The Billionaire's Runaway Fiancé (Invested in Love) Read online

  “Don’t.” The gravel in his voice made her want to obey.

  “I have to.” She wriggled free, wrapping the deep blue shirt around her body and fastening the buttons with trembling hands.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “This isn’t a game for me, Curtis. I don’t want you to manipulate me or pity me.”

  “Pity you?”

  “I know I don’t look like the women you’re usually with. The models and singers and—”

  He spun her around, knocking her off-balance as he pulled her by her shoulders to face him. “You know all that is publicity.”

  “So is this, right?” She found her feet, trying to break free of him, but he held on tighter. “Find someone else to play the fiancée. Someone who’s a better actress.”

  “I want out of that world, Robyn. I want a normal life.”

  She almost felt sorry for him, pretty little rich boy terrorized by the media. Except she realized why he chose her. Not because he trusted her like she’d thought, but because she wasn’t picture-perfect, she wasn’t interesting to the tabloids, she wasn’t anything to him but a ticket out of the spotlight and straight to the land of leave-me-alone. How insulting.

  “You deserve more.” I deserve more.

  “I have more than enough.”

  “You don’t have love.” Liar. Her conscience flared like a viper about to strike. She loved him, madly, deeply. If she stayed with him, he would have that for the rest of her life.

  “There are lots of different kinds of love.”

  “Do you love me?” She clenched her jaw to keep her chin from trembling.

  He held her gaze. “No.”

  “Then why me? Why not one of the other women in your life?”

  “There aren’t people in my life, Robyn.”

  “What about Kendra? She knows the game.”

  “She ought to, she wrote the rules.” He had the nerve to smile. “There is no one who knows me better than you. This is a great move for you. You won’t have to worry about money ever again. You understand about my work, you realize how important it is for me to be left alone.”

  She nodded. She realized he’d chosen her because he thought she’d be grateful, should think a guaranteed income was a perfect trade for her time spent smiling on the arm of a man who’d upgraded her from assistant in name only. In his reality, she’d be a secretary with special benefits.

  Her skin chilled at the thought. She’d almost slept with him tonight, almost handed what was left of her dignity to a man who calculated her worth in dollars and cents. She’d been right to run.

  All her life she’d been looking for her prince to come and save her from the world of mediocrity. But Curtis Frye wasn’t a prince. He wasn’t going to love her as deeply as she needed to be loved. He might be able to set her soul on fire, but his heart was stuck on freeze.

  “You know why I ran, Curtis?”

  He shook his head.

  “I was standing in the middle of my dream, with the man I love.” She reached up and brushed away a tear with her finger. “But you feel nothing for me. Until that moment, I thought I could make it happen. I thought if we were together you’d come around. But I saw you in that church, getting everything you wanted, and realized I was getting nothing in return.”

  “Robyn, you agreed to the terms—”

  She held up her hand, tired of the pretense. “I won’t be with a man who doesn’t love me, no matter what it pays.”

  Chapter Seven

  Curtis tried not to laugh, but she was being ridiculously naïve. “You didn’t agree to our arrangement because you were in love.”

  “Yes, I did.” Her eyes glistened like jade, murky and deep.

  “You’re kidding yourself. It wasn’t me you agreed to. It was the money, the glamour, the lifestyle.”

  “You can stuff your lifestyle. Even you don’t like it.” She stiffened, her face rushing bright red. “I’m not a gold digger.”

  “Sure you are. It’s fine, everybody is.”

  “Not me!”

  He rolled his eyes. She was in complete denial. “Just look at the planning you were doing for a nonexistent wedding.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “That was your mother, not me. That had nothing to do with why I agreed.”

  He stepped toward her, reaching for her hands, but she wrapped her arms across her body. “I wanted you to feel like Cinderella. But you know fairy tales aren’t reality. Just like those articles about me, they’re all fabrications.”

  “I know that.” She spat the words at him, her green eyes narrowing. She brushed the vine-like tendrils of her hair over her shoulder.

  “Then why are you so angry?”

  “Because you think you know me. You assume you know what I’m thinking. And if you believe I did this for the money, then you don’t know the first thing about me.”

  “I’m a quick study. You imagine for a relationship to work, you have to have some magical connection, that love is the answer to all your problems. Even in the best relationships, love is nothing more than two people interested to know more about each other. Compatibility, shared goals, respect, and attraction matter so much more. We have that.”

  He lifted a hand to her hair, pulling a tendril in front of her shoulder. Standing so close to her, he couldn’t help but remember what it was like to hold her in his arms, have her full lips against his, her lush curves pressed against him. He bent his head, barely grazing her surprised mouth with a kiss.

  “We need each other, Robyn. And love has nothing to do with it.” Love was a lie people told themselves. The sooner she realized that, the better.

  “I don’t need you. You need me.” She tilted her chin up, staring him in the eye. The lusty, full-bodied tone of her voice nearly paralyzed his logic. “I can walk away from this and start over. You’ll have to find someone willing to settle for a life without love and romance.”

  Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. Curtis bit back the need to kiss her again. He knew she felt the same attraction he did, and with the slightest push, they’d both tumble into bed, hopefully staying there for a few days until this lust-induced fog cleared.

  “I never said we wouldn’t have romance. Passion, adventure, mind-blowing sex.” He reached for her face, his fingers against her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing across her ripe lips.

  “I can’t separate it the way you can.”

  “You want me, Robyn. Don’t start lying to me now.”

  “I’m not saying you don’t turn me on. I’m saying that it’s not because of how we are together physically. I love you, and that is what makes me want to be with you, to have more of you.”

  “You can have as much of me as you can take.” His hand drifted from her face, to her earlobe, then down her neck to the second-from-the-top button of his shirt. He was tired of his shirt getting to feel more of her than he had, and he flicked the button open with one hand.

  She closed her hand over his. “I don’t want you if I can’t have it all. I won’t settle for sex when I can have lovemaking, accept friendship when I can have passion. We both deserve more than a business arrangement.”

  Lying to her, saying he would love her, was so tempting. His cock twitched at the thought of calling her bluff, taking her to bed and working everything out without words. But he’d long ago realized if love existed at all, it was a poison he would never swallow. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the things she wanted to hear and let her believe they were true.

  He saw it clearly from her side, the world of happily ever after and promises to keep. But he’d lived a different life, knew there was a dark side to love that could drive a man to lose himself, knew he could never give himself completely to another person. Not even someone he trusted as much as Robyn.

  Two strong-willed people with two equally correct views of reality might never see eye to eye. And yet he wasn’t ready to give in. They were here, alone. That gave them the chance to find some middle groun
d, or enjoy themselves trying.

  “I want you to have all you deserve, Robyn.” He framed her face in his hands and reveled in the beauty that glowed from the inside. The kind that would never fade. “Let me show you I’m the man to give it to you.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, shrinking from him. “I don’t want you to keep kissing me.”

  “Yes, you do.” He stepped closer, sweeping her hair over her shoulder and bending to nuzzle her neck. The apples-and-cinnamon scent she wore warmed his lungs.

  “It gives you the wrong idea about what I want.” Despite her protests she tilted her head, giving him better access. “That’s why I didn’t want to put on any of the lingerie.”

  His lips pulled at her earlobe, his hands drifting down her body to her full bottom and squeezing until she shivered. He blew a hot breath against her ear, then whispered, “The sexiest thing you’ll ever wear is me. And the next best thing is my shirt.”

  He released her, stepping toward the door. He turned back, taking in the shocked look in her eyes, the uncontrolled curls in her hair, his shirt unbuttoned to the middle of her chest, her legs long and shapely beneath the hem.

  He sucked in a sharp breath, his erection growing painful. “We’re inevitable, Robyn.”

  …

  The arrogance of the man shouldn’t be attractive. Robyn pawed through the suitcase, looking for anything useful. She’d switched from the ridiculous bridal thong her sisters had insisted on. When she’d opened the gift they’d all laughed until tears came to their eyes, and of course she’d dared Robyn to wear it today. Now she was stuck with a butt veil, and bride embroidered in hot pink on the front of her sheer white panties.

  The ruffled pair of boy shorts was the best she could manage. At least someone thought to gift her a zippered bag of overnight essentials, along with the longest roll of condoms known to man. Really, those women needed hobbies.

  Buttoning up Curtis’s shirt, she made her way downstairs to a kitchen the size of her entire apartment. She’d had her roommates create meals for them in case Curtis got as in the zone about the estate as he did the rest of his projects. There wasn’t a restaurant in town that delivered, especially not to the island. Stacia had made all her favorites, none of which she’d indulged in lately. Since the wedding charade was over, she needed carbs. STAT. Soup in bread bowls and a big glass of wine. She’d earned it after this ridiculous day. She set the bread in the oven to warm and then rifled through the cupboard for plates, spoons, and, of course, wine. Except she’d forgotten to pack a wine opener. With a frustrated huff, she shrank back against the counter. She really needed a drink. She’d run out on her own bridal photo shoot, was being pursued by the paparazzi, and was hiding out on a private island with the man of her dreams.

  The smile tightened her cheeks. Curtis Frye was alone in a house with her, and he’d made it clear he’d do anything she liked between the sheets. She was a glass-is-half-full kind of girl, but if she wasn’t careful she’d romanticize everything again and be in over her head. Curtis wasn’t going to be her future. She wasn’t willing to sign away her soul for a marriage, even if it was to the man she loved. He didn’t love her, but he was attracted to her. The story of her life.

  She’d always tried to make relationships work, compromising parts of herself for a future with men who didn’t think further than next month. That was one of the things that attracted her to Curtis. The man had a five-year plan written in stone. Well, he did until she chiseled out her name.

  She’d been guilty of exactly what he was doing—making the most out of an almost-perfect situation. Her college boyfriend had been persuaded into a trip to Mexico to give him the perfect location to propose, until he didn’t. She always had a hard time knowing when to let go. She’d learned the hard way there was no point trying to jumpstart a relationship once the battery had gone dead.

  Except this didn’t feel dead. They’d barely turned the key. But she didn’t know how she could be with him, knowing they could never be together, and not send her emotions spinning and her heart… Well, it was breaking anyway.

  “You wrote the entire business plan.” Curtis appeared out of nowhere, slamming a red folder on the granite countertop. “It’s complete. Better than the last few plans I received from project managers. Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to do this?”

  He grabbed the bottle from her hands, marching out of the kitchen before she could respond. She’d done her best on the plan to transform the estate into a resort, wanting to make sure they had ample time for other things, more sensual things, but she’d never thought it would be good enough on its own.

  Before she could get her wits about her, he was back, handing her the uncorked bottle of Pinot Grigio.

  “How did you do that?”

  “There’s a bottle opener mounted to the bar in the living room. I’ve been showing myself around. That’s how I found your plan.”

  Instead of answering, she poured the wine into the glasses she’d found and took a healthy gulp.

  “When did you have time to research a plan like that?”

  “I told you that I’ve been thinking about this place since my parents listed it.” The wine was cool and mellow, perfect for soothing her nerves.

  “The designer-themed rooms are a great idea, and an excellent way to keep costs down. Designers are doing collections for stores all over the place. It will be easy to order the items and set the rooms up quickly.”

  Easy for him, since she’d been the one scouting the collections at different department stores, finding which ones worked. Arranging setup and delivery on an island that offered only boat access was another story entirely. Setting up two bedrooms had been a logistics tangle.

  “Do you really think this place could be operational in three months?”

  “It would take some doing, but, yes.” She finished her glass of wine and poured a second. She hadn’t eaten anything all day. Her stomach and nerves demanded more than liquid courage.

  “To manage the project, you’ll need to devote yourself full time to this venture. We’ll present it to the hospitality group. They can begin recruiting for the staff and start marketing it.” Curtis merely swirled the wine in his glass, staring off into space.

  She set down her glass, removed the bread bowls from the oven, and set them on plates. She needed food, and he needed a hefty dose of reality.

  “I doubt I’ll be working for you next week.”

  “Why not?” He slammed the wineglass against the counter so hard she feared the stem might break.

  “Shall I rewind the events of the day for you? We were standing at the altar of a church, and I turned around and ran.”

  “Leaving your shoes behind.” He stalked closer to her, the look in his eye fierce and predatory.

  “You try running in them.” She busied herself with the now-steaming soup, pouring it into the bread bowls, ignoring his closeness.

  “Not my thing, though you in the heels and nothing else would earn my forgiveness.”

  “I’m not interested.” She slid a spoon onto the plate, then balanced it in one hand and took her wine in another, making her way outside to the veranda. She sat at the wrought iron patio set she’d found in the massive storage garage along with the original furniture from the house.

  She let the sweeping expanse of sky, mountain, and water calm her. With the sun growing tired, the lake darkened to a deep sapphire, the shoreline reddening as an echo to the pink tingeing the sky. Solitude rang out from the rise of Mount Shasta, the mountain ascending so high it was still streaked with snow, even this late in the summer. Fluttering with birds of every type and stands of cedar, sequoia, and pine, the mountain was as beautiful as the air was crisp and clean.

  The world around the island was so pure, she wondered if transforming the estate into a resort would taint it. She filled her lungs with a soothing breath of fresh air, loving the scent of it. If she were in charge of the project, she could ensure the quiet and innocence of the
land were what they prided themselves on. It was what high-end clientele lacked most. If they wanted to party, let them go to places that did that better than she could ever envision. This would be a place of relaxation and rejuvenation. Healing for the weariest souls.

  The sweet creaminess of the soup warmed her mouth as her body chilled. She couldn’t protect the project if she didn’t give in and play fiancée with Curtis. She’d not only be fired, but likely blackballed from the entire investments community. Maybe she ought to skip dinner and go straight for the ice cream she’d stocked for dessert and other emergencies. She needed an IV of chocolate to numb her from the realization that in choosing herself, she abandoned everything else.

  Especially Curtis. There was no telling who he would elect to be his next fiancée, what she would want from him in return.

  “This is romantic.” Curtis drifted onto the veranda, his plate in one hand, wineglass in the other. The corked bottle of wine rested in the crook of his elbow.

  She looked around, smiling at the implication. “Romance is inherent in the location. Really, the less you do to the house the better it will be.”

  “I was talking about you, making dinner to eat while we watch the sun set on the water. It’s very romantic.” He slid into the chair opposite her at the table, setting the wine between them and pulling out the cork. “It took me a bit to find where you’re keeping the wine, though.”

  He refilled her glass, and she lifted it, staring at the pale gold liquid that had finally begun to take the edge off her nerves. His bare foot slid against hers beneath the table, and she didn’t move away. She couldn’t help but wonder if she shouldn’t at least taste what it was she was giving up before her conscience required her to return everything in the name of her stupid pride.

  “You have a beautiful smile. I’ve always thought your face wasn’t made to frown.”

  Her smile widened. “What does that mean?”

  “When you smile, you’re breathtaking. When you cry—”