Bet Me, Mr. Billionaire by Anne Marsh

Author:Anne Marsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anne Marsh
Published: 2022-05-16T00:00:00+00:00

Harlow’s house-picking skills were rather… well, Max wasn’t quite sure what they were. Unorthodox? Bizarre? Entirely and ridiculously random? Today’s house monster was a life-sized replica of a California mission. It would have made an interesting Airbnb: he had just enough imagination to realize some people enjoyed reenacting their favorite historical fantasies and that there were even—almost certainly—a handful of people who liked to pretend they were a Spanish Franciscan or soldier.

It wasn’t that Max didn’t appreciate history—history, after all, was a record of trial runs and that was important data—but he’d never been particularly interested in old buildings. They were poorly lit, energy inefficient, and far too often located in less-than-ideal locations. Relocating to California had simply been the next logical step in a well-thought-out plan. He’d had an opportunity, two years earlier than he had anticipated, to work at the University of California, and so he’d seized the chance. He had access to a state-of-the-art lab, intelligent colleagues, a truly impressive set of databases and telescopes. Christ, their telescopes were amazing. He’d lusted after them since he was fifteen.

Two weeks ago, he’d been planning to move into the new home he’d been building. And then he’d got a hysterical phone call from his onsite manager and everything had changed. The house was gone and he’d acquired a right-hand gal who couldn’t or wouldn’t do basic math, who sang at the top of her lungs, and who seemed to be constitutionally incapable of following directions. He shuddered to think of the damage she could cause turned loose in a lab, but—

Well.

He might—completely inexplicably and with zero rationale—be enjoying himself and since he hadn’t allowed for entertainment in his project plan, it had to stop.

Right now, for example, did nothing whatsoever to further either his relocation plans or his fuel efficiency project. She’d made that rather sexy little moaning sound, he’d explained (mostly to bait her) why the neighbors’ tennis habits made this an unacceptable housing choice, and now she was clicking back-and-forth, back-and-forth in her ridiculous heels, waving her hands as she babbled some very uncompelling reasons why he should overlook the tennis and actually acquire this monstrosity of a house.

He moved closer just in case she tipped over the edge. Really, her shoes were completely impractical, worse than the ones she’d worn last time. There was an entire miniature New York City skyline trapped in the heels that was not at all to scale and included some major misrepresentations of the star constellations visible from that part of the world. If she fell off the roof, today’s shoes would fall off her feet and offer zero protection. In fact, he wasn’t sure she wasn’t in danger of stepping right out of them given the speed of her stride.

He calculated the possibilities for a second, then gave up and chased after her. Keeping her safe was only practical. If she injured herself, he’d have to start over with a new butler, not to mention she’d probably argue that he should be a gentleman and let her out of their bet.

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