One Night with a Billionaire

“They’re not going to care unless you have the full dollar amount!” Star exclaimed. “Will you quit worrying? They’re not going to toss your senile grandma out onto the streets because you’re a month behind.” She paused. “It’ll probably be two months. Maybe three.”

Kylie groaned. “Thanks.”

But Star only smiled. “It’s going to be fine. Throw positive thoughts into the universe and good things will happen.”

She forced a return smile to her face and nodded. Positive thoughts. Right. Star would never realize how miserable Kylie was at the moment, how utterly lonely, unhappy, and despairing she felt. Star thought that sadness could be erased by a good round of meditation and consulting a star chart. She pretty much subscribed to everything nutty that people associated with Los Angeles, but she was a good friend.

“Well,” Star said after a moment. “I think there’s a dead adult film star’s place on the other side of town if you want to hit up another estate sale?”

Kylie shook her head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to go home and mope, please.”

Star stuck out her tongue. “Fine, be that way.” But they packed up their trays and got back into Star’s tiny beat-up Focus and headed back to her apartment.

By Malibu standards, Star’s apartment was spacious. Sure, it was outdated, with popcorn ceilings and shag carpeting and not in the greatest neighborhood, but she had a large living area and a dining room which was currently full of packed items waiting to be auctioned. When Kylie wasn’t touring, her “home” was Star’s sofa, and as she set her purse down on it, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen while she was living with Star. Her friend sat in her recliner across from Kylie and immediately flipped on the TV to Antiques Roadshow.

“You know what? I think I’m going to take a shower,” Kylie said. She got up from the couch-slash-bed and headed for the bathroom. It was the only place where she might have a moment to herself.

Once she locked the door behind her, she started the shower and sat down on the edge of the tub. Hot tears pricked behind her eyes.

She missed Cade. Missed his smile, his hugs, his skin against her own, his teasing, his curls, his everything. She missed the way he kissed her like it was a special privilege bestowed upon him. She missed snuggling up to him at night, and the way he looked first thing in the morning, sleepy-eyed and smiling.

She loved him. She loved him, and because her life was a mess, she couldn’t be with him, because she’d be a liability to him, and he’d grow to resent her, the way she resented Nana Sloane. The way Nana Sloane had resented her.

It was the right thing to do, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t lonely. Didn’t regret things. Didn’t hate Daphne for taking the cheap way out and costing Kylie a small fortune because she’d signed a bad contract.

Actually, scratch that. She didn’t even hate Daphne. She hated herself for leaving her phone in her purse and getting caught. That one small moment had cost her a wonderful man.

The tears flowed, and Kylie pressed her face into a washcloth, weeping.

A soft knock came at the door. “Hey, you all right in there?” Star asked.

“Fine,” Kylie said quickly, swiping at her tears. “I’m okay.”

“Well, I know you just got in the shower but there’s some blond guy at the door asking to see you.”

She bit back her gasp of surprise. Cade? But then, why was she surprised that he was here? Of course he was. She’d abandoned him so suddenly, and without explaining herself. She was such a jerk. “T-tell him I don’t want to see him.”

“Are you sure? He’s got a pretty swanky aura,” Star said. “And a limo. Those are two good things in my book.”

“I’m sure,” Kylie bellowed, and turned the shower stream up higher so she could hopefully drown out any further protests Star made.

An hour later, she’d put off getting out of the bathroom for as long as possible. She’d showered, scrubbed, loofahed, deep-conditioned, dyed her roots, shaved every inch, lotioned her skin, painted her nails, and would have blown out her hair if it wasn’t so steamy in the tiny bathroom. So she hung up her towel, piled her wet hair into a clip, and then emerged.

Star popped her head around the corner. “Feel better?”

“Much,” Kylie lied. Most of the swelling around her eyes had gone down at least. Most. And what the shower hadn’t fixed, eyedrops had.