Unwrapping His New York Innocent: Billion-Dollar Christmas Confessions Series Book 1 Read online

  To hell with it.

  Lifting the hem of the T-shirt, Alex dragged it off and watched as her hot gaze became glued to his abs again.

  He knew he was in good shape. Ellie wasn’t the first woman to admire his physique. He’d been skinny as a beanpole as a kid, especially once he’d grown to his full height at fourteen. And he’d worked hard to fill out every inch in the years since. But when her gaze met his again and the passion flared, it occurred to him no one had ever looked at him before with such undisguised yearning.

  “Satisfied?” he asked, both amused and impossibly aroused at the staggered rasp of her breathing.

  She nodded.

  Flinging the T-shirt away, he stepped toward her, the urge to touch her not something he could deny a moment longer.

  He skimmed a knuckle under her chin, ran his thumb across her bottom lip. Her sharp intake of breath at the light touch electrified him.

  Damn, was it possible she wanted him as much as he wanted her?

  Billion-Dollar Christmas Confessions

  Desire uncovered, secrets unearthed!

  Nineteen years ago, a car accident in the remote Scottish Highlands killed a wealthy American couple and injured their twelve-year-old son, Roman Fraser. But their baby daughter? She was never found...

  Now Roman has made a name for himself in New York. The billionaire and his best friend, Alex Costa, are hosting their annual ball for the cream of Manhattan society. Only this year, the festivities will lead to passionate encounters and the uncovering of shocking secrets. And Christmas will never be the same again!

  Book 1: Unwrapping His New York Innocent

  by Heidi Rice

  Available now!

  Ellie MacGregor grew up on a dull, remote Scottish island—and is thrilled her first waitressing job in New York ends with her getting close to scorching-hot billionaire Alex Costa! An affair that leads to her discovering a long-lost truth...

  Book 2: Carrying Her Boss’s Christmas Baby

  by Natalie Anderson

  Coming next month!

  Roman Fraser can’t forget the sinfully hot night he spent with Violet Summers... He didn’t know whether he’d ever see her again. But one thing is for sure—he never thought the next time to be on his luxury train and with her expecting his baby!

  Heidi Rice

  Unwrapping His New York Innocent

  USA TODAY bestselling author Heidi Rice lives in London, England. She is married with two teenage sons—which gives her rather too much of an insight into the male psyche—and also works as a film journalist. She adores her job, which involves getting swept up in a world of high emotions; sensual excitement; funny, feisty women; sexy, tortured men; and glamorous locations where laundry doesn’t exist. Once she turns off her computer, she often does chores—usually involving laundry!

  Books by Heidi Rice

  Harlequin Presents

  A Forbidden Night with the Housekeeper

  Innocent’s Desert Wedding Contract

  Banished Prince to Desert Boss

  Hot Summer Nights with a Billionaire

  One Wild Night with Her Enemy

  The Christmas Princess Swap

  The Royal Pregnancy Test

  Secrets of Billionaire Siblings

  The Billionaire’s Proposition in Paris

  The CEO’s Impossible Heir

  Passionately Ever After...

  A Baby to Tame the Wolfe

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  To the fabulous Natalie Anderson, who is always such a joy to work with. Let’s do this again soon.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM SNOWBOUND IN HER BOSS’S BED BY MARCELLA BELL

  PROLOGUE

  Halloween night

  ‘WOW, THIS MUST have cost a wee fortune to put together.’ Ellie MacGregor shivered in the brisk autumn breeze as she gazed out at the tiered terraces of the lavish art deco Manhattan penthouse. The staggering twilight view over Central Park was nothing compared to the Halloween decorations, which must have taken days to build and had turned the gothic apartment’s roof gardens into a horror nightmare worthy of a theme-park ride. With an hour to go until the guests arrived, the set dressers were still putting the finishing touches on a haunted forest lit by glowing torches, while the catering staff were preparing a cordon bleu banquet which included a Day of the Dead graveyard sculpted in fondant icing and a punch fountain resembling the River Styx.

  All just for one night!

  How much did all this cost? Probably more than I’d earn in a decade.

  ‘Haven’t you heard of Alex Costa’s Halloween Ball? He’s one of America’s hottest eligible bachelors. Him and his pal Roman Fraser vie for the top spot in Celebrity magazine’s list every year,’ Carly, the wait staff’s supervisor, supplied in her broad New York accent as she led Ellie past a corridor of groaning ghouls, their eyes lit a glittering green. ‘For myself I think Costa’s hotter—all that blue-collar sex appeal is just so...’ Carly sighed ‘...freaking raw. But Roman Fraser’s drop-dead cute too. He’s got that whole classic Ivy League thing going on and the search for his missing sister totally makes you want to mother him,’ Carly continued as she pushed through a door marked Keep Out or Prepare to Die.

  ‘What search?’ Ellie asked as they headed into the kitchens where the chilly calm outside gave way to frantic activity.

  Carly stopped to stare at her. ‘Seriously? You’ve never heard the story? And you’re Scottish?’

  Ellie shook her head, feeling even more clueless than when she’d arrived at La Guardia on her budget flight from Glasgow two days ago—after hitchhiking from the tiny Scottish island of Moira in the Outer Hebrides where she’d spent all of her twenty-one years.

  She’d worked for two years in Moira’s pub—after having to return her late parents’ smallholding to the landowner—to earn the money to get here. She’d been looking for adventure, excitement, to see new things, meet people who hadn’t known her since birth and shake off the lingering sadness of losing Ross and Susan MacGregor so close together—Ross from a heart attack and Susan from a broken heart...

  Mission accomplished, she thought as Carly launched into the fantastical story of Roman Fraser and his long-lost sister.

  Something about a billionaire couple from America’s East Coast checking out a possible hotel purchase in the Highlands one snowy Christmas over two decades ago, a terrible car accident on a dark deserted road, the discovery of the only survivor, their little boy, Roman, barely alive hours later, and the baby who had never been found.

  ‘You sure you never heard the story?’ Carly asked, still looking astonished.

  ‘I might have,’ Ellie lied, so as not to look totally clueless.

  The truth was, her job meant she often missed the TV news and the Internet only
worked occasionally on Moira. Newspapers were already a day old by the time they arrived—so no one paid the news much mind. Plus from what Carly had just related about Roman Fraser’s fruitless search—which had netted the poor guy loads of gold-diggers looking to become a billionaire’s only relation—it had been launched a decade ago, when the guy had first come into his inheritance. She would only have been eleven years old.

  ‘You should check the story out on your break.’ Carly tilted her head to one side, considering Ellie. ‘You’re about her age, and you’re from Scotland. You never know, you might even be her. Her name was Eloise...kinda sounds like Ellie?’

  Yeah, right. Ellie kept the thought to herself.

  But seriously, why did every American she’d met so far think Scotland was a country of about twenty people, all of whom she would either know and/or be related to?

  ‘I was named after my maternal grandmother, Eleanor Fitzgerald,’ Ellie said, feeling ashamed as the guilt she had struggled with ever since her parents’ deaths three years ago pulsed under her breastbone.

  The truth was, she’d always yearned to leave Moira, and she’d made her parents’ life hell because of it. The MacGregors had been good, kind, solid, dependable island folk and she their miracle girl, because she’d been born to Susan in her forties after several miscarriages. As a kid, Ellie had bunked off school in the tiny one-room schoolhouse to roam the island and daydream about faraway places, especially New York, which her dad had once told her was exactly three thousand miles away across the Atlantic Ocean. And as a teenager she’d been even worse, hating the small-island mentality, the days spent being home-schooled with three other teens whose ambition had been to grow up to be crofters or fishermen, and all those early mornings herding sheep when she’d wanted to be somewhere cool and sophisticated and decadent, having conversations about anything other than the weather or the price of lamb. Her parents had always been so patient with her, they’d never even raised their voices, just looked at her with that combination of panic and concern in their eyes, which had only made her more ashamed of her wanderlust after their deaths.

  Her need to escape had caused them so much pain. And while she’d been bound and determined to see it through, to finally leave Moira and fulfil those long-ago dreams, as soon as she’d arrived in New York she’d realised running away from one life to find another might not be enough. She’d come here to shake off that feeling of not belonging. To be anonymous, fearless, intrepid. And while the canyons of skyscrapers, the noise and energy of the city had fascinated and excited her on one level, they had intimidated and terrified her on another. Maybe she wasn’t as brave and bold as she’d thought. Or as prepared for the dog-eat-dog ethos of the people who lived here? What if she didn’t belong here either?

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Carly said, jolting Ellie out of her latest day dream. ‘Imagine how awesome it would be to have Roman Fraser as your brother. You’d be the heir to billions. And you could totally hit on Alex Costa, because he’s like Roman’s BFF.’

  Ellie nodded, although she didn’t think it was a shame at all.

  The MacGregors had been good parents. And she’d had them throughout her childhood. Unlike Roman Fraser, who had lost his parents as a little boy. The shame engulfed her again. If only she’d appreciated Ross and Susan a bit more when they were alive. And as for hitting on Alex Costa? No, thanks. The guy sounded like an entitled playboy from everything Carly had said about him already—in lavish detail. And she was still a virgin—mostly through lack of opportunity, to be fair, but she was not about to throw herself at a guy who probably had to fend off supermodels.

  Way to feel even more out of my depth.

  And who spent a wee fortune decorating their penthouse for a party when there were people living on the street outside?

  She might have a bad case of wanderlust, but she did have some scruples, one of which was not to mess up her big adventure before she’d been in New York City for at least a week. Which meant working hard tonight, so she could get more jobs like this before her savings ran out.

  Carly stopped at a rack of elaborate costumes and pulled one out to hold against Ellie’s chest. ‘This should fit.’ She handed the costume to Ellie, which seemed to be of a demonic elf and only half there. The skirt barely reached past her knickers.

  ‘You can change in the restroom,’ Carly said, glancing at her phone. ‘We start serving when the guests arrive. But they always get here super early—to check out the décor and Mr Costa, even though he’s always super late. So be at your station in twenty minutes.’

  ‘But... Where’s the rest of this costume?’ Ellie began.

  ‘You want the job or not?’ Carly asked.

  Ellie’s cheeks heated. Stop being so small-town. You’re not in Moira any more.

  ‘I want the job,’ she replied. But as she headed off to change she decided Alex Costa was definitely an entitled jerk... Who else would insist the female wait staff got dressed up as hooker elves in the middle of winter?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sorry, Alex, gonna miss the party. I got a better offer. Have a good one. And don’t hit on anyone I wouldn’t hit on.

  ‘THAT LEAVES ME a lot of leeway,’ Alex Costa muttered as he glared at the text from his best buddy, Roman Fraser—who had bailed on him. Again.

  Roman’s ‘better offer’ probably had a cute face and an even cuter figure. He didn’t blame the guy for bailing though. Parties weren’t Roman’s thing, especially parties that involved dress-up. Truth be told, they weren’t Alex’s thing much either. He’d started the Halloween bash seven years ago when Costa Tech had hit the Forbes Global 2000 list for the first time and he’d officially become a billionaire at the ripe old age of twenty-three. The themed ball had been a classy way to announce himself on the world stage. He didn’t need the publicity now, but the party had become a staple of Manhattan’s social calendar.

  He really wasn’t feeling it tonight though as he stood on the balcony of his top-floor suite and watched the festivities below. A ton of people he didn’t really know and cared even less about partied in an array of pricey designer costumes while oohing and ahhing at the outdoor space, which had been transformed into a haunted house and graveyard by an A-list Broadway set designer and her crew.

  He should go check it out himself—but first he’d have to put himself at the mercy of the hair and make-up team who’d been waiting for over an hour to deck him out in whatever outfit his executive assistant had ordered.

  He swallowed a mouthful of the expensive Scotch he’d poured himself when he’d arrived from his downtown office ten minutes ago. This evening would have been a whole lot more bearable if his ride-or-die pal, Roman, were here to make a dumbass of himself too. He’d also hoped to hang with Roman tonight because he knew his pal was heading off on business until Thanksgiving. And Roman always went to ground in the run-up to Christmas too, because it was a tough time of year for him. Alex shivered. He’d never liked Christmas much himself, not since he was a little kid.

  Thanks, Pop.

  He shook off the unbidden reminder of his father, Carmine Da Costa. A man who everyone had adored, except for Alex. Because Alex knew the truth of his father’s lies and half-truths. The evasion and the subterfuge. The ‘other women’ Carmine had kept all over the Bronx, while pretending to be a great husband. And a devoted father.

  His mom had figured it out eventually, but his siblings not so much.

  He squinted down at the party guests, surprised by the feeling of aching loneliness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Why the heck was he thinking of his old man? The family he never saw any more?

  Time to get over yourself, Costa.

  But just as he was about to head inside, his eye caught a waitress winding her way through the guests—in a costume the size of a place mat. He rubbed his hand across his mouth, annoyed by the shot of lust racing through his bloodstream as he t
ook in her slender shape and the tumble of chestnut curls piled on top of her head.

  What the heck was she supposed to be? Because she looked like an R-rated pixie. Whose dumb idea had it been to dress the wait staff like that at the end of October? She had to be freezing. As he followed her movements through the crowd—his gaze glued to the tempting sway of her butt in the barely there green silk skirt that fluttered around toned thighs displayed in fishnet pantyhose—he got even more pissed about the decision.

  When was the last time he’d felt this visceral rush of attraction? Way too long ago.

  But there was no way he was hitting on the wait staff—because that was so not a classy move. Which meant Roman was definitely the only one getting lucky tonight.

  He chugged the last of the whisky, felt the burn in his throat and walked inside.

  Just one more reason to give his pal hell next time he saw him.

  * * *

  ‘Hey, cutie, you got any more of these witchy martinis?’

  Ellie swung round, tottering on the mile-high heels that had given her blisters the size of Brooklyn hours ago, to see the preppy-looking Frankenstein who had been leering at her all night stumbling back towards her station.

  Just kill me now.

  ‘Yes, sir. I’ll fetch another.’ She lifted the tray onto her aching arm and made to dart round him.

  ‘Hey,’ he slurred, his green brows lowering over bloodshot eyes, and blocked her path. ‘Don’t go running off again, cutie pie.’

  Cutie pie? Seriously...?

  She stiffened when his palm caught her waist.

  ‘Take your hand off me, sir.’ She twisted away from him, her skin crawling and her temper igniting. She was cold, sore, jet-lagged and so over this guy and it wasn’t even midnight. If he touched her again, he would regret it.

  ‘Aw, come on. I’m the CEO of Radisson Investments. Costa won’t like it if you play hard to get...’