Page 60 of The Billionaire Invitation

“There wouldn’t be an offer of a grant if you hadn’t had the idea in the first place. You are the one who holds the vision, remember? That’s the most important part.”

“I still haven’t tracked down Michael. He replied, but to delay our meeting again. I want to help people, and I don’t have anyone to work with yet. It’s beyond frustrating.”

“Give it time. It’ll come together. Eli is betting on you because you gave him a good reason to bet on you. You don’t have to prove anything to him. Or me. Pretty soon there will be plenty of people to help. You’ll be overrun with people to help.”

“Great.” She gave him a wan smile. “Then it’ll be too big.”

“You like to worry, do you know that?”

“Yes, actually. I do know that.”

He leaned over and kissed her, lingering until she softened beneath him. When he pulled back, her mouth flinched into a smile. “I’m not doing that to shut you up. I couldn’t resist those lips.”

Those same lips pursed as if she doubted what he said was completely true. It was. “There are always ways to handle growing big fast.” He waggled his eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. He’d take that as a win.

When his phone buzzed he stood to check it. Jennifer had sent the location.

“Can you be ready in an hour? I’m going to run back to the hotel and change, and I can pick you up on the way. They want us there by one, but I say we shoot for twelve-thirty.”

“Dante, I can’t be ready for a cover shoot in an hour. I have nothing to wear.”

“My favorite look on you is when you have nothing to wear.” When she shot him a glare he held out a hand in apology. “Okay, okay. I’ll be serious. Pack your three favorite dresses—not the one you wore at the event. They’ll probably use the photo of you wearing it as an inset for the article.”

“I don’t have any formalwear. The dress I wore at the event wasn’t mine. I rented it.”

“Plan B.” He keyed in a text. “I am asking Jennifer to have options sent over to the magazine’s office for you to choose from. What size do you wear?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“The magazine will do your hair and makeup. We’ll likely have the interview first and then you’ll have time to get ready for the shoot. Size?”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Beautiful, this is what I do.” He leaned down and gave her another kiss. She took the phone from him and responded to Jennifer. When she handed it back to him there was a slew of numbers—her bra size, hip measurements, and sizing for skirts, dresses, and blouses.

“Women have lots of ‘this unless’ rules when it comes to clothes. An hour is pushing it, but I’ll be ready.”

“‘This unless,’” he repeated.

“You have a lot to learn, Crane.” She turned for the bathroom.

“Honesty.”

“Yes?” She paused, resting one hand on the edge of the doorframe.

“Never forget, you’re the heart and soul of this charity. An independent woman with a passion for food and people and health. I’m just a billionaire writing a check.”

“Just a billionaire?”

“We’re a dime a dozen.” He winked. “I’ll see you in one hour.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

They finally arrived at the luxury community of Winslow Garden. If the massive sign or the guarded gate hadn’t screamed posh, then the street name matching the magazine’s name certainly had.

It became quickly apparent to her, after navigating onto North Shore Style Drive, that the estate was the only house on the street. The long, curved drive led to a stone mansion on a hill overlooking Winslow Garden Lake.