Billionaire for Hire

by Cat Johnson

  Was it me? Did I make her nervous? And if so, why?

  Maybe it was because she liked me. I enjoyed that idea—probably too much. Not because I wanted to make Alex uncomfortable, but because I loved the idea that she might be attracted to me.

  The way she looked tonight, combined with the way I felt—we’d be combustible if she wanted me even half as much as I wanted her.

  The server delivered the wine and Alex reached out and took one tentative sip. She caught me staring at her and put down the glass, fidgeting on her stool.

  Shit. I needed to take it down a notch. She was the first woman I’d been interested in—I mean really interested in—in a long time. The last thing I wanted to do was send her running.

  If it meant I had to tone down my usual level of first date charm, I would.

  I sipped at my beer—a local craft brew—and considered how to play this. Cool indifference? Professional?

  Fuck it. I couldn’t help myself. I said, “You really do look beautiful tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  As expected, the compliment meant I’d sacrificed eye contact with her as her focus skittered away again.

  Time to bring her back to me . . . I changed the subject to something she’d be more comfortable with.

  “Thanks for telling me about the event. And I did a little research on the history of the venue. It was really interesting.”

  “It is.” She nodded.

  I nearly rolled my eyes at my own comment. My conversation was all over the place. My mood too, as I waffled.

  One moment I felt the need to coddle her. The next, I had to fight the urge to grab her and kiss her until that shy insecurity disappeared.

  There was a middle ground in there somewhere and I became determined to find it.

  “I’m glad we got a chance to meet before the show,” I continued, in my effort to get Alex to relax.

  “Why is that?” she asked.

  “Because now we’ll have a chance to talk. Get to know each other better.”

  “Oh?” One shapely brow rose. “And what would you like to know?”

  “Well, for starters, I don’t even know your last name.”

  “Having trouble stalking me on Facebook with only my first name?” Now her stare met and held mine, no hesitation.

  “Actually, I was going to try Instagram, but yeah.” I smiled, not at all embarrassed I wanted to learn more about her. “Sorry.”

  Not really.

  Her lips twitched. “It’s okay. I forgive you. There’s all sorts of stuff online about you.”

  “You looked me up.” I laughed, loving she’d been thinking about me and cared enough she’d taken the time to stalk me online. “So, anything shocking?”

  “No. Not at all.” She cocked her head to one side, almost as if that lack of discovery perplexed her.

  “Is that a bad thing?” I asked.

  “Not bad. Just odd.”

  “Odd how?”

  “It seems like there’d be at least one scandal in your past.”

  “Oh, there’s plenty of scandal. Luckily for me, it’s the other members of the large and ever growing Hearst clan monopolizing the headlines.”

  “But not you?”

  “Maybe long ago in my youth I might have been scandal worthy, but remember, back in those days Facebook was just a fledgling site. Social media was nothing like what it is today. It was easy to stay off the public radar.”

  “And what about now?” she asked while trailing one finger up and down the stem of her wine glass in a way that had my gaze fixed to the motion.

  I cleared the lust from my throat and answered, “These days I work so many hours it’d be hard to get into any news-worthy trouble.”

  She nodded, but something hidden in the depth of her eyes hinted that she wasn’t quite buying my story.

  Sadly, everything I’d told her was the absolute truth.

  “Mr. Hearst?”

  The summons brought my attention around to the hostess. “Yes?”

  “Your table is ready.”

  “Wonderful.” I looked to Alex and reached out one hand, palm up. “Shall we?”

  With no hesitation, she met my gaze, took my hand and said, “We shall.”

  Coming full circle, the strong confident woman was back and I became even more determined that I was going to get to know all the many parts of this woman. And wouldn’t that be fun.

  I couldn’t wait.

  TEN

  The evening went well, if I did say so myself.

  The dinner conversation flowed easier than I anticipated. Once at the event, the reading was entertaining, as was the reception after the show.

  I couldn’t have asked for more.

  Well, maybe a little more as I pushed open the door to the street.

  Alex smiled and thanked me as she walked through but I was far from ready for the night to end.

  I didn’t care that I had planned to be on the early train to Virginia in the morning. I didn’t care that my bed was across the bridge in Jersey and Alex’s even farther away in Queens. I didn’t want to say goodbye. Especially since we had yet to make plans for when or if we’d see each other again. And even more because I hadn’t yet tasted those lips that had taunted me all night.

  Outside, she paused on the sidewalk. Finally she said, “So there’s this thing at the MoMA tomorrow evening if you’re free. I already have two tickets so it’d be my treat. I don’t want you to think I’m only after your donor dollars.” She smiled.

  “The thought never crossed my mind.” Okay, it had, but I wrote that off to temporary insanity resulting from my assignment for Zane.

  My plans to head to Virginia in the morning could wait until Sunday. Hell, if I was lucky enough to be able to spend the whole weekend with Alex—and if I got lucky in the other sense of the word—I’d gladly take the early train Monday morning rather than give up time with her this weekend.

  Ignoring the fact I already had us spending not only Saturday night together, but also all day Sunday too, I said, “I’d love to go. Thank you.”

  “Good. It should be an interesting event. The Russian will be there too.”

  Her mention of the Russian grabbed my attention. I’m sure she noticed my surprise as she watched me close.

  I scrambled to cover. “Oh? Well, I guess we all tend to run in the same charity circles.” I shrugged to add to my illusion of nonchalance, as my mind spun.

  I’d have to text Zane this information as soon as possible. He needed to know that Mordashov was going to be back in town.

  “I guess that’s true,” she said. “And it really isn’t a surprise since art is Viktoria’s field. There’s no way she’d miss an event at the museum while she’s in town.”

  “Viktoria.” Of course. I nearly slapped myself in the forehead at that revelation. I rushed to cover my surprise that we’d been speaking about two different Russians. “Yes. I read that she and her father are very involved in the art world.”

  “It’s not every woman who has a museum named after her.” Alex continued to watch me with an intensity that belied the casual nature of the conversation.

  “No, they don’t.” I nodded. And I probably should have pretended I didn’t know that fact, since I’d discovered it when I’d researched Russian billionaires right before the Hamptons event. Time to change the subject before I revealed too much. “So, did you drive in?” I asked.

  “No, I took mass transit.”

  Excellent. That left me with the opportunity to offer her a ride home. “Then I’m driving you home.”

  “You don’t have to—” she began.

  “Alex, I swear—if you think I’m going to let you get back to Queens on your own at this time of night dressed like that, you’re crazy or you think I am. I’m driving you home.” My tone left no room for debate.

  What I said was true. Even if I hadn’t been hoping for an invitation inside when I dropped her off, I would have insisted on driving her home.


  Her taking mass transit in the daylight during the commuter rush was one thing. But this late on a Friday night was another.

  I was about to steer her toward where I’d parked my car whether she liked it or not when she said, “Actually, I’d love to see your view.”

  After a second of shock, I finally found the capability to speak. “Did you want to come back to my place?”

  “I’d love to.” The shy version of Alex was obviously gone for the moment. I couldn’t say I was sad about that.

  I had yet to recover from that holy shit moment when she grabbed my hand. “Where’s your car parked?”

  If my pounding pulse would direct some blood to my brain instead of sending it elsewhere I probably could have answered that question easily.

  I forced myself to focus. Glancing up at the street sign, I got my bearings and remembered hours before, when I’d parked in the first spot I saw, excited to get to the restaurant and meet her for dinner.

  That seemed like an eternity ago. How things had changed since then.

  I found the Land Rover easily enough once I put my mind to it. Soon, we were seated in the vehicle as my mind pinged from one random thought to the next, like a ball in an old arcade machine. It was proof of how Alex’s request had thrown me.

  Women threw themselves at me all the time. I was used to that. I expected it. But I didn’t expect it from her.

  It seemed out of character for Alex. But then again, I didn’t know her well enough to determine that.

  I sure as hell wasn’t going to complain or question that this attractive, interesting woman who I craved to distraction wanted to come home with me.

  Only a fool would do that and I’d never considered myself a fool.

  Maybe the connection I felt was as real and as strong for her as it was for me.

  Connection.

  Jesus. I couldn’t believe I’d even thought that word. It was the kind of thing you heard thrown around too often in romantic comedies or on The Bachelor. It never failed to make me roll my eyes.

  Not this time.

  But this emotional shit didn’t happen in real life—at least it didn’t happen to me. Yet here I was, hurtling through the Holland Tunnel as fast as the traffic would allow to get Alex back to my apartment.

  And not just for sex either, though that was certainly a strong motivation. I was ready for the works with her. Breakfast in the morning. The trip to the museum tomorrow afternoon. Maybe brunch on Sunday after a Saturday night spent once again in my bed. Then maybe a walk along the river if the weather was nice . . .

  Shit. I’d be shopping for a bigger apartment any day now if my feelings for her continued to grow at the speed they had so far.

  “What’s this?”

  It was hard enough paying attention to the road with Alex seated in my passenger seat. But her question refocused all of the meager attention I’d managed to keep on my driving dangerously to her.

  Once I saw what she held between her fingers I was really in danger of crashing.

  It was my fucking comm unit.

  I forced my gaze back to the road. “Where did you find that?”

  “In the cup holder. What is it?”

  Shit. The memory of pulling it out of my ear and tossing it into the console after the party hit me. “Uh, just a blue tooth earpiece.”

  “It doesn’t look like any one I’ve ever seen before.”

  “It’s a, uh, prototype. You know, Hearst Corp. gets all sorts of products consumers don’t see until years later, if at all.”

  “Oh. Must be nice.”

  “It can be. I have to return that one though.” I held out my hand, feeling the need to get it away from her.

  She put the tiny unit in my palm as she said, “That’s not so nice if you have to give the gifts back.”

  “Only some of the more experimental stuff.” I slipped the unit into my pocket, far away from Alex’s grabby hands.

  I’d have to remember to take it with me when I left for Virginia anyway, so it seemed safest there in my pocket.

  “And what was experimental about it? Did it do something cool?” she asked, probing deeper into a subject I’d rather she dropped.

  I’d dug my hole full of lies so deep I wasn’t sure how to get out of it. I should have said it was my uncle’s hearing aid since it looked more like that than a cell phone ear bud.

  Too late now.

  “It uh, has a really long battery life. That was supposed to be the big selling point. There’s also the clarity.”

  “Really? Can I hear?”

  “Uh, no. Sorry. The battery’s dead.”

  “So much for that battery life, huh,” she said as I felt her gaze remain focused on me.

  “Yup. Which is probably why they want it back. So they can improve it.” Shit. Shit. Shit. I needed to redirect this conversation. “So, tell me more about this MoMA event. What’s the dress code?”

  “Planning your outfit already?” she asked.

  “Always. Gotta look good for the reporters. We could end up on Page Six.”

  “Just one of the demands of being you, I suppose.” There was an edge to her voice that was unsettling.

  I’d started out this trip so excited. So hopeful. Yet somehow the comm conversation had derailed our night.

  “So, formal? Casual? Business attire?” I asked, bringing us back to the dress code for the event.

  “A suit will be fine.”

  “Suits I’ve got plenty of.” Off-the-cuff answers to unexpected questions, not so much.

  I could only hope we’d have moved on from this little bump in the conversation by the time I reached my exit.

  If not, I supposed I’d be turning around and driving Alex back home to Queens.

  I felt the weight of her hand on my thigh and glanced over.

  She smiled and squeezed my leg. In yet another reversal, the atmosphere between us changed yet again. She moved her hand farther up my thigh and left it there.

  I felt the warmth of her touch radiate through the fabric of my pants, so close to where I’d fantasized about her hand—and her mouth—being.

  Maybe I wouldn’t be driving to Queens tonight after all.

  ELEVEN

  I’d just opened the door when Alex strode through the doorway and into my apartment.

  She turned on the lights before I even got my key out of the lock.

  I closed the door and turned to find her all the way in the living room, heading for my desk. She trailed one finger across the smooth bare wood before she turned on the lamp there, as well.

  It struck me as odd—forward for the woman who’d hesitated accepting my offer of a simple jelly croissant and coffee to strut so boldly through my home. But, hey, I was all for her making herself comfortable in my place.

  Hopefully, she’d want to stay here awhile.

  When she nudged the pile of mail with a fingertip, sending the neat stack of envelopes on the desk sprawling, her visual perusal changed to actual physical rifling through my stuff.

  She glanced up and saw me watching her. With a smile she left the desk behind and headed straight for me.

  Before I could say or do anything, she’d fisted my lapels and pulled me toward her lips.

  Then we were kissing. Not a gentle kiss either. This was a full mouth, tongue-tangling, soul-deep kiss that I hadn’t started but which I was more than willing to continue.

  I braced my hands on her waist, partly to keep my balance as she pushed against me, partly because I’d wanted to touch her all night.

  As she tipped her head and plunged her tongue against mine, I slid my palms down to cup her ass.

  She moaned and that had my semi turning rock hard.

  The sinfully high heels boosted her height enough I didn’t have to bend too far to reach what I wanted—that being her mouth and her firm ass.

  But this would be so much more enjoyable for both of us if we were horizontal.

  I broke the lip lock and gazed down at this enigma o
f a woman. Her lips were parted slightly as her chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths. Her eyes, heavily lidded, seemed a bit out of focus.

  “Shall we take this someplace more comfortable?” It sounded like the cheesiest of lines. I hated that those trite predictable words had even come out of my mouth, but I seemed to have lost all my smooth moves somewhere between Manhattan and Jersey.

  In spite of my sounding ridiculous, she nodded. “I’d love to.”

  Then she was on the move again, leading me toward my own bedroom. I supposed it wasn’t that hard for her to determine where it was located. There was only one hallway and the door at the end of it was open to reveal the view of my king-sized bed, which luckily was made thanks to a visit from Antonela today.

  The wet towel from the shower I’d taken after work before leaving for dinner with Alex was still hanging on the closet doorknob, but she didn’t give it a second glance. She was too busy reaching for my belt.

  This was happening and it seemed I didn’t have to do a whole lot except participate.

  I liked to be in control. I wasn’t such a great follower, but tonight, in this situation, I predicted that would change.

  Nope, I’d have no problem letting Alex get me naked and lead me to bed. No problem at all.

  The way she looked in that dress, and how I anticipated she’d look without it, I couldn’t imagine any heterosexual single man wanting to fight this woman.

  I don’t think I could say no to her even if I’d wanted to and I certainly did not want to.

  With her help, my suit ended up on the floor, a place it had never been before, and I didn’t even care.

  When Alex shoved me, sending me falling backward onto the mattress, I let her, happy to have a good spot from which to enjoy the show happening right in front of me.

  She slid off the red dress as deftly as any professional stripper, but she did it with a hell of a lot more class.

  I had to swallow and remember to keep breathing when, like a jigsaw puzzle, piece by lovely piece of her was revealed to me, until the whole tempting picture was exposed.