The Billionaire Boyfriend Mistake

Chapter 1

1

The hot naked guy lying next to me made me wish I could remember last night. He was a stomach sleeper and his face was turned away from me on the pillow. Hopefully he didn't have a beaky nose or was covered in acne…

Nope, didn't matter. I refused to look north of his collar bone. I'd promised my friends—promised myself—that I was going to kick aside my inhibitions and just enjoy myself this weekend. That's what single girls did in Vegas. Apparently. It was my first time in Sin City and so far, going by the lack of memory and hot naked guy, I was getting the hang of the no-inhibitions-no-consequences thing.

A moment of panic wedged in my breast bone and I shuffled away to the far side of the bed. We weren't in my hotel room. Mine came with two other women, and no space to stretch out, let alone have a guy over. This was more like a suite. Or was it a house? We were in a bedroom larger than my entire apartment back home in Roxburg. It was decorated in red and black with the king and queen of hearts inserted into panels on one wall, behind which were probably wardrobes. A sofa sat on a raised platform near the window. I wondered what the view was like when the curtains were open. I pulled up the sheets and silk bed cover to hide my nakedness. Not that the guy was looking. Going by his even breathing, he was sound asleep.

Deep breaths, Amy. Just because I was in a strange room with a strange guy didn't mean I was in over my head. Just because this sort of thing never happened to me didn't mean I was in any danger. But just in case, maybe I'd slip out before he woke up.

It would be a damn shame not to see what he looked like though, and maybe get his number. Katy and Jemma would get annoyed with me if I did, since that wasn't our deal. They wanted me to hook up with someone, have anonymous fun then leave, no strings attached. I wasn't very good at that part. Leaving and saying no had always been my problem in relationships. Actually, starting relationships with great guys was more my problem, but I didn't remind my friends of that fact. They'd been so excited to take me to Vegas for the weekend, and I'd needed the distraction from work.

I think the guy who belonged to the delicious shoulders could qualify as a distraction. His skin was tanned against the snowy white sheet barely covering his ass. Two small dimples kissed the skin on either side of his spine at the base. Straps of muscle shaped the rest of that back, looking hard even in relaxation. He had shoulders a girl could drool over, or cling to. He must work out, or maybe his job meant he did a lot of heavy lifting. Gym junkies or builders weren't really my type, but I wasn't here to meet a type. I was in Vegas to get laid and have some fun. I was pretty sure I'd experienced both overnight. If only I could remember.

The only thing I did remember was why I didn't usually drink so much—cocktails and Amy Grant didn't mix. Memory lapses weren't good for an assistant district attorney with her sights set on rising to the top. A few parties during my college years had taught me that. Ever since graduating, I only ever drank a glass or two of wine. That was me, always sensible.

This sensible girl was getting out while the hot guy was still asleep. I lifted the covers and swung my legs out of bed. The quivering muscles in my thighs told me I'd definitely had s*x last night, and lots of it. I hoped we'd used protection. Maybe I should check in the waste basket…

"Hmmm," came the muffled voice of the guy. His hand patted the empty space on the bed where I'd been lying moments before. He sighed and began to roll over. "Don't leave yet, Amy."

I gasped. Crap! The guy blinking sleepily back at me was gorgeous. Thick dark lashes framed bright blue eyes that even when hooded seemed to pierce right through me. His cheekbones were defined but not prominent, his jaw strong and a little roguish covered in morning stubble. His lips…holy cow, his lips were perfection, not too soft and feminine, but not hard either. I wanted to trace them with my fingertip, or my own lips. They stretched into a smile that was tentative and sweet, inviting me to join him again in bed.

But it wasn't his smile or his too-handsome face that made my stomach twist into knots. It was the guy himself. I knew him, although we'd never met. Well, not before last night anyway. It was Zac Kavanagh, fourth son of Roxburg's wealthiest family, lady's man, and—as if those two things weren't bad enough—the older brother of Damon Kavanagh who I'd helped put behind bars two years ago.

He mustn't remember seeing me in court or he wouldn't be inviting me back to his bed now. I remembered the brutally cold glare his mother had bestowed on me that day the conviction had been read out by the jury foreman. If looks could kill, me and my team would have found ourselves six feet under. Admittedly none of the other Kavanaghs had paid us much attention, but surely they'd seen me.

But Zac wasn't showing signs of recognition. I had changed since then. I'd cut my hair short and dyed it blonde. And out of my court attire of pantsuit and jacket, I guessed I looked different. It was possible he hadn't recognized me.

Yet another reason to escape before daylight and sobriety enabled him to see who he'd spent the night with.

He propped himself up on his elbow and scanned my length. The smile stretched. I snatched the pillow and placed it in front of me, covering all the important bits.

He lifted his gaze to mine, no longer smiling, and sat up. The sheet puddled in his lap, revealing the V beneath washboard abs. Who knew the gorgeous Zac Kavanagh had a body to die for? "It's a little late to be shy," he said.

"I, um…" Way to go, Amy. Real cool. "I've got to go." I looked around for my clothes but only spotted my high heels, lying on the floor as if I'd tossed them there. I did not toss shoes, especially expensive ones. I usually put them neatly together in a wardrobe or corner, maybe tucking them under the bed. I must have been drunk to just discard them like that. Those stupid silver stilettos were probably what had gotten me into this mess in the first place. They were definitely a fine pair of footwear that made me look taller and skinnier. That and the slinky black dress. Where was my dress?

"Your clothes are in the living room," he said, nodding at the door. "We undressed out there." His gaze slid to the heels. "Except for a few important items that were deemed necessary."

Deemed necessary? What the hell?

I didn't want to get into a conversation with him. He might know my first name, but he couldn't know who I was, and staying to chat would only reveal too much. Besides, Zac Kavanagh was a womanizer with more notches on his belt than stars in the sky. Everyone knew it. He was in the papers every other week with a different girl on his arm, usually a model or actress, and always leggy and beautiful. How the hell had I fallen into the trap of this guy? He was the sort of guy I avoided like a bad smell. Too handsome for his own good, too arrogant to be genuine, too rich and pampered to care about anyone but himself. I was better than that, smarter. I shouldn't have ended up in his bedroom.

As soon as I got back to my own hotel room, I was going to have strong words to Katy and Jemma. Firstly, they shouldn't let me drink so much that I even talked to someone like Zac, and secondly, if I did, they shouldn't have let me go to his room alone.

"Amy, come back to bed," he cooed. Yep, cooed. He had the soft, insistent voice thing down pat. "There's no need to leave yet."

"My friends are waiting for me."

"They told us to take our time." He frowned. "They said sleep in, take it easy, and they'd catch up with us later. You don't remember?"

I clutched the pillow tighter. "Not…exactly."

He looked…disappointed? Ha! I bet he prided himself on a memorable performance in bed. I snorted, but tried to cover it with a cough.

Zac threw off the sheet and got out of bed. Don't look down, Amy. Okay, I looked. I'm human. Nice. Very, very nice, particularly half erect as he was. I forced my gaze upward to his face, but that wasn't a good idea. He was smirking again, like he knew I was admiring his package.

"Tell me what you do remember," he said.

No way was I getting into a chatty conversation with this guy. "Look, this was a mistake. I'm leav—"

"Mistake?" He took a step toward me and lifted his hand as if to grab me.

I stepped back and he blinked hard. He lowered his hand, staring at it, then curled it into a fist at his side.

"Yes," I said, backing toward the door. "I don't know you. I don't do one night stands with strangers."

"We got to know each other pretty well before we…" He jerked his head at the bed. "We talked for hours."

Crap, had I told him what I did for a living and where? Did he know his brother's predicament was partly my fault? Okay, so Damon Kavanagh did the crime and that wasn't my fault, but the reason he'd gotten five years for assault was pretty much down to me. I'd come with the idea of pushing for a tough sentence to make an example out of him. Damon Kavanagh was high profile and he'd almost killed a guy with his bare hands. I thought it justified. We'd brought up his prior history to dismiss his legal team's claims of self-defense and the jury had convicted him. Five years wasn't long but it seemed to have hit the family hard at the time. They'd all walked out of court in shock.

There was no way Zac could know who I was or he wouldn't have come near me, and he definitely wouldn't be wanting me to climb back into bed with him.

"That's nice," I said with a shrug. "But I don't remember any of it."

"But you didn't drink that much. Maybe a few cocktails, but that's all."

"I don't hold my alcohol well."

"No kidding." The corner of his mouth kicked up, as if remembering something I'd done last night that hammered the point home. I wanted to ask, but didn't dare. Besides, I didn't want to know what humiliating thing I'd done. It was bad enough standing naked in front of freaking Zac Kavanagh! Never mind that he was naked too. He had an awesome body. Mine was skinny and small in all the wrong places. There was nothing small about him.

"So I'm just going to leave now." I kept backing up in what I thought was the direction of the door. I missed and bumped the wall.

He pressed his lips together, possibly trying to hide a smile at my pathetic bumbling. Asshole. I inched my way along the wall until I found the doorway. I backed through it. If I shut the door between us, I could turn around and look where I was going.

"Wait." He must have known what I was about to do because he strode through the doorway, right up to me. Again he lifted his hand as if to grab me, but lowered it before we touched. "Now that you're sober, you can get to know me again. I'll order breakfast."

"No. It's okay."

The small line returned to the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to go out for breakfast?"

"No! I just want to return to my hotel room."

"Oh." The single, heavy word dropped between us like a stone. I guess Zac wasn't used to women saying no to him.

It was my turn to smirk, and damn it felt good. "Excuse me, but I need to get dressed. In private."

He dragged his hand through his hair, but it was already ruffled from sleep and whatever the hell we'd gotten up to before that. My thighs quivered again and my girl parts throbbed—it seemed my body remembered the good time it had enjoyed, but my mind didn't.

He searched around and spotted what he was looking for. I followed his gaze to my dress, half hidden beneath the sofa. My gorgeous, silky dress that I saved for special occasions was keeping the dust company under the sofa. What the hell?

I snatched it off him as he handed it to me. Unfortunately that meant the pillow slipped, revealing my right breast. His gaze instantly flew there, of course. I covered myself up again, but the damage was done. His gaze turned heated and his c**k hardened. This guy was not subtle.

"Do you mind?" I snapped.

Most decent guys would apologize, maybe blush at their inappropriate staring, but Zac merely grinned. "What can I say? You're the sexiest woman I've had the pleasure of seeing naked in a long time."

"Oh, puh-lease. Do you use that line on everyone?"

That stopped his smile dead. "No."

"Riiight."

He regarded me, that frown still rumpling his forehead. "I just realized something. You probably don't remember my name. This must be unsettling for you." He held out his hand. "My name's Zac."

I stared at his hand. Did he really think I'd fall for that and let go of the pillow again?

He retracted his hand and cleared his throat. "Zac Kavanagh."

"Is the name meant to impress me? Maybe get me into bed again?"

"I can see you already worked out who I was," he said tightly. "From the lack of surprise."

"I'm from Roxburg. Everyone knows the Kavanaghs there. Everyone in the entire country knows who the Kavanaghs are. You're not the subtlest of families."

He inhaled sharply. His nostrils flared. "Amy, before you go, we need to talk."

"I need to get dressed. Where's the bathroom?"

"There's one through there." He pointed to a door off the living room. "There's an ensuite through the bedroom too if you prefer. Use whatever you need. The hotel staff keep both well stocked even though they know I'm here alone."

"Maybe they knew you'd bring back a woman."

I didn't think he would hear the words I muttered as I walked off, but he said, "Maybe."

I found my bra and underwear and marched into the bathroom with as much dignity as I could with Zac staring at my naked butt. I shut the door and grimaced at myself in the mirror. My hair was flat on one side and mascara had slipped from my eyelashes to my face, somehow getting as low as my cheeks. Lipstick smeared the left side of my mouth. Nice work, Amy, you'd woken up next to a hot guy while looking like a clown. Real sexy.

I shoved away the embarrassment. I wasn't going to feel ashamed of myself in front of a guy who discarded girlfriends more frequently than his trash. It was okay to have one night stands. Women did all the time.

Just not this woman.

I cleaned myself up as best as I could and wished I'd brought my purse in with me to pop some of the little toiletry bottles in. They smelled divine, and helped me feel human again.

I blew out a breath. Time to face the music again. I opened the door, expecting to see Zac still standing there naked, but he'd put on jeans. His top half was still bare and I let my gaze rake over him. Until he turned and I saw what he'd been doing.

"Hey! Give me that." I marched over and snatched my purse out of his hands. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His eyes widened. "Sorry, I…it's not what you think?"

"Oh? You mean you weren't looking through my purse without my permission?"

"Um…" He bit his lip. It made him look so young, like a naughty boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I should call the cops on you."

The impishness vanished. He swallowed heavily. "Amy, whoa. Calm down. This isn't like you."

"How the hell do you know what I'm like?"

"We got to know each other pretty well—"

"Are you serious? You think you know me after a couple of hours together?"

"It was more than a couple, but yes. I do."

His absolute conviction threw me. Did he really believe two people could get to know one another well in one night? He seemed to. I wasn't sure what to think about that. Of course it wasn't possible, but it almost felt cruel to burst his bubble.

"I get that you're freaked out by this whole experience," he said before I could respond. "I get that you don't remember me or what we spoke about. But I want you to know, I had a great time last night. The best time I've had with a woman…or anyone…ever. And that was before we came here and…got naked together."

Wow. Okay. Wow. Those were some powerful words, and they set my heart fluttering in my chest. If I didn't know Zac to be a womanizing charmer, I would have totally fallen for his spiel. He was good. He was damned good, especially wrapped up in that hot package.

But I wasn't stupid or naive. I had a brain, and my bullshit radar was always switched to high. I'd fallen for lines like that before. Maybe not quite so smooth or polished, but close. And I'd ended up with egg on my face when I found out what the guy was really like. I knew how to pick that type of guy. Just like Mom.

I snorted. "Nice try."

"I mean every word."

"Sure you do."

His eyes narrowed. "Give me a chance to prove it to you. To make you remember."

I headed back to the bedroom to get my shoes. "No thanks."

He followed. "You know, I'm not used to being dismissed out of hand. Usually I'm given a chance."

"I've given you a chance."

"What does that mean?"

"It means the evidence proves that you're not necessarily a nice guy." I picked up my shoes and turned to leave, but he blocked the doorway. His mouth was ajar and he looked…uncertain. His expression unsettled me. He was supposed to look cocky and arrogant, or maybe guilty.

"I don't understand," he murmured. "What evidence? What'd I do?"

"You took advantage of a girl who was so drunk she couldn't remember anything the day after."

He rocked back on his heels as if my words had slapped him. "I didn't think you were that drunk. You didn't slur your words, you didn't get up on the tables and dance, or fall out of your dress. You seemed normal to me."

"I threw my dress on the floor! My underwear was caught on the doorknob! That is not normal behavior."

He looked at me like it was normal to him. What did his usual dates get up to? "I'm sorry. I really am." He came into the room and this time he did touch me. He gently held me by the arms and dipped his head to peer into my eyes. "Amy, I'm sorry. But I didn't know I was taking advantage of you. Jesus, if that's what you think…" He sucked in air, and let it out slowly. "Then I can only apologize again and again." His thumbs stroked my bare arms. He swallowed and looked me over briskly, without desire. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. Just…let me go."

His fingers sprang free as if he'd forgotten he'd been holding me. He scrubbed his hands down his face, and when he removed them, the look of sickened horror had me wishing I could take back everything I'd said.

Instead, I fled past him. I didn't stop to put on my shoes or look back. I walked right out and pressed the button for the elevator. It arrived immediately, thank God, and I took it all the way to the ground level. My hands were shaking by the time I walked through the hotel foyer, and my heart was hammering against my ribs. I felt cowardly and a little angry with myself for accusing him of something pretty despicable. I should have gone back and apologized, but I couldn't face him again. I couldn't risk having him say nice things to me. I liked to think myself strong when it came to guys like Zac, but I wasn't. I was weak and stupid. I guess that was why I'd lashed out in the only way I knew how—words. They were a lawyer's best friend.

"Excuse me, miss," called the concierge from behind the desk where he was hanging up the phone. "Mr. Kavanagh would like to offer you the use of his car to take you to your hotel."

I eyed the phone. It seemed Zac had recovered enough to remember his manners. "Thanks, but I have no way of returning the car."

"It comes with a driver."

"Oh. Right. Of course it does." I shook my head. "I don't need the car. Can you call me a cab?"

"There's always one waiting just outside." He gave me a sympathetic smile, like he thought I'd been sent packing by Zac. I sighed. I couldn't even muster up any indignation.

I was all tapped out. My emotions were stretched to breaking point, and my heart was still beating a million miles an hour. I was also thirsty, hungry and I wanted a shower. I could smell his scent on me and it was intoxicating, distracting.

I climbed into the cab, clutching my purse and my shoes. I didn't care what the driver thought as I gave him the name of my hotel. I just wanted to get as far away from Zac as possible and leave the whole experience behind me. The sooner I forgot about him, the better. All would be fine tomorrow. I'd be back at the office, working on a new big case, surrounded by people who didn't try to charm me out of my pants. People who really knew me, not just said they did in order to score.

My cell rang and my heart stopped its mad fluttering. Had I given Zac my number? I couldn't remember. I couldn't remember a damn thing, and I had a feeling not remembering was going to come back and bite me on the ass.