The Oblivious Billionaire Read online

  The Oblivious

  Billionaire

  By Kristy Tate

  Copyright 2019

    How can you know where you're going if you can't remember where you've been?

  Charlie Monson has spent her entire life pining over Kirk Palmer. In fact, she chose to be a nurse just so she could work beside him at Laguna Beach's Mission Hospital.

  Zach Walden has lost seven years of his life. He can't remember leaving his football career or creating the Wonder Weight Loss app that has supposedly made him a billionaire. And worse, he can't remember his fiancée, the beautiful Eva Littleton. Retrograde amnesia, it's just one of the things Zach has to learn to deal with. But all he wants to study is the charming nurse who saved him, Charlie Monson.

  Unfortunately, Zach has a life that includes a cast of friends and foes demanding his attention and he not only has to relearn their names—he also has to come to terms with who he thought he was and who he’s become.

  Meanwhile, Charlie thinks she’s in love with Dr. Kirk Palmer, but the more time she spends with Zach, the more she learns that maybe she’s the one who needs to wake up and recognize what real love looks like.

  Hilarious and yet thought-provoking, The Oblivious Billionaire will charm romantic comedy fans. The Oblivious Billionaire is the second book in the Misbehaving Billionaire series, but both novels can be read independently.

  CHAPTER 1

  Shafts of sunlight shot through the trees and sparkled on the tall waving grass. Zach breathed in the summery air carrying scents of sea and salt and campfires. The Top of The World scenic lookout lay just ahead of him. From there, he would be able to see the Channel Islands, but for now, he contented himself with the manzanitas’ twisted trunks, the cheerful poppies, and the scrub oaks that lined the rugged path.

  He’d been warned about hiking alone, of course, but he’d been warned against many things. Warnings he mostly ignored. He knew dawn and dusk were feeding times. But in all his years of hiking, he had yet to see a mountain lion. Of course, that didn’t mean they hadn’t seen him. He often came across coyotes, sometimes deer, an occasional rabbit. Owls, crows, hawks, and sometimes even buzzards flew overhead. In fact, at that moment, he heard an eagle cry. Looking skyward, he spotted a magnificent eagle soaring overhead carrying a large animal clutched in his talons.

  A sudden sharp pain dropped him to his knees. His hand went to his temple. Warm, sticky blood coated his fingers. Pain wrapped around his head like a vise. He struggled to remain upright. His call for help sounded like a whimper. He fell into the grass and listened to it whisper. The morning birds sang a reply. The sky was an endless blue.

  #

  As a rule, Charlie made it a point not to travel to Laguna Beach on her day off, but when her brother Dan mentioned a hike to the Top of the World and said that Kirk would be going, she had to tag along.

  Never mind that the hike along the Aliso Creek trail had an elevation of a thousand feet and the weather forecast was hot and muggy. The view from the park at the peak would be spectacular, and if she positioned herself behind Kirk, the view on the ascent would be just as fine.

  Besides, she had to prove to Kirk—and Dan, of course—that she was no longer the overweight and out-of-shape bookworm they had always known and sometimes teased.

  But then Dan had invited his girlfriend Steph, and Kirk had Layla panting after him, chatting nonstop about some silly reality TV show. Now, Charlie felt like the fifth wheel.

  Although, as far as wheels go, she was well dressed. She’d splurged on spandex shorts with a matching geometric-design T-shirt a few months ago and she liked her outfit better than Steph’s cutoff jeans and tank top or Layla’s midsection-exposing vibrant pink halter top and booty-call shorts.

  Around mile five, the path narrowed and the group fell into single file with Dan leading the pack. Steph followed him, and Layla had positioned herself in front of Kirk so that every time she’d stumble, she’d fall onto his chest. He didn’t seem to mind, but Charlie was over it.

  “Charles,” Dan called over his shoulder, “did you bring the granola bars?”

  She hated it when her brothers called her Charles, and why did they always rely on her for food? “No,” she called back. “Do you want some raisins?”

  Dan’s shoulders slumped, and even though she couldn’t see his face, she knew he was frowning.

  “I’d like some water,” Steph said.

  Kirk stopped and planted his fists on his hips. With his honey-caramel colored hair and hazel eyes, he shared Charlie’s coloring. When they had been younger and their families went on outings together, occasionally people would mistake him for one of her brothers. They were a matched set. Too bad he had yet to recognize it.

  “Let’s take a breather,” Kirk suggested.

  “Under the shade of that tree?” Layla pointed at a tall scrub oak, making Charlie doubt her previous airhead assessment of Layla. Although anyone who would wear makeup instead of sunscreen on an early morning hike couldn’t be all that bright. Maybe that was why Layla chose to dress like a neon sign—as if all those vibrant colors could distract from her less-than-sparkling wit or personality.

  In the spot of shade, Charlie rolled her shoulders and watched Steph pull water bottles from Dan’s backpack. Steph and Dan had been dating for months now, but Dan had yet to introduce her to the rest of the family. Steph, with her shoulder-length brown hair and smattering of freckles, had a friendly girl-next-door vibe. Charlie could see her fitting in with the rest of the Monson crowd. Steph was nothing like flashy Layla, and Charlie wondered why her brother hesitated to show her off.

  Could he be more worried about what Steph would think of the Monsons than what the Monsons would think of her?

  Kirk had his own bottle and he unscrewed the lid, looked to the sky, and splashed water on his face. Droplets rained over his chiseled cheeks and dribbled down his neck and over his broad, muscular shoulders, dampening his shirt. Charlie hoped he would lose the shirt.

  Quickly, she averted her gaze, not wanting to be caught staring. Besides, she didn’t really need to watch Kirk. She’d memorized him long ago. She’d been in love with him for as long as she could remember. His family had moved next door the year she was born and she took this as a sign that as soon as she had arrived, he’d been drawn to her. They were like magnets, the pull invisible but powerful. She knew he felt it, too, but didn’t recognize it the way she did. Yet.

  Steph softly cursed when she dropped a water bottle and Dan and Charlie exchanged glances. Dan would have to tell Steph she’d have to clean up her language if she wanted a warm, lecture-free welcome in the Monson household.

  “I’ll get it,” Charlie said as the bottle rolled past her feet.

  The bottle bounced down the rutted trail, picking up speed. It hit a protruding rock and launched off the path.

  “Let it go,” Layla called. “It’s not worth it. We’ve got plenty of water.”

  But Charlie couldn’t abandon the plastic water bottle—she’d been too well trained by her conservationist father. She tramped through the tall grass, but stopped short when she caught sight of a man’s boot.

  She’d read too many mystery novels not to scream. Seconds later, Kirk was at her side, pushing past her to rush to the inert man. Then, her medical training kicked in.

  Looking like a sniper victim, he lay face down on the trail, his limbs spread at awkward angles. A dead and mangled rabbit lay near him.

  Layla swore, using a word that would have had her banished from the Monson household. “Is that Zach Walden?” She moved to brush past Charlie, but Charlie blocked her and dropped to her knees beside Zach, directly opposite Kirk.

  “A blow to the head,” Kirk said
as he bent over Zach. “Impossible to tell if he sustained the injury before or after he fell.”

  “Is he dead?” Layla asked.

  Zach, as if hearing her, stirred to prove her wrong. His eyes fluttered open and he focused on Charlie. “Hello, angel,” he said. “Am I in heaven?” His eyes closed before anyone could answer, and he drifted out of consciousness.

  #

  Zach’s gaze focused on the ceiling. His eyelids felt heavy, as if they’d been weighted. An image of pennies placed on the eyelids of corpses flashed in his mind. A clip from an old Monty Python clip floated through his consciousness. I’m not dead yet. He licked his lips; they were cracked, dry, and tasted of blood. His head pounded. Someone touched his hand and whispered a question he couldn’t answer.

  He tried to respond with another Monty Python quote, “I’m getting better.” But his throat was raw and it hurt to talk. Besides, the man with the no-nonsense gaze didn’t look like someone who enjoyed Monty Python.

  He closed his eyes, willing the pain to go away. A face swam into his memory. A beautiful woman. Long honey-colored hair. Full red lips. Brown eyes framed with thick lashes. Who was she? He couldn’t remember her name.

  But that wasn’t all he couldn’t remember.

  The next time he woke, a football game was playing on the TV. The New England Patriots had a good team? “That’s crazy,” he croaked.

  His words set in motion a whirlwind of doctors and tests. During the poking, prodding, and bandage-changing, Zach learned a few things: He’d been found unconscious on a trail near Laguna Beach and rescued by a doctor and nurse who had happened to be hiking that day. He’d been in the hospital for five days and he couldn’t recall any of them.

  Zach closed his eyes against all this information and tried to reconcile the hospital truth with his memories. But questions plagued him. A reality TV show host was president? That had to be a joke, right?

  “It’s common for a patient suffering severe physical and emotional distress to have lapses of memory,” Dr. Grant, a psychiatrist, told him. “It’s your mind, trying to escape the trauma of what’s happened.” The doctor, a petite blonde in an oversized lab coat, had purple-spotted fingernail polish. She looked a lot like a young version of his mom.

  Why hadn’t his mom called?

  “How long will it last?” Zach asked through cracked lips. It hurt to speak through his dry and scratchy throat, but he had to try. Worrying that he’d lost his mind was making him crazy.

  “No one can say.” Dr. Grant shifted in the chair beside him and settled a clipboard in her lap. “There’s a great deal of research and controversy concerning the workings of our minds and amnesia is a real mystery.”

  “I don’t want to see anyone,” Zach said. “Is it possible to keep this to ourselves?”

  “Of course. We can be discreet, if you wish. But I’m not sure this is wise. Seeing your friends and family could possibly trigger your memories.” She looked over her shoulder at the closed door. “I know your friends and fiancée are eager to see you.”

  Zach swallowed hard as a wave of pain hit him. “I have a fiancée?”

  Dr. Grant nodded. “Eva Littleton. She’s beautiful.”

  The mention of Eva’s name sent another wave of pain through him. “I don’t know her.”

  “Everyone knows her. She’s an actress.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head, but then he remembered the angel’s face. “Does she have long honey-colored hair and brown eyes?”

  “No. Her hair is dark and cut short. She’s very vogue.”

  Then it couldn’t be the same woman.

  “I can’t see her,” he said in a strangled voice.

  “How about your business partner, Mr. Hallstrom?”

  “I went into business with Hallstrom? What the hell happened to football?”

  “I believe you had a head injury.”

  “Another one?” The genie’s words from Aladdin returned to him—one too many hits with the snake. “And I went into business with Hallstrom?”

  “Isn’t he your best friend?”

  “He was. Once. I’m not sure that’s still true.” He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

  “This is probably a lot for you to process right now,” Dr. Grant said. “I would focus on healing. You’ll probably find your memories will come creeping in, bit by bit.”

  He nodded without opening his eyes. When he opened them, he saw Dr. Grant watching him with a kind and sympathetic look.

  “Our memories are tricky things,” she told him. “We can try to coax them forward, but even then, we can’t trust them. You might find it helpful to write down what you do remember. It will help you clarify your feelings. Journaling will let you explore, process, and release your emotions.”

  “Can I have my Blackberry?”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “My phone.”

  “Oh, of course.” She smiled. “Let me call and ask. If you had it with you, it would be in a safe with your wallet and other personal items.”

  She disappeared for a moment, but shortly returned. “They didn’t find a phone on you.”

  He nodded. “I’d like to call my mom. Is there some way to do that?”

  #

  Charlie sat on a brightly colored rag rug while a group of children gathered around her, some sitting cross-legged on the floor, many in wheelchairs, and a few propped up in chairs.

  “The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way,” Charlie read, “and then dipped suddenly down — so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very steep well.” Charlie paused, took a deep breath, and let the beauty of the words settle around her and the children.

  “Huh, Charlie?” interrupted Zoe, her friend and the head nurse on the pediatric floor.

  Charlie and the cluster of patients turned to Zoe, a middle-aged mother of three grown children, who fussed over the kids under her watch like a hen with a brood of chicks. Her hair was an unnatural shade of red and her cheeks were round and rosy.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know Zach Walden is awake.”

  “You can’t stop now!” cried Megan, a bald and skinny cancer patient. “We’re just getting to the good bits!”

  “It’s too girlie,” Lincoln complained. “We should read Harry Potter again.”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “We already read all of those.”

  Charlie glanced at the clock on the wall before sticking her bookmark in the novel and climbing to her feet. “Sorry, guys. My lunch break is almost over. I’ll be back tomorrow with more of Alice in Wonderland.” She hated leaving the fourth floor with its colorful murals and cheery décor, but she was anxious to meet Zach Walden. Ever since she’d found him in the canyon, she’d felt an almost maternal anxiety over him.

  The children grumbled and complained.

  “Who is this guy, anyway?” Lincoln asked. “What makes him so special?”

  “Is he the millionaire you found on your walk?” Megan asked.

  Charlie smoothed out her scrubs. They had never been flattering or form-fitting, of course, but since her weight loss, they hung on her like a deflated balloon.

  “He’s a billionaire,” Zoe told Megan. “And yes, Charlie probably saved his life.”

  “I just did what anyone else would do.” Charlie tried to play down the incident, but the media had dubbed her the Charlie Angel. Somehow, the kids in the hospital learned about it and thought it hilarious, and now they were calling her that, too. She found the whole thing overblown and more than a little sacrilegious. Being an angel wasn’t on her to-do list.

  “How is he?” she asked Zoe as they headed down the hall toward the elevator that would take her to the third floor.

  “Confused. Upset. His girlfriend and Clive Hallstrom—that’s his business partner, you know—”

  “I know.” Charlie didn’t follow celebrity gossip, but even she
had heard of Zach Walden, his beautiful girlfriend, and his two business partners. And now everyone knew about Charlie, because she had found and rescued Zach. Charlie’s pace and heartrate quickened as she thought about meeting him.

  “They came to visit, but he refused to see them.” Zoe punched the elevator button.

  “I wonder why,” Charlie murmured, tapping her foot and waiting for the elevator doors to open.

  “There’s some buzz that Ricardo Sanchez might drop by.”

  Charlie flushed. “I hope so! I’d love to meet him!”

  “I know you’re addicted to his workout videos, but I have to tell you, he’s the reason my Kyle is so fat!”

  Charlie laughed. “How is that even possible?”

  “Kyle says he overeats and refuses to exercise because he’s terrified there’s a Ricardo Sanchez inside him trying to get out.”

  Charlie laughed. “Ricardo is pretty flamboyant, but I adore him. He’s got all that great hair and he wears the funkiest spandex. I would love a chance to thank him.”

  The elevator arrived with a ding and the wide metal doors slid open.

  “Well, now you have a chance for Mr. Walden to thank you.”

  “I really didn’t do—”

  Zoe waved away Charlie’s words. “Save your humble pie for someone who wants to eat it. You’re a good nurse. And yes, you were just doing your Christian duty—but the truth is, Zach Walden probably would have died if you hadn’t found him when you did.”

  “I wonder what he was doing out there,” Charlie said, but the elevator doors whirred closed before Zoe could answer. “And how he hit his head.” She puzzled over this on the short ride to the third floor.

  A man wearing a dark suit and a pair of sunglasses stood like a soldier outside Zach Walden’s door. He ran his gaze over Charlie as she approached, taking in her practical shoes, her scrubs, and even the stethoscope around her neck. She flashed him her name badge.

  He nodded, stepped to the door, and let himself in. It closed with a click behind him.

  Charlie raised her eyebrows at Letty, the fellow nurse behind the desk in the hall. Charlie didn’t know Letty very well, given that they worked on different floors, but she liked what little she did know of her. The rumor was she was dating the heir to the Montlake Hotel chain, which wasn’t surprising because she was beautiful in an off-handed and casual way and was one of the sweetest people Charlie knew.