Just Friends: A Summer Fling With A Billionaire Heir Page 4

  It felt good walking away from that offer. It also made her subconscious scream at her until she ran and hid in her apartment, wondering what it would have been like to give in to old temptations.

  What an idiot.

  Chapter 5

  Zack had been turned down more times than he liked to admit over the course of his young, virile life, but he usually bounced back right away.

  Not recently.

  Recently, had been obsessing over Rachel and the way she laughed in his stupid face, as if thinking he could go out with her was so farfetched that he might as well go ask Ashley Graham while he was at it.

  Joke was on her. The last woman who could be somewhat counted as a “real” girlfriend to Zack was also a hot plus-sized model with millions of Instagram followers and curves that made all men drool on themselves. They only broke up because she accused Zack of loving his yacht more than her.

  I mean, yeah, look at this thing. Zack had never loved any woman. Nope. Never.

  His beautiful lady, though? She would be with him forever. In some incarnation, anyway.

  The Priss & Moan was the only wife Zack needed. Aside from art supplies, a bulk of his money went into maintaining his prized yacht and paying for one of the best spots in the marina. Not even Damon Monroe, who had one of the biggest yachts in town, had a better spot than Zachary Feldman. Then again, it helped that Zack preferred the sportier models that were a fun mix of partying and going fast on the waves. He didn’t need a home away from home. He merely needed a vessel big enough to keep his attention.

  Priss was purchased as his twenty-first birthday present to himself. For the past several years, she had been the mistress of his dreams. So fuck Rachel. She was missing out!

  “One manly mango mimosa for the only guy I know who owns up to loving them.” Zack brought two glasses over from his on-deck cocktail bar. Seth, who was hunched over his sketchbook, motioned for the glass to get in his hand. “And one for me, because why not?”

  Seth folded his sketchbook shut. Zack had to hand it to his best friend: the man knew how to pick a fruity drink for beautiful days at the marina. “Thanks.”

  “What are you drawing?” Zack gestured to the closed sketchbook. “More nudes of your girlfriend?”

  Seth wasn’t the kind to rise to that good-natured bait. He was way too secure in the relationship he had with one of America’s most expensive courtesans. A woman he only began dating because he was so stricken by her beauty that he insisted on hiring her as his model. It had worked to jumpstart his own career in the arts, anyway. People the world over now clamored for Seth Christens’s artistic nudes.

  “No. I’ve lost my mind and was sketching the marina.”

  “Always my favorite fallback.” Zack sat next to him and sipped his drink. Damn. Mango is good. A punch of alcohol made it even better.

  “What have you been working on lately?”

  Zack shrugged. “Bit of this. Bit of that. Not married to any concept in particular.”

  “Liar.”

  The next sip of mimosa went down the incorrect pipe. When Zack was done coughing, he spat, “Excuse me, sir?”

  “I called you a liar. Am I wrong?”

  “About what?”

  Seth remained nonplussed as he leaned against the guardrail and drank more of his mimosa. “You’re obsessing over something. It’s either women or art. Based on your reaction now, I’m guessing… both.”

  “Fuck you, man.”

  “Who turned you down?”

  “Who said anything about someone turning me down?”

  “So defensive. It must’ve been nasty. What, did you offer her money to be your model and she took that to mean you thought she was a sex worker?”

  “You would know about that, huh?”

  “Like I said. You’re so defensive.”

  Zack scoffed in disbelief. This was the problem with being friends with someone like Seth Christens. They had completely different academic backgrounds. For fuck’s sake, Seth was a retired ob-gyn who only quit so he could pursue art full time. Let’s not forget that this fool is an only child. Compared to Zack, who was the youngest of three strapping sons, the birth order made a difference.

  Also, Seth was a few years older. And their personalities were complete opposites. By all accounts, they should have never been friends. So of course the universe conspired to make them best friends after meeting at a gallery event three years before. If one of them were a woman, they’d be married by now.

  “Okay. I’ll tell you what happened. You have to promise to not give me shit, though.”

  “Cross my heart. Hope to die.”

  “Whatever, man.” Zack proceeded to give the Cliff Notes version of what happened between him and Rachel, the enigmatic young woman from Opal’s Café. By the time he finished, Seth rolled his eyes and finished his mango mimosa.

  “Let me get this straight,” he finally said. “You creeped on a woman in a café and are wondering why she didn’t go gaga for your sudden advances?”

  “When you put it that way…”

  “What’s so special about her? Not that it’s unique for you to get the hots for a woman while claiming she’s ‘inspiring’ you. You’re so cliché.”

  “Says the man paying for his girlfriend’s existence.”

  “Aren’t we all, in the end?”

  Zack scoffed again.

  “And she said she’d rather be friends with you? You’re sure she’s not a lesbian, huh?”

  “She’s bi. She’s gotta be.” Zack slammed his glass down on a wicker table. “Which means I have a chance.”

  “To be fair to her,” Seth continued, “it’s about time you got some other friends. Maybe having a female friend will do you a world of good. Give you some perspective about the fairer sex and how you keep fucking up your relationships.”

  “I’m not…”

  A horn sounded in the distance. Zack leaped up, his sandals smacking against the deck of his yacht as he raced to the bow and shielded his eyes from the sun. Sure enough, a familiar vessel, a similar make and model to his own, cruised into the harbor. The horn sounded again.

  “Aha!” Zack hopped down and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Uncle Roy’s here.”

  Seth picked up his sketchbook. “Clearly, my signal to get the hell out of here.”

  “Come on. He hasn’t seen us in months.”

  “He hasn’t seen you in months.” Seth kept a careful eye on the approaching vessel. Soon, the empty dock space next to the Priss & Moan would be full with another boat. One called Retirement Fund. It wasn’t a joke.

  Zack waved his uncle into port and was greeted with a hearty shake of the old man’s fist. It’s about time he got here. Zack’s reason for slumming it on his yacht that day instead of being holed up in his studio had to do with Uncle Roy’s homecoming. The man had left for the Caribbean shortly after Christmas and had promised to be back before hurricane season. Well, hurricane season was quickly approaching, but Zack hadn’t received word from his uncle until two nights before. “Coming back to port, son. Same place?”

  Nobody was more at home on the water or on his boat than Roy Feldman. And nobody understood Zack in that old money family more than his Uncle Roy.

  They were often mistaken for father and son, and it suited them both fine. They even had the same exact style when it came to hanging out at the yacht, although Roy Feldman’s long, wild white hair gave him a look that made him more vagabond than rightful heir to a billion-dollar steel empire.

  “Hey, son!” That loud, grisly voice boomed through the marina as Retirement Fund came to a full stop next to Priss & Moan. Seth finished packing up his things. Zack, however, raced to the port side of his yacht. “Water’s great! Make sure you go for a spin!”

  As soon as the boat was situated, a plank that connected both boats was lowered. Zack didn’t hesitate. He leaped onto this uncle’s deck and smacked him on the back.

  “How was Barbados?”

  “
Beautiful. Both the weather and the women.”

  “Both haven’t been so bad here, either.”

  Uncle and nephew shared the usual knowing look. “In all honesty,” Roy continued, “I’m a mess that I have to be back in the States already. But I need to do some repairs and upkeep, and by the time I’ll be finished… bah. We’ll be well into autumn.”

  “Knowing you, you’ll be sailing around the Mediterranean by Thanksgiving.”

  “God willing, son!”

  Seth held up his hand in farewell before disembarking his friend’s boat. “See you,” he said. “And welcome home, Roy.”

  Uncle Roy put his hands on his hips. “Who the hell is that?”

  “Seth. My friend.”

  “Think you need some lady friends, son.”

  “Working on it.”

  Roy clapped his nephew on the bicep and went to work taking care of his vessel. Zack hopped right in to help. “So tell me what’s been going on! Thought you’d be married by now.”

  “Can’t say I’ve met anyone worth marrying yet.”

  “You’ve got a boat and millions of dollars. Soon enough.”

  “I’ve met many beautiful women who are more than happy to make use of both, Uncle.”

  “You’re making use of many of their assets, yes?”

  Zack briefly thought of Rachel, who hadn’t seemed like she wanted anything to do with him. Yet… she had been flirting, right? What was her deal, anyway? Most women were more than happy to hear him out. Wasn’t like Zack didn’t know what a catch he was. He had all the money and prestige of his family without any of the responsibilities. What was better than that? I’m a sensitive artist with a bod he takes to the gym and a shitton of money. The boat often turned women on, too. Why shouldn’t it? Zack took care of his boat more than he did himself!

  “Could say that there’s a young woman I’ve been keeping my eye on. But she doesn’t seem too interested in me.”

  His uncle stopped fussing with ropes long enough to wag a finger beneath Zack’s chin. “Every woman is interested, son. But it’s you job to present a part of yourself that she would be interested in.”

  “You’ve got me there. I’ve been relying on the whole devilish good looks and fancy money shit for so long, though.”

  “Then offer her something else! Believe it or not, not every woman is impressed by money and a big dick. Or even that art stuff you do.”

  “That ‘art stuff’ gets me more women than anything else.”

  “Yes, and how many of them stick around for the other stuff?”

  Zack laughed. “This is why you’re a better dad than my real one.”

  “Someone had to teach you about the birds and the bees when you were a kid. Might as well have been your good ol’ Uncle Roy.”

  Zack remembered that day well. I was ten. He still had color in his hair. Next thing I knew, he was using ropes and pulleys to demonstrate how sex worked, and it was a miracle I was still able to lose my virginity.

  “Give her something else to be interested in, huh?” Zack thought about that. What was the only thing that had piqued Rachel’s interest in him?

  “Guess you know where to find me if you wanna be my friend.”

  Oh. He did.

  ***

  The door to Opal’s Café flew open shortly before the place shut down for the evening. The young Indian barista jerked up from her till, mouth dropping as she quickly recognized Zack – and that he was sauntering up straight to her without regard for the cold case.

  “I need a favor,” he began, leaning against the counter. “That woman, Rachel, she’s your friend, right?”

  No, Rachel was not in the café. Zack had checked before kicking the door open and marching in like he was in a movie. But his question had been enough to make the barista lose her voice.

  “She told me I would know where to find her if I wanted to be her friend.” Zack winked. “I would very much like that. Starting with getting her number.”

  The barista didn’t look too impressed with his demand. Fine. I can work with this. There wasn’t a woman in the city that Zachary Feldman could not charm.

  Nonetheless, he met one of his matches that day. The barista wasn’t giving up her friend’s number to a strange man without a good convincing. Or five.

  Chapter 6

  It wasn’t the buzzing of her phone that woke Rachel up from her early evening nap (that she never even asked to take.) It was the commercial on her laptop that blasted at a way higher volume than the Bones reruns she was watching when she fell asleep on her bed.

  “Fuck,” she muttered. “Did I sleep that long?” It was still daylight outside, but Rachel didn’t have to check the time on her phone to know that it was closer to eight than seven. This time of year? The sun in that position meant she drastically overslept.

  But when she did check her phone to confirm her worst fears, she found more than the usual missed notifications.

  She found a text from an unknown number.

  “Hello, Rachel,” it began. “I’m ready to be your friend if you’re ready to be mine.”

  “Ew!” Rachel tossed her phone back onto her bed. “What a fucking weirdo!” Even worse that he knew her name! What kind of freak? She needed to block that number right away.

  Too bad she forgot. There were more pressing things for her to do, like drag her ass off her bed, turn off the TV show, and throw a frozen lasagna into the microwave for dinner. She had taken half the day off from translating to get caught up on other work. Instead, she ended up falling asleep, and now she would spend the rest of her evening playing online video games while shoving her platter of lasagna into her mouth.

  Okay, so she had some baby spinach in the fridge too. Ooh, and baby carrots! That balanced things out, right?

  Vaguely.

  She grabbed her phone on her way to her desk. There was a follow-up to the text.

  “Okay, so that was a weird opening message. I also realize that you have no idea who this is.” Oh my God, this guy was still going? Who gave him this number? How did he find it? “This is Zack. Remember me? Your friend from Opal’s gave me your number.”

  Parvati!

  Zack!

  What kind of conspiracy? Seriously!

  Rachel had no idea how to respond. Other than blocking his number.

  Then again… this was the really hot guy, right?

  She didn’t like to admit it, but the fact that Zack was hot changed a few things. I would never, ever admit that out loud. Rachel would lose her feminism card. Or she would have, had it not been lost in the mail first.

  This guy was relentless, though. First he sat down at her table, demanding that she go out with him. Now he had strong-armed her number out of Parvati, to ask her to be… friends? What was his game, really? And why her? What the hell was so special – or unlucky, honestly – about Rachel Taylor that she was picked for this handsome man’s play?

  She tapped a response out, read it, and finally sent it.

  “I vaguely recall you. Why are you texting me?”

  Zack responded a few minutes later. By then, Rachel was fully situated at her desk, lasagna cooling – and ants amassing to take it over if she wasn’t careful.

  “Because I want to be your friend.”

  “Sounds fake, creeper.”

  “I’m serious! Hey, you said we could be friends, didn’t you?”

  “You’re. Creepy.”

  Her phone rang.

  “What don’t you understand about being creepy?” She really answered?

  “Come on.” That smooth, panty-ripping voice was a tone that Rachel was not prepared for. “One friend date. You pick the place, I’ll pick the activity.”

  “How is that any different from a real date?”

  “Because I’m not trying to get into your pants.”

  Rachel furrowed her brows. “You’re friendzoning yourself?”

  “Excuse you, I have it on good authority that there is no such thing as the friendzone.”


  “I…”

  “Let’s get to know each other. See where it goes from there. No pressure.”

  Rachel looked at her reflection in her computer monitor. “There’s no such thing as no pressure in interpersonal relationships, Mr. Feldstein.”

  “Feldman. Jeez. Why do you keep calling me Feldstein?”

  “Why are you so antsy about being called Feldstein?”

  Zack let a pause commence before finally responding. “Do something with me tomorrow, and I’ll tell you. A friendly secret between new friends.”

  Rachel had no idea what she was doing when she finally agreed to go out with him.

  ***

  A park seemed safe enough. A big, public park packed with families enjoying summer vacation and dogs that may or may not have had masters on the other ends of their leashes.

  Rachel picked this place because it wasn’t too far from Opal’s, in case she needed to go running to her best friend for help. It was also along six different bus routes… and enough restaurants that would make for a great dinner, should this stupid excuse of a “friend” date go well. That assumed a lot, however.

  This is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever agreed to. Rachel stood on the perimeter of the park, dressed in knee-length denim shorts and a plain black T-shirt. Hey, this wasn’t a date, right? Why would she dress up like she was going on a date? Sex was not on the table. Nor was Rachel inviting Zack to look at her like men were wont to do. Unless he’s really into the androgynous look, I guess. Rachel had pulled her hair back into another utilitarian ponytail. She knew she looked a mess, but in the mountain heat of mid-June, she didn’t give a shit.

  Until she saw Zack already waiting for her beneath one of the trees, anyway.

  He was not dressed for a typical date, either. He actually looked much the same as he had the previous two times they met: cargo shorts, thick black sandals, and a loose khaki overshirt that only accentuated the white tank top beneath. Accentuated. Yes. That’s the word I’m looking for. Because it was rather difficult to not look at anything except those abs outlined beneath white cotton.