The Billionaire's Desire (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance) by Mia Caldwell Read Free Book Online Page B

happening!

 
      I feel a steely resolve settle over me. I
can't fix Otis's femur but I can fix
missing fish fillets, dammit.

 
    "That's
it for the church pictures," the wedding photographer is poking me as I
text in a flurry.

 
    I need
time. "Are you sure?" I sing out to the bride. "Look at the way
the light is angling through the stained glass there."

 
    The
bride squeals and grabs her new husband's arm. The photographer shoots me a
look and I smile charmingly.

 
    "You win Yahya. Just give me some
time."

 
    I sigh
in relief and hide a discreet fist pump behind my back.   I pulled it off. But the pride is hollow
and short lived. I still need to distract the bride long enough to give Gordon
time to deliver. "Oh Katie, you look amazing," I coo out. "Your
veil looks like a halo."

 
    The
bride smiles and her new husband whispers something dirty into her ear. The
photographer and the nephew are getting in each other's way snapping pictures.

 
    I check
my phone. Nothing. Shit.

 
    "Let's
get mom in there!" I trill, grabbing the mother of the bride.   "Just one more shot, the light
really is perfect." Even I can hear how crazed I sound.

 
    Katie
looks at me, confused, as I shove her mother into the shot. The photographer
presses her lips together in a thin line, but bends down to her camera anyway
and snaps away. I check my phone again, glaring at it. "Come on, ring, you stupid thing," I mutter.

 
    Just as
I am wondering how many more family members I can shove into the shot, my phone
rings loudly, echoing across the now empty church.

 
    Gordon
doesn't even say hello. "One hundred and thirteen fillets are being
delivered as we speak," he barks into the phone.

 
    I smile
and heave a silent sigh of relief. I fixed this. I made it happen. "Gordon,
you are a miracle worker. You just secured a lifelong client, I promise
you."

 
    Gordon
grumbles, but sounds pleased. I hang up the phone and hustle the startled bride
down the steps of the altar and out into the hail of rice wielding guests.

 
    Just
then my text message alert goes off. No,
goddamnit!

 
    My
phone has brought me nothing but bad news today. I briefly contemplate drowning
it in the baptismal font and running away. How much more bad news can I take?

 
    But it
isn't bad news at all.

 
    "I should have kissed you."

 
    It's
Carter.

 

 
 
    Chapter
Thirteen

 
    Sanniyah

 
 
 
    He is
standing and waiting for me on the helipad, the casual ease of his linen shirt
and khakis gone. Instead he is wearing the hell out of a suit. It's crisply
tailored, hugging close to his body . A
suit is lingerie for men , I think wildly, and suddenly the saying makes
sense. Instead of detracting from his body, it adds to it.

 
      His hair is gelled back, showing off the
strong bones of his forehead and temple. A small bit of tension pulses there
and I have to restrain myself from smoothing it away. Instead I clasp my shaking
hands behind my back, a trick I learned long ago, and I smile at him eagerly,
thinking of the promise of his text. " I
should have kissed you ," he wrote.

 
    But now
that I am here within kissing distance, he is standing stock still. My hands
flutter at my sides. I can feel my lips straining towards his as I stand in
front of him, and I forcibly tuck my chin back down. What the hell is he
waiting for?

 
    He
looks down at my outfit. "You look wonderful," he says, stiffly, formally.
I feel like he is reading from a script.

 
    I look
down, I am still wearing the simple black dress I always wear to weddings. It
helps me fade into the background, but with him I feel completely on display.
"I was working," I hedge. There is an energy between us that is so
strong the air is practically crackling. I feel like I am about to jump out of
my skin, how can he stand there making small talk like this?

 
    "Me
too," he nods. "The burdens of being self-employed. You don't really
get to keep normal hours, do you?" He