The Billionaire Next Door Read online

  “Mr. Crane,” the doorman greeted.

  “Hey…uh. Man.” He should know this guy’s name. “Who was that?”

  A brief look of panic colored the other man’s features like he might be fired for not knowing. “I don’t know, sir. Would you like me to find out?”

  Tag looked in the direction where the car had vanished, thinking for a second.

  “No,” he decided. He liked not knowing. Liked the idea of running into the blonde by chance. Maybe in the gym or the lobby.

  Or the elevator.

  Yeah, he’d rather stumble across her. Preferably into her.

  “Thanks.” He nodded to the doorman and strode in, stepping onto the elevator a few minutes later. On the ride up, he realized he was leaning in the corner, smiling like a dope, the bar upgrade issue and the frustration of the board the furthest thing from his mind.

  Chapter 2

  A sharp bark startled Tag, and his arm jerked, dragging the tip of the Sharpie across the Post-it and onto the photograph he had been trying not to ruin. He scowled at the jagged red line, then lifted his face and scowled at his blurry reflection in the window, beyond which was a lit Chicago skyline and pale half-moon.

  For most of the evening he’d mentally blocked out the barks that had punctuated the air approximately every ten seconds before narrowing to every two or three seconds. Now they were almost constant.

  Woof! Woof! Woo-oof!

  He could not freaking work in these conditions.

  Judging by the direction of the sound, and the deep, barrel-chested baritone, he guessed the barker none other than Adonis, Oliver Chambers’s giant white-with-black-splotches Great Dane. Adonis was generally a quiet dog. Tag only knew him because he often ran into the pair (Adonis and Oliver on their way to a morning stroll, Tag on his way out) when he rode the elevator down with them.

  Tag had been patient—Adonis was a dog, and dogs barked—but the dog had never barked this much, and never this late at night. He’d been determined to ignore it, but he needed every ounce of concentration he could muster.

  He was reviewing the setup for the main candidate for a recent bar redesign: the pool bar at the Crane Makai in Hawaii. He’d been there several times, having overseen the grand opening of the hotel and the restaurant run by an acclaimed chef Tag had handpicked. Tag had taken the blow personally when he reviewed the spreadsheets and determined that the Makai boasted the lowest bar sales profits.

  He didn’t get it. The bar was in Hawaii. People went there to drink. And the weather was damn near perfect. What the hell? After ruling out theft and pricing, and a staff he had complete confidence in, he’d determined the shortcoming was the design. They’d built onto the Makai over the last decade, and as a result, a secondary pool was an afterthought. What it did have was an ocean view and plenty of seating choices, including cabanas. Theoretically, they should be drowning in profits. Even during the slow season—

  Woof!

  “All right, that’s it.” Tag shoved the stack of photos aside and moved through his penthouse, out the door, and punched a button in the elevator. He had nothing against dogs, and he liked this one in particular, but either something was wrong or Oliver had gotten lax with keeping the pooch in line. With so much at stake, there was no way Tag could concentrate with constant—

  Woo-woo-woof!

  The moment the elevator doors opened, Adonis’s barks echoed through the entryway.

  The top three floors of Crane Tower were reserved for private apartments. Tag’s took up the entire top floor, while the two floors below his were split into two apartments per floor. These were the luxury suites, but given that the other apartment on Oliver’s floor was empty, Tag was the only neighbor who was hearing Adonis’s yapping.

  At the door, Tag knocked. Barking followed scratching, and he winced as he thought of the dog’s nails marring the wood. Bending at the waist, he spoke through the door. “Adonis.”

  Silence, then one more bark.

  “Adonis, hey, boy.”

  The barking stopped.

  “Are you a good dog?” A small whine was followed by a more desperate bark.

  “There you go. Calm down, okay?” He kept his voice pitched to soothing, feeling like an idiot cooing to a dog through a door, but hey, whatever it took. “I have shit to do,” he crooned, “and you’re making me insane.”

  Sniffing at the door preceded silence. Tag stood and waited. No barking. No whining.

  Satisfied, he smiled to himself. He had just turned to the elevator when the scratching came again—more desperately this time—followed by a cacophony of pathetic yelps.

  Tag ran a hand over his face and climbed back into the elevator.

  He wasn’t the kind of guy who freaked out over anything. Easygoing, easy to get along with, he was going to let this go for now and talk to Oliver—wherever the hell he was—in the morning. No doubt Tag would run into him in the elevator.

  Back in his apartment, he opted to drown out the dog’s barks with music, cranking Adele to ear-bleeding decibels. For a guy who viewed his dating life through a lens of common sense, Tag would admit he admired the kind of love she sang about. The kind of love his parents had. The kind of love his oldest brother had found in the most unlikely of places. As much as he admired it, however, he was too practical to be stupid.

  He was randomly hit with a memory of the woman outside the building this afternoon. That body. That hair. Women were fun. He adored them…for a while. Letting them down easy was the key to everyone having a good time and keeping the heartache at a minimum.

  Sex was fun. Hanging out was fun. When it encroached on relationship territory, there were few couples who could keep the fun alive. Tag preferred to binge on the highs and bail before the lows happened.

  It was as good as his personal motto.

  He sat down at his desk only to stand up right away. He couldn’t look at pictures of bars without wanting to pour a drink. In the fridge, he found a bottle of beer, cracked it open, and enjoyed the first ice-cold swallow.

  Outside, wind blew the flags below; the sky was a cavernous gray-black. He shuddered. He’d chosen this apartment with this view because cities made him feel claustrophobic. But neither did he want to live on acres of land like his brother, because something about a house was too settled for Tag’s taste.

  He loved to travel, which was another reason in the con column for settling down. His work took him to other states, where he’d stay away a week or a month, depending on what mood struck him.

  Women tended to get pissy when their men didn’t come home for long stretches.

  Freedom. Flexibility. That’s what his lifestyle had afforded him.

  He went back to the desk—a large table in the corner of the living room—and frowned down at the plans—and yes, the report he’d chucked into the trash at the board meeting. He’d found an emailed copy (gee, thanks, Bob) and went ahead and printed the damn thing in case there was some insight to be gleaned in the numbers and spreadsheets after all.

  Guest and Restaurant Services wasn’t all fun and parties, but the board seemed to think so. Frank’s obnoxious words a few months back sat like a stone in the center of Tag’s stomach.

  Just because he drinks at a bar doesn’t mean he’s qualified to oversee the bar business for this entire company.

  Frank, the jackass, was dead wrong. Tag could and would handle this. Even though the board had found something else to focus on, Tag wasn’t going to allow his bars to bleed money until they deemed it a “code red.”

  An adrenaline spike flooded his system, and he felt a smile of challenge crest his lips. This was a winnable battle, one he was made for.

  He plunked down the beer bottle on the edge of the desk and rubbed his hands together.

  “Let’s fucking do this.”

  * * *

  Rachel’s mother was standing in the Andromeda Club knocking on a table. An annoying rap-rap-rap. The rapid-fire series of knuckles to wood was paired with question
s like “How could you give up a desk and nice clothes to work here?”

  Rachel opened her mouth to defend her choices when she jerked out of sleep with a start. She wasn’t at the bar, but in bed at Oliver’s apartment. And the knocking wasn’t her mother, who’d found out the truth and drove to Chicago to interrogate Rachel. The knocking was coming from the front door.

  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and took in Adonis lying next to her, his big, square head on a pillow.

  “I hope this isn’t disturbing you,” she told the dog, her voice craggy. Still foggy from her dream and the late night, she stretched.

  The Andromeda had been packed last night, thanks to a nearby company bringing everyone in for happy hour on the boss’s dime. She’d already sent Bree home since things were slow, so Rachel had been waiting tables and bartending until well after closing time.

  The Andromeda didn’t have entertainment aside from a few televisions and a pool table in the side room that was rarely used, but the clack-clack of balls rolling on felt hadn’t stopped until well after midnight. And only because the remaining twenty or so patrons ringing the bar were doing body shots. Yes, a few employees of Lobby, Inc., would find it hard to make eye contact with one another on Monday morning.

  Especially the guy who’d worn his tie on his head.

  For those reasons and because one, okay, she’d admit it, charming guy who wasn’t sauced included her in a round of shots (not body shots—she hadn’t done that since college) before she closed, the knock on the door at eight a.m. came way, way too early.

  Adonis, in the bed next to her, opened his eyes and met Rachel’s, then shut them again as another knock pierced the quiet.

  For a dog who’d spent the evening cooped up in the penthouse while she worked her tail feathers off, he was awfully wiped. He’d likely spent the entire afternoon into evening snoring on the couch, so why the major case of the lazies?

  The knock sounded again, a deep voice booming, “Oliver? You home? Adonis?”

  And now her visitor was talking to the dog.

  “Why don’t I get that?” Rachel told Adonis as she slid out of bed. Thankfully she’d slept wearing flannel, so there was no need to get dressed or fuss with a robe. Not that she owned one, but she’d bet Oliver had one in his closet. He was the robe type.

  “Coming!” She stepped from the bedroom and shuffled across the massive apartment that was more like a house on one floor.

  When she reached the door, she pulled her fingers through her blond hair and decided her visitor had earned the penalty of seeing her sloppy hair, leftover makeup, and pale blue flannel pajamas with a polar bear and snowflake design.

  She turned the knob and blinked, stunned.

  Holy crap, there is a mountain man at my door.

  She was faced with wide, round shoulders. A waterfall of caramel-brown, slightly wavy hair cascaded down his arms. He wore a closely trimmed beard, his mouth flat beneath it. One eyebrow was arched over the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

  “Hello,” she managed, before jerking her gaze from his assaulting blues to take in the fitted cream-colored sweater, a pair of gray cargo pants, and laced leather boots.

  He was like a sexy city lumberjack.

  “Hi.”

  Oh. That voice. Deep, rich, and low enough that it registered in her belly.

  When his eyes dashed away from her face and he smiled, her brain turned to mush. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. Not a single thing.

  “There he is. Hey, buddy.” The giant knelt as Adonis meandered through the living room, pausing to do a downward-dog stretch in front of the man’s feet. The dog received a scrub on the head, and she was rewarded with more of her guest’s low voice. “You’re better today, yeah? Sleep okay?”

  Meanwhile, Rachel gawked at the two of them. Her appearance was probably less put-together than the dog’s. She ran her fingers through her hair again, making it worse at this point, and straightened her pajama top futilely. There was no escaping that she looked as if she’d crawled out of bed after a late, late night.

  The man stood. “Typically, Adonis has had his walk by now, but I didn’t see you at the elevator, so…”

  She squinted one eye and finally her brain chugged into gear.

  Oh. Oh.

  Oliver had mentioned a dog walker, but Rachel had sworn he said he’d postponed the walks while she was staying here. But since he was here, he may as well take Adonis. She wasn’t anywhere near ready to go for a stroll in the snow.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She went to where the leash was hanging—on a hook inside the pantry—retrieved it, and chased Adonis for a few irritating seconds while he turned in circles in excitement. “I took him out at three in the morning, so I’m not sure if he’ll have to…you know.” Dog clipped, she handed the leash to the ridiculously good-looking man at her door. “Do you bring your own poop bags? Or do you…” The man was looking at her like she’d sprouted a third eye, so she swept the topic away with one hand. “You know what? I’ll just grab one.”

  She shot him a tight smile, went back to the pantry, and returned with a bag made for Adonis’s business. She offered it to the guy, who was holding tight to Adonis’s leash while the pooch lunged for the elevator. The man didn’t budge, despite the dog’s strength.

  “Where’s Oliver?” he asked.

  She frowned as she crinkled the plastic bag against her body. “You mean he didn’t tell you? He’s on a business trip. I’m house-sitting.”

  “You his niece?” he asked after running a long gaze down to her feet, then up to her face again.

  She laughed. “No, not at all. He’s one of my regulars. Odd, right? But we hit it off and he likes me, so…”

  The man’s frown deepened, those gorgeous eyes darkening to stormy blue. “I’m not the dog walker.” He offered the leash but Adonis stayed in the hallway rather than coming back inside. “I’m an upstairs neighbor.”

  “Oh. Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” Rachel took the leash and wrestled with Adonis, who was much, much stronger than she. He knew it. The dog spread his feet wide and stood his ground on the carpeted floor.

  “I suggest you find a way to keep him quiet at night while you’re out. I work from home and I can’t listen to him bark for hours.”

  Hours?

  “If I were anyone else, a noise complaint would be in your future. Oliver follows the rules. He wouldn’t like knowing you’re breaking a big one.” That low voice had dropped lower, the reprimand having the dual result of both pissing her off and making her feel a little tingly.

  God. I need more sleep.

  “No need to be rude,” she snapped. He blinked, surprised. Probably not used to being put in his place.

  Look at him. He’s a wall. Who would stand up to him?

  Then she remembered his kind smile, the way his hands rubbed Adonis’s flank with rugged gentleness. A shiver climbed her spine at the same time Adonis jerked hard on the leash.

  She expelled a dainty “oh!” and lunged forward at the same time the man in the doorway caught the leash in one hand and her against him. Rachel found every part of her from thighs to breasts plastered to the giant’s body. Her palms flattened over two hard pectoral muscles hidden beneath the sweater, her legs bumping his legs, which felt as solid as two marble columns. She tilted her head, met those aqua blue eyes, and…and…remembered she hadn’t brushed her teeth yet.

  She shoved off his rock-hard stomach, slapping a palm over her mouth. Then she snatched Adonis’s leash and gave a hard tug. The dog turned with a sigh and paced back inside. Once he was clear of the door, she sent the hard-bodied hunk at the threshold a glare and slammed the door in his face.

  Adonis yipped his disappointment at losing the chance to go outside.

  “You’ll have to take him out now!” came a shout through the door. “Don’t blue-ball the poor guy after taking him halfway.”

  Adonis wagged his tail so hard, he nearly took out a lamp. The hulk at the door wa
s right. There was no way she could turn down the Dane’s pale eyes and smiling pink mouth, perked pointy ears, and lolling tongue.

  “Fine,” she growled, and stomped for the bedroom. She snatched up her boots and hastily picked out her clothes, feeling both tired and cranky. Yet as she tugged on her coat, she found her mouth curving into a half-smile.

  Blue balls.

  Who was that guy?

  * * *

  Tag wasn’t hiding, per se, but he wasn’t making his presence known in the lobby of Crane Tower. Rather than take the elevator up, he took it down, grabbed himself a coffee, and waited.

  Surely the blonde would be down with Adonis in tow any second now. As he took the second sip from his cup, he saw her. Well, he saw Adonis first since he was six feet ahead of her, leash a straight, taut line. The blonde’s hair was in a sloppy topknot, and she’d changed into jeans and a long red sweater. Her coat was open; her boots came up to her knees. Nothing special about her outfit, but he was hit with a blast of longing so acute, he froze in place.

  Damn.

  Like the first time he’d spotted her on the sidewalk, she’d once again struck him stupid. Him noticing a woman was not a rare thing, but neither did he stop and stare, dumbstruck. The moment he’d noticed her, and she’d noticed him, had been infused with a palpable buzz of electricity.

  “That’s stupid,” he grumbled against the lip of his coffee cup, sliding behind a divider separating the coffee shop from the lobby.

  She strode by in a plume of soft, floral perfume, Adonis in the lead and so focused on getting outside he didn’t give away Tag’s hiding spot.

  Tag shook his head. There was no denying it. Oliver’s girl was cute.

  “One of her regulars,” he mumbled to himself, sauntering over to the front desk after woman and dog vanished into the whitewashed landscape outside.

  Regular whats?

  But he knew. One look at the blonde’s smooth skin and blue eyes, even with her body covered from head to toe in flannel polar bears, Tag knew exactly what she and Oliver were regularly doing.