How To Catch A Billionaire(13)
Author: Helen Cooper

"You just told me we didn’t have time," I protested. He grinned at me.

"Well, I could always be convinced."

"Whatever." I pulled out a pair of panties and a bra and pulled them on before turning back to him. "How fancy is this place? Should I wear something casual or something sophisticated."

"Whatever you want."

"That doesn’t help me," I moaned. "Men," I muttered. "I would have thought that you being an older man would know a bit more about clothes."

"You’re obsessed with age, aren’t you?" He laughed.

"No, I’m not." I pulled on a navy blue skirt and a white top. "I’ve just never dated an older man before."

"Well, you’re not dating one now either." He shrugged his shoulders. It took me a moment to realize what he meant by that. He wasn’t saying that he wasn’t old; he was saying that we weren’t dating.

"Or maybe I should say I’ve never slept with a man with sagging skin before." I smiled sweetly at him. "I know you may be looking for some sort of young trophy but I’m not really interested in the position. I’m not some blonde wanna-be who hooks up with an old fart like Hugh Hefner just to get into the Playboy Ranch."

"No, you aren’t." He looked at me pointedly and I felt my body flush.

“You’re not exactly a Chippendale."

"Would you like me to be?" He raised an eyebrow at me and cocked his face. "Is that your way of asking me to strip for you?"

"You wish." I flattened my skirt and brushed my hair, groaning at the tangles that were resisting my stroke.

"Need some help?" He walked up behind me and took the brush from my hand. "You have beautiful hair."

"Thanks." I let him brush my hair softly and it relaxed my nerves. I wasn’t sure why I felt so agitated and jumpy around him. He did something to me that I didn’t really understand. "Ow!" I cried out as he hit a knot of hair.

"Sorry," he rubbed the top of my head. "Your hair is very long, I like it."

"I’m thinking about cutting it." I retorted untruthfully.

"Really?" His voice was low. "Don’t cut it, Sarah."

"Why not?" My voice was surprised. What did he care?

"Because I prefer long hair." He bent down and whispered in my hair, "It’s easier to pull on when I f**k you."

"Oh." I pulled away from him and then turned around and glared at him. "You need to stop talking about sex. It is not going to happen."

"But it already has…. several times." He grinned. "And it nearly happened again, just five minutes ago."

"Whatever." I pointed at him. "Let’s make a deal, no more sex."

"Is that what you want?" His face held a crooked grin and I knew that he thought I couldn’t resist him and his sexy dark hair and crinkly blue eyes.

"Yes," I spoke calmly and confidently. "If I’m going to go home with you I don’t want your family thinking I’m some sort of whore that sleeps around."

"But you’re going as my fiancée."

"I don’t want them to think we have sex."

"Uh, ok." He grinned at her. "And you think they are going to believe that?"

"Yes." I grinned and twirled around. "Because I am a Princess from Europe and everyone knows we are chaste." I spoke in an Eastern European accent and he groaned.

"Sarah!"

"What, kind sir?" I looked down my nose haughtily at him, my voice sounding decidedly English this time.

"Sarah, you are not going to be using your acting skills," he snorted, "this weekend. My whole family is going to be there and they are going to be asking you a million questions."

"I’ll just pretend I don’t understand what they are saying." I grinned. "I can be Princess Sarah of Latvia."

"Latvia?" His voice held disbelief.

"Or England if you want, but if they’re familiar with the British Royal Family at all, they may know that that’s not true. So we better go with Latvia."

"Sarah, you are not going to pretend you are the Princess of Latvia," Harry’s voice was stern and he groaned. "Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. You were right. Our age difference is too much."

"What’s that meant to mean?" I protested angrily. It was all right for me to think he was too old for me but he shouldn’t be thinking I’m too young for him. Not at all.

"Sarah, you are twenty-two and immature." He sighed. "My family is going to think I lost my mind bringing you home."

"Excuse me?"

"I’m nearly in my forties, I’m a billionaire. Millions of women all over the world want to be with me. I don’t think they will believe I fell for a kook."

"A KOOK?" My voice rose.

"Yes, Sarah. You are kooky." He looked me in the eyes. "And that’s nicer than calling you a liar."

"You’re an ass**le and you can leave now." I sat on my bed and lay down staring at the ceiling, trying to not let tears fall from my eyes. "I wasn’t too much of a liar that you didn’t want to sleep with me though."

"Ah Sarah." He sat down next to me on the bed. "Look, I’m sorry. I’ve never known someone like you before. Maybe it’s because I’m an old fart." He paused. "You could say, no Harry, you’re not an old fart, you know."

I laughed as he looked down at me with a sad face. "No Harry, you’re not a completely old fart." I smiled up at him and felt tingles in my stomach as he gazed down at me. We stared at each other for about a minute and I felt a current of electricity flow through us. His blue eyes were wide and happy, gazing at me with no shadows or secrets. I felt like I could see into his heart and soul and it made me very uncomfortable. His hand found mine and stroked my palm. I felt my body flush and I shifted my gaze away. He let go of my hand and jumped off the bed.

“Ready to go?” he said gruffly.

“Fine.” My voice was exasperated and my body was disappointed. I didn’t want to go anywhere other than under the sheets.

Chapter 7

“So, Jane seems sweet.” Harry escorted me to his car. It was an Audi A4 and I sunk into the leather seats surprised. I would have thought that he’d drive a Porsche or a Mercedes.

“Yeah, Jane is great.” I smiled. “We’ve been best friends for ages. We moved here from Florida together to go to school.”

“Did she study drama as well?” Harry’s eyes remained on the road as he spoke and I studied his profile.