Free The Billionaire's Bridal Bid by Emily McKay

FMJ’s development lab was located, Claire was deposited into Dylan’s care while Matt went to find out what was wrong.
    “Take care of her,” Matt had ordered. “Get her anything she wants.” Then to her, he added, “Don’t touch anything.”
    Claire had just laughed, but Dylan had nodded solemnly.
    Matt left them standing near the elevator. The workspace was massive and open, with a scattering of scribbles on whiteboards set up amid the worktables and clusters of overworked lounge chairs. Bits of gadgetry were everywhere. It looked like the robotics lab of some deranged mad scientist.
    The second Matt was out of earshot, Dylan started babbling again. “I’m so sorry I interrupted your date, if I’d—”
    “It’s no big deal,” she tried to reassure him.
    “Of course it’s a big deal. You’re Claire Caldiera. This was the big date, right? And—”
    She shot Dylan a surprised look. “You know who I am?”
    “Of course I do. You’re—”
    “I know. Claire Caldiera.” She just wasn’t used to people she didn’t know talking about her without using the prefix that trashy. As in “That trashy Caldiera girl is up to something again.” To Dylan she said, “I just assumed Matt never talked about me.”
    “Oh, he never talks about you.” Dylan shook his head. “But the other guys do. The guys who’ve been around since the early days. Your name has…um, come up.”
    “I see.”
    Off in the far corner of the room, where Matt now stood, there was a team of six or seven guys and couple of women. A few of the faces were familiar. They were standing around an aluminum something. It was shaped like a giant dollop of whipped cream. The thing stood maybe five feet tall and was comprised of closely spaced arching blades that gleamed under the fluorescent lights.
    “Is that a…?” she fished.
    Dylan nodded like she’d guessed correctly. “Yeah. A magnetically-levitated, vertical-axis wind turbine. Cool, huh?”
    “That’s just what I was going to say.”
    One or two of the engineers standing around were people she recognized.
    “Steve and Dean had just started at FMJ when Matt and I dated,” she observed. They’d all been friends, back in the day. Now, when Steve glanced at her, his expression was suspicious. Dean gave a weak smile,but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I can imagine the kinds of things they say about me.”
    Dylan’s face flushed red and she knew she was right.
    On the other side of the room, Matt looked up at her just then. He’d shucked his jacket and literally rolled up his shirtsleeves to get to work. His forearms were tan and muscled. Less than five minutes here and his hair, short as it was, was already mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it.
    The sight of him, standing there with his hands on his hips, made her heart nearly stop. This was the guy she’d loved. The intense concentration. The sheer passion for his work. The brilliance.
    In the times she’d seen him since he’d returned, he’d been all easy charm and smooth charisma. But now the Matt she’d loved so fiercely was standing right in front of her.
    Oh, she was in so much trouble.
    “Can I, um…get you a drink?” Dylan asked from beside her.
    She smiled warmly at the poor guy. “Coffee would be great.” She linked her arm through his and started guiding him toward an open door through which she could see a vending machine. “And you can tell me what it’s like to work for Matt.”
    “It’s great.” Dylan sounded out of breath. Practically panting with enthusiasm. “I mean, he’s Matt Ballard. He’s practically a god.”
    “Um…sure.” Here she was, ready to join the Matt Ballard fan club. Her and a twenty-two-year-old geek.
     
    Four hours later, Matt found Claire, asleep, curled up in a chair. Someone had dimmed the lights in this half ofthe room, so she sat in the shadows, her legs tucked up onto the seat of the chair, her arms folded on the chair arm, her head resting on the bend