Loving the Billionaire Read online

  “It should not take Marsha long to prepare your rooms, Mr. Sherbrooke. Do you want me to contact Henri?” Trevor asked, referring to the chef who ruled; because to say he was in charge of the kitchen didn’t explain the way Henri ran the Cliff House kitchen.

  “I’ll take care of my own meals, but please let Henri know I need him to prepare a special dinner on Sunday.” Had he imagined it or had Trevor’s mouth almost dropped open?

  “For how many, sir?”

  “Two.”

  This time there was no mistaking the raised eyebrows on the always prim and proper butler, and Warren bit back a laugh. Who would’ve guessed Trevor had emotions? He and his brother and cousins often joked that the guy was a robot.

  “Is there anything special you would like served, or do you want to leave the menu up to Henri?”

  Good question and one he’d not thought about. If he left it up to Henri, they’d be eating a gorgeous meal that more than likely consisted of some type of red meat or seafood. The Frenchman insisted on dishes with red meat and seafood. If you wanted something else on your plate, you had to let him know. During the summer his grandmother or his mother went over the weekly menus with the chef for that very reason.

  “He has free rein, just tell him to stay away from scallops and lamb.” He knew for a fact that Ruth was allergic to scallops, and he despised lamb. “And make sure the dessert contains chocolate.” With his directions issued, Warren headed upstairs.

  White sheets covered all the furniture in his suite. Normally if a family member planned to stay during the winter they called and let Trevor and his wife know weeks in advance so the rooms could be prepared and the necessary staff called in. He hadn’t been able to do that this trip. He’d only made up his mind yesterday. Prior to that, he’d flip-flopped back and forth. Something he’d been doing since August.

  Warren dropped his suitcase on the floor, the sound muffled by the thick area rug covering the hardwood. Then he yanked off the white sheet that covered the tall chest of drawers opposite his bed, letting it fall to the floor. Later Marsha could uncover the rest of the furniture. For now he needed a few drawers for his clothes. As he unpacked, he thought back to that August day. Now, like on countless other occasions, a gambit of emotions flooded him. Embarrassment, appreciation, and love.

  The first one didn’t surprise him. No man wanted to be seen crying. Yet, that morning he hadn’t been able to keep the tears locked away as he waited for word on his grandmother. Appreciation, he understood that, too. Ruth had sat with him for hours, listening and offering support, as he shared things he’d never told anyone else. But love, that was the one that blew his mind away.

  He’d known Ruth forever, and never in all that time had he looked at her as anything but a friend. When they parted that morning, though, he hadn’t watched a friend walk away. He’d watched someone he loved walk away.

  For weeks afterward, he’d told himself he’d imagined it. That it had been the stress of the moment. That while Ruth was a friend; they’d never be anything more than that. When he fell in love it would be with someone like his brother’s girlfriend, Donna. Someone from a well-connected family who understood what it was like to live and breathe in his world.

  To prove it to himself, he’d asked Beatrice Long out after meeting her at the Harbor Club, a private yachting club in Boston. The heiress to a Texas oil company, she was the perfect woman for him. Soon one date had turned into another, then that October she’d accompanied him to Newport for the Annual Harvest Festival. His family had loved her. Even his grandmother, who was very particular, had approved.

  Despite their similar backgrounds and mutual friends, he’d felt no spark. He wasn’t naïve enough to think love was a requirement for marriage. Plenty of his friends’ parents existed in loveless marriages; marriages formed for business and political reasons. Heck even his Uncle Gary, his father’s youngest brother did. But that wasn’t the type of existence he wanted. Someday he wanted what his parents had. So despite his family’s protests, he’d ended things with Beatrice around Thanksgiving.

  Soon his resolve to keep things platonic with Ruth wavered. Once again he wondered if maybe she felt the same way. When he called her to see if they could get together and talk in December, she’d been upset because the guy she’d been dating for two months had broken things off.

  Some guys would’ve seen a woman on the rebound and jumped in to fill not only the void but her bed. He couldn’t do that to Ruth. So instead, he’d never mentioned them getting together. However, she’d invited him to the New Year’s Eve party she and her friend Helen had planned. Unable to say no, he’d told her he’d try to stop by, not sure he would or even if he should. In the end, he’d been unable to stay away.

  He hadn’t seen or talked to her since that party.

  Warren placed the last of his clothes in the drawers, hung his suit in the closet, and headed out. If he was going to lay it all out there on Sunday, he wanted everything perfect, which meant a stop at Hammonds Florist on Dubois Street, the best florist in the area and a stop at Crystal Jewelers. After that, he’d see if Ruth was home. She’d mentioned at the party that she’d switched shifts at the hospital, so there was a good chance she’d be home tonight.

  ***

  Settled on the couch surrounded by Helen’s moving boxes, Ruth waited for Little House On The Prairie , her favorite television show, to start. Helen had gone over to her mom’s again to finish the wedding favors they’d worked on the night before, leaving Ruth alone with her turkey sandwich and homemade tomato soup. In her opinion, it wasn’t the worst way to spend a Thursday night.

  As the opening theme song started and the show’s leading man appeared, she got up and turned up the volume. Before she could sit back down and get comfortable, the doorbell rang. Her immediate reaction was to pull the door open. Only friends and family came to visit her. At the last second, Ruth remembered to look through the peephole her older brother, Dan, had installed the previous spring, following a series of break-ins in the area. When she did, the stupid organ in her chest flipped.

  They hadn’t spoken since New Year’s Eve after the brief kiss they’d shared in the kitchen when the clock struck midnight and they’d been the only people in the room. What was he doing here now? Shouldn’t he be in Boston? Spring break wasn’t for another few weeks, and she hadn’t heard of any big society events happening.

  Maybe he came down to see me. The thought sent her heart spinning. Get real, the logical part of her brain countered, her heart plummeting downward like a yo-yo out of control. He probably needs someone to talk to. Maybe his grandmother is sick again.

  Regardless of the reason, she had to open the door. She couldn’t leave him standing outside in the cold, so she pulled open the door. “Warren, hi.”

  The smile he used with his friends, rather than the one he used in media pictures, spread across his face, and Ruth had trouble getting words to form. “Come on in. It’s freezing out there.”

  “I won’t argue with you on that one.” He stepped inside, wiping his shoes on the welcome rug. “But at least it’s not snowing anymore.”

  Helen had rejoiced about that when she left for her mom’s house. “If the news is correct, it won’t snow again until maybe late Saturday night.” She closed the door behind him before any more heat could escape.

  Warren shrugged out of his heavy wool jacket.

  “I’ll hang that for you.” Ruth took the jacket from his hands, the scent of his aftershave filling her senses.

  Warren slipped his hands into his pants pockets. “Thanks. I hope it’s okay I stopped in without calling first.”

  “Of course. You know you’re always welcome here.” Or anywhere else I am. “Have a seat.” Ruth hung his jacket in the closet, and then she turned back toward him. “I just heated up something to eat. Are you hungry?”

  With a shake of his head, he walked over to the couch and sat. “I ate. Are you moving or something?” He gestured toward the boxes.


  “No, that’s Helen’s stuff. She’s getting married Saturday afternoon.”

  “That’s right. You’re her maid of honor.”

  Yep, once again she was part of a friend’s bridal party. This would be the fourth friend married in the past two years. “A maid of honor whose date canceled on her yesterday. I’ve never gone to a wedding without a date.”

  Warren stiffened. “You’re seeing someone? Not the same guy as before Christmas?”

  Was she imaging it or had his voice changed? His posture had. “No, I’m not seeing anyone. My friend Steven, he used to work at the store, planned to come with me. He’s known Helen for a long time, too. But he has the flu.”

  Warren relaxed again or at least it appeared as if he did.

  “I asked Dan, but he has plans, so I’m on my own.”

  “If you want, I’ll go with you.”

  The next time she went for a physical she needed her head checked. After all, she was hearing things. That was never a good sign.

  “I’m down here all weekend, and I like Helen,” Warren said before she responded. “If you don’t want me to, that’s okay.”

  Didn’t want him too? Maybe he was the one who needed his head checked. “Are you sure? What if the media finds out or something?”

  “All they’ll learn is that I took an old friend to a wedding.” He leaned back and stretched his long legs.

  “That would be great.”

  He looked back over at her and gave her another one of his real smiles. This time her heart not only flipped but also started to disco dance in her chest. Afraid he might see her true feelings, she looked at the television. “We can put on something else if you want. You probably don’t like this show.”

  “This is fine. There isn’t much on Thursday nights anyway. I didn’t know you liked this show.”

  It was one of the few television shows she enjoyed. “I read the books when I was younger and loved them. If I’m home, I watch it every week.”

  Over the next few minutes they sat in silence watching television while Ruth finished her dinner. When the show went to another commercial break, she spoke again. “I’m going to make some hot chocolate; would you like some?” She knew Warren loved chocolate. When she’d worked in the convenience store, he’d often stop in for chocolate bars and soda. Warren had a thing for sugar.

  “With whip cream?”

  “You’re out of luck. I only have marshmallows.”

  Warren sighed as if it was the end of the world. “I guess that’ll do,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

  The skin on the back of her neck tingled as she poured milk into a saucepan. It’s my imagination. Warren’s not watching me . Her silent lecture didn’t help her shake the feeling, so rather than think about it, she started up another conversation. “What are you doing down here? You don’t normally come to Newport in the winter. Is your grandmother okay?”

  “She’s better than ever. Her cardiologist has her on a strict diet, and it seems to be working.” Warren snagged a mini marshmallow from the bag on the table and popped it in his mouth. “I thought I’d give my brother and his girlfriend some privacy for the weekend, since Sunday is Valentine’s Day.” Damn, why was he finding this so difficult? He might not have his younger cousin’s playboy reputation, but he could meet a woman and ask her out without blinking an eye. What was his problem tonight?

  “I forgot that you and Mark were living together now. Is he graduating this year?”

  “Yes, but he won’t be going far. He starts Harvard Law in the fall, so I’m stuck with him for a little longer,” Warren joked. Actually, he liked having his brother as a roommate. Well, he liked it most of the time. “Are you going to get a new roommate since Helen’s moving out?”

  Ruth set down two steaming mugs and shrugged. “I don’t think so. At least not right away. I can swing the rent on my own. And I can’t imagine living with any of my other friends. My parents keep trying to change my mind. They don’t think it’s safe for a single woman to live alone.” She reached for the marshmallows and dropped several into her mug. “They didn’t want us to get an apartment in the first place. My parents think a woman should live at home until she gets married. That’s what my mother and aunt did.”

  “Women are doing a lot of things their mothers didn’t do. I think if you want to live alone you should.” Had he just said that? He sounded like a poster written in support of women’s lib or something. Whether he sounded stupid or not, Ruth just nodded.

  “That’s true. I’m the first woman in my family to go to college. Actually, I’m the first person in my family to graduate college.”

  Before their conversation could continue down that path, highlighting the differences between them, Warren focused on his real reason for being there. “Do you have any plans for Sunday night?”

  With a mouth full of hot chocolate, she shook her head.

  He leaned forward, prepared to take the plunge. “Neither do I. Will you have dinner with me?”

  Ruth erupted into a coughing fit. “Did you suddenly forget Sunday is Valentine’s Day, Warren?” she asked once she regained control.

  “I know that.” When he asked women out they usually came back with a yes and what time will you pick me up. They didn’t come back with smart-ass replies. Then again this was Ruth Taylor, not the usual society debutantes he dated.

  Ruth pointed at him. “You want to have dinner with me on Valentine’s Day?” she asked, pointing to herself.

  Maybe asking had been a bad idea. Perhaps the little jolt he’d felt when they shared that kiss ringing in the New Year had been one-sided. “Yes. You. Me. Dinner. Sunday night.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip and looked at him. “Okay.”

  The tension in his shoulders disappeared. She’d agreed. “Good. What time should I pick you up?” He reached for his own mug of hot chocolate.

  “I’m working Sunday so maybe around six-thirty.”

  He’d not considered that she might be working, but he should have. After all, hospitals didn’t close. “Works for me. Do you need a ride to the church on Saturday?” When his cousin had gotten married the summer before, she and her bridal party arrived at the church in a couple of Rolls Royces. He had no idea how other people did things.

  “No. I’m getting ready with Helen at her parents’ house. They rented a limo to pick everyone up and take us to the church. A ride to the reception and home afterward would be great. But if you can’t pick me up at the church that’s fine. I can catch a ride with someone else and meet you at the hotel.”

  “I can meet you at the church. Where is the wedding?”

  “Trinity Church and the reception is at The Sherbrooke Hotel on America’s Cup Avenue. Helen checked out a few other places, but as soon as she saw the view of Newport Harbor from the ballroom there, no other place would do.” Ruth mixed her hot chocolate. “Helen and Will are staying at the hotel for the night, too. They leave for their honeymoon Sunday morning.”

  He couldn’t deny that the hotel had a spectacular view of the entire harbor.

  “That’s why she’s getting married now instead of in the summer. She wanted to get married in July, but it would have cost her parents twice as much to have the reception then. Getting married in February during the off season was the only way they could swing the cost.”

  That particular Sherbrooke Hotel was the most expensive hotel in Newport, and it had stunning views and three magnificent ballrooms.

  “Can’t say I disagree with her. The hotel has one hell of a view. What time should I get to the church?”

  “Ceremonies there last about an hour, so the wedding should be over around one o’clock.”

  “Then I’ll see you there. Do you have the wedding rehearsal tomorrow night?”

  Ruth nodded. “I’ll have to rush home from work and change. I didn’t want to take the whole day off, though.” She took another sip from her mug. “Do you mind if we finish our drinks in the other room?”<
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  Warren pushed back his chair. He’d accomplished his goal for the night. Now he could relax a bit and enjoy Ruth’s company. “You want to finish watching Little House ?”

  “If you don’t mind. It’s almost over anyway.”

  “Not at all.” Warren dropped a few more marshmallows in his mug. “I might be asking for another cup of this soon.” He picked up both their mugs and followed Ruth back to the couch.

  Chapter 3

  Ruth peeked out the door. She wasn’t sure who looked happier, Helen, who at the moment was having her picture taken with her mother and grandmother, or Will standing at the altar with his best man, Mitch.

  “I think everyone is here. The church is packed.” Ruth closed the door and turned around.

  “How many people did you invite again?” Carla, Helen’s cousin and bridesmaid, opened the door again so she could take a look.

  “She invited two hundred.” It had seemed liked two thousand the night they wrote out the envelopes. Ruth’s hand had ached for the rest of the evening.

  “Only one hundred fifty said they were coming.” Helen walked over to them when the photographer put down his camera and tried to look out.

  One hundred fifty guests was still a huge number. Unless she married a man with a large family, her own wedding would be much smaller. Both her mom and dad came from small families, and she only had one brother.

  Helen’s aunt, who’d acted as an unofficial wedding planner for the past year, entered the room. “Okay, everyone, it is time to line up.”

  A seasoned pro at wedding proceedings, Ruth took her place in line. Then as they’d been instructed the night before, each bridesmaid crossed the threshold into the historic church and passed by the filled pews. Once Carla, the last of the three bridesmaids, reached the halfway mark of the aisle, Ruth began her own march toward the front, and the doors behind her closed, preventing anyone from seeing the bride. She’d only passed by the first two rows of pews when she spotted someone who shouldn’t be in the church seated alone. Pausing for half a second, she stared at Warren who gave her a smile and small wave. He said he’d meet her at the church. She’d assumed that meant once the ceremony ended not for the ceremony itself.