Billionaire Bad Boy Read Online Free PDF Page A

announced.
    "Fine. I've got a lot of things to do
anyway."
    "Fine. I'll pick you up tomorrow."
    "Tomorrow? What for?"
    "A ride." He strode to the door, opened it
and was gone without even a backward glance.
    She sighed and flopped back on the couch. Wonderful. Zack
thought she was a loser. Worse, a desperate loser who wanted him. Problem was,
she did want him. Only physically of course. But he'd made it clear he'd never
want her in the same way. Just as well. She wasn't a casual fling kind of girl.
    ***
    Zack closed the front door of his Beverly Hills house
and leaned back against it with a loud sigh. That had been close. He'd had a
lucky escape. Annie looked so good lying on her couch, her skirt riding high on
her slim legs, her body responding to his touch. He'd felt her tension ease as
he massaged her feet.
    Oh yeah, those feet! He wasn't a foot fetishist—in
fact, he'd never noticed a woman's feet before, never touched them the way he'd
touched Annie's. But she had soft soles, high arches and sensitive toes. Sexy
toes.
    He stripped off his T-shirt and headed to the bar. He
poured a strong Scotch, no rocks, and swallowed it in one gulp. He made another
but didn't drink it. He'd develop a drinking problem by the end of this
assignment if he wasn't careful. He needed to keep reminding himself that Annie
was just that—an assignment. Nothing more.
    Definitely nothing more.
    ***
    The next morning, Annie rummaged through her closet
for something suitable to wear. It didn't take long before her bed disappeared
under a mountain of clothes. She'd tried on every pair of shorts, Capri pants
and trousers she owned, but none of them seemed right for a ride with LA's
sexiest businessman. That was assuming he was talking about a motorbike ride
and not a horseback ride.
    Boy, she hoped he hadn't meant a horseback ride. The
thought of getting onto the back of a live animal with Zack watching was too
frightening. Imagine all the things that could go wrong! The horse could bolt
and she'd fall off. She could step in horse poop. She could slip on horse poop
and end up on her ass, or on her back with it in her hair.
    She rifled through the clothes-mountain. What do I
have that's poop-proof? She paused, then searched again. What do I have
that's dork proof?
    Nothing. Everything in her closet
screamed 'conservative'. She settled on a pair of navy Capri pants and a white
T-shirt, then checked herself out in the mirror. She looked great—for a
day of sailing.
    The doorbell chimed. She glanced at the clothes strewn
around her room and sighed. No time to change or tidy up. She made a mental
note not to ask Zack back inside after the ride, in case he wanted to make wild
passionate love to her in the bedroom. There was a perfectly good sofa in the
lounge.
    Yeah, right. Like he'd want to see her naked.
    She hurried to open the door just as the bell rang a
second time.
    "What took you so long?" Zack asked when she
opened the door. He wore black jeans and a heavy, black leather jacket over a
black T-shirt. He also wore a cheeky grin and two adorable dimples. At least he
was over his little spat from the previous night. He was more fickle
than...well, than her with PMT. "Couldn't decide what to wear, huh?" He
was a mind reader too.
    She grabbed her purse and shuffled out the door but he
blocked her path.
    "You're not going anywhere dressed like
that." He pushed past her. "Let's see what else you've got."
    "But, but...wait!"
    He didn't stop and she had to run to catch up to him. Too
late. He'd already reached her bedroom door and opened it.
    "You really aren't very decisive are you? Or
neat."
    She shrugged, trying to appear as if she didn't care
that Zack DiMarco was in her bedroom picking up her clothes and studying them
with a casually discerning eye.
    He handed her a black T-shirt without looking her way.
"Put this on. Do you have any leather pants?"
    None that she could squeeze into. "No."
    "Then put on these." He held up a faded pair
of jeans with a