Stripping the Billionaire Page 7

  Put on the spot, his mother said stiltingly, “A lot of…of…sperm. To have babies, I mean.”

  Ben choked on his lemonade, and Mandy’s eyes went as wide as he’d ever seen them.

  “Oh dear,” his mom mumbled, staring down at her plate. “Oh dear, oh dear.”

  Mandy started to giggle, and raised her napkin to hide her mouth. Her brown eyes sparkled over at him with infectious amusement.

  Ben smothered a groan.

  Controlling her hilarity, Mandy managed to say, “I’m sure it’s difficult for the poor woman to watch her family kind of dying out. So she has no grandsons?”

  “No. I’ve never seen a woman so determined to marry her granddaughters off.”

  Ben changed the subject to the kind of paint or wallpaper his mother wanted in the front parlor, and the rest of the dinner went without incident.

  Mandy was still secretly laughing about his sperm, though. He could see it every time he glanced over at her beautiful, vibrant face.

  ***

  After dinner, he found Mandy stretching her arms above her head in the entry hall.

  “Are you sore?” he asked. It was probably a stupid question, since she’d been scraping the damned wallpaper all day.

  “Yeah. I think I might take a little walk, just to stretch my back and legs out some. Is that okay?”

  “Of course. I can come with you, if you want.”

  She seemed to like that idea, so they started off on a slow stroll. Mandy still wore her pretty sundress, and he still wore his somewhat decent clothes.

  It was still hot and sticky, even at eight o’clock in the evening, and he suddenly wondered how much cooler he would feel without the beard.

  Mandy had taken his arm companionably, the way she often did unconsciously.

  It was a strange feeling. That she wanted to be close to him. For no ulterior reason.

  He hadn’t felt that way with anyone in years.

  “So,” she said, after a few minutes of silence, “are you notorious in these parts for your abundance of sperm?”

  He strangled on a burst of laughter and managed to give her a cool glare. “Don’t make fun of my mother.”

  “I’m not making fun of your mom. I’m making fun of you. I didn’t know I was living across the hall from such a sperm-bank.”

  “I don’t know what my mom was thinking,” he mumbled, amused but feeling a little guilty since he did know what his mother was thinking. She couldn’t finish her original thought because he’d told her to keep their identity secret.

  “So, Mrs. Beaufort isn’t looking to repopulate her family with a good-looking stud like you?”

  Her tone was teasing, but Ben couldn’t help but feel a wave of pleasure that she’d called him a “good-looking stud.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she wants her granddaughters to start having Beaufort babies just as soon as possible.” He gestured to the ramshackle house on the corner. “That’s their house, there.”

  “Oh, it needs a ton of work.” Mandy’s eyes scrutinized the old place. “It would be beautiful if it was fixed up, though. Mrs. Beaufort really should be looking for potential husbands with money, rather than super-sperm.”

  That was exactly what the woman was doing, but he could hardly say so now, after he’d made his mother change her words. “I’m sure she wouldn’t say ‘no’ to that either.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not rolling in money, or you would be an irresistible target for one of them.”

  Mandy looked friendly and open and completely trusting, and he suddenly felt like the world’s biggest ass for not telling her the truth.

  He was tempted, so strongly, to say something this mouth actually opened.

  He could say that he did have money, or he would have money. If he accepted his inheritance from his uncle, he would have billions.

  His name wasn’t Ben Cain. It was Benjamin Damon.

  And, one day, he would be a billionaire.

  “Benjamin,” a voice rang out from yard of the house they were standing in front of. “Benjamin!”

  Ben turned to see Deanna Beaufort hurrying down the front walk toward them.

  She was pretty and small and dark-haired and had always held herself with an unusual amount of dignity. Ben had gone out with her for about six months in their senior year of high school.

  “Hi, Deanna,” he said, managing a smile, although he felt irrationally resentful of the woman for interrupting his conversation with Mandy. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, a smile on her lips and in her eyes, which were a very unusual pale green color. “Kelly said you were in town. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. What are you thinking with that ridiculous beard?”

  He shrugged the question off by saying, “I’m helping Mom out with the house for a couple of weeks. This is Mandy.”

  “Hi, Mandy,” Deanna said, turning her smile to Mandy. “Can’t you convince him to shave off that beard? He’s really very good-looking underneath it.”

  “I’ve tried,” Mandy said. Her smile never faltered. “But I’m just his friend, so evidently my influence isn’t strong enough.”

  He didn’t know why she’d made such a point of their just being friends, like she was clearing the way for him and Deanna.

  He didn’t want Deanna, and he definitely didn’t want Mandy pushing him toward her.

  “I can’t talk long,” Deanna said, reaching out to pat him on the arm. “Grandmamma will see, and then she’ll be making plans to snare you. So far she hasn’t heard you’re in town yet, so I’ve escaped any matchmaking attempts.”

  “She’d really think Ben is a good catch?” Mandy asked, sounding curious.

  “Hey,” Ben objected. “Why wouldn’t I be a good catch?”

  Mandy giggled. “Well, by other people’s standards, naturally. But it sounded like…” She trailed off.

  Deanna smiled again. “Oh, believe me, with his family, she wouldn’t care at all about the beard.”

  “I’ll try to keep a low profile,” he said, jumping into the gap quickly when Mandy looked confused, before she could ask more about his family. “Thanks for the warning.”

  Deanna reached up to hug him and then ran back into the house.

  Ben put a hand on Mandy’s back to get her moving again, wishing he hadn’t come in this direction.

  “So your family has a long lineage?” she asked as they started to walk.

  Ben shrugged, feeling once more like an ass, like a fool. “It’s not that long.”

  “It sounded like, from what she said, that it’s old enough to tempt her grandmother. Her grandmamma.” Her tone wasn’t mocking, just reflective. “I can’t even imagine growing up with that kind of expectation. Does Deanna work, do you know?”

  “She’s a secretary or something, I think. The middle sister is a nanny. I know they’re kind of an eccentric family, but I’m sure there’s something more interesting to talk about than them.”

  He sounded too impatient. He could see it reflected in Mandy’s face.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  She shook her head and patted his arm. “I don’t know what Mrs. Beaufort was thinking. You’d be terrible as a society husband. You can’t even be polite most of the time.”

  “I said sorry.” He studied her face, but she didn’t look hurt or offended. Just kind of wry and resigned.

  Like she’d given up on something.

  Like she’d given up on him.

  “I’m trying,” he muttered, feeling stupid and vulnerable as he said the words. “It’s been a long time since I even tried.”

  “I know it has.” She sighed. “Just so you know. I like you this way. When you’re trying.”

  He liked himself better this way too.

  Six

  The next morning, as Mandy awoke, the only thing she was conscious of was how much her body hurt.

  She was in decent shape, but she wasn’t used to spending an entire day stripping wallpaper, and her
body resented the change in routine. She lay in bed, her shoulders, legs, arms, back, and feet throbbing with a slow ache, which jolted out with a sudden pang every time she moved.

  It was just before five in the morning—too early to get up—but the thought of ibuprofen in her toiletry case in the bathroom was too strong of a compulsion.

  If she just made herself crawl out of bed, then she could limp to the bathroom. Then she could take the ibuprofen. Then maybe her body would feel a little better.

  She pictured herself doing it and, after about five more minutes, she rolled onto her side and kind of fell out of bed. Her muscles protested the move, but she pushed through the pain until she was standing up.

  Then she limped slowly to the door of her bedroom and down the hall toward the bathroom.

  The hallway was dark. Ben’s door was closed. There wasn’t a sound in the house at all. It was almost eerie.

  As she was approaching the bathroom, the door swung open without warning, surprising her so much she jumped and strangled on a startled exclamation.

  Her sore muscles definitely didn’t appreciate the sudden motion. She grabbed for the doorframe to stabilize herself at the wrench of pain, just as her mind managed to register that Ben was standing in the bathroom doorway.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in a low, husky voice. He reached out for her as she swayed slightly, trying to straighten her legs and her back at the same time.

  “Yeah.” She was a little breathless, but she struggled to compose her expression, since it was a little embarrassing to be this sore from one day’s work. “You surprised me.”

  Ben wore nothing but a pair of boxers, and she tried to keep her eyes up toward his face—concerned dark eyes and bushy beard—rather than leer at his long limbs and impressive musculature. “You don’t look okay. You look like you’re in pain.”

  “Just a few sore muscles.” She smiled at him, her naughty eyes dipping lower than they were supposed to and lingering on his chest with its rippling muscles, flat lines, and coarse dark hair.

  She wanted to reach out and touch it. Stroke it. Feel his body beneath her palm.

  She had no idea what had gotten into her for the last few weeks. She’d never even been attracted to Ben before. He wasn’t her type at all.

  And he’d made it very clear that they weren’t going to be anything but friends.

  “Damn it, Cupcake. I knew you worked too hard on that fucking wallpaper.”

  “Shh,” she said, glancing down the hall. “Your mom will hear you. She doesn’t like you to use such bad language.”

  A faint smile was visible beneath the beard. “I think she’s resigned herself to my language by this point.”

  “Well, you could make more of an effort. She’s your mom.”

  “I know she is.” He let out a sigh. “Are you really okay?”

  “Yeah. I told you. Just sore muscles. I was heading for the Advil.” She nodded toward the bathroom. “What are you doing up this early, anyway?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. So I figured I might as well get an early start. You should take it easy today.” He stepped out of the way so she could get into the bathroom to her case, but he didn’t leave. He stood behind her as she reached in for the pill bottle and poured the ibuprofen out onto her palm.

  She darted a look at him over her shoulder. “I’m not going to fall down just standing here,” she said lightly. “No need for you to hover.”

  Then, at the mercy of some sort of cruel irony, she turned around to face him and a muscle in her thigh grabbed excruciatingly.

  She gasped, her knees buckled briefly, and she dropped her pills.

  She was sure she wouldn’t have fallen down, but Ben grabbed for her anyway. She ended up leaning against his big, hard body, his arms draped around her waist.

  “I wasn’t going to fall,” she said, feeling ridiculously shy as she looked up at him.

  The expression in his eyes made her feel even shyer. They were deep and sober and full. “I couldn’t be sure of that.”

  “I can stand fine on my own. It’s just some sore muscles. I’ll feel better when I take the Advil.”

  “They’re on the floor now.” His hands didn’t move from where they were resting just above her bottom. Her own hands were up toward his shoulders, and she was having trouble resisting the urge to caress her way down.

  “I know that.” She winced at the thought of bending over to pick them up. “If you really want to be chivalrous, you’d pick them up for me.”

  His serious expression softened into a quiet smile. “What gave you the impression I ever wanted to be chivalrous?”

  “I don’t know. You certainly go out of your way not to be. But I think at heart you really are.”

  “Don’t judge me by your generous heart. I’m not the man you think I am. I’m not the man you want me to be.”

  The words were mild, almost teasing, but something about them struck her as poignant. She raised one hand to cup his face. “I think I know you better than you know yourself.”

  “Do you?” He covered her hand on his face with one of his own. It was warm and heavy and strong.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, suddenly scared and trying to change the mood back to the teasing one of before. “I think your mom raised you right. It’s buried in there somewhere and occasionally sneaks out when you’re not looking.”

  He chuckled and released her. Then he bent over to pick up the fallen pills.

  Mandy tried not to look at his very fine, tight ass beneath the thin cotton of his shorts. Didn’t exactly succeed.

  “Do you want to take these, since they’ve been on the floor?”

  “Oh. I guess maybe not.” She would have taken them if he hadn’t been there, since she’d never been over-concerned about stray germs, but she didn’t want to take them if he’d think they were too dirty from the floor.

  He tossed the pills in the trash and then poured more out from her pill bottle, handing them to her with a little smile.

  “Thank you. I’ve got water in the bedroom.”

  She assumed this was the sign that they would part ways, but he didn’t seem to read the sign correctly. He walked with her as she limped back to her bedroom, keeping one warm hand on her back, as if she needed the support.

  She didn’t think she needed it, but it was nice anyway.

  He stood next to her bed while she swallowed the pills with a gulp of water from the bottle on the nightstand. Then he just kept standing there, looking at her.

  She had no idea what he was thinking. No idea at all.

  “Okay,” she said at last, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I’m going to sleep for another hour or two.”

  “Sleep in late if you want.”

  “I’m not going to sleep in late. I’m here to help you with the house.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to kill yourself.”

  “I’m not killing myself. I’m just sore. Nothing to get uptight about.”

  The intimate little smile reappeared. “Uptight is not normally a word that’s applied to me.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. But maybe you’re going through a few changes.” She waved her hand toward the door. “Now get out of here so I can go back to sleep.”

  He chuckled as he walked toward the door and looked back at her once before he left.

  She felt rising affection in her chest as she pulled the covers up over her again, and she smiled in the dark as she thought about Ben for a few minutes before she fell back to sleep.

  ***

  Later that morning, she was killing time waiting for Ben to get done with the electrician so they could go to the store to pick out paint colors and wallpaper.

  Ben didn’t want to put up more wallpaper, but it was an historic house, and Mandy was sure they should make the décor in keeping with the time period.

  They could have that debate at the store, when they were actually looking for samples.

  Man
dy had puttered around a bit that morning, doing some stray touches, but she really was too sore still to tackle another room of wallpaper. Maybe tomorrow she’d feel up to it.

  Right now, though, she was waiting. Ben said he’d just be five minutes, going over what needed doing in the house with the electrician he’d decided on, but she’d been waiting now for fifteen minutes.

  What on earth was taking so long?

  With a sigh, she stood up from the Princess Anne chair she’d been sitting on and paced up and down the hall. She glanced at herself in the mirror and decided she didn’t look too bad, despite the fact that she was dressed for work. She wore a little pink t-shirt and tan capris, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She certainly wasn’t as pretty and pulled-together as she normally looked, but she wasn’t bad.

  Not that Ben would care. Personal grooming was clearly not a priority for him.

  She was shaking her head, rather fondly, at the thought of him and his ridiculous beard when she glanced down at the hall table in front of her. A few pieces of unopened mail were lying there.

  One was an envelope that looked vaguely familiar so she picked it up without thinking.

  It was addressed to Ben’s mother—Lucy Damon. Mandy stared at the name for a minute, something about it prompting a thought she couldn’t quite catch.

  Then she focused on the return address. Damon Enterprises.

  That was why the envelope looked familiar. It was exactly like the one that Ben had in his apartment a couple of weeks ago. She’d thought it was junk mail then.

  Damon Enterprises. Lucy Damon.

  She sucked in a sharp gasp and hurried into the breakfast room. Her legs were still sore, but she’d stretched enough now that she could move without problem. She walked directly over to the shelf of photos and looked at the one she’d noticed before. Mrs. Damon with her two boys. And the other man.

  This time, Mandy recognized him. He was sometimes on the news or in business magazines.

  Cyrus Damon. Founder and CEO of Damon Enterprises, a multi-billion dollar conglomerate of hotels, restaurants, pubs, and tearooms that spanned four continents.

  Cyrus Damon had four living heirs and nephews. Mandy wracked her mind to remember. There was a playboy nephew named Andrew. And one who did some sort of laboratory science. Harrison was the oldest, deeply involved in the family business.