Pushing His Luck (Winning the Billionaire)

by Kira Archer

  Charley sighed. “I know, but maybe I should’ve sucked it up a few weeks longer. Until I’d finished with Mr. Lachlan’s company. I’d still have gotten the credit, and then I could have gone out on my own without having to resort to this deception to do it.”

  Izzy snorted. “Seriously, Chuck, I’m not sure if your naivety is sweet or aggravating. Do you really think they’d have let you keep this account? If I hadn’t given Chris your direct number and sent him through the firm instead, they’d have passed it off to someone else no matter who Chris requested. Probably that guy you spent a year training who they made your boss. They never appreciated you.”

  Charley grimaced, but she couldn’t argue with that. Izzy was right. She shoved her feet into a pair of heels a good two inches higher than she normally wore and took a deep breath. “All right. How do I look?”

  Izzy looked her over. “The clothes are perfect. Now let’s do something about that,” she said, waving her finger in Charley’s face.

  Right. Any bit of makeup she’d been wearing was now smeared all over her discarded bra. She grinned and shook her head but allowed Izzy to lead her to the vanity table filled with high-end beauty products.

  Twenty minutes and thirty pounds of makeup later, Charley was ready for the meeting of her life. She just prayed her stomach didn’t revolt. The last thing she needed was to make a total fool of herself in front of Chris Lachlan.

  Chapter Two

  Chris chugged the last of his protein shake and tossed the empty bottle to his assistant. Not surprisingly, she caught it without even breaking her stride.

  The woman terrified him sometimes with her efficiency. But at the moment, he really wanted her to go away. Because if she reminded him of the damn insurance assessor guy one more time…

  “And you’re meeting with the representative from Phosphorus Assessments at one o’clock. The meeting location has been changed as you requested, and your reservations have been confir—”

  “Zara.”

  He didn’t need to say anything else. She knew the irritation behind those two syllables by now. Her face set in that stubborn look he dreaded, and she crossed her arms over the bundle of papers she held.

  “Mr. Lachlan, your company’s on the verge of going public and unless you want to wave good-bye to it as it takes off as the largest and most profitable vacation home rental company on the planet, you’ll meet with the assessor so you can get insured and remain president.”

  He released a frustrated sigh. “I’m aware of all that. But…”

  “No buts. If you miss this meeting, your board will have my head.”

  “Why? It wouldn’t be your fault if I didn’t show.”

  “With all due respect, sir, if you don’t show, it will absolutely be my fault. And I’d like to keep my job.”

  She handed him a folder of info with a smile that somehow managed to be more stern than friendly, and he cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “I promise, you’ll keep your job,” he said. “Though I’m not sure why you want it. I’m a nightmare.”

  That got him a genuine grin. “You have your moments, sir.”

  He took the folder and leafed through it. “What do we know about this guy?”

  Zara shrugged. “Not much. Charley Claybourne is a junior assessor for the company, has worked there five years, and has a good track record with those he approves. Though he’s a stickler for the rules and seems to have used an unusual number of sick and personal days. Even with that, he still gets his work in on time and by all accounts is dedicated to his job.”

  “If he’s such a stickler, why did we go with him? Someone a little more lenient might have made this all go smoother.”

  “Possibly, but the board wanted a reputable firm so no one could question the results. Again. And Mr. Claybourne came highly recommended from Ms. Grenier.”

  “Ah yeah. The guy is Izzy’s cousin or something, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chris sighed and gave the folder back to her. “Fine. I’ll meet with the guy, turn on the charm, be on my best behavior and all that until he signs off on me. Really,” he said, heading for the bathroom in his office so he could change out of his workout clothes and into a suit, “everyone acts like I’m out swimming with sharks or something. I’m not that reckless.”

  “May I remind you that you have actually swam with sharks?”

  Chris poked his head out so she could get the full effect of his eye roll. “Once.”

  “And the last two firms we approached with preliminary scenarios both reported they’d deny recommendation for insurance if hired due to your lifestyle.”

  That deserved another eye roll, but he kept it in and grabbed a tie. “Just because I like being hands-on and having some fun occasionally.”

  He stepped back into the office and caught Zara in mid-chuckle. She quickly shut it down, but her eyes still glistened with amusement. He gave her a mock glare and finished tying a perfect Windsor knot. The fact that he could do that without a mirror, or at all, would’ve made his teenage self want to junk punch him. Spending most of the day in a suit and skyscraper office was not the way he’d envisioned his life when he was younger. Or even when he’d started his company. He was grateful for his success. But it came with some definite downsides.

  “I think some would find your version of amusement to be a bit…strenuous, sir.”

  “Only because those people can’t imagine entertainment that actually takes place outside without a phone in their hands.”

  “Be that as it may, sir…”

  He raised a hand to stop her. “I know, I know. I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”

  She nodded and gave him an encouraging smile as he headed out the door. He tugged on the tie strangling his neck and strode to the elevator. He wanted this meeting done and over with so he could get back to more important matters. Like stalking that convenience store until his milk-stealing beauty reappeared. He’d never been so intrigued by anyone in his life. She’d managed to amuse, frighten, and fascinate him all at once.

  Well, at least the meeting with the assessor had been changed to his favorite restaurant instead of the conference room. If he had to kiss some ass, he’d rather do it with a good steak and better liquor than in the steel and glass coffin in the middle of his office building.

  He just prayed the assessor wasn’t a total drag.

  He strode into his one o’clock meeting with a smile on his face, confident everything would go his way. Because it mostly always did.

  And then he saw the woman sitting in his booth and stopped in his tracks.

  It was her.

  His irritation at the impending meeting evaporated, and he took advantage of the fact that she hadn’t noticed him yet to take his time looking her over.

  Auburn hair falling past her shoulders in soft waves. A flash of bright blue eyes as she looked nervously around the room. A black dress that hugged her in all the right ways. Sitting there in his booth like a delectable little treat someone had left him.

  One he’d enjoy savoring if he ever got the chance.

  She definitely cleaned up nice. Not that she hadn’t been completely adorable earlier that day, even with flashing eyes and milk dripping off her.

  But, of course, that left the question… What the ever-loving fuck was she doing there?

  …

  Charley glanced up at the person nearing the table she’d been seated at and nearly choked on her water.

  Christopher Lachlan, in the flesh.

  Again.

  Looking much more put together than he had standing in that dairy section clutching her jug of milk. She knew he’d looked familiar. She should have recognized him, but it had never occurred to her that someone like him would be in a tiny store buying milk for himself. Plus, in every picture she’d ever seen of him, he’d been strutting the red carpet dressed to the nines or in a scuba mask or sunglasses or…something other than ratty workout clothes.

  Oh
, this couldn’t be happening. She was unlucky. But come on. Who the hell did she piss off in a past life to deserve this level of payback?

  She could only hope he wouldn’t recognize her. It’d only been a few minutes. Hopefully he’d forgotten all about it and wouldn’t connect the milk lady with the one in front of him now.

  Here went nothing.

  She stood up and offered her hand, taking a small step forward. A step that proved to be a huge mistake as her right heel had somehow snagged itself in the carpeting under the table. Her ankle rolled slightly, and a cracking sound emanated from the direction of her shoe.

  Chris paused, his mouth open and eyes wide as they looked her over, lingering on her feet.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Fine. Thank you.”

  It wasn’t fine. She was pretty sure her heel had just snapped. But at least it had been her shoe, not her ankle. As long as they were sitting, it wouldn’t be a problem. She’d solve the issue of how to get out of the restaurant without him seeing her hobble to the door on one shoe when the time came.

  For the moment, she needed to greet her new client and make a good enough impression that he both didn’t fire her and wouldn’t remember the whole milk thing from earlier. She didn’t have high hopes of success, but hey, a girl could dream.

  She extended her hand again, grateful the damn thing wasn’t shaking even though her insides had turned into a mosh pit.

  “Mr. Lachlan,” she said, giving him a firm, but not too firm, handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  He gazed directly into her eyes, and she held her breath, wondering if he’d mention the milk incident. But after a few moments, he gave her a warm smile.

  “Call me Chris, please. The pleasure is all mine.” He gestured to her seat and had a seat himself. But he didn’t take his eyes off her even for a second.

  She sat, taking care to keep any weight off her broken right shoe as she did so. Thankfully, her butt hit the chair without further incident. Though Chris’s intense scrutiny had her clasping her hands together in her lap, trying to resist the urge to squirm.

  “I was expecting a Mr. Claybourne,” he said. “Though I’m very pleased with the change in plans.”

  She tried to keep her expression neutral. “There’s been no change, Mr. Lachlan. Chris,” she amended when his eyebrow rose. “I’m Ms. Claybourne.”

  “Charley?” he said, his brow slightly furrowed.

  Keep calm.

  She gave him what she hoped was a soft, controlled smile. “Short for Charlotte-Leigh. Hyphenated so it’s one name, not two. My parents couldn’t decide which grandmother to name me after so chose them both.”

  His lips twitched, but he kept up the charming routine. “I like it. It’s unusual.”

  She gave him her practiced smile again. “Yes, but extremely long. It never fits on forms, so a lot of places end up cutting it off somewhere in the middle. Which then leads the people reading those forms to think the name is supposed to be Charlie. Or Carl, occasionally, which never made sense to me. But in either case, it caused all sorts of fun problems, as you can imagine. Like freshman year of high school when I was given a locker in the boys’ locker room because the administration just saw the Charl without checking my full name and assumed I was a boy.”

  His laughed bellowed out. “Nothing like making freshman year even more awkward.”

  A real smile slipped out this time. “Exactly. So, a shortened but more feminine nickname is usually the easiest way to go. Unless you’re Izzy, who likes to shorten it even further.”

  “What’s shorter than Charley?”

  She hesitated, wishing her anxiety-induced word vomit hadn’t made her spill this particular tidbit. He sat waiting, though, so she sighed. “Izzy tends to call me Chuck.”

  He laughed again, and she couldn’t help but smile. Good God, the man went from a solid ten to an easy fifteen…hundred when he smiled. She was beginning to wish they’d done this whole meeting through email. She was nervous enough without having to deal with the most attractive man she’d ever met in her life. Her palms were sweating.

  “I apologize for the confusion,” she managed to say.

  “Entirely my fault. My sincere apologies for my assumption,” he said, putting his hand over his heart and giving her a little bow.

  Well, things were already going better than she’d feared. They were chatting, enjoying themselves, and no mention of the fiasco earlier that day. Maybe he didn’t realize Chocolate Milk Lady and she were one and the same. The waiter came over, and they ordered drinks. She ordered an iced tea. And he…

  “I’ll have an ice-cold chocolate milk,” he said, looking straight at her. “Lactose-free if you have it.”

  Her jaw dropped. The waiter nodded and left to get their beverages.

  “You do recognize me,” she said, her composure slipping enough that it came out as more of a furious whisper than a statement.

  He chuckled. “What happened this morning would be kind of hard to forget. Besides, you might be a bit more dressed up, but you still look like you. Definitely not a woman I’d forget.” His eyes widened slightly at that remark, like he hadn’t meant to let it slip out. “The incident was rather…memorable.”

  Yeah, hoping otherwise had probably been too optimistic. She sat back, her arms folded across her chest. “Why didn’t you say something when you first arrived?”

  He shrugged. “First of all, I was surprised to see you. I was expecting some middle-aged bald guy named Charlie, not a beautiful woman with the longest name in the world who likes to spend her spare time stealing milk from people in convenience stores.”

  She opened her mouth to refute that, while her stomach did a goofy little trip at the beautiful remark, but he plowed on ahead.

  “And second of all, I didn’t want to be rude. You seemed a little embarrassed when you left the store. I didn’t think bringing it up when I first arrived for a business meeting was the right time or place.”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “Really? So, what’s with the drink order then?”

  “I’ll have you know I really enjoy chocolate milk. It’s incredibly delicious and refreshing, and I drink it a lot. And I didn’t get any earlier today.”

  Her eyes narrowed further, and he grinned, sending her stomach acrobatics into overdrive. “And I couldn’t resist.”

  “Uh huh.” She let a long sigh out. Well, at least they’d gotten it out of the way. Maybe they could focus on more important things now.

  The waiter returned, and she ordered a Caesar salad with grilled chicken. Chris, on the other hand, ordered a rare steak large enough to feed a family of four, baked potato with everything plus bacon, and broccoli casserole, which turned out to be a few bits of vegetables buried in butter, cheese, fried onions, and enough toasted breadcrumbs to choke a duck.

  Her eyes widened when the food arrived, and he started chowing down.

  “Eat like this a lot, do you?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I’ve got a great metabolism and exercise regularly.” He patted what were probably rock-hard abs beneath his designer shirt. “So far I’ve been able to get away with it.”

  Hell yeah he had. She kept her lips firmly pinched together to keep that bit from slipping out, simply murmuring an, “Um hmm.” She pulled out her tablet and entered a few codes onto the running spreadsheet she kept when assessing a client.

  He tried to peer at it to see what she was doing. She didn’t make any effort to hide it. He wouldn’t be able to decipher what anything meant anyway.

  “What’s all that?” he asked, waving his fork at it.

  “Part of your assessment.”

  “You’re recording what I eat?”

  “I record everything, Mr. Lachlan.”

  “Chris.”

  “Chris,” she said, her cheeks heating. Crazy how one little syllable could seem so much more intimate. She would’ve preferred to keep calling him
Mr. Lachlan. She needed something to help her keep some professional distance. She’d never wanted to lean across a table and lick a client before, but this one was sorely tempting her.

  She gently cleared her throat. “It’s how I can accurately assess the risk factors necessary to determine if I can recommend you for insurance or not.”

  He frowned at that. “I wasn’t aware we’d start with the whole assessment thing so soon.”

  “I’ve actually almost completed my assessment of you, Mr…Chris. Meeting you is the last step, not the first.”

  “How do you assess someone you’ve never met?”

  She allowed a small smile to peek through. This was one of her favorite subjects. “You’re a public figure. Quite a bit of information about your lifestyle is available through a number of different social media sites and publications.”

  He put his fork down and sat back in his chair. “Information such as?”

  “Hobbies, activities, sports, dating habits. Your Instagram account is a fairly detailed account of your life.”

  “Is it really?” he asked, his voice low and quiet.

  She frowned a little. “You don’t seem to be very happy with my answers.”

  “Do you blame me?”

  She shrugged. “I’m confused by your response. You’re the one who posts everything. From that one account alone, I know you’re a borderline adrenaline junkie who enjoys activities like skydiving, scuba diving, zip lining, surfing, hiking, white water rafting, and a number of more questionable past times. You spend most of your time traveling around—”

  “And traveling a lot is a crime?”

  “Of course not, but it’s a risk. There’s no need for you to visit your properties yourself. You have more than enough employees who could do that kind of thing for you.”

  “I like keeping tabs on how everything is doing. In person.”

  “Which is understandable and admirable. But again, it’s a risk factor, and I have to take that into consideration. Like it or not, everything you do, everything you eat, the steady stream of women from all over the world you date, except for the year you dated Cass—”