Sitting in her canary yellow car in the parking lot of the hospital, Ellie gave herself a pep talk. In and out…check how he’s doing, give him the cupcake, make a graceful exit…easy peasy.

Something told her it wouldn’t be quite as easy as she hoped, but she silently vowed to have the strength not to fall for him any more than she already had. He was bad news, and she needed to steer clear in order to avoid taking the very real chance that he would break her heart. Would a billionaire break her heart into a BILLION pieces? She did not intend to find out.

When she entered his room, her heart raced when she discovered his bed empty. Had he already checked out and gone back to his high-profile, wealthy lifestyle? A billionaire surely wouldn’t stay in a lowly, small-town hospital very long, would he? He would probably prefer to have a private nurse––a cute one.

Not wanting to think about that anymore, or the possibility that he had internal injuries that required him to move to a higher care-level room, she scurried back out to the nurses’ station. Trina was not around, but the attractive woman behind the desk visibly perked up when Ellie mentioned Trey’s name. The dreamy look that crossed the lady’s face when Ellie inquired about Trey’s whereabouts reconfirmed Ellie’s decision to steer clear of the heartthrob.

Walk in…give a polite inquiry about his health…deliver the cupcake…walk back out. Ellie repeated the mantra quietly to herself as she took the elevator to the floor the nurse had indicated Trey had been moved to.

After awkwardly knocking on his door, Ellie tentatively peeked her head into his room. She didn’t want to see anything she shouldn’t and it felt invasive to barge into a virtual stranger’s hospital room. What she discovered inside the room shocked her. She hadn’t realized the hospital even had rooms like this. It was like the penthouse suite of hospital rooms.

Ellie gulped as she looked around at the big screen TV, the oversized bed, and…was that a balcony?? She tried not to worry about how much all of this was undoubtedly costing. She would have to figure out a way to pay for it. She just wished he wasn’t living the high life in the hospital. Could the man not live like a regular person just for a couple of days?

Her eyes paused on the ginormous bouquet of peach roses at his bedside table. There must have been at least fifty blooms carefully arranged, but nearly bursting out of the large crystal vase. The card proudly proclaimed, “Wishing you only the best. XOXO, Selena.”

Ellie was dying to know who Selena was, but knew she didn’t have any right to ask. Instead, swallowing her annoyance, she tried to give him a bright smile. He returned her grin before asking, “Are you my nurse?”

“No, we met when my car…well, I’m the reason…” she stammered as she searched for a way to describe running him over that wouldn’t sound quite that horrible. Did he really not remember? Perhaps he had suffered a brain injury.

It was then that she noticed the ornery gleam in his teddy bear eyes. Picking up one of the numerous pillows on his huge bed, she tossed it lightly at him. “You scared me!” she reprimanded him.

His eyes twinkled even more when he told her, “I could really use a sponge bath and would be much obliged if you were the one to give it to me.” He moved aside the soft, blue, non-standard hospital issue blanket in silent invitation to her.

She took quick note of his sleek, black, luxurious pajamas. Apparently, billionaire skin is too sensitive to touch the green gowns that comprise regular hospital garb. “I’m sure there are plenty of qualified nurses here who would be happy to clean you,” she finally responded to his suggestion.

“But I want you to do it.” He waggled his jet-black eyebrows before sticking his lower lip out in a full pout. She rolled her eyes, wondering if he was a bit of a spoiled diva. Like a dog spotting a squirrel, Trey’s eyes darted to the bakery box she was still holding. “Is that for me?” His voice sounded as excited as a child on Christmas morning.

She couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm as he actually clapped his hands in excitement over the sweet treat. Helping him get some of his many silk-covered pillows arranged behind his back so he could sit up, she followed his gaze to her light pink V-neck tee-shirt, which was revealing some cleavage as she leaned over him.

Straightening quickly, she fidgeted with her shirt as he continued to stare in the general direction of her breasts. Feeling awkward she crossed her arms over her chest, the cupcake box still clutched in one hand.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed before his dark eyes finally travelled up to meet hers. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m sorry. I’m worse than a horny teenager.” She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she remained quiet. Not seeming to notice how incredibly awkward she felt, he went on, “You’re just so beautiful.”

She tried her best to see through his façade, but he seemed so sincere. Refusing to fall for his slick talk, she said, “Oh, you’re good.”

“Why, thank you,” he responded cockily before adding, “but I haven’t done anything to you…yet.”

The ‘yet’ had her licking her lips involuntarily. She didn’t want her body to react to him this way. He watched her like she was the only woman he had ever seen. It was embarrassing and thrilling and more exciting than any look she had ever been given.

Not wanting to let him get to her, she decided to shut things down quickly. “I know your type,” she informed him before adding, “and I’m not falling for your charm.” She wasn’t willing to become one in a string of many women that he charmed out of her pants before quickly moving on.

“Is that so?” He quirked a brow at her, obviously amused. At her brisk nod, he asked, “And what exactly do you think my type is?”

“The rich playboy, who is used to getting everything he wants and having everyone fawn all over him,” she retorted, feeling pretty good about herself until she saw him visibly slump in the bed.

“You know who I am,” he guessed.

“I do, and I want no part of it,” she responded. “I know what you powerful guys like, and that lifestyle is not for me.”

“Are you going to fill me in on what it is you think I enjoy?” He seemed bemused by her brashness, but she felt in too deep to stop now.

“You know, the bossy, I’m-in-charge stuff.” She knew she should quit before she got herself in any deeper, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. “You super-wealthy men want to be with obedient women, who will do whatever you say and like it.”

“Is that right?” He grinned up at her, like she was the most amusing person he had ever encountered. “What else am I looking for in a woman?”

“You probably always want to be dominant. You’re used to controlling everything and having everything go your way in business dealings, so that probably carries over into your romantic life,” she guessed.

“It’s starting to sound like you think I would be a selfish pig in the bedroom.” When she lifted her shoulders as if to say, ‘if the shoe fits,’ his eyes lit up with an idea. “I think I should get the opportunity to prove otherwise.” He patted the bed beside him in silent invitation.

She scoffed and shook her head at his outlandish suggestion. Continuing to plead his case, he added, “It sounds like you have been getting your ideas of billionaire sexy-time skills solely from Fifty Shades of Grey.” She shook her head, even though she knew his assessment was spot-on.

He gave her a look to let her know he was aware that his guess was accurate, but didn’t call her out on it. “On behalf of all of the other poor billionaires out there, I would like the chance to prove that we aren’t all control freaks. In fact, I pride myself on being a generous, giving lover.”

She could feel her heart rate quickening at the thought of him giving her pleasure over and over again. She focused on deepening her breaths, which had become unnaturally shallow. As she worked to calm the outward signs of her arousal, something he said finally dawned on her. “Poor billionaires?” she asked him. “That’s a bit of an oxymoron isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” he responded immediately. “Very wealthy people can buy anything they want,” he started.

“Right,” she interrupted as if he had just made her point.

“But,” he held up a finger to let her know he wasn’t finished, “we are often broke in the assets that truly matter… love, companionship, affection, time, intimacy, emotional attachment. All the money in the world can’t buy those things.”

She hadn’t ever really thought about it that way. It would be tough to never really know who liked you for you, rather than your money. She was sure there were plenty of users out there, who would be more than willing to take advantage of Trey’s money. She could see the potential for it to be a lonely existence. In the big scheme of things, too much money would be a decent problem to have, so she didn’t want to let him feel too sorry for himself. Sticking out her plump lip, she said, “Poor billionaires have it so rough.”

He guffawed with laughter at her silly response. “It’s really awful,” he joked with her. “We have even formed a support group. It’s called the Broke Billionaires Club.”

“So sad.” She feigned sympathy.

“You common folk just don’t understand the woes of having more money than you know what to do with,” he said as he swooped a strong arm out and pulled her into his bed.

“Yeah, that’s a problem I’ve never had to deal with,” she admitted, enjoying the feeling of being cradled once more in his arms.

“I can’t tear my eyes away from that cupcake container,” he rumbled near her ear. “Hand it over,” he joked when she lifted it up just out of his reach.

“You’re worse than a kid,” she reprimanded him, even though she secretly enjoyed having him so excited about tasting one of her baked goods. She hoped he would like it.

He stretched and grabbed the box from her hand and tore into it. If the groaning noises he was emitting were any indication, he was a huge fan of her cupcake. “This is so delicious,” he raved around a mouthful of the treat, making her beam.

He scarfed down the entire thing and was licking off his fingers when he commented, “That has to be one of the best cupcakes I’ve ever had, and I’m a bit of a cupcake snob.”

“Really?” She wanted him to go on.

“It had just the right amount of frosting and the cake practically melted in my mouth.” She liked having him brag on her baking skills. “I bet your bakery is the hottest spot in town,” he guessed.

“Well––” She didn’t want to admit to him that her business was barely scraping by. She finally settled on, “It pays the bills.”

“If I lived here, I would be there every day,” he praised her. “It’s so much better than the horrid hospital food they serve here. Even the premium meals leave a lot to be desired,” he revealed.

She tried not to flinch at how much the ‘premium’ meals must cost. She wanted to tell him that she would appreciate him holding down the costs of this hospital stay as much as possible, but she doubted he would have any idea how to go about doing that. Super wealthy people didn’t understand the daily struggle that money could be for the average person, but she refused to let him pay for an accident that had been her fault, no matter how wealthy he was. She had more pride than that.

Broaching the subject another way, she asked, “When will you be able to get out of here?”

“My doctors said I’m a little banged up and I’ll probably be sore for a few days, but nothing is broken, so they are planning to release me today,” he smiled, totally proud of himself.

His use of the plural word ‘doctors’ was concerning, but she tried not to let it show. The financial implications of him being able to leave today were a huge relief, but her heart weighed heavily in her stomach at the thought of him leaving town today. It was probably best for him to go before she became any more attached, though.