Tapping The Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 1)

“Oh my gawd!” She placed her hands tightly over her ears, la-la-la-ing to tune me out.

I laughed the entire way to my bedroom.

Standing in front of my closet, I was wavering between about fifty different options. I wanted to look cute—no, I wanted to look sexy. I wanted Kline to be eating…out of the palm of my hand. I swear that was where I was headed with that.

I needed a guy’s opinion.

TAPRoseNEXT (5:30PM): Psst…Ruck…Come in, Ruck.

BAD_Ruck (5:32PM): Need something, Rose?

TAPRoseNEXT (5:33PM): Little black dress (open back) and red heels OR black leather pants and lace top?

BAD_Ruck (5:34PM): Neither. Clothes aren’t needed in bed. Anyway, lace isn’t really my style.

TAPRoseNEXT (5:34PM): This isn’t the bed game. I need a guy’s opinion on outfit choices.

BAD_Ruck (5:36PM): You meeting your Some Kind of Wonderful tonight?

TAPRoseNEXT (5:37PM): You bet ya.

BAD_Ruck (5:37PM): You’re really into this guy.

TAPRoseNEXT (5:38PM): Are you asking or telling?

BAD_Ruck (5:39PM): Both.

TAPRoseNEXT (5:41PM): For your information, Mr. Nosy, yes, I’m really into this guy. I’m meeting him for drinks later. And I want a guy’s opinion on women’s attire for date nights.

BAD_Ruck (5:42PM): Which shows the least amount of skin?

TAPRoseNEXT (5:43PM): Leather and lace.

BAD_Ruck (5:44PM): That’s the one.

TAPRoseNEXT (5:45PM): Really?

BAD_Ruck (5:47PM): Less is more when it comes to showing skin. There are certain parts of you he wants to be the only one to see.

TAPRoseNEXT (5:48PM): I said the dress had an “open back” not open crotch.

BAD_Ruck (5:51PM): Just trust me, Rose. This is sound advice. I promise.

TAPRoseNEXT (5:52PM): Okay, okay. Leather and lace it is. Big plans tonight?

BAD_Ruck (5:53PM): Maybe…

TAPRoseNEXT (5:54PM): Your own version of Some Kind of Wonderful?

BAD_Ruck (5:55PM): Something like that. Be good tonight, Rose.

TAPRoseNEXT (5:56PM): You too, Ruck.

A part of me felt bad for still messaging Ruck, but we’d fallen into this odd sort of friendship, mostly chatting about one another’s dating lives. We never attempted to take things to another level, never tried to meet in person. It had become a sort of unspoken rule since we were both involved with someone else.

I tossed my phone on the bed and grabbed my favorite leather pants and lace blouse. It was black with three-quarter-length sleeves, and the top revealed just enough skin to show off a bit of cleavage.

The only other things I needed were the Dolce & Gabbana leather booties I’d found a week and a half ago in SoHo. They had been a secondhand purchase, and a splurge at that, but I loved them.

“Georgia?” Cassie called from the hall.

“Yeah?”

“What time are we meeting Kline?”

“Not until eight-ish. I figured we could have a little girl time beforehand.”

“Harry Potter shots at Barcelona?”

“I’m in.” The bar in question specialized in shots. One in particular came with fire and was famously known as the Harry Potter.

If you’ve never been to Barcelona Bar, add it to your bucket list. It’s not the bar you hang out in all night, but it’s definitely the place you stop by to get your night started off right.

My screen flashed with a text message notification.

Kline: 8pm at The Raines Law Room?

Holy hell. It was one of those bars that had a secret door, and if you don’t know somebody, no way you’re getting in. It was a very unlike Kline place to go.

Me: Uh…pretty sure I don’t have VIP access there.

Kline: Well, don’t worry, because I do.

Me: Kline flaunting his money around? Are you feeling okay?

Kline: Not flaunting. Just using it to our advantage. Anyway, Will was pretty persistent since he’s never been.

I should’ve known my brother was behind it. If Will had Kline’s money, he wouldn’t have any damn money left. Good thing Will would earn a nice salary as a physician and be too busy taking care of patients to spend it all. Where I was more frugal like our father, he was impulsive like our mother—a true American consumer who could easily be talked into buying a new car or plasma screen TV on a whim.

And I mean all of this in the most loving way.

Me: Okay. Count me in. Cass will be with me.

Kline: Perfect. Meet me there at 8. I’ll leave your names at the door.

Me: Okay, I’ll let Will know.

Kline: No need. He’s with me now.

Me: WHAT? Are you having a bromance with my brother?

Kline and Will had finally met over lunch last week in Gramercy Park. It had taken about one minute of introductions and they were quickly bonding over rugby, scotch, and awkward stories about yours truly. By the end of the meal, they had exchanged numbers and my brother had enthusiastically agreed to guest play for Kline’s rugby team the following weekend.