The Billionaire's Spark: Secret Billionaire’s Club Book Five Read online

  “Who’s Melody?”

  “Oh.” I tilt my phone to the side so Danny can see Melody. She smiles and waves, then goes back to her phone. “This is Melody. We’re filming in Vegas for a few days. Anyway, I have to go. I just wanted to report in and let you know my mission was complete and I’ll now be AWOL for any more of your schemes.”

  “Hardly. The Fourth of July is just weeks away. You have one job, Cole. Don’t mess it up.”

  I feign a loud yawn and tap my open palm against my mouth before hanging up on him. Danny hates it when I do that, and I chuckle at his imagined outrage. This night just gets better and better.

  “Can you dance the salsa?”

  I blink at Melody and tuck my phone in my pocket. “What?”

  “Can you dance?” She points at a sign above our heads and the faint strains of music reach my ears. The sign has an illustration of a couple locked in an embrace, the man tipping the woman backward over his arm. “You know, the tango and the salsa.”

  Our eyes meet as I look away from the sign. I smirk and she lifts a challenging eyebrow. “You won’t believe it, but I can. I had to learn for a movie.”

  “A Tango in Tibet?”

  “Why did you ask if you already knew the answer?”

  “Well, there was every chance you had a dancing double. Come on.” She grabs my hand and hauls me through the door, our footsteps loud on the wooden staircase. The stairs are wide, just like everything in Vegas is spacious. When we reach the top the landing spills directly onto an enormous dance floor, where dozens of couples whirl around the room. “Come on,” she says again, and before I can protest, we’re in the middle of the crowd and she turns to me, one hand raised, the opposite elbow cocked out to the side in the classic start position.

  Without a thought, I take her hand and wrap my arm around her, my other hand between her shoulder blades. I pull her close and when we make eye contact, something sizzles in the air. For a moment I consider pulling back and putting a safe distance between us but the challenge in her eyes won’t allow me to argue that we were on our way to move her things. There’s a pause, then we plunge into the first step, matching grins settling on our faces. The music is loud, and the room is steamy with all these bodies moving in tandem. It only takes us a moment to find our rhythm, then we’re twirling with the best of them, turning and swaying at just the right time.

  Dancing with Melody doesn’t feel new. It feels comfortable, and easy, like our bodies were made to dance the tango together on this very night. She can’t hide her smile and I know mine is as big as hers.

  There must be several hundred people here, each couple feeling the music capture their soul, while their feet glide around the floor. Women’s skirts twirl and every so often I catch the light reflecting off a set of super shiny shoes. There’s no instructor. No DJ. No one guiding the evening or the flow of the dancers. No one cares what we’re wearing or that we don’t really fit in. Every so often a couple leaves to take a break, but just as quickly another group takes their place. Melody laughs as I spin her around and pull her back to my chest, her breath coming hard as the exhilaration shows all over her pretty face. Her blond curls jiggle and dip, keeping time with the movement of her feet.

  We’re perfectly matched and we don’t fumble once. I feel my spirits soar, as though I could stay here dancing with her all night. As the song reaches its ultimate crescendo, I wrap my arm around her waist and tip her back over my arm, just like the picture on the sign we saw downstairs. She leans back, a hand raised overhead, then she giggles as her pink hat falls to the floor. I instinctively grab for it, pressing against her to retrieve it. I hear her breath catch in my ear and then I’m lifting her, the next song already beginning as we both gulp air. I’m about to suggest a drink, when she grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door and back down the stairs.

  When we burst out onto the Strip, I say, “Wow. That was amazing. You’re amazing.” I keep hold of her hand and make a big show of keeping her close, ostensibly to avoid people walking the other way. The crowd has thinned, though, and we can easily walk along the wide pavement without bumping anyone.

  I keep hold of her hand anyway.

  Chapter Eight - Melody

  “I need a cold drink.” My throat is parched, and it’s only partly because of the hour we spent dancing. Sweat cools on my lower back, but the dryness in my mouth is mostly because Cole Grant, movie superstar, hasn’t let go of my hand since we left the dance club. And not only is he holding my hand firmly in his—he keeps rubbing his thumb over the back of it, almost like he’s exploring my skin.

  It’s an everyday movement that’s stirring up havoc with the butterflies in my stomach and my ability to produce saliva. I sneak a glance at him every couple of minutes as we make our way through the crowd, but his face gives nothing away. He just keeps that sweeping movement going across my knuckles, making my insides twitch with excitement.

  Yes, I want a drink. But I want this connection with him to continue more.

  He takes charge when he nods toward an outdoor bar serving brightly coloured drinks in long plastic glasses. “Tempted?” He finally looks at me and I have no words. He pierces me with his dark gaze and chuckles when I stare at him, open mouthed.

  How am I supposed to respond? Yes, I’m tempted. But not by those childlike drinks. My temptation is one hundred percent focussed on the all-male presence towering over me out here in the eighty degree heat that is a Vegas night in June.

  Cole pulls me to the bar and waves to the barman. I move toward a stool, but he keeps a firm grip on my waist, keeping me close, my side pressed against his. Two drinks appear and he pays without letting go of me. I watch, fascinated, as he takes a long pull through his straw, grinning at me like an idiot. I laugh and shake my head.

  Who is this man?

  “Feeling better?” He nods toward my drink.

  “Yes.” I take a second long gulp and close my eyes for a moment. I’m overwhelmed by the situation I find myself in. It’s a gorgeous warm evening with people and sounds surrounding us on all sides. We’ve danced until we could barely breathe, and now here we are, sitting thigh to thigh drinking margaritas and holding hands. What a giant piece of luck I didn’t knock back Cole’s dinner invitation. All I had to look forward to tonight was a takeout pizza and an uncomfortable bed. Now I get a fairy-tale night to remember and a stay in a luxury hotel.

  All of this is a long way from Ohio.

  I smile at Cole and put my drink on the bar. We’ll be taking them with us unless we sit here all night. They’re way too big to finish in just a few minutes.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I shake my head as the barman approaches us. A nod at our still full drinks sends him on his way and I turn my attention back to Cole. “Why don’t you have a manager?”

  “Probably because I’m a control freak.” He laughs and it’s a rich sound, full of personality. Several people look in our direction and I notice two women start to whisper behind their hands. “Oh, now I’ve done it,” he says. “We’ve done surprisingly well to stay out of the limelight until now.”

  “I thought that myself. The few people at dinner who recognised you kept well away. Is it always like that?”

  “No. Definitely not. Anyway, why don’t you have a manager? Do you need some recommendations?”

  It’s my turn to shake my head, though I manage to hold in my own laugh. “Absolutely not. I chose to stick with an agent only. I never want to be that entertainer who insists their management company stole all their money. I have it in my contracts that the studio pays me my share and pays the cut for my agent direct to her.”

  “I do that, too.”

  “Right now, I don’t feel like I need someone to make appointments for me. I’m capable of choosing my best headshots and all the little things you have to take care of. The only time I’m busy is when I’m filming, so I have time to do the other stuff.”

  He grins and slips his fingers through mine. “Look at us bein
g adults and managing our stuff.”

  “My agent doesn’t agree. She says it’s unprofessional not to have a manager, and bad form to assume everyone will steal from you.”

  “Not really. Look at Cross. He has his trusted financial guy doing things he shouldn’t after they’ve worked together for years. It can happen to anyone. It’s no different to trusting someone else to choose your acting jobs. You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Hmm. I guess. My agent does choose my auditions, though.”

  “But you decide whether to take the job or not.”

  “Up to now I’ve accepted everything. I couldn’t afford to say no.”

  “I guess it comes down to whether you want to be known for quality work, or if you want to be known as a starlet who’ll accept any old role.”

  I frown. Or maybe it’s more of a scowl. Who in their right mind would choose the second option? “Of course, I want to do quality work. I want people to see it, though. There’s no point doing independent films that make people think, if only a few hundred people see them.”

  “And often you have to do them for not much return.”

  “Don’t worry, I know all about that. I think that’s been the toughest thing for me to accept. That we sometimes have to pay to promote ourselves, even when the film has a big budget and is expected to do well.”

  “At the start it’s like that, but you’ll get known. Fans will start to demand you attend every event. Then the studio will have to pay. Just remember what I said, though. Do you want to get roles because your acting is great, or only because you’re available?”

  I can’t believe he’d say that to me after the nice night we’ve had. He’s still holding my hand, and his eyes still twinkle with mirth, but maybe I’ve been reading the signs wrong. Right now, he sounds like my dad, and that is not a compliment.

  “I don’t have time to fix my career if it goes in the wrong direction because of a wrong move. I’m chasing the quality roles. That’s how I’m going to shine.”

  He drinks again and I watch him nod to himself before he returns to staring at me. “You’ll always shine. From what I’ve seen, the only way is up for you. Everyone thinks so.”

  I stare at him with a stupid grin on my face, even as my insides flip flop. I curse those stupid gooey insides and force myself to look down. One kind word from him and I’m weak kneed and wobbly.

  Where is my self-control? Why do I want what I shouldn’t with Cole Grant tonight, when all I wanted yesterday was to get through this movie without embarrassing myself? This is Cross and Jessa’s fault. Sitting across from them for hours has lowered my defences to romance and forced me to admit I want something to happen.

  Remember item number five on the success list, Melody. Stay clear of Hollywood relationships.

  Chapter Nine - Cole

  We abandon our drinks before they’re finished. I’m conscious of the time and we still have to collect Melody’s things from her room and get her moved. When I stand up, I squeeze her hand and pull her into the never-ending stream of people. Before we’re out of the bar, a woman raises her hand and waves to us.

  I look in her direction and wave back giving her my best movie star smile. She’s holding a baby, which seems mildly irresponsible at this hour, and she waves again and beckons us over. Melody, for some reason, shakes her head, showing no interest in the woman and the baby. The little girl is cute, dressed in a bonnet and bright pink dress, and her little hands tap on her mother's cheek. I change direction and pull Melody along with me. There aren’t too many people on this side of the bar, which means we can have a quick visit before we leave. One on one fan interaction is never a bad idea when you’re filming a new movie, and fans with babies are my favourite. I’m going to be an awesome Uncle Cole one day.

  Melody surprises me, though, a scowl settling on her features as she stumbles beside me. She mumbles under her breath, but I can't hear what she’s saying over the screaming of the women that we are now approaching. Because where there was one woman and a baby, there’s now four ladies jumping up and down.

  When we stop in front of them, I put out my hands to hold the baby. Melody frowns and turns away, pasting a bright smile on her face and taking the pen that one of the women thrusts into her hands. She signs the paper or the book, or whatever it is she's been handed and then chats with the woman making small talk about our day and what the movie is like.

  I jiggle the baby, tapping her back and rubbing my forehead against hers. She's so cute and she has that delicious baby smell that women often talk about. I finally understand what they mean when they say that smell is irresistible. After a few minutes I hand the sweet girl back, take Melody’s hand again and we say our farewells and continue up the street. When the excited women are out of earshot, I lean toward her. “Why didn’t you want to hold the baby? That’s usually the first thing women want.”

  “I definitely wouldn’t like that if I was the mother. I can't believe people hand babies over to complete strangers in the street.”

  “I’m not a stranger. I'm Cole Grant, movie star. If anything happened to that baby they know exactly where to find me to get their pound of flesh.”

  “Why did you grab my hand, anyway?”

  I make a face at her. “Just now? Because I like holding your hand. And maybe because we look good together. I know you know some of the success of a movie has to do with the lead actors and how they interact. When people think we're together, especially for a movie that has romance in it, they pack the cinema wanting to get a tiny glimpse of what may or may not be going on between us.”

  “But we're not together. We’re not anything.” There’s something in her voice I didn’t expect to hear. It’s a little bit wistful. A little bit defiant. And something else that I can't identify. “You shouldn't try to pretend we’re something. It's dishonest, and unfair to the people who pay money to see our films.”

  “Do you really think that?” I spy a quiet corner near an elevator that’s shrouded in darkness and drag her toward it. The last place I want to have this conversation is in public, but this is the best I can manage. I can't believe what I’m hearing. We just danced together, we held hands, talked and laughed, and there’s nothing between us? Bullshit. Why is she so vehement about it?

  “I do believe that. There's enough rubbish going on in the world without people starting rumours and wanting relationships to exist when they don't.” She turns to look at me, stopping in the middle of the walkway. “Please tell me you have never faked a relationship just for movie publicity.”

  I chuckle to myself noting the handful of spectators who have gathered to watch us. I shake my head at them and hold out my arm to wrap it around her shoulders, but she shrugs me away and walks off. I fall into step beside her, my long stride easily keeping up.

  “I've never had an actual relationship just for publicity. But I have given a little bit of extra attention here and there when I knew the cameras were watching. I don't think you can blame me for that. It's the nature of the beast and it helps people remember why they want to see a movie.”

  “Well, let me get this out of the way right now, then. Don't hold my hand in public. Don't pretend that you feel something for me when you don't. Don't do anything like that especially without asking me first. I don't want to be put on the spot in front of a group of strangers, because I won't take it and I will be compelled to say something, and then I look like the bad guy. Like the crazy one. Oh. And one more thing.” She stops again and turns so I bump into her. She raises her finger and points it at my face right near my nose, just like my grandma used to do. “Above all else don't ever shove a baby at me.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. She’s adorable with her hand on her hip, her finger waving in the air, and her eyes flashing with barely contained lightning. All while she bitches about babies. “I wondered about that. Why wouldn't you want to hold a cute little baby. Don't you want kids?”

  “I will never, ever, hold someone else's baby.”


  With that, she turns and flounces up the street, her footsteps pounding the pavement as I once again run along behind. If there's one thing that's becoming clear, the next few months shooting a movie with Melody Aimes are going to be one big adventure.

  Chapter Ten - Melody

  “I can’t believe this is the room you booked for yourself.”

  “It’s okay. Like I said, it’s cheap.”

  Cole looks around as I throw my clothes into my suitcase. “There’s cheap, and then there’s cheap,” he says with a shudder.

  “You sound like someone who’s had it too good for too long.” I nudge him as I head for the bathroom. A moment later I’m packed and ready to leave.

  “You could be right about that.” I pick up my bag, but he leans forward and slides the strap off my shoulder. “Hang on. While we have some privacy, we need to clear the air.”

  There’s been an awkwardness between us since my outburst. Where I felt all warm and happy inside, now I’m filled with regret. I should have just shut up and gone along. This night was headed in a certain direction and now it’s not.

  “I’m sorry about before.”

  “I should be the one to apologise. I overreacted.”

  “No, you didn’t.” His palm caresses my cheek and I hold my breath. “I wasn’t doing any of that because I wanted people to see us together.” He steps closer, his hand moving to the back of my neck and his voice dropping. “I’d like to get back what I thought we had after the dancing. I want to hold your hand again, and for you to be clear it’s because I like you.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s not for show, and it’s not pretend. So, what do you say? Can I have permission for hand holding?”

  His eyes bore into mine, my words jumbling between my brain and my mouth so all I say is, “Okay.”