Titles by Jessica Clare
Billionaires and Bridesmaids
The Billionaire and the Virgin
The Taming of the Billionaire
The Billionaire Takes a Bride
The Billionaire’s Favorite Mistake
The Billionaire Boys Club
Stranded with a Billionaire
Beauty and the Billionaire
The Wrong Billionaire’s Bed
Once Upon a Billionaire
Romancing the Billionaire
One Night with a Billionaire
His Royal Princess
The Bluebonnet Novels
The Girl’s Guide to (Man) Hunting
The Care and Feeding of an Alpha Male
The Expert’s Guide to Driving a Man Wild
The Virgin’s Guide to Misbehaving
The Billionaire of Bluebonnet
The Billionaire’s Favorite Mistake
Jessica Clare
INTERMIX BOOKS, NEW YORK
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
THE BILLIONAIRE’S FAVORITE MISTAKE
An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2016 by Jessica Clare.
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eBook ISBN: 9781101989135
PUBLISHING HISTORY
InterMix eBook edition / June 2016
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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CONTENTS
Titles by Jessica Clare
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter 1
Greer studied her skimpy flapper costume and decided that tonight was the night that Asher Sutton would notice her.
She was nervous, of course. Crazy nervous. Greer was more of a cardigan-and-flats kind of girl. A blend-with-the-wallpaper kind of girl. She was the one that was always the designated driver, the one with the notes for the test, and the one that everyone counted on. Studious, reliable Greer.
And where had that gotten her? Abso-fricking-nowhere. So tonight? Tonight, Greer Chadha-Janssen was going to be someone else entirely.
She peered into the mirror, leaning close enough for her breath to fog. She kind of had to, because otherwise she couldn’t see a thing. But she was not about to wear her nerdy glasses tonight. Not when she needed to be her sexiest. She’d had her makeup professionally done, and with an airbrush. It felt thick, but in the brief moment she’d allowed herself to peer through her glasses, she looked awesome. The eyelash extensions were kind of annoying; she kept seeing something out of the corner of her eye and turning, only to realize it was an eyelash. But it was either that or fake ones again, and they had a terrible time of staying put.
The costumer she’d hired had selected a flapper dress for Greer because Greer was tiny. The woman at the shop had called it petite and ethereal. Greer was pretty sure those were code words for flat-chested and scrawny. The dress was tiny, though, the fringe of the skirt barely reaching mid-thigh, and the top was little more than a vee held up by two spaghetti straps. It was cut incredibly low, but the costumer was right—in this, she didn’t look flat as much as she looked dainty. So, flapper it was. Paired up with her long black hair curled into a million ringlets and a shiny sequined headband, shoes with a tall stiletto heel, and Greer felt like a new woman. A confident woman. A sexy woman.
And tonight? She was going to get her man.
She popped her glasses back on her face, headed out to the waiting sedan, and ignored the surprised look her driver gave her. It was nobody’s business if she wanted to dress out of character. She was a woman on a mission, and her mission was getting Asher to notice her.
As the sedan drove out of the city, Greer stared out the window and thought about Asher. Asher’s smiling face. The teasing look in his eyes when he was up to no good. The roguish grin when he’d been caught.
The cold, dead look that had been in his eyes for the last two years. Ever since his fiancée, Donna, had betrayed him and nearly torpedoed his business overnight. Ex-fiancée, she amended to herself.
He was single now, for the first time ever. He’d been with Donna since high school, before she’d ever known him. And then when he’d ended things with Donna, it had been too new, too raw. Asher was in a bad place. She’d left things alone. They had lunch like they always did every Monday, and Greer was supportive and friendly and never ventured into topics that might be awkward. She was the best friend she could possibly be.
And he still never noticed her. Month after month went by, and they continued to have lunch and continued to be friends. She’d started wearing lipstick and lower-cut blouses. She’d hinted that she wasn’t dating anyone.
Nada.
She’d made a “big” move a few weeks ago at Gretchen’s bridal party dinner. She’d skipped her glasses, worn makeup, and dressed a little sexier. And what had that gotten her?
A smile and a brief hug, and that was it.
Okay, so she needed to be more aggressive. She’d make him notice tonight. Tonight, everything started over.
When the sedan pulled up to the driveway, the butterflies started in her stomach. Cars lined the front of the house, and she could see people spilling out onto the lawn. Festive lights decorated the front of the grand manor house, and everywhere she looked, there were couples, arm in arm. And here she was, solo.
She told herself she wouldn’t be solo for long. Hopefully.
It took a bit of courage to walk up to the front door, announce herself to the man checking the list, but once she was inside, the party was in full swing and she was just another person. Greer slipped her glasses off her face and tucked them into her clutch purse. She wanted to look as awesome as possible for when she ran into Asher.
Of course, there was a minor problem: Without her glasses, she couldn’t see Asher. She frowned into the sea of blurry faces, randomly following someone who looked like they knew where they were going. She was familiar with Buchanan Manor to a certain extent—she’d been there several times over the last few weeks to discuss wedding stuff with Gretchen—but tonight? It was a mess of color and people. Having her glasses off helped her shyness, though. If she couldn’t see people giving her judgy looks, she didn’t feel weird or nervous.
Maybe she could find the
party planner she’d hired. As Gretchen’s wedding planner, she was theoretically in charge of all wedding activities. But since she planned to be, well, occupied during this particular party, she’d hired an outside planner on her own dime so she’d have more time to focus on Mission: Seduce Asher.
The person she was following went into the kitchen. Rats. She’d been following a waiter. Frowning to herself, Greer pushed her heavy black curls off her shoulders and turned around.
“Hey there,” said an unfamiliar male voice at her side.
“Hi,” she said absently, trying to peer around him.
“You here alone? Can I get you a drink?”
Oh. Was he hitting on her? She squinted up at him, not that that did much good. He was a blob with very dark hair and glasses, which meant he wasn’t Asher. “Actually, I’m looking for a friend.”
“Well, if you get tired of him and want to party, come find me.”
“Right, I’ll do that.” She steered away from the black-clothed blob into the midst of the mingling people, trying not to feel weird about the fact that a guy just hit on her. That never happened. She must look smoking-hot tonight. Well, that was nice.
“Greer?” A person in a dark outfit and a colorful scarf approached her from out of the crowd. “Wow, I hardly recognized you!”
That made two of them. Squinting hard, she leaned forward, peering. The woman’s hair was a brownish-blonde and pulled into braids and there was no telling what she was dressed as. But the voice was vaguely familiar. “Taylor?”
“It’s me! You like my costume?” She twirled, which looked like a blur, of course, and nearly crashed into a person walking past. “Sorry,” Taylor mumbled before moving back toward Greer.
“Um, I can’t tell what you are.”
“Oh. Well, I’m a Hogwarts student. Gryffindor. I should really be Hufflepuff but they were out of those at the costume shop.” She patted her scarf. “Which one are you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen Harry Potter. Say, have you seen Asher tonight?”
Taylor’s shocked gasp echoed in the room. “Not seen Harry Potter! Did you not even read the books? How can you not have read the freaking books?”
“I don’t know?” Taylor sure was being loud. But at least she was here, and she could guide Greer around the room, because being without glasses? It was rougher than she’d anticipated. Greer reached out and grabbed Taylor’s arm. “Can you help me out? I can’t find anyone at this party.”
“It is pretty crowded,” Taylor said sympathetically. “I’d rather be home playing Warcraft or Excelsior, but what can you do, right?” She linked her arm with Greer’s. “You look great without the glasses.”
“Thanks.” Sure, she was blind, but you suffered for greatness.
“You want to go see Gretchen and Hunter? They look super cute tonight. They’re giving off more sexual tension than Scully and Mulder.”
“That’s all right. I’m looking for someone else.” It was bad form to avoid the bride at the engagement party, but Gretchen tended to have a big mouth and she’d totally call Greer out on her uber-sexy ensemble. Greer needed to find Asher before she accidentally smeared her eye makeup or spilled a drink down her front, or something.
“Who did you say you were looking for again?” Taylor asked, steering them through the crowd.
“Asher? Do you know him?”
“Vaguely,” Taylor said, and she didn’t sound super happy. “Wouldn’t you rather hang out with Chelsea, or maybe Sebastian? I saw them over in a corner.”
“No, I want Asher,” Greer said firmly. “Where’s he at?”
Taylor sighed. “Well . . . he’s drunk and kind of being an ass. He made fun of my costume.”
“Because you’re a Hogwart?”
“Oh my god, how do you not know Harry Potter lingo?” She sighed dramatically. “Muggles. Damn muggles.”
Greer was starting to wonder if Asher wasn’t the only one drinking. But Taylor turned down a hall and started to steer her toward a new area. That was encouraging. She resisted the urge to check her lipstick and fuss with her hair. She’d looked good the last time she’d seen her reflection. She was just nervous, that was all. “So Asher was drinking?”
“Yeah, he and a few of the guys were hanging out in the corner bro-ing down or whatever you call it when guys act like jackasses at a party.” Taylor steered them through another hall. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I won’t.” Asher was her objective here tonight. Nothing else mattered. She’d stand up in front of a dozen drunk guys in a skimpy costume as long as Asher saw her. He’d make things worth it.
They rounded a corner, and there he was. Sure, he was a blur in her gaze, but the way he threw his head back and laughed? That blob was definitely Asher. She knew that laugh. She knew everything about the guy, from his favorite foods to his favorite music to the time that his ex, Donna, gave him underwear for Christmas. Some people obsessed over science, or gambling. Greer obsessed over Asher Sutton.
She had ever since she started college. She’d moved to New York City to attend NYU, but her father didn’t want her to live in a dorm. So she’d gotten an apartment close to campus and while it was nice, it was also lonely. Greer didn’t make friends easily, and classes were so large that she didn’t feel comfortable speaking up. So she’d put up an ad for roommates. It wasn’t that she needed the money; she had a trust fund. She wanted the company.
Gretchen had been the first to answer the call for a roommate, and then Chelsea. Both were so bubbly and fun that life in New York City was suddenly no longer scary and friendless. She had people now. Taylor showed up a short time later, and was the enthusiastic computer nerd of their group, and their apartment was full. There was one bedroom left but they’d decided to keep that for storage or visitors . . . until Asher knocked on the door one day.
Barely eighteen-year-old Greer had taken one look at him and fallen in love. He was handsome, cheerful, witty, and talked to her like she was a person. She found herself offering him the last room before she even had a chance to discuss it with her other roomies. She knew from the moment she saw him that this was the man she was destined to marry.
It wasn’t until he moved in that she learned about his childhood sweetheart, Donna. She’d been devastated, but determined to love him from afar. It was clear that Asher was devoted to Donna, and wasn’t there something to be said for a guy that had been with the same girl since he was fifteen? He was loyal and devoted. Donna was a bit of a flake, but if Asher loved her, there had to be something worth seeing, so Greer had liked her, too.
Until two years ago.
Male laughter made Taylor jump, and the spangles on Greer’s dress clacked wildly. “Off in that corner,” Taylor said, stopping in her tracks. She detangled her arm from Greer’s. “Follow the smell of beer and testosterone.”
“Thanks, Taylor.”
“Good luck.” She didn’t sound very positive. Jeez. Then again, Taylor had always been kind of skittish and uncertain. Greer was neither; she was just . . . overlookable.
She stepped forward, making a beeline for the darkly dressed blur that was Asher. He was gesturing, talking to someone, and a moment later, the nearby men roared with laughter again. They were just having a good time. That was all. Taylor was just being weird about things. Greer smiled and approached, keeping her hands at her side so she didn’t hide the fantastic low cleavage of her dress. If she knew anything about men, it was that they could be diverted from anything with a nice pair of boobs.
As if determined to prove her theory right, Asher paused mid-conversation and stepped to the side, directly in her path. “Greer?”
“Hi, Asher.” Her voice was breathless with excitement. He was here. He was here and he was noticing her. In fact, she was pretty sure he was staring at her, hard.
“You look . . . different.” His voi
ce was low, sexy.
Yes! He was noticing! Oh crap, what should she say to pull him away from the others? He had a mask slung in one hand and a drink in the other. “What’s your costume?”
“Pimp daddy,” one guy said, and the men around him guffawed.
Asher turned away from Greer and slugged a guy in the shoulder. “Fuck off, guys. This is Greer. She’s like a little sister to me.”
Her nostrils flared with irritation. Little sister? Really? Did he not see her tits hanging out of this fucking skimpy dress? But then the men started laughing and talking over each other all at once, and she nearly screamed with frustration. She needed to get him away from the group of ex–frat boys if she was ever going to get a word in edgewise. Time to use her nonexistent wiles.
When Asher turned back to a guy telling a story, she moved forward and leaned in, pushing her breasts against Asher’s arm. That got his attention. He looked down at her, and she was short, which meant he had a fantastic view of her cleavage. She was pleased when his gaze stuck there, and he downed the rest of his drink, ignoring his chatty friend.
“Can we go someplace private and catch up, Asher?” Sure, they had lunch last week, but maybe there’d be some catching up to do between now and then, right?
He nodded, transfixed by her cleavage, and handed his empty glass to a passing server, grabbing a fresh one. “You lead the way.”
Perfect. She took his hand in hers—oh, it was so big and warm!—and began to pull him through the party. A few guys hooted and catcalled after them, but she ignored them. As long as she got what she wanted, they could think anything they wanted. Of course, the further she pulled Asher into the party, the more she needed her glasses. Well, shit.
She paused, and he bumped into her from behind.
“Whoa there,” Asher murmured, and pulled her back against him.
Oh . . . good lord. Was that his cock pressing into her back? Greer was shocked . . . and excited. He was aroused over her? This was . . . awesome!
“You shouldn’t stop like that again unless you want my dick pressing up against your ass for the rest of the night.” He gave her a crooked grin, as if trying to take the bite out of his statement. Were his words a bit slurred? Maybe, but the look in his eyes was bright and he was gazing down at her like she was the sexiest thing at the party. She’d take it.