My Dream Job: A Billionaire Boss Romance

by Marcella Swann

  I felt sparks between us from across the table. He was the mentor and I, his student. He was tempting me with the game of life, much like pieces on a chessboard. He was all I’d counted on him to be.

  I looked down at the fabric of the melon-colored dress I was wearing. It was a color I’d never have chosen for myself, but I had to admit the lady at the dress shop knew her stuff. I felt elegant and feminine; two qualities that left me a little unfamiliar with myself. “I may as well tell you now, I dreamed of someone like you once.”

  “Oh? Is that so?”

  I nodded. “It was one of those prophetic dreams you have just before you begin to wake. There was someone behind me, and I knew before looking that it was a man. He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, but all I saw were high cheekbones and a lock of brown hair. He sat up again behind me, folding his arms around me in a protective hug. I felt as safe as I could possibly be. That’s when I woke up, but I laid there for a long time, trying to remember exactly how it felt. I wanted to remember every detail, to burn it into my brain because I knew it was my fate.”

  “And do I remind you of the man in the dream?” Alec leaned back, passing the handle of his fork between his long fingers.

  I nodded. “As a matter of fact, yes, you do. It wasn’t until I saw you interviewed recently on television that I knew for sure. It was out of character for me to just climb into the car and leave everything that was safe, familiar, and loving to me behind, you know? My parents still can’t figure me out. I really don’t know what I’m doing here, but here I am. If you are the one, the man I was supposed to seek out, then you should understand why I’m here. If you’re not that man, tell me now and I’ll leave you alone.”

  He chuckled; a deep but musical sound. "Unlike you, Callie, I never had a dream. It was just a knowing. I've been different than other men. My mother used to say I was an old soul, whatever that means. But I've trusted my instincts, and things generally turned out well. When I saw you in the front row, I had that knowing feeling again. So, to tell you the truth, I can't guarantee anything. I know when I've had that feeling about someone in the past, they always benefited by being my companion, for however long they stayed. I suppose you've heard what they call me?" He shifted in his chair with embarrassment.

  I nodded and waited for him to go on. That was the moment of ultimate decision and I smoothed my skirt with nervousness.

  “So, it’s up to you. I made you the offer and you accepted. If you want to back out, now is the time, but if you stay, I’ll expect your very best. I won’t lie, you intrigued me. Maybe it’s because you’re still raw. Maybe it’s your Midwestern upbringing, but you don’t have a clue of what the world can do to you, or what you can do to it.”

  “And you think you can teach me?”

  “Do you think you can learn?”

  I didn’t answer, and he chuckled again. “Eat your dinner, and then get some sleep. Give Walter a list of any loose ends that need to be resolved. Our jet leaves at eleven in the morning. There will be a car for us downstairs at ten. Walter will bring your bags, including all your new purchases. Just be ready.”

  I wasn’t sure what I was agreeing to, but I knew there was no way that jet would be leaving without me.

  Chapter Six

  Alec

  Callie was sitting opposite me in the plane, relaxed and reading a magazine. Her legs, long and willowy, were crossed at the knee with her pencil skirt pulled demurely toward them. I was having my normal flight nerves and thought to divert myself by studying her.

  Waves of blonde hair folded over her shoulders, styled loosely that morning. They’d given her long bangs, and these made her youthful, and could still be swept back for evenings. I approved.

  Her warm blue eyes were alert, and a slender nose moved my eyes down to those lips. They were pouty, the upper tier framing icy white teeth, and the lower lip was full and glistening with rosy health. She was oh, so kissable. She had a bedroom body with an unbelievably slender waist and hips that flared to hold those legs in place. She moved with an unconscious grace and I noticed when she was curious, she tipped her chin upward. She was in direct contrast to my own hazel eyes, brown hair, and athletic build.

  “Are you comfortable?” I asked, looking for a conversational diversion from the response she was creating in my body.

  She looked up, her eyes regarding me with a twinkle. “I’m fine, as long as I don’t look out the window.”

  “You don’t like to fly?” I held my breath.

  “Not my favorite thing to do.” We shared that in common. “Where are we headed?”

  “We’ll be arriving at my estate in less than an hour.” I saw her eyebrows rise, and that chin lifted.

  “You live at an airport?” She was teasing me, and it was working.

  “Just a little airstrip at the edge of my property,” I explained, and she looked impressed. She was smart enough to realize that it took more than a little airstrip to accommodate a private jet, no matter the size.

  She put down the magazine and asked, “Tell me about it—your estate.”

  Her senses were keen enough to pick up the change in my body language. She recognized my pride. It very encouraging. I rewarded her perception.

  “I have a place in northern Minnesota, although some might say it has me.” I smiled, and she nodded encouragement to continue. “Have you ever fished?”

  “On a riverbank, with my dad a couple of times. I liked the woods, but I don’t like snakes!”

  “I don’t think there are many people who would argue with you on that,” I laughed. “No, I’m talking about fishing from a boat in the middle of a lake. A big lake, and you’re the only one on it, except for me, the captain, and maybe Walter. How does that sound?”

  “Are you subtly trying to tell me that you own a lake?”

  I nodded, a slim smile stretching my lips, waiting to see her response. “Are you interested?”

  “I’m interested in anything when there’s something to learn.”

  She was challenging me. I liked it. “Learning is a constant process, Callie. It’s going on around you as we speak. Sometimes it takes being alone in the middle of a lake with only nature’s sounds to realize what you’ve learned.”

  “And that is?”

  “That nature had it figured out a long time ago. We still can’t top her, but we’d do better learning from her.”

  She looked out the window and a small smile crept over her face.

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  “What? What am I doing?” she teased me.

  “You just opened your eyes. You just learned.”

  “And you just taught me how.”

  “Callie, one day I hope it’s you who teaches me.”

  Callie had finished the only magazine aboard. I handed her a flash drive. “Time to get started,” I told her.

  “Doing?”

  "On that drive, you'll find some spreadsheets. Open the one named ‘Prospective Clients' and see what research you can find on each of them. Just add it in the next column. I'm interested in anything you can discover, so income, property, family data, job history, civic contributions, anything you think might make them a bad risk. Are there any arrests, large debt, investigations—you get the idea."

  “Sure. Can I talk to people?”

  “Not yet. Do all the research online, and don’t forget databases through the libraries and government offices. I want full background searches.”

  “No problem.”

  She asked the right questions and didn’t argue. I liked that.

  I released a sigh of relief as the landing wheels contacted the tarmac. Another adventure ended, another chance taken that I’d survived.

  “How long have you hated flying?” Her voice was quiet at my side as we walked toward the waiting car, its lights dim and friendly in the growing dusk of the early winter evening.

  “It’s a test,” I commented.

  She pulled her coat more tightly around her p
aisley blouse, her hair whipping in the wind. “Of what?”

  “Of my ability to face my fears, and survive.”

  She nodded. “I don’t know many people who face their fears on a regular basis,” she commented kindly.

  “It’s an animal instinct to fear, you know. It teaches us how to survive. Sometimes, however, those fears become irrational and feed off one another. If I continue to face irrational fears, the life-endangering views will stay sharply in my mind.”

  “What else are you afraid of?”

  The driver slid from his seat and opened the back door for us. Callie’s long legs propelled her smoothly across its width and she turned toward me, the neckline of the brightly patterned shirt gaping slightly so that I saw the rise of her perfect breasts. “I’m afraid of losing control.”

  She looked thoughtful for a moment and then turned to scan the area in the dwindling light. “I think that’s true for everyone,” she tried to reassure me again.

  I shook my head. “Most of our life is controlled by fools. Have you considered when you drive down the road there’s nothing more than two, four-inch yellow lines separating you from people you don’t like, don’t trust, don’t believe, and don’t know? Yet you trust them to stay on their side of the road. Why is that?”

  She shrugged. “It’s the law.”

  “Do you trust everyone to follow the law?”

  We were moving then, and it had begun to rain; a cold mist that gathered on the windshield until the driver hit the switch that wiped it clean. I spoke up. “Roman, what’s on the menu for dinner?”

  Roman look at me in the rearview mirror, his face respectfully apathetic. “I believe it’s prime rib this evening, sir. New potatoes, fresh string beans, raspberry cobbler, followed by, of course, your favorite, coffee and a cigar.”

  I nodded with approval. “Callie, are there any foods you’d prefer to avoid?

  She smiled and shook her head. “No, I was brought up to clean my plate, so I’m not picky. Of course, I’ll take prime rib over liver any day,” she giggled, and the atmosphere was lightened, despite the now growing stream of cold that enveloped us. We pulled up beneath the portico. Roman came around to open Callie’s door first. He handed her out and I joined them, taking her by the hand as we went inside. I paused, waiting for her reaction. It was everything I’d hoped it would be.

  Chapter Seven

  Callie

  “Alec, this is a monstrously large house. Do you live here all by yourself?” My mouth hung open until I had the presence of mind to close it.

  “Oh, no.”

  “No?” My heart plummeted. I didn’t remember asking him if he was married. I’d just assumed…

  “No, Roman, Walter, and Mrs. Griggs are here as well.”

  “Mrs. Griggs?”

  “My housekeeper.”

  “Oh!”

  His face became mischievous and I realized he’d baited me on that one. “Here, let me show you around.”

  I nodded and felt like I'd just been admitted to a world in one of the amusement kingdoms. I noticed his shoulders leaned back and his chin lifted with pride. "I built most of it with my own two hands," he said proudly. "There are roughly thirty-thousand square feet of living space, plus a detached eight-stall garage where I keep my collector cars. Eight bedrooms upstairs with baths, and a couple extra half-baths off the kitchen and foyer. Each bedroom has its own sitting area. There's an office, great room, gym, indoor pool, kitchen, breakfast nook, three dining rooms depending on the number of guests and whether it's casual or elaborate, library, home theatre, game room, gun room, wine cellar, quarters for Walter, Roman, and Mrs. Griggs, utility area, and a few extra rooms for security and storage. The house wraps a granite face, and the support beams have been driven fifteen-feet into solid rock. I use geothermal and a wind generator to augment the solar panels. These permit me to run the estate normally short-term in case of a power outage. The lower level leads down to the dock, a beach and a twenty-thousand-acre lake that belongs to the property. There's also a boathouse down there, as well as a guest cottage. The remaining ten thousand acres are wooded with virgin timber. The only trees cut from it were used to build this house."

  He was walking me through the house as he spoke, and I got the feeling that he was accustomed to being a tour guide. “Have you shown your home many times? You seem comfortable doing it?”

  “Me? Oh, yes, somewhat. It was featured in several architectural publications.”

  Each room was a jaw-dropper, furnished in a variety of themes, although mostly woodsy and very male. It gave me flutters in my tummy just to look at it.

  I met Mrs. Griggs in the kitchen, just finishing up dinner. She was what I would expect a fairytale grandmother to look like. She was amply round, had gray hair pulled back from her face into a neat bun, and wore wire-rimmed glasses. Her hands flew, and she talked non-stop, never missing a beat. In fewer than five minutes I learned about her late husband, her grandchildren, her preferences in religion and politics, and all that was capped by an inquiry into who I was and where my people were from. She was, overall, charming, although Alec rolled his eyes when her back was turned, flapping his fingers to indicate that she talked too much. I wondered why he tolerated it as he seemed to appreciate quiet, but when I tasted her dinner, I understood completely.

  Alec requested dinner to be served in a small dining area off his office. Its windows overlooked the lake. At least he told me there was a lake there, but it was too dark to see. Without other homes or boats along its banks, there was no necklace definition of lights. I looked forward to seeing it the next day.

  After dinner, Alec moved to the leather sofa where a tray holding coffee and mugs were waiting next to a humidor. “I normally have a cigar after dinner. I’m sorry if that excludes you, but it’s a habit I’m rather fond of.” He looked expectantly toward the door as if trying to decide where to send me.

  “The smoke won’t bother me, but of course if you’d rather use it as a time to be alone, I understand.”

  “No, if it doesn’t bother you, I’d enjoy your company.”

  I nodded and took a seat in the matching chair, facing him. He poured us each a mug of steaming coffee, and I nodded once as he pointed to the cream and sugar. “I take mine black,” he mentioned as he handed me mine. He opened the mahogany humidor and chose a cigar, using what looked like a toe clipper to snip off either end. A mother-of-pearl encrusted lighter stood next to the humidor and he snapped the flint once and lit the cigar.

  I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs as I moved my feet to the matching ottoman. I felt as though I had been invited into an inner male sanctum, where all things mighty and minuscule were debated. It was intoxicating and the amazing man across from me held the key.

  “You know, we’ve never discussed what you want to do with your life. Why did you search me out?” His words were low and punctuated with cloud-like puffs of smoke. He’d opened the top two buttons of his shirt and I found myself fixated on his chest hair, wondering what it would feel like against my nose and cheek. Mentally, I shook my head; that’s not why I was there.

  "In all honesty, I'd say I really don't know yet. I focus on one goal at a time. First, it was getting out of high school, then college, and then I knew when I saw you in that interview that it wasn't an accident. I don't even watch TV very often. I was bored, my mother was chattering at me like I was a twelve-year-old, and then there you were."

  I sipped my coffee. The liquid was at the perfect temperature. The rich taste slid down my throat, settling like a warm blanket over the dinner I’d just eaten.

  “I could tell you broadly that it would involve business, but I’m sure you understand that’s a wide spectrum,” I continued. “I know that I want to be a part of something that is new and innovative. I don’t want to own a McDonald’s franchise, if you get my drift.”

  “There was a day when they turned over a pretty fine penny, but I’d like to think that the world aspires to a high
er, somewhat healthier goal.”

  I nodded, sipping the coffee and envying him his cigar. He must’ve noticed.

  “Would you like to try one?”

  “May I?”

  He hesitated, and then nodded. Alec opened the humidor, offering me my selection. I pulled it out and picked up the clip, copying his routine. He held the lighter for me, and the flame appeared just four inches from my face. “Put the tip in your mouth and draw the flame toward you with your breath. Don’t inhale it, just draw it into your mouth.”

  I followed his instructions and felt the vapor filling my mouth, making me cough and fight for breath. I quickly tossed the cigar into the ashtray on the coffee table, becoming a little angry as Alec laughed. I continued to cough and took a mouthful of coffee to calm my mouth. My stomach rebelled against the intrusion and I felt close to losing my prime rib. Alec continued to laugh, pointing toward the door. “That’s a bathroom if you need it,” he said, enjoying the spectacle.

  I shook my head, determined to hold it in no matter what. When my reaction calmed, my words flew at him. “You knew that was going to happen and you didn’t warn me. That was disgusting.”

  “I’m probably quoting some well-marketed commercial, but I have to say it. It’s a bit of an acquired taste.” He was watching my reaction, stifling a laugh when suddenly his expression turned to one of horror. He flew across the table as his hand reached for my lap.

  I drew back in surprise as he began slapping my lap, and when I looked down I saw the glow of fire. “Oh!” Jumping to my feet, I brushed at my lap. Apparently, an ember had dropped from the hastily-rejected cigar and had smoldered, unnoticed, against the dark leather of my pencil skirt. Alec’s hand swept over it, checking for remaining hot ash and when I looked up at him in horror of what could have happened, his eyes were huge with alarm. Unexpectedly, his hands gripped my upper arms and he pulled me toward him, bending to kiss me with a fierceness that was fed by the near emergency. I put my hands on his chest, in that black curling hair, to push him away, but then I didn’t want to. Instead, I slid my hands to meet behind his neck and clung to him, wanting the kiss to last forever.