Her New York Billionaire

“Pizza it is.” He swiped on his tablet. “Yes, Giuseppe’s. I ordered from there quite a bit when I was last in New York, working on a project. What type of pizza do you like?”

It was nice of him to let her choose. This man was a bundle of contradictions. Scolding one minute, courteous in the next.

“Everything,” she answered, without having to think twice.

“Everything?”

“You know—pepperoni, sausage, salami, mushrooms, onions, peppers, olives. The whole shebang.”

“Everything...” he repeated. “Why not?”

“I’ll pay for my half.”

His mouth twitched.

“Twenty minutes,” he read out the online confirmation.

She eyed the kitchen clock.

“I guess I’m staying tonight.” She crunched on her big apple.

A bolt of lightning struck, flashing bright light through the window.

CHAPTER TWO

ETHAN HAD A peculiar urge. The minute he’d said he’d sleep on the sofa tonight he’d wanted to lie down on the bed with Holly. Not to get under the covers. Just to lie on the bed with her. He wanted to relax. To hold her body against his. Caress her hair. Find out if those ebony locks were as silky as they looked.

Huh. A woman he had never met before, who had charged into his apartment and refused to leave. He had no idea who she really was or what she was doing here.

Yet he wanted to hold her.

The thought had interrupted his phone call several times.

He wasn’t going mad. He’d just been working too hard. That was it. It had already been a long evening.

From the moment his flight had landed it had been one thing or another. He’d managed to sort out some of the details for the shareholders’ gala. Many more remained. He’d heard there were construction delays on the low-income housing development in the Bronx that was so dear to his heart. He’d talked to a few people at the Boston headquarters to see how Aunt Louise was doing after the fall she’d taken. The news was not good. Then he’d worked on trying to resolve problems with a building permit in Detroit.

It had only been about an hour ago that Ethan had changed into pajama bottoms and quieted down to read the newspaper. Before Holly had arrived, with the sparkling blue eyes and the creamy skin he now couldn’t take his gaze off.

“While we’re waiting for the pizza would it be okay if I took a shower?” she asked.

It would be okay if I took it with you.

Ethan surprised himself with the thought he didn’t voice. He settled for, “Go right ahead.”

Ethan did not like the way warmth resonated from Holly’s body when she passed by him en route to the shower. Did not like it a bit because it stirred sensations low within him. Fierce sensations. Urgent.

The bathroom door shut with the quick smack that only happened when you closed it with a foot. Did she always shut doors with her feet?

His tongue flicked at his upper lip when he heard the sound of the shower. He couldn’t help but imagine which article of clothing Holly was removing first. What each long limb might look like uncovered. Her torso was straight, rather than especially curvy, and he envisioned the smooth plain of her back. When he started to imagine what her... Well, he begged his brain to move to a different topic. No easy task.

Normally Ethan maintained a controlled world, without surprises. A world that allowed him to keep the upper hand. Maneuver as he saw fit. Because he was usually right.

Mushroom pizza, for heaven’s sake.

A thirty-four-year-old man knew his own ways. Protected his orbit. Holly seemed to tip the universe off-kilter. Made the earth spin off its axis.

He preferred his pizza with only mushrooms on it!

She had to be stopped.

Yet he hadn’t the heart to force her out on the street—especially given the time of night. He didn’t doubt that she was capable of fending for herself. But he didn’t want her to.

That insane idea glimmered again. He needed to get it out of his head.

Ethan had too much to think about already. He was in a bind. Aunt Louise needed to retire. She’d had a distinguished career, and Ethan wanted her to go out on top. Concern was growing that she would sustain a fall in public. That word would spread. That people might remember her as a woman who had stayed on past her prime. That she was doddering, weak, bruised... All things that Louise Benton was most certainly not.

His aunt and his Uncle Melvin—his father’s brother—had taken Ethan in as their own when he was nine years old. Now the time had come for the roles to be reversed. Ethan needed to make sure his decisions were in his aunt’s best interests. His father would have told him to. Uncle Mel would have counted on him. It was the very least he could do.

But Aunt Louise had that one condition before she stepped down and moved from frigid Boston to the sunny compound in Barbados they’d had built for just that purpose. She wanted to know that Ethan would run their global business with a stable home life as a foundation.

Even though she and Uncle Mel hadn’t been able to have children of their own, they’d experienced the joys and the heartaches of parenting through Ethan. In turn, his aunt wanted him to know the profound love of a parent for a child. And the united love and partnership that only came with decades of a shared life.

Aunt Louise would retire once Ethan was engaged to be married.

And because he’d become so alarmed about his aunt’s escalating health problems, and his responsibility to guard her reputation, Ethan had lied to her.

“You always say that deep down in your gut you know when something is right,” Ethan had said, twisting his aunt’s advice when he’d given her the news that he had met the soul mate he would wed.

Trouble was, Ethan had no such fiancée. Nor would he ever.

That was why he’d come to back to the States a few days ahead of the shareholders’ gala. Tomorrow he was having lunch with the woman he planned to marry. In name only, of course.

He’d found a beautiful actress who’d be a suitable bride-to-be. This was New York, after all. There was hardly a better place to find a performer capable of pulling off this charade. He clicked on his tablet to the talent agency website where he’d located Penelope Perkins, an educated and sophisticated blonde with a stately neck.

It was a simple matter, really, in Ethan’s mind. He’d chosen the actress and scheduled a meeting with her under the guise of hiring her for a promotional campaign for his company. If he found her to be acceptable and unencumbered he’d have her thoroughly investigated by Benton Worldwide’s Head of Security, Chip Foley.

While Chip was completing a background check and every other kind of probe there was, Ethan and his stand-in fiancée would get to know each other and create a history for their relationship. Their engagement would be announced at the gala.

Penelope would also sign numerous non-disclosure and confidentiality agreements. She’d understand that if she were ever to reveal the arrangement she would be sued. Benton lawyers played hardball. They never lost their cases.

For her services, this performer would be paid generously.

It was a solid plan.

* * *

“Clean at last.” Holly emerged from the bathroom while towel-drying her hair. A fresh tee shirt and sweatpants made her feel cozy after the day’s journey. “Traveling makes you so grimy, you know?”

“Yes. I showered on the plane before arrival,” Ethan agreed.

“You showered on the plane? How does someone shower on a plane?”

“I have a corporate jet. It does have a number of creature comforts.”

Holly whistled. Highfalutin’. “I haven’t flown that many times in my life. I’m still excited to get free soda and peanuts.”

“Yes, well...perhaps you would enjoy all the amenities on private planes.”

She tilted her head to one side and squeezed a little more moisture from the tips of her hair onto the plush towel. Sure, she’d like to be on a private plane, with a shower and enough room for her legs not to feel cramped into a ninety-degree position the entire flight. But that wasn’t something that was ever going to happen, so she didn’t see any point in discussing it.

“You have a little bit of an accent. And a kind of formal way of talking.” Holly had a sometimes bad habit of blurting aloud everything that came into her mind. She called ’em as she saw ’em. “Are you American, or what?”

That left side of his mouth quivered up again in the start of a smile. “Boston-born. Oxford-educated. I would be the complete cliché of an entitled rich boy save for the fact that my father died when I was nine and I was raised by my aunt and uncle.”

“What about your mother?”

The landline phone on the desk rang. Ethan turned to answer it. “Thank you. Please send him up.” He headed toward the door. “Our pizza is here.”

With his back to her, Holly was able to take in the full height of his slim, hard build. Probably about six foot three. Much taller than she was, and she always felt like a giant rag doll.

Ethan moved with effortless authority and confidence. Of course this was a man who showered on planes. This was a man who had been born to shower on planes.

Speaking of showers...it had been weird to shower in the apartment with him there. She knew there was no way he was an axe murderer who was going to hack her to bits. But she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure that he was a gentleman who wasn’t going to come into the bathroom while she was undressed.

A devilish thrill shot through her at the thought that he might have.

Attraction to a man during her first evening in New York was not on her itinerary. Especially not a man who had put all her plans in jeopardy.

She’d just have to make it through the night. In the morning her brother would help straighten things out about the apartment.

Staying here for a few weeks was meant to be the leg-up that she desperately needed. It would buy her time to find work and decide whether New York was where she should be. It had been two years since she’d kicked out Ricky the Rat. Two years was enough time to move on and move forward.

It was her brother, Vince, who had finally convinced her to take a chance. To take a risk. To take something for her own.

Maybe someday a man would fit into the picture. Not any time soon. She needed to concentrate on herself.

“Join me.” Ethan gestured for her to come sit on the sofa after the delivery. He laid the pizza down on the coffee table, then dashed into the kitchen, returning with two plates, a stack of napkins and two bottles. “Will you have a beer?”

She took one from him and popped the cap with a satisfying twist.

As they sat down beside each other Holly winced involuntarily and moved away a bit. Being close to him felt scary. Strange. Strangely great...

He noticed her sudden stiffness. “I do not bite.”

Pity. She held back a laugh. It wasn’t fear that he’d bite that was bothering her. It might have been fear that he wouldn’t.

Ethan flipped open the box and a meaty, cheesy, tomatoey aroma wafted up to their noses.

“I do not believe I have ever seen a pizza with this many ingredients on it.”

As if performing a delicate procedure, he used two hands to lift one hefty slice onto a plate and handed it to Holly. Then he served himself.

“Ah...”

They groaned in unison as the first bites slid down their tongues. Unable even to speak, they each quickly devoured their slices.

Holly was the first to reach for a second. Then she sat back on the sofa and put her bare feet up on the coffee table.

“‘Everything’ is now officially my favorite pizza topping,” Ethan confirmed, after taking another slice.

Observing Holly stretched out and seemingly comfortable, he did the same. His leaned back against the sofa. Tentatively he extended one leg and then the other onto the coffee table, and crossed them just as Holly had hers.

And there they sat, both barefoot, eating pizza, as if they had known each other for eons rather than minutes.

She thought of something to ask. “Where did you fly in from?”

“Dubai. Before that I was in Stockholm. I have been out of the country for a month.”

“Where do you live?”

“I keep a small apartment in Boston, near our headquarters. Although I travel most of the time.”

“Your company has properties all over the world?”

He nodded and washed down his pizza with a sip of beer. “Yes. Some we build. Some we buy and refurbish. In the last couple of years I have been spending a lot of my time on affordable housing for low-income buyers.”

“Vince told me about the development you built in Overtown. He said he was so proud to have been part of a project helping people in one of Miami’s neediest areas.”

That left side of Ethan’s mouth rose up again, but this time it continued until the right side lifted to join it in one full-on heart-melting smile.

Holly almost choked on her pizza. She thought a person might enjoy looking at that smile for the rest of her life.

“After my aunt retires I plan to turn most of Benton’s focus toward housing for homeless or low-income families.”

“When will she retire?”

Ethan sized Holly up in a gaze that went from the tip of her head down to her toes. As if he were taking her all in. Measuring her for something.

When she couldn’t stand the moment any longer she reached for another piece of pizza and pressed, “Does your aunt want to retire?”

Holly watched his concentration return to the conversation at hand.

“I think she must, whether she wants to or not. She has peripheral neuropathy. It is a rare inherited condition. She’s starting to lose some of her faculties.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am, too. She is a wonderful woman.”

“She’s lucky to have you looking out for her wellbeing.” Holly didn’t think anyone would ever care about her that much.

“I would like to see her relaxing in Barbados. Swimming in warm waters and enjoying her silly trophy husband.”

“But she doesn’t see it that way?”

“She has a stipulation that she is insistent on before she retires, the details of which have not been worked out yet.” Ethan reached for his beer. “So, tell me, Miss Holly Motta, you have come to New York completely on your own?”

What did his aunt want? Was there a family secret?

Holly was dying to know. In fact she wanted to know about all of Ethan’s joys and triumphs and struggles and defeats. Wanted to tell him all of hers. Though she couldn’t fathom why.

Even if she had been open to meeting the right man—a man with whom she would share the deepest, darkest nooks and crannies of her life—it wouldn’t be a man who showered on airplanes.

A man like Ethan Benton had no business with a girl who had grown up in a trailer park in Fort Pierce. Never going to happen. And she wasn’t looking for someone, anyway. This was her time.

She chewed her pizza, suddenly agitated by the way Ethan continued to examine her, as if she was an object he was considering purchasing.

“I have to say I cannot remember the last time I was with a woman who ate half a pizza in one sitting.”

“Of course not. You probably only keep company with women who eat one green bean and then tell you how full they are.”

That crooked grin broke into a hearty belly laugh. “You are absolutely right. If they eat anything at all. You are definitely not like the women I tend to meet.”

“Should I consider that a compliment?”

“Please tell me why you have come to New York alone.”

“Who would I have come with if not alone? I haven’t seen my mother in years. My brother, Vince, is doing well in Miami. I have no other ties.”

She’d grown up strategizing and compensating for her unreliable mother. Looking out for Vince. Then working around Ricky’s bad behavior. Juggling two or three jobs. Keeping the house clean. Making sure people were fed. Paying bills. Always being the responsible one. Day after day. Year after year.

“I’m through with being cautious.” She couldn’t believe she was blathering this out to a man she’d only just met. “Yes, I came to New York alone. No job. No permanent place to live. I don’t even know if here’s where I belong. That’s why I was going to stay in this apartment for a while—to figure it out. I’m sure it all sounds insane to you.”

“How it sounds is brave.”

* * *

Ethan furrowed his brow. A minute ago Holly had confided that she wasn’t in contact with her mother. No mention of a father. He sensed there was plenty more that she hadn’t said. That she’d been through more than her share of trouble and strife. Although it might be a made-up story meant to evoke sympathy from him to let her stay in the apartment.

Every previous experience he’d had with women other than Aunt Louise had led him to believe that they were never what they seemed.

Starting with his own mother.

Do not trust trust. It was a lesson he’d learned decades ago.

That was why he’d devised this scheme to set up a fake relationship, so that Aunt Louise would think she had gotten her wish. She would retire with her mind at ease and her attention on her health.

An imitation fiancée would suit him perfectly. The women he’d known before had always wanted something from him. With this arrangement he’d dreamt up everyone would get what they were after. Clean and upfront, with clear expectations and no disappointment.

After he and Holly had finished eating she retrieved a pad and pencils from her luggage and sat herself in the window, with its second-floor view out onto the street. She turned sideways, somehow wedging her long legs into the windowsill, and propped her sketchpad on her knees.

“You are welcome to pull a chair over,” Ethan tossed out, not in the habit of contorting himself to fit into small spaces.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

Unsure what to do with himself, he picked up his tablet to check emails. If he’d been there alone, as planned, he would have gone to bed. It was going to be a busy week.

He could ask Holly to take her things into the bedroom. Then he could turn off the lights, try to get comfortable on the sofa and hope to fall asleep.

Yet it was so unusual for him to be in an apartment with someone he craved her company and wanted to prolong it. He wasn’t ready for her to retreat to separate quarters.

How crazy was the idea that kept popping into his mind?

As Holly drew, he began telling her more about Aunt Louise. About the cruel medical condition that was taking away pieces of her.

“How did your family’s company get started?” she asked, while working on her drawing.

“With nothing. When my father and Uncle Mel were in their twenties they saved their money from doing carpentry work until they had enough to buy the South Boston apartment they grew up in. Then they bought the whole building. And then the one next to it.”

“That takes focus and determination. Hmm...” She shook her head.

“Hmm—what?”

She kept her eyes on her pad. “It’s just that nobody I’ve ever known has done anything like that.”

“After my uncle married Louise, she helped them grow the business. My father died twenty-five years ago. Then Aunt Louise took over as CEO when Uncle Mel died five years ago.”

Ethan had only vague memories of his father. But he so missed the uncle who had become a second father to him. Melvin Benton had been a smart leader. A just and fair man.

“Uncle Mel would have agreed that it is time for Aunt Louise to step down. Before industry gossip sullies her reputation as the competent successor to his legacy that she was.”

“What is it that your aunt wants you to do before she’ll agree to retire?”

Oh, so Holly had been paying close attention earlier, when he’d started to tell her about Aunt Louise’s request and then stopped himself.

“She wants to see me established in my personal life. For me to have what she and Uncle Mel had. She is waiting for me to be engaged to be married.”

“And now you are?”

“So to speak...”

“There’s no ‘so to speak.’ You’re either engaged or you’re not.”

“Not necessarily.”

Why had he started this? He’d revealed more than he should have.

“Tell me,” she persisted, without looking up.

“I would rather talk about you. You have come to New York with no work here at all? This city can be a very tough place.”

“I know. But I do have some people to contact. You’re probably thinking my coming to New York was a really reckless bet. But if I didn’t do it now I never would have.”

When Ethan glanced down to the inbox on his tablet his eyes opened wide at the latest email. It was the talent agency, apologizing for contacting him so late in the evening and asking for the duration of his booking for Penelope Perkins, his soon-to-be “fiancée.” Because, the representative explained, Mrs. Perkins had just informed them of her pregnancy. She expected to be available for a few months but, after that her altered appearance might be an issue for any long-term acting assignment.

Good heavens. Yes, Mrs. Perkins’s blossoming pregnancy was going to be an issue! That would be too much to disguise from Aunt Louise. First an engagement and then a pregnancy right away? Not to mention the fact that Penelope was apparently Mrs. Perkins. And a certain Mr. Perkins was be unlikely to be agreeable to such an arrangement.

The veins in Ethan’s neck pulsed with frustration. As if he didn’t have enough to do! Now the engagement plan he’d worked so hard to devise was in jeopardy. Could he choose someone else and get an appointment with her in time? He quickly tabbed through the photos of the other actresses on the website. They were all of a suitable age. Any one of them might do.

Then he glanced up to lovely Holly, sketching in the windowsill.

What if...?

He’d been exchanging pleasant conversation with Holly all evening. Why not her? It might work out quite nicely. Perhaps they could have an easy, friendly business partnership based on mutual need. He had a lot he could offer her.

Of course the fact that he found her so interesting was probably not a plus. It might add complication. But who was to say that he wouldn’t have been attracted to Penelope Perkins, or some other actress he’d chosen?

A sense of chemistry would be palpable to Aunt Louise and anyone else they would encounter. It would make them believable as a couple. And he certainly wouldn’t be acting on any impulses. It wasn’t as if he was open to a genuine relationship.

A fake fiancée was all he was looking for. Holly was as good a bet as any.

He gazed at her unnoticed for a moment. She turned to a new page on her sketchpad. Then, when she asked him again about whether or not he was engaged, he finally told her the truth.

He picked up the beer he had been drinking with the pizza. Carefully peeling off the label that circled the neck of the bottle, he rolled it into a ring. And then stepped over to Holly in front of the window. Where anyone in New York could be walking by and might look up to see them.

“I was intending to hire an actress,” he explained. “But I think Aunt Louise would like you. You remind me of her. There is something very...real about you.”

He got down on one knee. Held up the beer label ring in the palm of his hand.

She gasped.

“Holly, I do not suppose you would... If you might consider... Would you, please? Can you pretend to marry me?”

CHAPTER THREE

“HEAR ME OUT,” Ethan said, still on one knee.

Holly had been so stunned by his proposal that moments stood still in time. It was as if she watched the scene from outside her body.

In an Upper East Side apartment in New York an elegant man with wavy brown hair waited on bended knee after proposing to his dark-haired intended. Would she say yes?

Holly couldn’t remember if she had dreamt of a moment like this when she was a little girl. A dashing prince, the romantic gesture of kneeling, white horse at the ready. She’d probably had those fantasies at some point but she couldn’t recall them. They were buried under everything else.