THE BRAVO BILLIONAIRE Page 6

  "Is your car open?"

  She nodded.

  "Come on, then."

  They ran together, down the steps. They were drenched by the time they reached her red SUV.

  He yanked open the door for her. "Get in."

  She stepped up behind the wheel. Her key was in the pocket of her coat. She felt for it, found it, put it in the ignition.

  Jonas was still standing there, his hand on her open door, watching her. Rain ran down his face, off the end of his big, blunt nose and along the cleft in his square chin. His beautiful dress shirt clung to his body, outlining the heavy muscles in his shoulders and his arms.

  She felt weak inside, looking at him.

  And then he leaned toward her and caught her mouth again, hard and hungrily. She tasted the rain, which felt cool on his lips. He opened his mouth, sucking. She sucked right back.

  But only for a moment.

  As quickly as he'd kissed her, he was pulling away. "Tomorrow morning. Ten o'clock," he said. "Be ready."

  "I…" She got out the one word and nothing more, because she'd completely forgotten whatever she'd started out to say.

  Jonas didn't seem to mind. He shut her door, waved at her and then stood there, rain pouring down on him, staring in her side window at her, looking slightly put out.

  She realized he was waiting for her to start the car and drive away.

  Well, all right. Good idea.

  She turned the key, put the vehicle in gear and drove around the big open space in front of the mansion, until she was pointed toward the long drive down the hill, between the double row of palm trees. Jonas remained there, in the rain, watching her. She couldn't resist repeated glances in her rearview mirror. He stayed right where she'd left him, staring after her.

  He should go in, get out of the rain. But he didn't. And she got so absorbed in checking on him that she almost drove smack dab into a palm tree.

  That did it. She kept her eyes on the drive ahead from then on.

  * * *

  At home, which was half of a roomy duplex in North Hollywood, with three bedrooms and a tiny patch of patio in back, the Yorkies were waiting, their little bodies shaking with joy, even yipping once or twice, to welcome her back. She knelt and picked them up, first Bob and then Ted, letting them swipe their doggy kisses on her cheeks and telling them how very glad she was to see them again.

  "Oh, you little sweeties. It has been a whole hour…"

  Festus, the black-and-white cat who had shown up at her door the first week she came to L.A. and lived with her ever since, sat back in the open arch that led to the kitchen. He was much too dignified to beg for attention. Once she'd greeted the Yorkies, Emma went to him. He allowed her to stroke his head and scratch him behind the ears.

  Emma hung her coat in the closet by the front door. The Yorkies pranced behind her down the hall as she went to her bedroom to pack for her wedding trip.

  Her wedding trip…

  Good Lord in heaven. Was this really happening? Had she actually agreed to marry Jonas Bravo? Tomorrow. In Las Vegas.

  The idea of it stole all the breath right out of her body. She sat down on the edge of her bed with its cute white iron frame and comforting white chenille spread. The Yorkies jumped up to sit beside her.

  What had he said? That he had important meetings on Wednesday, so they'd be back by tomorrow night. It would be a short trip, not a lot of time for seeing the sights.

  But even though they weren't staying the night, she'd need to pack a few things, make a few arrangements. She picked up the phone on the bedside table and called Deirdre Laventhol.

  Deirdre answered on the fourth ring. "Wha … huh?"

  "It's me."

  Deirdre groaned. "It's also after midnight, in case you didn't notice."

  "Sorry. Something has come up. I have to be gone all day tomorrow and I'm not sure when exactly I'll be back. I want to bring Festus and the Yorkies over to the shop first thing. Would you keep an eye on them for me, and take them home with you when you close up?"

  "What? You don't want to board them?"

  "That's real funny."

  It was a running joke at PetRitz. The grooming end of the business was doing just great, but no one – especially not rich Beverly Hills matrons – wanted to board their pets if they could avoid it. They let their servants watch their animals or they hired pet-sitters. So the roomy accommodations at PetRitz rarely saw use. Instead, Emma sometimes took pets home with her, and her employees picked up extra cash staying in big, beautiful houses, caring for the animals while the owners were away. Emma had plans, within the coming year, to discontinue the boarding service.

  "What is going on?" demanded Deirdre.

  "Will you do it?"

  "Yeah, sure."

  "Thanks. I owe you one. And now, I have to—"

  "Uh-uh. No way. You woke me up. You got me to baby-sit Festus and the Yorkies. Now, you tell me what's up."

  "It's too crazy. I can't get in to it now."

  "You said you owed me. I'm collecting. Tell."

  "But it's just too—"

  "Em. I mean it. Speak."

  Emma fell back across the bed. Bob whined and tried to lick her face. Ted jumped on her stomach, tipped his head to the side and perked up his ears.

  "I'm waiting."

  "All right." She patted Ted on the head and ordered Bob to sit, which he did, instantly.

  "What do you mean, sit?"

  "I was talking to Bob."

  "Sure you were. Well?"

  Emma went ahead and said it. "I'm gettin' married."

  Deirdre let out a yelp. "What? Who to? And hey, how come I'm not invited?"

  "Oh, calm down. It's only temporary."

  "Huh, what?"

  Emma rolled to her stomach and toed off her platform sandals. They dropped to the rose-patterned needlepoint rug by the bed. "Deirdre, it's a weird thing. You hear what I'm sayin'?"

  "Tell me more."

  Deirdre was a good friend. Almost as good a friend as Blythe had been. For a while, after Emma moved out of that first East Hollywood studio apartment and before she bought her house, she and Deirdre had shared a place in West Hollywood. Deirdre was the illegitimate daughter of a Las Vegas showgirl and a famous movie director. Her mother had died a number of years ago. Her father gave her money now and then but didn't want her intruding too much in his life. Deirdre was tough on the outside and a cream puff on the inside. And she could always be trusted to keep whatever you told her to herself.

  Emma told her everything – pretty much, anyway. Starting out with what Deirdre already knew: that Jonas Bravo was a cold, distant man who could stand to open up a little. Emma went on to explain what Blythe's will had asked of her and how she'd decided to honor the dying wish of her friend. She left out the part about how she and Jonas had gone at each other hot and heavy less than an hour ago, how if he hadn't stopped it, they'd probably be rolling around naked on the floor of his study right about now.

  "You're right," said Deirdre when Emma was done. "This is seriously weird. Are you sure that you know what you're doing?"

  "Nope. But I'm doin' it anyway. She was my true friend, Deirdre. And I can't turn away from what she has asked of me."

  "I liked Blythe. A lot. But she was asking for trouble, in my humble opinion."

  "I'm doin' it, Deirdre."

  "All right. I hear you. I'll watch the animals."

  After she said goodbye to her friend, Emma tried to pack.

  But what was there to pack, if they'd be back before bedtime? She ended up throwing a few things in her overnighter, tucking a couple of dresses into a garment bag and telling herself that it would be enough.

  Once the packing was done, she took the Yorkies for a short walk, discovering as she stepped out into the night again that the rain had stopped. Finally, well after one in the morning, she brushed her teeth and washed her face and climbed into her white iron bed. The Yorkies cuddled in close and Festus curled up at her feet.


  Of course, she couldn't sleep. Her life had been turned upside down. She was marrying Jonas Bravo – even if it wasn't a real marriage.

  And Jonas had kissed her.

  Well, more than kissed her.

  And she had not uttered one little syllable of protest.

  Because she had liked it. She had liked it way, way too much.

  * * *

  In his bedroom at Angel's Crest, Jonas wasn't sleeping either. But not sleeping was nothing new to him. He had a slight problem with insomnia. So that night, after he'd made all the arrangements for the trip the next day, he lay in his big bed, with his hands laced behind his head. He stared into the darkness and he thought of how amusing Emma Hewitt had turned out to be. And now, for a time, he would be married to her.

  Pleasantly aroused, he smiled into the darkness. He was in control of this little situation now.

  And he intended to stay in control.

  * * *

  By the next morning, Emma had come to a few important conclusions. She had thoroughly evaluated her own actions of the night before. And she had decided that she was not very happy with herself – or with Jonas Bravo.

  Yes, all right. They were getting married. But only for Mandy's sake, only in order that Emma could help Jonas to open up, to learn to trust the basic goodness in other people a little. There was nothing in Blythe's will about the two of them crawling all over each other.

  And to be tough and truthful, well, Jonas hadn't done a thing that she hadn't wanted him to do. She supposed she had to face the facts here. The Bravo Billionaire had gotten to her. She was only a human woman. It wasn't easy to stand firm against all that testosterone, those big hard muscles and that steely will.

  Plus, he knew how to kiss. Oh, did he ever know how to kiss…

  No. Now, that was not good. She was not going to think about his kisses. She was going to keep foremost in her mind that her job in this marriage was to help him become the kind of man who would be a loving, giving guardian to Mandy. The torrid love affair angle was out.

  She would not be sleeping in Jonas Bravo's bed. And if he thought that she would, he was in for a surprise.

  * * *

  Emma had one white suit, and she wore it the next day to be married in. The suit fit nice and snug and the skirt was short and tight. Beneath the jacket, she wore a little nothing of a camisole and on her feet she wore T-strap dress sandals, with little gold buckles at the ankle and sleek three-inch heels.

  Jonas arrived right on time, at ten on the nose. Emma had already taken the dogs and Festus to PetRitz and made sure Deirdre had her cell phone number in case some emergency cropped up.

  Emma's duplex was a reverse floor plan, with the garage in the front, the living area facing the back patio, and a long walkway down the side of the building leading up to the door. She loved the house, mostly because it belonged to her. She'd gotten a great deal on it just last year. But the inconvenient layout meant that she couldn't watch for Jonas's arrival without standing out in the driveway – which, of course, she did not do.

  She knew that he usually rode around in a long black limousine and she half expected him to send his driver in to fetch her. But when she answered the door, there he was, dressed so beautifully in a lightweight suit that had no doubt been made by hand for some incredible price.

  "Ready?"

  She met those midnight eyes. It was not easy. She felt … embarrassed, after the way she had behaved last night. Embarrassed and way too attracted. He looked so good and solid and big. And he was staring at her like he wouldn't mind taking right up where they'd left off, with her moaning his name and his hands where they shouldn't be.

  "Yes," she said, "I'm ready," at the same time ordering her silly heart to stop knocking like a sledgehammer inside her chest. She had her small suitcase, the garment bag and her purse right there by the door. She bent to pick them all up.

  He took the suitcase and garment bag away from her. "I'm sure this will do for tonight," he said. "Tomorrow, we'll have to see about moving whatever else you want to bring with you to Angel's Crest."

  She stopped halfway through the door. "I'm moving? To Angel's Crest?"

  He looked at her, a patient, level, very knowing look. "Emma. The terms of the will are that we have to live together. You remember that."

  "Well, I know, but I—"

  "By the way, where are the dogs?"

  Emma hardly heard the question. She was too busy dealing with the idea that she'd have to move to Angel's Crest – not that his assumption about where they'd live had really surprised her. Naturally he'd take it for granted that they would live at his mansion. And it did make sense, she supposed. She could hardly expect the Bravo Billionaire and his little sister to move into her North Hollywood duplex with her – could she?

  But still, they should have discussed it last night. Heck. There were probably a lot of things they should have discussed last night. But instead, they'd started kissing and that been the end of all the things they should have done.

  "Emma. The dogs?"

  "Hmm? Oh. A friend is watching them. And Jonas, I think we have to talk a little about—"

  "You'll bring them with you, to Angel's Crest. And that stray cat, I suppose. Even the damn iguana is fine with me."

  She just felt so … agitated. And there was a yearning, inside her, to move closer to him, to put her hand on him, against his broad chest or on his shoulder, anywhere, she wasn't particular. She just wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of him against the palm of her hand.

  What were they talking about?

  Oh. The dogs and Festus and Homer. He'd said she could bring them all to Angel's Crest. "Homer lives at PetRitz now. He has a nice big terrarium in the waiting room. Didn't you notice it the other day when you were there?"

  "Homer. That would be the iguana?"

  "That's right."

  "I probably saw it. I saw several terrariums."

  "Well, he was there."

  He shrugged. "Bring the dogs and the cat, then – and right now, lock the door and let's go."

  "Yes," she said, wishing she didn't feel so dizzy and distracted. "And wait a minute. How did you know about Homer and my cat?"

  He just looked at her.

  She figured it out. "Oh. Right. It's all in my file, isn't it?"

  "Emma. We have to get going."

  "All right. I know. I'll just … set the burglar alarm." She rarely set it, but since she wasn't sure when she'd be back, she decided it might be a good idea this time. The control pad was right by the door. She stepped back inside and punched the combination to arm the thing. Then she locked the door and turned to Jonas, who was waiting, looking a little impatient, several steps down the walk.

  "I'm coming, I'm coming…"

  He strode off and she hurried to keep up.

  The driver was standing by the side of the limo. He opened the door for them. Jonas handed over Emma's suitcase and garment bag, and stepped aside so that she could get in first.

  Emma flashed the driver a grin. "Thank you."

  The driver tipped his hat. Emma slid across the soft leather seat to the far side. Jonas got in, too. The driver closed the door and then detoured around the back of the big car to stow Emma's luggage in the trunk.

  The driver had climbed in behind the wheel way up in front beyond the glass partition and started up the engine before it occurred to Emma that something very important was missing.

  She turned to Jonas. "Where's Mandy?"

  He gave her a puzzled sort of frown. "At home where she belongs."

  "We're stopping at the mansion then? To pick her up?"

  He looked at her as if she'd just suggested he blow up a bank. "No."

  "She's not coming with us?"

  "Of course she's not."

  "Why not?"

  He let out a long, put-upon breath of air. "Emma, I have no intention of dragging my two-year-old sister to Vegas and back. It's an insane suggestion. We'll be home tonight. She won't even k
now we were gone."

  "That's not the point."

  "Of course it is."

  "Will you kindly stop saying 'of course,' like something is right just because it's what you think? We are doing this for her sake. And by golly, she is going to be there."

  "She is two years old."

  "Yes. She is. And she's comin' with us."

  "No, Emma. She's not."

  They glared at each other. The big car rolled away from the curb.

  Emma said, "Stop the car."

  Either the partition that separated the front seat from the back was soundproof, or the driver had ignored her. The car rolled on, down to the end of her cul de sac, around and back the other way.

  Emma spoke directly to Jonas. "Stop the car. Now." His eyes shifted away, then back. The nerves-of-steel Bravo Billionaire had gotten the message. Emma Lynn Hewitt meant business.

  "Damn it, Emma," he said in a voice right next door to a whisper. "I've made no arrangements in terms of security. It's not safe."

  Suddenly, she hurt for him, for what she knew he had suffered as such a young child – for what he'd lost and what he couldn't seem to help fearing he just might lose again.

  She spoke gently. "It is safe. She'll be with us. We'll never let her out of our sight."

  Jonas turned away.

  The car had left Emma's street behind. They were headed for the freeway. Emma said, "Tell the driver to pull over, Jonas. Tell him to do it now."

  He looked at her again, a look as cold as a dead rattlesnake. He did not tell the driver to stop.

  She hated to do it to him, to say the forbidden word. But at that point she didn't see that she had much of a choice. "I would think, Jonas Bravo, that you of all people would never stoop to … kidnapping."

  Jonas said nothing. He kept on looking at her, his face expressionless.

  Emma said it again. "Stop the car."

  He pushed a button built into the armrest on his right. "Larry. Pull over."

  The car slid in near the curb and stopped.

  Emma asked, "Has she been out of that mansion once since Blythe died?"

  He took his sweet time replying. Finally, he said, "At this point in her life, everything my sister could possibly need is right there, at Angel's Crest."