Billionaires Prefer Blondes Read Free

whispered.
    She was going to explode. “Why don’t you get rid of your minions, and I’ll reward you right now?”
    Rick’s muscles shuddered against her. “Stop tempting me.”
    “But I broke into your big old house. Don’t you—”
    He pushed her back against the mahogany banister, nearly sending them both over it as he took her mouth in a hard, hot kiss.
    Ah, this was more like it. There had to be something wrong with her, with the way that even after five months she couldn’t get enough of him. Thank God he had the same problem where she was concerned.
    Still, the sooner he finished his meeting, the submerging logical part of her brain said, the sooner they could get toSotheby’s. Deep as her hunger for Rick ran, that place was like a thief’s Mecca. Knowing the special auction was taking place was the reason she’d agreed to abandon her new security business in Palm Beach and join him in New York, though she’d never admit it aloud.
    His mouth crept down to her jawline, and her legs turned to spaghetti. “Stop, stop, stop,” she muttered, probably so quietly he couldn’t hear her.
    He could. Rick backed off an inch. “I’m supposed to be the responsible one. Not you, sweetheart.”
    “I know, but I’m getting hungry.”
    Rick narrowed his eyes. “For me, for dinner, or for the auction?”
    “All three, Brit. Get back to your office and get rid of those guys.”
    “Give me an hour, Yank.”
    “You got it. Any more, and I’m going to dinner with the butler.”
    “No, you’re not.”
    With that he vanished back upstairs, quietly closing the door behind him. For a long moment Samantha frowned up the staircase. Man, she’d screwed up. No, Rick hadn’t exactly caught her, but he wouldn’t have known anything about her window entry at all if not for her own bumbling. Not that there was any real harm in interrupting one of Rick’s meetings except for the embarrassment factor, but she’d just waltzed into a room full of people without having a clue that they were there. If she’d done that in her previous life, she’d probably be lying on her back with a chalk outline around her right now.
    She grabbed an apple from the kitchen, probably offending Vilseau the chef, then returned upstairs to the room beside the office. In the large brown and black bedroom suite that sheand Rick shared, Samantha flopped backward onto the bed. No doubt about it, she was getting soft. The question was, did it matter?
    Obviously as long as she stayed with Rick she couldn’t go back to her old way of life. He was too high-profile, and there was that sticky issue of morality, plus the fact that he was chummy with far too many of the people from whom she’d stolen.
    It was only the rush that she missed, the intense sensation of being alive that came from sneaking into places she wasn’t supposed to be in order to acquire things she wasn’t supposed to have. She didn’t keep those things, but she had damned well enjoyed the money she got for them.
    Right on cue her cell phone rang, to the tune of “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head.” “I told you never to call me here,” she said once she dug the phone out of her purse and flipped it open.
    “Where are you, then?” came the familiar voice of her ex-fence, surrogate father, and current business partner Walter “Stoney” Barstone. “’Cause unless it’s the john, baby, I don’t remember you telling me any such thing.”
    “I meant while I’m on vacation.”
    “You’ve never taken a real vacation in your life. And I just wanted to find out how the thing with Locke went.”
    She blew out her lips. “It went fine. The guy’s a perv, but he’s loaded. I’ll fax you in half an hour or so with the details so we can send him a bill.”
    Stoney stayed quiet for a beat. “You sound real excited about it.”
    “Yeah, well, I kind of broke into the house here, and stumbled right into the middle of Rick’s meeting.”
    “What the hell did you do that