Free The Way to a Billionaire's Heart: Part Two: BWWM Interracial Romance by Mia Caldwell Page A

amount of exercise was going to clear Andrea from my mind. I tried to focus on tonight’s dinner meeting with the head of our print advertising account…and just kept thinking about where I could take Andrea for dinner that would impress her but not be too obviously trying to impress her. I turned my mind to the meeting I had scheduled to discuss changes to the company fleet…and instead wondered what kind of car Andrea drove. I thought she belonged in a BMW, luxurious but dependable. Sexy without being too flashy. I picked up my pace, hoping that would help; instead I just imagined how it would be to make Andrea breathe as hard as I was, pictured her beneath me. It was getting my heartrate up, for sure, but not doing much for helping me focus on the business.
    It was driving me crazy that I had to wait a whole week to see her or even talk to her. How could she go out of phone contact for that long? But really, I was a little jealous of her freedom to disconnect like that.
    I’m a powerful man. Washington’s Most Eligible Bachelor, according to Washingtonian magazine (three years running). But the truth is, I’m usually consumed by my job. I love the challenge of figuring out how to make Rossi Brands work, how to bring it into the 21st Century. Sure, I take time off, I travel. But I’m never fully on vacation, I’m always just a phone call away. As I jogged up Rock Creek Park, for the first time I considered that maybe that wasn’t healthy.
    Until he started training me to take over his job, I hardly spent any time with my dad. I don’t want my own kids to have that same longing for attention and time. I want them to know me and know I’m there for them.
    What the actual hell? Kids? Where did THAT come from? I haven’t even wanted a goldfish since I was an adult.
    That woman was doing a number on me, for sure.
    When I got to Mother’s house in the East Village of Georgetown, I was drenched in sweat. But hey, summon me in Indian summer and you get what you get. I know from the appreciative looks on the trail that some women go for this look. Probably not my mom, though. For which I am grateful.
    I went in the back door that’s unlocked when someone is there and the cold air of the a/c washed over me. I just stood there for a minute, adjusting to the temperature change.
    Rosa had heard the alarm beep when I came in and she soon met me in the mud room.
    “Ah good, Mr. Walker! Your mama is waiting for you.” She was giving me her usual friendly smile. “Fresh shirts on the shelf.” She pointed to the shelf over the dryer where she kept a stack of t shirts for me to put on when I arrived shirtless and sweaty. It’s nice to have someone looking out for you.
    “Thanks, Rosa,” I said, kissing her cheek and then slipping on the shirt before I headed up to Mother’s room.
    She was propped up in bed playing some game on her iPad when I came into the room. When she looked up, she fixed me with that Mother Stare she has.
    “What? What did I do? What’s so important that you wanted me in person?” No matter how old you get or how many millions you have, your mom can still reduce you to a guilty kid with no more than a cocked eyebrow. It’s a fact.
    “Tell me the truth, Walker. Did you have sex with Celia last night?”
    " What ? No! What are you even talking about?"
    She continued to bore into me with the Eyeball of Truth, but I had nothing to hide. Finally she relaxed her face and cocked her head at me.
    “You’re lucky Rosa likes you so much.”
    “I agree. But I still don’t know what’s going on.”
    “She told me that she walked in on you and Andrea last night. From the way she blushed to tell it, I’m guessing you two weren’t just chatting over wine and plotting how to get me to eat mustard greens.”
    “And?” I kept my face cool, but again, inside? A teen caught making out. How do mothers do it?
    “Well, she likes Andrea–as do I–so she was happy for her and for you. So when she heard Celia