Free Heat Exchange (The Alpha Billionaire's Virgin Book 1) by Deana Farrady Page A

store.
    An entirely different store. Different class of stores.
    A different universe in fact.
    He glanced at her, gave her a once-over. "Shit, you almost tempt me to let you wear clothes."
    Janey snapped her teeth at him. He chuckled.
    "Well?" he said, as he handed her a plate. "What do you think?" His muscular arm gestured to indicate the kitchen as a whole.
    She looked around her. With spacious marble countertops and modern appliances, the kitchen was luxurious and well-equipped. She shrugged. "It's a nice kitchen."
    "Nice? You're supposed to fall all over yourself with admiration."
    She wrinkled her nose. "Sorry, Nyall. Rich people always have kitchens like this. Big stone counters, parquetry floors, fancy islands, copper pots. It's how you know they're rich and never cook. They're inefficient."
    He laughed.
    "You're not offended?" she said in sudden remorse.
    He shook his head. "One of my—" he changed course. "Celia—you remember Celia? Toward the bottom of the list."
    Her eyes widened. "Celia. Yes. She was the one who said you were disease-free and disliked pet snakes."
    His eyes narrowed. "Right. Well, she had it done. Her brother's an interior decorator. He and one of my cousins did this place. I just live here."
    "I see. I think it's pretty nice, aesthetically. It suits you, this place."
    "Why do you say that?" He handed her a steaming cup.
    She smelled Earl Grey and grinned. "Elegant. Masculine. Comfortable. Pampered. Sophisticated but earthy."
    "I see." His tone said he wasn't flattered. "What about 'out of my league?' Or was that next?"
    She chewed the inside of her lip. "You're definitely out of my league, even more now that I've seen how you live. But maybe by the end of this week, I'll be in your sexual league. You're kind of mentoring me, in a crash course sort of way." She beamed at him. "Do you have any special requests for the grocery store?"
    He frowned at her, then shook his head. "I'll leave the food to you. What do you mean, even more now that you've seen how I live? You think this place is exorbitant?"
    She shrugged and sat down. "Not exactly. This is your slumming home, isn't it? The place you really unwind. You obviously use a maid service, because it's immaculate. It's got more square footage than most people's houses." She tasted the eggs and grimaced.
    "That's it?" he said. "That what puts me out of the ballpark?"
    She ticked off her fingers. "I'm guessing your apartment by the airport is small but comes prefurnished and you keep it all year round even though you hardly stay there. Your place on the beach is probably some kind of resort and I'll bet it's not a time share but that you own it all by yourself. And then of course most people don't own French chalets, do they? As for your house in Sacramento…I have no idea, but just the fact that it's there…" She leaned forward earnestly. "I mean, come on, Nyall. I live in a garden level studio not too far from here in Fremont, and it's pretty run-down. I drive a secondhand van that I use for work. I don't even have an accountant to do my books, or a rule-the-world phone. I shop at Walmart." She rolled her eyes. "So yes, your league is major and mine is little."
    He regarded her impassively for a few moments, his arms crossed over his chest.
    "I hope that didn't offend you," she said hastily. "I don't mean it in a bad way. I think it's great that you did this all yourself. You're a real success and you're obviously not obnoxious about it. I know one day when I'm old and gray and tell my friends about this week, they'll be impressed when they find out I'm the one that taught the great Nyall Anderson how to make cheesecake." She meant to tease him out of his funk, but somehow it fell flat. She bit her lip. "You're not offended, are you?"
    "Finish your breakfast," he said finally. "Then go to the store. Don't linger, just come back here, take off your clothes, put on an apron, and show me how to cook something. And then, little girl, I'm going to