, some honey is as expensive if not more. But you’re right, pure maple isn’t cheap.”

He held it up and looked and let the sunlight hit it. “Beautiful color though.”

“And a beautiful flavor.” She poured the oats into another tray. “So I can get on with this now?”

Jack gritted his teeth. “Can you be done in an hour?”

Three

Libby looked at the guy who’d been so determined to give her a hard time these last twenty minutes. He honestly thought she’d “distract” Tom? What a joke. Tom hadn’t even looked her in the eyes when he’d come to see her—having first contacted her through her website. At first she hadn’t believed his email was for real. She’d demanded to meet him and she’d demanded upfront payment—though that had been because of her cash flow problems. But he’d been happy to pay then and there. In fact he’d been so manic about the muesli and so obviously uninterested in her, she’d almost been offended. She was hardly model-material but she occasionally scored a second look.

Now Jack, unlike his brother, had done nothing but gaze right at her, and frankly, it turned her insides upside down. Not that Jack seemed in any way aware of her other than as some bizarre threat to Tom. She had the impossible desire to make him pay a different kind of attention to her—and just because something might be impossible, didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

“The best things need time to get exactly right,” she said. “Creating something that tastes exquisite cannot be a rushed process.” And yes, she deliberately infused a frisson of tease in her tone.

“Exquisite?” he mocked. “Oats are what you feed horses.”

“And international athletes,” she pointed out smugly.