His Runaway Bride (Alphalicious Billionaires 7)

She’d told him that the unnamed woman had been in there the day before. That she was polite and sat down for a few hours. She looked like a tourist who would be back. That was literally what the girl, who was probably all of nineteen or twenty, told him. She’d batted her eyelashes at him like he wasn’t the world’s biggest creeper asking info on a woman in a grainy black and white print out from the internet and told him his coffee was on her- implying that she’d also like to mean that literally, and that he’d sit there and lap it off of her.

What the fuck was wrong with the world?

Normally that kind of mindless interaction would just annoy him but after he’d spent the rest of the day getting zero leads, it was the one thing that turned into anything. He’d hovered around the coffee shop all morning, until bam!

There she was. Of course, he hadn’t been obvious about it. He’d stood in the alley and waited until Noemi went inside the shop before he discreetly followed her in. She hadn’t noticed when he’d ordered behind her and taken a seat to watch her. She seemed to be in her own little world.

Even when she caught him staring straight at her, there had been no flicker of recognition in those eyes. No panic. Nothing. He’d waited a minute, with his head lowered, heart racing, sure she’d run out into the street and he’d had to full-on tackle her, which would probably earn him a good pepper spraying from nearby bystanders when she screamed bloody fucking murder about it. But she hadn’t done anything.

She didn’t recognize him.

Not in the plaid and the jeans he’d bought the day before so he didn’t stand out like a rich bastard, sore thumb. She didn’t recognize his face, which meant that she probably hadn’t cared enough to even look him up when her father dumped the news on her. Maybe it wasn’t him exactly that she objected to.

Either way, he was going to find out. He was going to do a hell of a lot more than that, he just wasn’t sure what.

Even though it took all of his self-control not to run out into the street after Noemi when she gathered up her shit and walked out of the shop, he waited a few seconds before tailing a good distance behind her. He watched her get into a black rental and noted the plate number. He had one of those minds that could store random, useless information for days.

He’d hurtled into his own car, intent on following her, but he was no fucking PI and when she braked suddenly at a stop sign in front of her like she didn’t even realize it was there, he made a split second decision that probably wasn’t the smartest thing in the world.

And drove his car right up her car’s ass.

Just a little. Just hard enough to bump her rental forward a few feet past the stop sign. Not hard enough to hurt or even leave a scratch on the car, but the car’s brake lights flashed and a second later, Noemi stumbled out, her eyes wide, her face infused with panic, her lips pulled into a round O of surprise.

Byron slammed his car into park and killed the ignition. Showtime.

He wasn’t exactly improved champion of the year, but Noemi saved him having to say anything at all.

“Oh my god,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry. I- I wasn’t paying- I almost missed the sign. I’m- oh god. I’ve never been in an accident before. I’m sorry. Er- I- I don’t…” her eyes met his, impossibly wide, insanely dark, and full of alarm.

Fuck. Me. She was hands down the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Long blonde hair that trailed to her waist, a petite little body with just enough curves to tempt even the most devout- and he was far from that- into sinning, lush lips, flawless skin, dark doe eyes and the thickest lashes on the planet. He’d realized in the coffee shop that she was pretty, but now, with a little splash of color riding high on those sharp cheekbones, and her lips opened at just the right come hither angle that made his cock want to start writing a Christmas list of dirty desires six months early, she was edible.

She stared at him for a second and recognition washed over her features. “You,” she breathed.

“Me.” He tensed, waiting. Waiting for her to call him out, but instead, her throat bobbed when she swallowed.

“The guy from the coffee shop.”

“Yeah.” He brushed a hand through his hair, ruffling it, because he knew women fucking loved when he did that shit. He had to confess that he knew how to play all his cards when he wanted to, and nature had given him a pretty damn good hand. “Sorry. I had to get to work. Was in a bit of a hurry too. Probably didn’t leave a safe gap.”