It was an early night for Rachel, and she was relieved to be home before two in the morning. She hadn’t been home before ten in a while.
In the swanky lobby of Crane Tower, she inhaled the fresh, floral smell that likely came from the vases of real flowers dotting the room. She hadn’t spent much time down here but had noticed as she passed through how residents often loitered in the swanky space. Especially in the evenings.
It wasn’t hard to see why. Gold carpeting and wide chandeliers, cozy leather furniture in nooks, and a sprawling area in the middle made for an inviting third space. There were plenty of small tables interspersed with seating where one could rest a drink and coaster from the in-house bar.
She’d never been in a place this ritzy before and wondered how she’d acclimate to non-luxury living when she was done with her dog-sitting gig.
“Dimples.”
She stopped in her tracks on the way to the elevators. The deep, sexy voice had come from her right. Tag was sitting on an armchair, papers spread over a low table in front of him, in a nook with another matching armchair and a couch. He was the only one in the tiny area and took up most of it.
But then he took up space wherever he was—even when he was in his massive top floor penthouse threatening her personal space.
Touch me.
“Hi.” She sidled over to him, hands in her coat pockets so he couldn’t see the slight shake that worked through her as she remembered touching him. “What are you doing down here?” Then her smile fell as she put two and two together. “Oh, no. Not Adonis. Is he…?”
“He’s fine.” Tag was quick to shake his head. “I needed a change of scenery. I’m not really an office kind of guy.”
“Do you have an actual office?” she asked, unable to picture him behind a desk.
“A big one.” He gestured to the chair next to him. “Join me. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“I should…” She pointed upstairs. “The dog.”
“Fair enough.” He turned back to his spread of papers and a little ping of regret zapped her when he didn’t argue. Where he was concerned, she couldn’t decide what she wanted. Did she want him to leave her alone or pursue her? Ignore her completely, or continue offering her drinks and flirting?
The ride up to Oliver’s apartment didn’t deliver an answer.
She made quick work of changing, tugging her hair from a for-work bun. She slipped into a pair of black yoga pants and a thick fleece, and pulled her coat on. By then, Adonis was dancing by the door, ready for his after-hours jaunt around the block.
Because she was a lost cause, she brushed her teeth and touched up her lip gloss before heading downstairs. When she strolled by, Adonis ahead of her, she casually turned to smile at Tag only to find he was no longer sitting there. But then had she expected him to wait when she’d turned him down?
The next day, she recounted the story to Bree in between flinging drinks to eager customers. Bree’s fiancé, Dean, was at the bar to visit, nursing his beer as he listened with half an ear.
“So you like him,” Bree said.
“I don’t know.” Rachel was exasperated by him. Conflicted by the idea that he should be the last person on earth to draw her interest, yet he snagged it without trying. But did she like him? Not like Bree meant.
Again the thought, Too much, flitted through her brain. Even in the lobby, casually leaning over a wide coffee table, he was too much for her to handle. She’d grown nervous thinking about walking past him with the dog.
Oh, no. Maybe she did like him.
Another hour passed, Dean now lounged back on his barstool, yelling at a basketball game on the television overhead. Rachel, her back to the room, counted the tips so Bree could get out of here. She was first cut tonight, but Rachel was in it for the long haul, which was fine, because she had plenty of bar-back and a burning desire to make a lot of money. Apartment deposits didn’t pay themselves.
“Rach,” Bree said.
“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.” Rachel finished counting the ones aloud, then added them to the stack of two hundred dollars and handed it to Bree. “There you go. Pleasure doing business with you.”
Bree’s wide-eyed, barely contained excitement stopped her cold.
“What?”
“You have company.” Bree stuffed the cash into her pocket and waggled her eyebrows.
Rachel turned to find Tag leaning between a few empty seats on the bar, his eyes serious. She took in his expression and her heart hit her stomach. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Adonis has been barking for going on an hour. Thought I’d borrow your key and take him out. You close tonight, right?” His eyes flitted to Bree. “I’m assuming since you split your tips.” A friendly smile for her coworker, then his eyes were back on her.
“Yeah, I’m here until close,” Rachel answered.
“Key.” He held out a hand.
“Tag, you don’t have to—”
“Adonis is one unhappy pup, Dimples. I’ll take him out, walk him around. The exercise will be good for both of us.”
“Miss?” a guy at the far end called to her.
“Be right there,” she called back. With little time to debate and no other option, she pulled her keys out of her pocket, twisted Oliver’s house key off the ring, and pressed it into Tag’s hand. “Thank you.”
“No worries.” With a wink, he turned and was gone.
Rachel tended to the man at the edge of the bar, cashed out a couple next to him, and served refills to seats two and three. By the time she was heading to the other end, she was surprised to see Dean and Bree staring at her.
“I thought you two had plans. Were you hanging out?” Rachel asked. “Need something to drink?”
“Do you know who that was?” Dean’s face was ashen.
Rachel’s eyes went to the man at the end of the bar who she’d just served a Bud Light. She shrugged. “No.”
“Not him,” Dean said. “The guy you handed your key to.”
“I had no idea,” Bree said, awed, her smile a little dreamy.
“Tag?” Rachel was more confused than ever. “He’s my neighbor.”
“Tag Crane,” Dean amended.
“Okay…” Rachel gestured for him to tell her his meaning; then a very big puzzle piece clicked into place. “What?”
“As in Crane Hotels,” Bree said.
“As in the billionaire Cranes. Reese Crane. Tag Crane. Alexander ‘Big’ Crane.” Dean blinked at her in exasperation. “We designed their billboards last year. We’re up for bid on another advertising project for them this year.”
“I know Crane Hotels.” Rachel’s lips felt numb. Tag had said he was in the hotel business. “I’ve heard of Reese Crane…” The billionaire CEO had become a celebrity of sorts after a Twitter scandal last year. She wasn’t into the social scene enough to know more about him.
“Tag is Reese’s brother,” Dean said. “Tag runs the restaurant side of Crane Hotels nationwide.”
“Guest and Restaurant Services,” Rachel murmured, remembering how he’d told her everything, and didn’t at the same time.
Dean nodded. “He owns Crane Tower, too. Where Bree told me you’re temporarily living.”
“He owns it?” Now Rachel’s face was numb.
“Excuse me,” came a request from behind her.
“He owns the building I’m staying in.” Her mind tried to process that information, but a tumbleweed blew across the barren landscape. “My long-haired, bearded neighbor, who closely resembles Tarzan, is a billionaire hotel magnate?”
“Yep,” Dean said, lifting his beer.
“Excuse me, miss?” the customer called again.
“Yes, I’m sorry, be right there.” She snapped out of it, then shook her head at Dean and Bree. “I can’t process this right now.”
Bree started to pull off her coat. “Let me help you back there.”
“No, I’m good.” Rachel forced a smile. “Just…the news surprised me.” To say the least. The man who was intimidating physically had just become intimidating monetarily.
She compartmentalized the newly learned info and responded to customers waving money and holding up fingers to signal they were ready to drink some more. Over the next few hours, the conversation with Dean and Bree receded to the back of her mind.
Until the cab ride home.
Tonight, the sky was spitting and wet and freezing and she refused to walk, no matter how much she needed the exercise. During the short ride, she hadn’t fully wrapped her mind around Tag being Tag Crane: Billionaire.
She chewed on her lip, considering what this changed. Nothing and everything. Why didn’t he tell her? Why wouldn’t he mention he owned the damn building? At her floor, she reached for her keys only to find one missing. The one for the door. Great.
Although maybe…
She twisted the handle and the door opened, which gave her a brief moment of alarm. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Oliver’s house unlocked and open to whomever…
A gasp stole her breath as she spotted a large figure spread from end to end of Oliver’s couch. Somehow—and it had taken some strategy—Tag and Adonis were both sprawled on the sofa, Tag’s arm wrapped around the dog, whose paws were hanging over the edge of the cushions.
Adonis lifted his head, spotted her, and emitted a startled, “Woof!”
When the dog lunged off the couch, Tag opened his eyes, blinking as if he was disoriented, or maybe surprised to find himself still there.
Rachel patted Adonis’s head as he whined happily and nudged her hard enough that she nearly lost her balance.
“I was worried you’d left the door unlocked on accident,” she told Tag.
“No.” He sat up, pulled his hands over his face. One lamp was lit in the corner, creating a soft, yellow glow on the disheveled man in the living room. He pulled his hands over his hair and expertly twisted it into a low man bun like he’d done it a million times.
Or a billion times, she mentally corrected, remembering what she’d learned about him tonight.
“You’re a Crane,” she said, deciding to take a page from his book and blurt out what she was thinking. He didn’t filter much. She could learn a thing or two from him.
Elbows on his knees, he blinked tiredly at her and nodded. “Yeah. I’m a Crane.” He stood and walked to where she stood. “Adonis went out about”—he squinted past her to read the clock in the kitchen—“thirty minutes ago. So that’ll save you having to take him out in this mess.” He surveyed her damp coat. “Hope you took a car.”
“I did.”
“Good.”
“We’re not going to talk about it?” How he could gloss over the fact that he technically owned every square foot of space she now stood on?
He took her purse from her shoulder, pulled off her coat, and tossed both onto a nearby chair. Then he looked at her, as calm and patient as he ever was.
“Never mind, I’m too tired,” she said. Suddenly, Oliver’s not-small-at-all penthouse felt like a cramped closet.
A big warm hand enclosed hers and Tag tugged her to the couch. He sat, then winced, stood, and pulled a rawhide bone out from behind his back. He threw the bone, which Adonis happily chased and then flopped down in the hallway to chew.
Tag still had a hold of her hand and tilted his head to the cushion next to him. Rachel sat. Stiff as a cadaver, but she sat. This close in the intimate, softly lit confines of Oliver’s living room, her hand wrapped in Tag’s larger, warmer palm, she couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“What do you want to know?” Tag let go of her hand and put his arm behind her on the couch, which didn’t do much to calm her. If she sat back, she’d be nestled into him, a welcome idea since she was chilled from the cold and thoroughly exhausted.
“Now’s not the time, really.” She knotted her hands together and glanced at Adonis.
“You brought it up.” His words were low and quiet. The way the timbre of his voice danced over her was like sliding into a hot tub. Being engulfed in warmth. Her entire body relaxed on contact.
“I did. I was…surprised.”
“How’d you find out?” he asked.
“Bree’s fiancé recognized you.”
Tag let loose a tired little smile. “Ah.”
“Is it a secret?”
“Not a secret, Dimples. Just like you don’t want to tell me personal things about you, there are some things I don’t share if I can help it.” He propped an arm on his knee and faced her, crowding her but not crowding her. She guessed it wasn’t his fault her nipples tingled when his heat blanketed her side.
She licked her lips, nervous. “Makes sense.”
And it did make sense. She hadn’t shared anything with Tag. Whenever he’d asked questions, she’d glossed over them like she was in the witness protection program.
“Does that change things between us?” Given the curious tilt of his head, he was being sincere.
“Why would it?” she asked.
“Because you don’t want to deal with a megalomaniac?”
“Are you a megalomaniac?” she asked with a smile. Because yes, he was cocky, but drunk on his own power? She didn’t get that vibe.
He pulled his arm out from behind her and sank a fingertip into one of her cheeks. Thick lashes dipped then raised when he met her gaze. “No, Dimples. I’m not.”
The eye contact lasted a few extra seconds, and then a few more. He leaned the slightest bit closer, heat blooming between them again. The tingle in her breasts moved south, and the moment she was sure Tag was going to kiss her was the moment she opted to get the hell away from him.
“Sorry. I’m…I probably smell like beer.” Rachel bolted off the couch, letting out a laugh that sounded slightly unhinged. “I’m going to…”
She pointed toward the back bedroom where she was staying, pictured Tag’s mouth on hers, his capable hands removing her clothes. His big body settling between her thighs…
“Thank you for taking care of Adonis,” she chirped as she shuffled to the room. She shut the door and through a tight throat called, “You can leave the key on the table!”
Heart jackhammering, she held her breath to listen, palms flat on the door. She heard the door opening, a soft click as it closed. She counted to twenty—not hard to do since her heart pounded out the count—then opened the bedroom door. Adonis stood halfway between the bedroom and the front door staring at her, the rawhide bone in his mouth.
Rachel tiptoed to the living room, leaned in to check the peephole, and saw the hallway empty, the elevator doors shutting on a tall, crazy-handsome man who happened to be Chicago royalty.
Her shoulders dropped as a breath left her lungs.
“Ready for bed?” she asked Adonis, who cocked his head.
He chuffed and padded into the bedroom. Rachel followed, along the way trying to convince herself that she was relieved she hadn’t crossed a line with Tag.
After the death of her relationship with Shaun, she wasn’t ready to be burned again. And the man she’d found sleeping on Oliver’s couch was capable of a nuclear explosion. With his means, his history, she’d bet Tag could love and leave with the best of them. Rachel had recently been loved and left, and she wasn’t anxious to get another punch on her membership card.
Keeping her distance from Tag was the only way to ensure she wouldn’t repeat past mistakes or make spectacularly bad new ones. She put toothpaste on her toothbrush and regarded her reflection, proud of her reaction even though Tag probably thought she was loony.
“You did the right thing,” she said aloud.
Because once his lips touched hers, there’d be no going back.