Billionaire Bachelors: Stone

“Does my mother know the truth?”

Stone shook his head. “She believes I oversee your investments and take care of the bills out of the income. Her doctors tell me stress is bad for MS patients. Why distress her needlessly?”

It made sense. And in an objective way, she admired his compassion. But it still horrified her to think of the money he’d spent.

The waiter returned then with their meal and the conversation paused until he’d set their entrées before them. They both were quiet for the next few moments.

Stone ate with deep concentration, his dark brows drawn together, obviously preoccupied with something.

She hated to be keeping him from something important but when she said as much, he replied, “You were the only thing on my agenda for today.”

Really, there wasn’t anything she could say in response to that, she thought, suppressing a smile. “Since that’s the case,” she finally said, “I’d really like to have an accounting of how much I owe you—”

“Do not ask me that one more time.” Stone’s deep voice vibrated with suppressed anger.

She gave up. If Stone wouldn’t tell her, she could figure out a rough estimate, at least, by combining tuition fees with a living allowance. And she should be able to get a record of her mother’s fees from her doctor. “I have to get back to work soon,” she said in the coolest, most polite manner she could muster.

Stone’s head came up; he eyed her expression. “Hell,” he said. “You’re already mad at me; I might as well get it all over with at once.”

“I’d prefer that you don’t swear in my presence.” She lifted her chin. Then his words penetrated. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not going back to work.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice was frosty.

He hesitated. “I phrased that badly. I want you to quit work.”

She stared at him. “Are you crazy? And live on what?”

He scowled. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself. I won’t always be a salesclerk. I’m taking night classes starting in the summer,” she said. Despite her efforts to remain calm, her voice began to rise. “It’s going to take longer this way but I’ll finish.”

“What are you studying?” His sudden capitulation wasn’t expected.

She eyed him with suspicion. “Business administration and computer programming. I’d like to start my own business in Web design one of these days.”

His eyebrows rose. “Ambitious.”

“And necessary,” she said. “Mama’s getting worse. She’s going to need ’round-the-clock care one of these days. I need to be able to provide the means for her to have it.”

“You know I’ll always take care of your mother.”

“That’s not the point!” She wanted to bang her head—or his—against the table in frustration.

“My father would have expected me to take care of you. That’s the point.” He calmly sat back against the banquette, unfazed by her aggravation, an elegant giant with the classic features of a Greek god, and she was struck again by how handsome he was. When they’d entered The Rainbow Room, she’d been aware of the ripple of feminine interest that his presence had attracted. She’d been ridiculously glad that she was wearing her black Donna Karan today. It might be a few years old but it was a gorgeous garment and she felt more confident simply slipping it on. Then she remembered that his money had paid for the dress, and her pleasure in her appearance drained away.

“I’m sure your father would be pleased that you’ve done your duty,” she said with a note of asperity. “But we will not continue to accept your charity.”

He grimaced. “Bullhead.”

“Look who’s talking.” But she couldn’t resist the gleam in his eye and she smiled back at him despite the gnawing feeling of humiliation that had been lodged in her belly since the day she’d found out she was essentially a pauper. “Now take me back to work. My lunch hour is almost over.”

He heaved an impatient sigh. “This is against my better judgment.”

She leaned forward, making her best effort to look intimidating. “Just think about how miserable I will make your life if you don’t. I’m sure your judgment will improve quickly.”

He shot her a quirky grin. “I’m shaking in my boots.”

He didn’t want to notice her.

She had been an unofficial little sister during his youth, and his responsibility since her father had died. She was ten years younger than he was. He was her guardian, for God’s sake!

But as he handed her back into the car after their meal, his eye was caught by the slim length of her leg in the elegant high heels as she stepped in, by the way her simple dress hugged the taut curve of her thigh as she slid across the seat, by the soft press of pert young breasts against the fabric of the black coat as she reached for her seat belt.

He’d seen her standing in the store long before she had noticed him, her slender figure strikingly displayed in a black dress that, although it was perfectly discreet, clung to her in a way that made a man want to strip it off and slide his hands over the smooth curves beneath. Made him want to touch, to pull the pins out of her shining coil of pale hair and watch it slither down over her shoulders and breasts, to set his mouth to the pulse that beat just beneath the delicate skin along her white throat and taste—

Enough! She’s not for you.

Grimly he dragged his mind back from the direction in which it wanted to stray.

He hated the idea of her wearing herself out hustling in retail for eight hours a day, and he figured he’d give it one more try. The only woman he’d ever known who really enjoyed working was his mother. Faith shouldn’t be working herself into exhaustion. She should be gracing someone’s home, casting her gentle influence around a man, making his life an easier place to be. He knew it was an archaic attitude and that most modern women would hit him over the head for voicing such a thought. But he’d lived a childhood without two parents because his own mother had put business before family. He knew, despite all the Superwoman claims of the feminist movement, that a woman couldn’t do it all.

Diplomatically he only said, “Why don’t you go back to school for the rest of the semester? Then this summer we can talk about you finding a job.”

Her eyes grew dark and her delicate brows snapped together. “You will not give me money. More money,” she amended. “I’m not quitting work. I need the money. Besides, it’s too late in the semester to reenroll. I’ve missed too much.”

He looked across the car at her, seated decorously with her slender feet placed side by side, her hands folded in her lap and her back straight as a ramrod. Her hair was so fair it nearly had a silver sheen to it where the winter sun struck it, and her eyes were a pure lake-gray above the straight little nose. She had one of the most classically lovely faces he’d ever seen, and she looked far too fragile to be working so hard. The only thing that marred the picture of the perfect lady was the frown she was aiming his way. The contrast was adorable and he caught himself before he blurted out how beautiful she was in a snit.

Then he realized that beautiful or not, she was as intransigent as a mule who thought she was carrying too heavy a load. “All right,” he said. “You can keep doing whatever you want. Within reason.”

“Your definition of reason and mine could be quite different.” Her tone was wry and her frown had relaxed. “Besides, in eight more months, you won’t have any authority to tell me what to do. Why don’t you start practicing now?”

He took a deep breath, refusing to snarl. He nearly told her that no matter how old she got she’d always be his responsibility, but the last thing he needed was for her to get her back up even more. Then he recalled the image of her stricken face, great gray eyes swimming with the tears she refused to give in to as she told him how she’d found out about her financial affairs, and he gentled his response to a more reasonable request. “Would you at least consider a different kind of job? Something that isn’t so demanding?”

She was giving him another distinctly suspicious look. “Maybe. But I won’t quit today.”

He exhaled, a deep, exaggeratedly patient sigh. “Of course not.”

When the taxi rolled to a stop in front of Saks, he took her elbow as she turned toward the door. “Wait,” he said before she could scramble out.

She turned back and looked at him, her gray eyes questioning.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

Could her eyes get any wider? “Dinner?”

He knew how she felt. He hadn’t planned to ask her; the words had slipped out before he’d thought about them. Good Lord. “Um, yes,” he said, wondering if thirty was too early for the onset of senility. “I’ll pick you up. What’s your address?”

She lived on the upper West Side, in a small apartment that would have been adequate for two. But he knew from the talk they had shared over lunch that she had at least two roommates from the names she’d mentioned.

“How many people do you live with?” he asked dubiously, looking around as she unlocked the door and ushered him in.

“Three other girls,” she answered. “Two to each bedroom. Two of us work days and two work nights so it’s rare that we’re all here at the same time.”

Just then, a door opened and a girl in a black leotard and denim overalls came down the hall. Stone examined her with disbelief. She was a redhead, at least mostly. There was a blue streak boldly marching through the red near the left front side of her curly hair. She had a wide, friendly smile and green eyes that were sparkling with interest.

“Well, hey,” she said. “Like, I hate to tell you, handsome, but you so do not fit in here.”

He couldn’t keep himself from returning the grin. “My Rolex gave me away?”

“Gretchen, this is Stone Lachlan,” Faith said. “Stone, one of my roommates, Gretchen Vandreau.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Gretchen dropped a mock-curtsy, still beaming.

“You also, Miss Vandreau.” He grinned again as her eyes widened.

“Are you—oh, wow, you are! The Lachlans.” Her eyebrows shot up as she eyed Faith. “Where did you find him?”

“Actually I found her,” Stone said. “Faith and I are old friends.” He turned to Faith. “Are you ready?”

“Ready? Like, to go out?” Gretchen looked from one to the other with delight. “You go, girlfriend.”

“It’s not like that,” she said to Gretchen.

“Depends on what that is,” Stone inserted.

Faith turned and glared at him. “Stone—”

“Better hurry, I have reservations for eight.” He felt an odd sense of panic as he gauged the mulish expression on her face. Was she having second thoughts? Was she going to back out? He had to battle the urge to simply pick her up and carry her back down to the car.

She retrieved a black cape from the small coat closet with her friend chattering along behind her. He stepped in to help her on with the garment, and they went out the door to the sound of Gretchen’s enthusiastic, “Have a blast!”

He took her elbow and urged her into the elevator, conscious of a ridiculous sense of relief sweeping through him as they exited the cramped apartment. It was only that he felt it was his duty to take care of her, he assured himself. Faith didn’t belong in a crowded apartment or behind a counter in a department store. Her family had intended that she be gently raised, probably with the idea that she’d marry a polite young man of the upper class one day and raise polite, well-mannered upper-class children. After all, she’d been sent to the best private schools, had learned the sometimes ridiculous rules that accompanied moving in society.

He wished the idea didn’t fill him with such a sense of…unease. That was all it was. He wanted the best for her and it would be up to him to be sure any suitors were suitable.

He surveyed her covertly as they stood in the elevator, waiting for the ground floor. Her blond hair was smoothly swept back into a shining knot at the back of her head and the harsh lighting in the elevator made it gleam with silvery highlights. She was chewing on her bottom lip; he reached out and touched it with his index finger to get her to stop. Alarm bells went off in his head as a strange jolt of electric awareness shot through his body.

He stared down at her. She had her gaze fixed on the floor and he had to restrain himself from reaching for her chin and covering her lips with his own. What would she taste like?

Then he realized what he was thinking…totally inappropriate thought to be having about a girl who was like his little sister. Again.

Little sister? Since when do you wonder how your little sister’s curves would feel pressed up against you?

He almost growled aloud to banish his unruly thoughts and Faith’s gray eyes flashed to his face with a wary look he thought was probably normally aimed at large predators.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No.” Then she shook her head. “That’s not true. Why are you doing this?”

He gazed calmly back at her. “Dinner, you mean?”

She nodded.

“I’m your guardian. It struck me today that I haven’t done a very good job of it, either, so I thought we’d spend a little more time together. You can tell me more about your plans.”

She nodded again, as if his explanation made sense.

The ride to the small, quiet Italian restaurant where he’d made reservations was a short one. As the maître d’ showed them to their table, Faith caught his eye. As the man walked away, she whispered, “If this isn’t a Mafia haven, I don’t know what is!”

He chuckled, surprised she’d picked up on it. He’d been coming here for years—the food was reputed to be some of the best Northern Italian cuisine in the city. But the waiters, the bartender, certainly the man who appeared to be the owner greeting guests, had an air of authority, underlaid with an indefinable air of menace. “It’s probably the safest place to be in Manhattan,” he said.

Over dinner, he asked her questions about her interest in computers.

“I had a knack for it,” she told him, “and I started helping out in the computer lab at school. It got so that the instructors were coming to me with questions about how to do things, and how to fix things they’d messed up. That led me into programming and eventually I set up the school’s Web site. And once I did that, other people began to ask me to design their sites. It occurred to me that I could make a living doing something I really enjoy, so I decided on a double major in computers and business.”

“You’re planning to open your own company when you get your degree?”

She nodded, and her eyes shone with enthusiasm. “Eventually. I think I’d like the challenge. But I’ll probably start at an established firm.” She paused and her gaze grew speculative. “You had to take over Lachlan after your father passed away, and you’ve clearly been successful at it. You can give me some pointers.”

He shrugged. Discussing business with Faith was hardly at the top of his list of things he wanted to do. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble.”

Their dinners arrived and while they ate, he inquired about her mother’s health.

“She isn’t able to get around without using a motorized scooter now,” she said, her face sobering. “She’s sixty, and the disease has started to accelerate. Recently she’s been having a lot of trouble with her vision. Some days are better than others. But it’s only a matter of time before she needs live-in assistance or she has to go to some kind of assisted care facility. She wasn’t happy that I’m working, either, but we’re going to be facing some serious expenses one of these days.” He could hear the frustration in her voice.

“She’s only thinking of you,” he said. “She wants you to have the freedom and enjoy normal experiences for a young woman your age.”

Moments later, Faith excused herself from the table and made her way to the ladies’ room. As he watched her walk across the room, he was struck again by her elegance and poise. Every man in the room watched her and he caught himself frowning at a few of them in warning.

That was ridiculous. He wasn’t her keeper.

Well, in fact he supposed he was. But this wasn’t the Dark Ages and she didn’t need his permission to accept a suitor. Or a husband, for that matter.

He didn’t like that thought. Not at all. Faith was still very young, and she fairly screamed, “Innocent.” She could easily be taken advantage of now that she wasn’t in the somewhat protected environment of an all-girls’ college. She was still his ward, though in her mind, at least, it was a mere technicality. In his, it was altogether different. He was supposed to take care of her. And he’d never forgive himself if she came to harm, even if it was only getting her heart broken by some cad. It frustrated the hell out of him that he wasn’t going to be able to keep her safe.

Then the perfect solution to his frustration popped into his head. He could marry her!

Marry her? Was he insane? They were ten years apart in age, far more than that in experience. But, he decided, the kind of experience he was thinking of could play no part in a marriage with Faith. It would be strictly a platonic arrangement, he assured himself. Simply an arrangement that would help him achieve a goal and protect her at the same time. If she was married, Faith wouldn’t be a target for trouble. In another year or so she’d be more worldly, and the best part was that he would be able to keep her safe during that time.

He was going to have to marry to satisfy his mother’s conditions anyway. And if they married soon, as soon as possible, then he’d be only a year away from achieving the goal of which he’d dreamed for years. He would be able to merge Smythe Corp. and Lachlan Industries into one bigger and better entity.

Then he forgot about business as Faith appeared again. She walked toward him as if he’d called to her, and as she drew closer he could see her smiling at him. He smiled back, knowing that the other men in the place had to be envying him. Long and lean, she had a smooth, easy walk with a regal carriage that ensured instant attention when paired with that angelic face. He doubted she even realized it.

As she passed one of the waiters, the man flashed a white smile at her. She gave him a warm smile in return, and she had no idea that he’d turned to watch her back view as she continued on through the restaurant to their table.

And that was exactly why she needed his protection, Stone thought grimly. He stood as she arrived and walked around to settle her in her chair. She glanced up at him over her shoulder with the same sweet smile she’d just given the waiter, and he felt his gut clench in response. She was far too potent for her own good.

“So,” he said, picking up his water and taking a healthy gulp, “while you were gone I was doing some thinking, and I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” Her eyes lit with interest. “Are we talking about a job here?”

“In a sense.” He hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Are you serious about paying me back?”

“Yes,” she said immediately.

God, he hadn’t been this nervous since the first day he’d stood in front of the assembled employees of his father’s company for the first time. “I could use your help with something,” he said slowly.

Faith’s gaze searched his expression, clearly looking for clues. “You need my help?”

He nodded. Then he took a deep breath and leaned forward. “I need a wife.”

She stared at him, apparently sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. He couldn’t blame her. As soon as the words were out, he’d decided he was crazy. “You need what?”

“A wife.” He could hear the embarrassment and impatience in his tone and he forced himself to take deep, slow breaths. Calming breaths.

She spread her hands in confusion and her smooth brow wrinkled in bewilderment. “But how can I help you with that? I doubt I know anyone who—”

“Faith.” His deep voice stopped her tumbling words. “I’d like you to be my wife.”

Her eyes widened. Her mouth formed a perfect O of surprise. She put a hand up and pointed to herself as if she needed confirmation that she hadn’t lost her mind, and her lips soundlessly formed the word, “Me?”

He nodded, feeling an unaccustomed heat rising into his face. “Yes. You.”

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