Read Online Stirring Up Trouble (Inspiring the Greek Billionaire) by Shelly Bell - Free Book Online
Authors: Shelly Bell
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because I’m not giving it back.” She clunked the mug down, slumped on a stool, rested an elbow on top of the bar, and cradled her head in her hand.
“Rough night? Jon’s bed not comfy enough for you?” he said, failing to keep the tinge of bitterness from his voice.
Thanks to her, he hadn’t gotten more than a couple of hours sleep, and even then he’d dreamed of her on that rock in the ocean once again.
Her eyes focused on him and she hesitated. “I didn’t sleep at Jon’s. I decided to go home.”
His shoulders relaxed for the first time since she’d left the previous evening and he suddenly breathed easier. “Why?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but . . .” She frowned and shook her head. “No, let’s just leave it at that. It’s none of your business.”
Wrong. He repressed the urge to show her exactly why it was his business and slid onto the stool next to her. “Okay, I can accept that.”
She fidgeted in her chair, her feet kicking the bar in a patterned beat. “Good.”
“I know you’re trying to avoid your mother, but you’re fortunate to have one who cares about you.” The moment the words passed his lips, he wondered what the hell had gotten into him.
She took another sip of coffee and studied him. “You don’t talk much about your parents.”
He shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. My parents divorced when my sister Rosalind was a baby. Our father took custody, but he didn’t really know what to do with us, so we were essentially raised by nannies and housekeepers. My mother spends her time trying to beat Elizabeth Taylor’s record for most marriages, and my father finds reasons to travel the world. Guess he’s not one for settling down.”
Lola looked as though she could see right through him. Her hands, still warm from holding the mug of coffee, grabbed his and squeezed. “How much older are you than your sister?”
He swallowed hard, unprepared for the surge of heat spreading throughout his chest from her comforting touch. He smoothed his thumbs across the soft flesh of her hands. “Five years.”
“She’s lucky to have you.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without Portia. Even now, she’s so forgiving of our mother. It’s hard for me to share such close quarters with her again. I mean, last night, I actually snuck in through the window of my own apartment. And there she was, sitting on my bed waiting for me. I can’t—”
“Move in with me.” He banded an arm around her waist, sliding her off the chair to stand between the V of his legs.
She pressed her hands firmly against his chest. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I thought about it last night. You don’t want to sleep at your apartment as long as your mother is staying there. I’ve got a large house with plenty of extra bedrooms. I can teach you how to cook in my kitchen and . . . I’ve got something you can’t find anywhere else.”
“What’s that?” she asked breathlessly.
He instantly hardened from the nervous glimmer of heat in her eyes and the scent of lavender permeating from her skin. “A music studio. It’s set up with everything we’d need to write and record the songs you’ll need for the producer.”
She pushed off his chest. “Why do you have a music studio?”
He chuckled that she doubted him. With a billion dollars in the bank, he could buy a music label. “It came with the house. I bought it from a famous singer who didn’t get enough r-e-s-p-e-c-t. ”
Her eyes grew wide, impressed by his hint of the previous owner.
“Really? That would be kind of cool.” She eyed him warily. “But why do I need to sleep there?”
“You said yourself you didn’t want to share an apartment with you mother.”
She cocked her hip. “Are you sure you’re not using this as an opportunity to get me into bed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He got off his chair, stood, and yanked her against him, making sure
“Rough night? Jon’s bed not comfy enough for you?” he said, failing to keep the tinge of bitterness from his voice.
Thanks to her, he hadn’t gotten more than a couple of hours sleep, and even then he’d dreamed of her on that rock in the ocean once again.
Her eyes focused on him and she hesitated. “I didn’t sleep at Jon’s. I decided to go home.”
His shoulders relaxed for the first time since she’d left the previous evening and he suddenly breathed easier. “Why?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but . . .” She frowned and shook her head. “No, let’s just leave it at that. It’s none of your business.”
Wrong. He repressed the urge to show her exactly why it was his business and slid onto the stool next to her. “Okay, I can accept that.”
She fidgeted in her chair, her feet kicking the bar in a patterned beat. “Good.”
“I know you’re trying to avoid your mother, but you’re fortunate to have one who cares about you.” The moment the words passed his lips, he wondered what the hell had gotten into him.
She took another sip of coffee and studied him. “You don’t talk much about your parents.”
He shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. My parents divorced when my sister Rosalind was a baby. Our father took custody, but he didn’t really know what to do with us, so we were essentially raised by nannies and housekeepers. My mother spends her time trying to beat Elizabeth Taylor’s record for most marriages, and my father finds reasons to travel the world. Guess he’s not one for settling down.”
Lola looked as though she could see right through him. Her hands, still warm from holding the mug of coffee, grabbed his and squeezed. “How much older are you than your sister?”
He swallowed hard, unprepared for the surge of heat spreading throughout his chest from her comforting touch. He smoothed his thumbs across the soft flesh of her hands. “Five years.”
“She’s lucky to have you.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without Portia. Even now, she’s so forgiving of our mother. It’s hard for me to share such close quarters with her again. I mean, last night, I actually snuck in through the window of my own apartment. And there she was, sitting on my bed waiting for me. I can’t—”
“Move in with me.” He banded an arm around her waist, sliding her off the chair to stand between the V of his legs.
She pressed her hands firmly against his chest. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I thought about it last night. You don’t want to sleep at your apartment as long as your mother is staying there. I’ve got a large house with plenty of extra bedrooms. I can teach you how to cook in my kitchen and . . . I’ve got something you can’t find anywhere else.”
“What’s that?” she asked breathlessly.
He instantly hardened from the nervous glimmer of heat in her eyes and the scent of lavender permeating from her skin. “A music studio. It’s set up with everything we’d need to write and record the songs you’ll need for the producer.”
She pushed off his chest. “Why do you have a music studio?”
He chuckled that she doubted him. With a billion dollars in the bank, he could buy a music label. “It came with the house. I bought it from a famous singer who didn’t get enough r-e-s-p-e-c-t. ”
Her eyes grew wide, impressed by his hint of the previous owner.
“Really? That would be kind of cool.” She eyed him warily. “But why do I need to sleep there?”
“You said yourself you didn’t want to share an apartment with you mother.”
She cocked her hip. “Are you sure you’re not using this as an opportunity to get me into bed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He got off his chair, stood, and yanked her against him, making sure
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