Blackmailed by the Billionaire Brewer

Piper sighed and nodded. He was right—she was up to her neck in practical problems. She should be gracious, not stupid, and accept his offer of help. “So what’s your plan?”

“Today we need to dig out your car, and tomorrow we have to take a certain somebody to the vet, start getting you photographed for the launch campaign, and attend an art gallery event. We’re completely booked.”

“Hm.”

“And somewhere in between we need to get you something to wear, unless you’ve already been shopping.”

She could feel herself bristle. “I’m sure I’ve got something I can wear that won’t completely shame you.”

“It’s not me, Piper, I like you with no clothes on, but there’s a good chance there will be a lot of cameras and a few famous names around. It’ll be less intimidating if you blend in with the rich list.”

He was right, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. Big fancy social occasions hadn’t featured highly in her life and she hated things like weddings at the best of times. The whole thing was going to be stressful enough without having to endure people looking down their noses at her for not being smothered in designer labels. “Okay, I give up, you take over. My brain can’t cope with all this.”

He smiled and bit down onto the hot toast he’d just buttered. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

Chapter Eight

Piper felt dizzy as she slumped down into her own sofa for what seemed like the first time in weeks. It hadn’t been that long, of course, but her normal, boring life had been superseded by a whirlwind of activity and new experiences with a man who quite literally took her breath away. Not only was he the sexiest, most charismatic male she’d ever encountered, he was equally infuriating and exasperating in the way he went about everything. Matt was the ultimate “can do” person.

Nothing seemed impossible to him.

Piper figured it was a characteristic of high achievers with high intelligence. He must’ve been super smart to be a self-made billionaire by the age of twenty-eight, if he wasn’t lying about his age. And she didn’t think he was lying about his age. He was totally fit and there wasn’t a hint of gray in those lustrous black locks. A few delicious laughter lines around the eyes, but definitely under thirty.

He’d sent a twenty-four-hour furnace specialist to her condo and settled the bill without her even knowing what had been done and how much it had cost, and now she and Aspen, fresh from the operating room, were warm and snug. The car had been recovered from a snowdrift by another of Matt’s many contacts and was in the garage having its ignition coils and spark plugs replaced. It was terrifying to think she could have been frozen solid inside that car if she hadn’t been rescued.

Being pampered, preened, and photographed by the hippest studio in the county had also been a revelation. She’d been made to feel like a film star and the end results had been incredible, even though they’d had to work at top speed to get enough shots in time for the PCB No. 68 campaign. There was a memory stick full of photos of her wearing some of her best jewelry pieces, too, all sultry and sophisticated—right up there with the best of the glossy magazine ads. She could never have afforded to have it done on her own. Things were certainly going better than she had ever imagined.

She glanced happily at a big pile of flashy-looking shopping bags and boxes piled up in the hall: at least three brand new designer outfits, down to the underwear to unpack and marvel over. Matt hadn’t insisted on coming shopping with her, but had sent her off in a chauffeured car with the promised company credit card and strict instructions not to economize. She felt exhausted, but in spite of herself, pretty happy. Spending other people’s money was fabulous once you got the hang of it. No wonder her wedding planner friend, Mel, loved her job so much.

She closed her eyes and gave herself a little hug as she remembered the white silk pantsuit she’d be wearing that evening to the opening of a prestigious new art gallery. It had cost way beyond anything she would even dream of paying for an outfit, but the store manager who’d guided her through all her choices was adamant that she’d been briefed to deliver the absolute best. There had been something about the woman that persuaded Piper to just give in and not argue. After all, the woman was good at her job and the commission on this would probably be a big deal to her.

And the finished result, even if clichéd, had blown her away. Red hair, green eyes, and pale skin wasn’t the easiest combination to dress, but the ice-white silk, deep red, patent leather skyscraper heels, and matching glittery clutch ensemble was amazing. She’d have to ask Matt if she’d get to keep the best outfit she’d ever set eyes on when their deal was at an end. Her instinct was that he wouldn’t even bat an eyelid, which just went to show what different lives they led.

Three hours later, the doorbell rang and she was more than ready to go out and party. Matt lounged against the outside railing as she opened the front door. He looked as relaxed as a tomcat lazing in the sun in spite of the biting chill. He oozed sophistication and confidence in a jet-black dinner suit, like a panther with silk lapels and covered buttons on the cuffs. A snow-white shirt did little to tame the striking effect of a thin black tie loosened at the neck, the top button of his shirt undone, screaming suppressed rebellion. His dark hair had been artfully tousled into film-star nonchalance and his full lips formed a straight line as he looked her up and down as well.

He let out a low whistle of appreciation and excitement ricocheted up her spine.

“Will I do?” she said, and was surprised at how sexy her voice had sounded for a second. Dear God, did a pheromone spike do that to a woman as well as make her go weak at the knees?

He eased his body away from the railing. “I think we’d better step inside before I drool all over your steps.”

She laughed. “You have such a way with words, DeLeo. You’d better come in and get over your dog tendencies.”

He closed the front door behind him and slid his arms around her waist before she could turn round. “You look incredible, Piper. I don’t think I can share you with anyone tonight looking so hot and sexy. No man in his right mind is going to be able to keep his eyes off you. It could spell trouble.”

“We have to go,” she said firmly and wriggled around to face him. “Business is business. That’s why you spent a small fortune on all this silk and leather, remember? To make me suitable arm candy for the workaholic billionaire playboy?”