The Bride's Billionaire Read online

  The Bride’s Billionaire

  Sophia Summers

  Copyright © 2019 by Sophia Summers

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Read all books by Sophia Summers

  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

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Chapter One of The Heir-Billionaire Royals

  Read all books by Sophia Summers

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  Her Love and Marriage Brides Series

  The Bride’s Secret

  The Bride’s Cowboy

  The Bride’s Billionaire

  Read all the books in The Swoony Sports Romances

  Hitching the Pitcher

  Falling for Centerfield

  Charming the Shortstop

  Snatching the Catcher

  Flirting with First

  Kissing on Third

  Her Billionaire Royals Series:

  The Heir

  The Crown

  The Duke

  The Duke’s Brother

  The Prince

  The American

  The Spy

  The Princess

  Her Billionaire Cowboys Series:

  Her Billionaire Cowboy

  Her Billionaire Protector

  Her Billionaire in Hiding

  Her Billionaire Christmas Secret

  Her Billionaire to Remember

  Her Single Holiday Romances

  Taming Scrooge

  Chapter 1

  Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

  Kayla stood in Madame Rosario’s wedding dress shop on the Rua de Provencal, trying on a new dress. Her best friend, Tiff, was chattering with her on the phone at Kayla’s ear. “Is it poofy? ‘Cause I can’t do poofy.”

  “It’s not poofy. This one is sleek.”

  “Not too sleek though, right? Cause my hips are bigger than yours.”

  “Here, I’ll switch to video call.” Tiff’s gorgeous red curls showed up on Kayla’s screen. “Ugh, the lighting in here is terrible.” Kayla moved out of the dressing area to stand on a raised platform by the window. The bridal stand was situated in a bay window with three full-length mirrors behind. People walking by on the busy street stopped to look and wave. She waved back and then held up the phone so Tiff could see in the mirror.

  “OOH! I love that one. I think I like it even better than number two. Show me the back.”

  Kayla angled the phone so her friend could see the mirror behind her. “It’s stunning. And it will fit you even better than it does me.”

  A group of boys gathered at the window, one of them tucking a soccer ball under his arm. They stuck their thumbs up and pointed at her dress. She laughed and waved.

  “Try on the Viagio. That’s the only other one I might like better than this one.”

  “Okay, on it.” Kayla stepped away, and the boys waved frantically as if to get her to stay. They couldn’t be more than ten years old, and she couldn’t figure out what on earth was more interesting about her than a good soccer game. She held up a finger. Perhaps sign motions were the same no matter what language you spoke. Then she hurried to the back to change into yet another wedding dress.

  She really had better things to do—a huge bid tomorrow morning to potentially her most important client ever. She crossed her fingers for the hundredth time, hoping she could pull it off, hoping her presentation would wow them enough to give her Finley Bottlers company the contract. But instead of reviewing her notes, she was at Madame Rosario’s.

  Her best friend Tiff was getting married in five months, and when she’d heard that Kayla was going to be in Rio, she’d talked her into trying on wedding dresses by proxy. Apparently, Madam Rosario was famous all over the world for her one-of-a-kind designs.

  Kayla wiggled into the next dress, and she knew Tiff would love it best. It hugged her in all the right places, the back was completely open, and it cut low at her breast. While Kayla tended to be more conservative in her clothing choices, Tiff loved to make a statement.

  As soon as she stepped back out onto the platform at the window to show Tiff, the boys, who had backed off and stood in a circle bouncing the ball back and forth, came running. She laughed, absurdly hopeful they would appreciate this option too. But most of them didn’t seem to like this dress as much. They made faces, shook their heads and gave her half-thumbs-up. Just goes to show the difference between ten year olds and every other age of male.

  “Show me the arm pit. How’s that gonna go down with a backless bra, or do I need pasties?”

  She lifted one arm and angled the phone to show deep into her arm pit, just as the kids dragged over a man to stand at the window. She yelped and almost dropped the phone.

  “What? I couldn’t get a good view, put it back.”

  “Uh.”

  “And show me the cleavage too. Are we the same size?”

  A choking laugh sounded from outside. The new man’s eyebrows rose as she angled her phone up her armpit and then straight at her chest. Oh, save me now. She shrugged and then shimmied so Tiff could see how low the dress sat on her backside.

  The kids outside mimicked her, wiggling their butts in her direction and laughing.

  The man high-fived the kids and had an animated conversation while they pointed to her. She’d love to hear what was going down out there, watching as a smile grew on the face of the attractive, tanned man with curly blond hair. He crossed his solid arms, muscles bulging further, tilted his head as though formulating an opinion, and then indicated that she turn around in the dress.

  Her mouth dropped open. Really? What was this guy?

  He held his hands out, and she’d recognize that expression in any language. Why not?

  So she curtseyed and then slowly spun, wiggling her hips just a little for effect.

  All the boys gave half-thumbs-up or thumbs-down. “Uh, Tiff, no one here likes this one.”

  “What! I love it. Who doesn’t like it?”

  “Um, well. Just some…” She eyed the ten-year-olds. “it’s probably nothing to worry about.” She held out her skirts with questioning eyes to the man.

  He shook his head.

  She indicated she would be back. “There’s this guy outside the window voting on the dresses. He doesn’t like this one.”

  “Do we know him? Who is he?”

  She laughed. “No, we don’t know him, but he’s got strong opinions. I’ll try on the next one.”

  Her fingers moved faster, unlacing the gown and putting on the next one, hoping the man would still be there when she went back out. He was beyond handsome. She slipped on her white heels, hopping as she rounded the corner to the windows. There he was, arms crossed, just as she left him. She laughed and then waved. The boys came running back and everyone jumped up and down and cheered for this dress. Except for the man. He approached slowly until he stood at the edge of the glass and motioned again
for her to turn. She whipped around, and he shook his head. Then he indicated she move slowly. Her skin tingled as she rotated on her platform. When she faced him, he smiled. Then he shrugged.

  Ugh. What did that mean? “The kids love this one, the guy is indifferent. I think he would prefer that sleek one.”

  “Kayla, are these people we even care about? How can I even decide?” Kayla held the phone up to see her face. Tiff frowned. “Will you pick the best and put two on hold for me?”

  “Of course.” She air-kissed her friend, which all the boys imitated, and then disconnected the call. She dipped her head and mouthed thank you to her audience. The man’s eyes sparkled at her, and he nodded his head in return.

  She picked the two Tiff wanted and hurried through the payment hold. Would that man still be outside? How insane was this behavior? He likely thought her married. Or soon to be. And if he stuck around, then he was not her man. But maybe she could stop him and explain? It was probably too late. And probably for the best. What did she know about this stranger at the window? Except that he was the hottest guy she’d seen in a long time. But hot is as hot does, she had decided years ago. So she pretended that she didn’t want to see him, even though she rushed so fast through the transaction that she almost left her credit card on the counter.

  Once she was finished at the register and the dresses were carefully stored in the back for her friend to order if she decided, she slipped outside the door to the smiling and waving of the shopkeepers. “Obrigada linda!” She loved Brazilians. Where else would you be told “thank you, beautiful”?

  Once outside, her eyes scanned the area as casually as she could. The boys played soccer across the street on the beach as they had before, but no one over four feet tall joined them. People walked up and down the row of storefronts, dodging around her as she stood still on the sidewalk. Letting out a long sigh, she shrugged and turned to head back toward her hotel.

  “Looking for someone?” A deep voice tingled around inside while she tried to find its owner.

  Leaning up against one of the storefronts, her wedding dress judge watched her. He was even better looking without a pane of glass between them. And possibly American?

  She laughed. “Oh, hi. Thanks for your help in there.” She waved her phone around. “My friend was really grateful for the feedback.”

  He straightened and stepped toward her. “Your friend?”

  Yes, definitely American. Nice.

  She nodded and swallowed.

  His steps were slow, deliberate, and his eyes seemed intense. She couldn’t tell for sure though, what with the late afternoon sun at his back. She shielded her face.

  When he shifted so that the sun was not blocking her vision and stood closer, her breath hitched. His eyes were deep green, almost hazel, and they looked kind, or good-humored at least.

  And then he grinned, and his whole face lit. “So you aren’t about to get married?”

  She laughed at his overexuberant expression and shook her head. “Nope, not even close. You’re not a creepy guy preying on attached women?”

  It was his turn to laugh, and the sound was carefree, fun, confident. “Absolutely not.” He shrugged. “Something said to stick around, just to be sure.”

  She eyed him. “And if I had been engaged?”

  “I’d have asked to walk you home. It’s not the safest street in all of Copa Cabana.”

  Still a bit unsure about this complete stranger, she was intrigued enough to smile. “Do I still get that escort back to my hotel?”

  “Unless I can convince you to play tourist with me?” His eyes widened, his face as disarming as he was handsome.

  “My afternoon is free.”

  “And evening, if it goes well?”

  She hesitated, thinking of her presentation, but then nodded. “Yes, if it goes well.”

  “Okay. The sun is setting. I’m hungry; you hungry?”

  “Famished.”

  “Perfeito. I know just the place.” He reached for her hand.

  When their fingers interlocked, a fun warmth spread up her arm. She eyed him. “Are you always this friendly with perfect strangers?”

  “No way. I’m a ruthless businessman…but I’ve already seen you in the dress. It does something to a man.”

  She laughed. “Well, okay then. This is nice. Do I get to know your name?”

  “Tyler.”

  “And I’m Kayla.”

  He nodded. “First names. Fun, no promises, just a good time.”

  “And you’re American? Here on business?” She shook her head. “Wait. I don’t want to talk work, not yet.”

  He held up his hands. “I am American. Agreed on leaving work behind. This night just keeps getting better and better.” He interlocked their fingers again.

  She quickened her pace to keep up. “And you’re a fast walker. I love fast walkers.”

  “We’ve got places to be, the way I see it. No time to waste puttering along.”

  She grinned, wondering if, when the night was over, she’d wish for more time with this charming, energetic person.

  They turned the corner and he held the door open to Rio’s famous churrascaria, with a balcony that overlooked the night sky and, in this case, the approaching sunset. He handed a crisp Benjamin Franklin to the maître d, who immediately led them to the back and up the stairs to the balcony. Exiting out into the open space, Kayla pause. The music played softly, the street noise was dimmed, ceiling fans slowly swirled, but the night air was pleasant, slightly balmy. And the sky was ablaze. Purples, reds, oranges filled the horizon.

  “This is stunning.” They both sat and appreciated the view for many minutes.

  “Thank you,” she said, after a while. Her voice sounded quiet to her ears. In truth, she was a bit in awe of the sky, their immediate seating, and the man across from her.

  When he turned his brilliant green eyes on her, she almost sucked in a breath but forced herself to act normal.

  “You are welcome. Thanks for being the kind of woman game for a night like tonight.”

  The waiters started bringing the cuts of meat, young men dressed in black with long skewers of meat and sharp knives. With each new cut, she pointed out the portion on the skewer she wanted on her plate and watched as they sliced it for her. After several visits to the most incredible salad bar she’d ever seen and multiple plates of meat, she turned her indicator card to STOP and sat back in her chair, unsure she could ever move again.

  Tyler kept eating. He indicated her drink. “Best to drink as much as you can after all that meat.”

  She nodded. “I know. I just don’t know if I can force another thing down.”

  Then the waiters brought out small bowls of mango sorvete, and she decided she could force another thing down after all. After one bite, the cool, refreshing feel of the sorvete cleansed her palate and she could drink. “I’ll never eat a better meal.”

  He sat back and smiled, his expression appreciative. “I think I’m going to agree with you. Best meal, and I’ll add: best date. I’ve never met anyone as spontaneous as I am.” He shook his head.

  “You have impeccable timing.” When their eyes met, she knew his interest was growing, maybe as much as hers. But could she really start something with this guy when so much was at stake for her company? When she had such a big day tomorrow?

  Watching his white teeth in a growing smile, his expression open and welcoming, she thought just maybe she could.

  Chapter 2

  Tyler couldn’t believe his luck. What a woman. And she seemed available, at least temporarily. He held up a grape from the fruit platter they’d been brought at the end of the meal, right after the delicious mango sorvete. “You ready?” He acted like he was about to toss it.

  “Oh, I’m good at this. Yes!”

  Inwardly, he celebrated. His last girlfriend had never been willing to try and catch things in her mouth. Certain she’d drop it or look like a fool, she always laughed and dodged or outright refused.
Who was this awesome spontaneous woman? He tossed it to her in a high long arc. She caught it easily and then held both hands up in the air. “Mmm. That is a good grape!”

  “It might be imported. Brazil doesn’t have a lot of grapes, from what I’ve seen.”

  “How often are you here?”

  “I come here on business frequently, usually for my clients.”

  She nodded.

  He didn’t want to talk about work, the reasons he was in Brazil, or anything having to do with the life he had to return to in the morning. He had a huge meeting and an important presentation, but it could wait. She didn’t seem to want to talk work either. The whole topic put a damper on their night, in his mind, so he pushed away the stress of tomorrow and the pressure he was under to seal the deal with a new client.

  The sun had now completely set, and the air was growing cooler. She pulled her wrap up around her.

  “I have just the place for our next stop.” He eyed her. “But I must have the answer to one question first.” He cleared his throat, making a show of drawing it out. “How do you feel about the…samba?” His eyebrows wiggled.

  She leaned forward. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”

  “Then you’re on.” He stood, dropped a folded wad of bills on the table, and they left. He hurried through the back of the restaurant, and they exited onto a street bustling with nightlife. “They have the best nightclub just up here a ways.”

  “I picked the best tour guide.” She hurried at his side.

  “And I the best date.”

  She smiled at his response. Perhaps she was enjoying his company as much as he enjoyed hers.