Waking Up with a Billionaire (The Overnight Billionaires Book 3) (3 page)

Once Grayson’s hands were released, he spoke to the officer. “Take her handcuffs off. She didn’t steal the bouquet. She delivered it to my office.”

“She gave you flowers?” Jason asked. “And here I thought the scruffy look you’ve been sporting since you got back from France would turn women off.” He flashed a grin. “Obviously I was wrong.”

“They weren’t for me.” Grayson watched the officer take the handcuffs off Chloe and felt a little annoyed at the red marks the cuffs had left on her wrists. “They’re for Deacon and Olivia.”

“Speaking of your brother,” Kelly said, “he just called and wants to know why you’re not answering your phone. I think he’s a little worried that you won’t be able to handle things while he and Olivia are on parental leave and Nash is on his honeymoon.”

Grayson didn’t blame his brother for being worried. He was more than a little worried himself. While Deacon and Nash were completely involved in the business, Grayson had always been more wrapped up in his art. He didn’t have a clue how to be a boss. Let alone run a company. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice. Deacon needed to be home with his new son. And Nash needed to be with his new wife. Which meant that Grayson needed to pull his head out of his ass and quit hanging out in his studio. Even if he could paint, he didn’t have time to. Nor did he have time to drive his new sports car or deal with Chloe McAlister.

Although once she had her handcuffs off, she didn’t waste any time making her getaway. Without one word of goodbye, she hurried down the street with a hand shielding her face.

“Hey”—the other police officer came around the cruiser—“why did you let her go?”

His partner shot Grayson an annoyed look. “It turns out that this guy is a Beaumont and the girl did deliver his flowers. Which is something he should’ve mentioned to begin with.”

The other policeman didn’t seem to be as put out by the misinformation. In fact he immediately became apologetic. Of course, Grayson hadn’t elbowed him in the eye. “So sorry about the misunderstanding, sir.” He waved a hand at the building behind them. “I love your lingerie—I mean I love your lingerie on women. I bought some for my girlfriend, and she looked hot.”

Instead of replying, Grayson continued to watch Chloe as she made her way up the steep street. What had made her change her mind about posing for him? She didn’t like him. She had never liked him. It had been hell getting her to sign a release for the picture French Kiss had used for the catalog. She’d finally given in when he’d offered her a boatload of money. And maybe that was why she was back. She needed money. Although that didn’t seem likely. If she needed money, all she had to do was ask her friends Eden and Madison. They would gladly give her whatever she wanted. Of course, Nash had once offered her money, and Chloe had turned him down flat. So maybe she was too stubborn to ask for help.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

The question had him looking at the officer. Not only did he look interested but so did Kelly and Jason. No one at French Kiss, besides Grayson and Nash, knew she was the model who had graced the cover of the summer swimsuit catalog. Chloe had insisted her name not be released.

“No,” he said. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s not even a friend.”

The officer nodded. “I’d keep it that way if I was you. When I looked her up on my in-car computer, I didn’t find a thing—no tickets, driver’s license, vehicle registration, rental agreement, or credit cards. Nothing. And with the way she shied away from the cameras, I’d say that Chloe McAlister isn’t her real name.”

C
hloe didn’t waste any time putting some distance between herself and the snapping cell phone cameras. She could only hope that no one had gotten a good picture of her. Not that it would make a difference now. In a few weeks, she’d be long gone. And the years of looking over her shoulder would be only a bad memory. No one would think to look for her in England.

Chloe didn’t believe in fate, but it had certainly seemed like the stars were aligned when an Englishwoman stopped by the Fisherman’s Wharf stand where Chloe sold flowers to tourists and struck up a conversation about lavender. They’d talked for a good hour, and for some reason, Chloe had done something she never did: She’d talked about the past. Not the bad parts, but the time she’d spent in her grandparents’ flower gardens and how they had taught her all about annuals, biennials, and perennials. What flowers needed full sun and what flowers needed little. Using tea or coffee grounds in the soil to acidify, and eggshells for valuable nutrients. At the end of the conversation, the woman had given Chloe a card and offered her a job at a gardening nursery she owned outside London. All Chloe had to do was get there.

Unfortunately, tickets to England weren’t cheap. Not to mention the money she would need to live on until she got her first paycheck. Damn Grayson for losing his painting mojo and turning into such an ass. Now she would need to figure out another way to get the money.

Her thoughts were so wrapped up in her money issues that she almost walked into a teenage girl sitting on the sidewalk. The girl was strumming a guitar with a fast-food cup of change in front of her. She didn’t look to be over sixteen and had the same desperate, hungry look that Chloe had once had.

Regardless of her financial troubles, Chloe pulled a ten-dollar bill out of her purse and placed it in the cup. The girl stopped playing, and her eyes filled with gratitude. Which had Chloe jotting down the name of the flower stand on Fisherman’s Wharf and handing it to the girl.

“I’ll be leaving in a couple weeks, and the owner will need someone to help her. She doesn’t ask questions, and she pays in cash.”

The teenager took the paper, then hesitantly asked, “You were a runaway?”

Chloe added another couple of dollars to the cup. “I still am.”

After leaving the girl, Chloe headed to her apartment. It was a small studio, and for the rent she paid, it was quite a steal. Especially in San Francisco, where rent was as high as the Golden Gate Bridge. At one time she had lived there with Madison and Eden. But Madison had moved to a high-rise apartment downtown that went with her new top-model profile, and Eden had moved in with Nash. Now it was just Chloe who lived there.

When she arrived, Mr. Garcia was standing in front with his little dog, Scamper. She tried to keep her distance from the other tenants. But Mr. Garcia was hard to ignore. He was a suspicious old guy who viewed himself as the building watch. He took one look at her and started his interrogation.

“What are you doing off work? I thought you sold flowers on the wharf during the day.”

“I do, but I took the day off.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to start selling drugs, are you?”

“No, sir,” she said as the terrier raced over to greet her. Chloe didn’t like dogs. They were too easy to get attached to. But it was hard to ignore Scamper’s big brown eyes. So she bent down and gave his ears a quick scratch. The dog immediately rolled to his back and exposed his belly for more scratches as Mr. Garcia continued.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you were into something shady. Especially with that tattoo and hole in your nose.”

Chloe touched the side of her nose that had once held a diamond stud. Zac had called it an engagement diamond when he’d paid for it and her piercing, but really it had been more like the ring placed in a bull’s nose to control it. She had stopped wearing the stud after he’d been arrested for running a prostitution ring.

The thought made her realize that Mr. Garcia was right. She had been involved in something shady, all because she had once been as desperate and hungry as the little guitar-playing girl. But never again. Never again.

She gave Scamper one last scratch before she rose. “I promise I’m not selling drugs or doing anything illegal.”

“Then explain why that detective was looking for you.”

It took a real effort to keep her fear from showing. Although her voice quavered when she spoke. “What detective?”

“The one who showed up here this morning.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to know if a Selena Cameron lived in the building.”

Selena Cameron. It had been so long since she’d heard the name that it sounded foreign, like it belonged to someone else. And technically it did. It belonged to an adorable baby in a fuzzy blanket. A sweet toddler in a frilly dress. A happy little girl in her father’s arms. It didn’t belong to a disillusioned young woman who wanted to forget the painful past.

“So what did you tell him?” she asked.

“I told him that I’d never heard of a Selena Cameron, and then he whipped out a picture.” Mr. Garcia squinted as he studied her. “The hair was longer and lighter, but the face was the same.”

Since the jig was up, there was nothing for her to do but accept it. She glanced at the front door of the building. “So is he waiting inside?”

Mr. Garcia looked surprised by the question. “Hell no. I’m not gonna let some stranger waltz into our building.” He paused. “Just like I’m not gonna give a stranger any information on the tenants who live here—I don’t care if he is a cop. We neighbors have to stick together.”

She released her breath in a rush. “Thank you, Mr. Garcia.”

He only nodded before he pulled Scamper down the street.

Once he was gone, Chloe hurried up the steps of the building. Relieved though she was that Mr. Garcia hadn’t thrown her under the bus, she still didn’t have any time to lose. The man looking for her wasn’t a cop, but she didn’t have any doubt that he was a private detective.

Once inside her apartment, she locked the door and then looked around to see what she would need to pack. Pots of flowers covered every available surface. There were orchids, African violets, begonias, hibiscuses, amaryllis, and a white peace lily that stubbornly refused to bloom. Probably because there was little peace in Chloe’s life. When she left, she would need to figure out what to do with the flowers. Maybe she would give them to Mr. Garcia as a thank-you for not giving her away to the private detective. Of course, the detective would be back. Which was why she couldn’t stay there.

Chloe headed to the closet and pulled down her duffel bag. She didn’t have a lot of clothes to pack but, thanks to Madison, she had two dresser drawers filled with lingerie. She chose only her favorite sets of panties and bras, skipping over the light pinks and lavenders for the darker reds and blacks. After tossing in a few toiletries from the bathroom, she grabbed the framed picture on the nightstand.

Eden had given it to her for her twenty-first birthday. It was of her, Eden, and Madison at the Bay City Marathon. They were standing by the finish line with their arms wrapped around each other. For once Chloe looked happy. Maybe because she’d goaded Madison until she finished a half marathon. Or maybe because Eden had just informed them that she was engaged to Nash. Or maybe because she had finally started to hope. Hope that she could forget the past and move on. She’d been wrong. There was no forgetting who she was. Or where she came from.

Placing the picture on top of her folded clothes, she zipped the duffel bag and then headed to the kitchen and the cookie jar where she kept the tips she’d made waitressing at The Lemon Drop bar. She knew exactly how much money was in the jar. She counted it nightly. She also knew that it wouldn’t be enough for a plane ticket to England, let alone enough for rent and food until she got her first check.

A pounding on the door interrupted her thoughts. She froze for only a second before she raced into the living area and stuffed the money in her duffel, then grabbed it and her purse and headed for the fire escape. She had the window open and one leg slung over the sill when the lock clicked and the door swung wide. The curvaceous blonde in the red designer dress was a welcome sight.

“I knew you were running from me.” Madison placed a red-nailed hand on her hip and pointed the key she’d just used at Chloe. “And I’m telling you, Chloe McAlister, that I’ve had about enough of your shenanigans. If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, just say so.”

Chloe dropped her duffel and pulled her leg back in the window before sinking down to the couch in relief. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

Madison didn’t even blink at the callous reply. “Don’t be silly. Of course you want to be my friend. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a famous French Kiss model?” She pulled a bag out of her huge leather purse and tossed it to Chloe. “A model who can get her friends the newest line of lingerie before it even hits the stores.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Would you please stop with the lingerie, Maddie? My drawers are stuffed full already.”

“A girl can never have enough lingerie…or diamonds…or furs.” She sat in the chair and waited with an expectant look until Chloe finally opened the bag. She rolled her eyes again when she pulled out the nightshirt.

Madison clapped her hands with glee. “Isn’t it cute? It’s the newest casual sleepwear from the Romeo Collection.”

“I think anyone could figure that out.” Chloe glared at the word written across the front.
Romeo’s
.
The possessive noun made chills run down her spine…and not in a good way. After Zac, she certainly didn’t need to be another man’s possession. Not that Grayson wanted to possess her. In fact he didn’t even want to paint her. She folded the nightshirt and placed it on the coffee table, already deciding that it would be something she left behind.

Madison must’ve read her distaste. “I should’ve known that you wouldn’t like it. Nash’s collection is more your style, while I’m a Romeo girl through and through.”

“”I hope you don’t have a thing for Grayson,” she said. “Since he got back from Paris, he doesn’t seem very stable to me.” Chloe realized her mistake when Madison’s gaze narrowed on her.

“When did you see Grayson?” After only a second, her eyes widened. “You came to Eden’s wedding after all, didn’t you? I knew you couldn’t resist.” She held a bejeweled hand to her chest. “Wasn’t it so romantic? I mean Eden’s beautiful gown and the way Nash kissed her at the end and swept her up in his arms, carrying her down the aisle just like a prince and his princess. I swear I thought I was going to swoon. And speaking of swooning, I don’t think Grayson looks unstable. I think he looks hot.”

“You can’t tell me you like the beard?”

Madison shook her head. “It’s not the beard. It’s something about the look in his eyes. He left looking sweet and innocent—sort of like his lingerie collection—but he came back looking dangerous and…”

“Desperate.” The word just popped out, but it was accurate. Grayson did look desperate.

“I was going to say
sexy
. But as sexy as he is, Grayson and I are just friends. Unlike Natalia. I just left a lingerie fitting, and all Natalia could talk about was Grayson. I guess he kissed her in the elevator and now she’s in love with him—of course, she was in love with Nash six months ago. I think it’s that hot Russian blood.”

Just thinking about the elevator kiss annoyed Chloe, and she wasn’t sure why. “Well, maybe she can take care of Grayson’s wild desperation.”

Madison laughed. “I doubt it. Natalia doesn’t seem like his type. And since he was gone for six months to Paris, you have to wonder if he didn’t find someone there that changed him.”

The theory made sense. A woman
would
explain why Grayson’s personality had changed so drastically and why he had lost his painting mojo. Love could really screw a person up. Chloe was a perfect example. After falling in love with Zac, she had turned into the worst form of herself imaginable.

“Do you have any chocolate?” Madison got up from the couch, but froze when she noticed the duffel bag by the opened window. Her eyes zeroed in on Chloe. “Are you taking a trip? Because if you’re taking a trip when you refused to go with me to Cancún for the modeling shoot, I’m going to be so-o-o mad at you.”

A lie would make things so much easier. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of one good lie. So she told the truth. “I’m leaving, Maddie.”

Madison looked more than shocked. She looked as if Chloe had just drowned an entire sack of kittens. “What? But why?”

Chloe reverted to the tough, belligerent kid who had survived on the streets. “Because I’m sick of this town.”

“But I thought you loved San Francisco.”

Chloe did love San Francisco. She loved the bridges with their towering heights and glittering lights. She loved the smell of the sea on the cool breezes coming off the bay. She loved the bell-ringing trolleys that glided over the hilly streets. And the resiliency of a city that had rebuilt itself after numerous fires and earthquakes. But she couldn’t say that. “Maybe at one time, but I need something a little more exciting. And I’m not talking about Scrabble Night with you and Eden. I’m talking about real excitement.”

Madison’s eyes reflected her hurt. “You don’t like Scrabble Night?”

Just that quickly Chloe lost her tough facade. “Okay, so Scrabble Night was fun, even if you always try to cheat with pig Latin words. But you’ve got to realize that I’m only twenty-one. I need to be around people my own age and…party.” She threw her arms wide to emphasize her point and ended up knocking over her peace lily. Potting soil spilled all over the floor. Never one who liked messes, she quickly got up and hurried to the closet for the hand vac. When she turned, Madison had her duffel bag open and was holding the picture of them at the Bay City Marathon.

“I’m not buying the entire excitement thing,” Madison said. “You are the oldest soul I’ve ever met, Chloe. I don’t know how many parties I’ve invited you to, or how many modeling photo shoots in exotic locations. And you always would rather stay home with your flowers.” She put the picture back in the duffel and zipped it closed. “But I get it. You aren’t ready to tell anyone your secrets. Just like I wasn’t ready to tell anyone mine until I met you and Eden.”