by Kylie Parker
The server plops a bill next to me, and I instinctively start looking for my wallet with my hands as I stare at the model. She looks sexy, but there is also a certain cuteness about her with the way she is tapping her chin while staring at the chalkboard menu behind the counter, trying to decide what to reward herself with after a run. I watch as she removes her earbuds and places her MP3 into her gym shorts. She wipes her brow. Suddenly, I realize I’ve been digging around in my pockets for a considerable amount of time. I don’t have my wallet. “Shit,” I say.
“Everything all right, James?” the server asks.
“Not really.” My face turns red. “I think I left my wallet back at the office.” I keep digging around. “Man, I left my cell phone too.” So much for calling my driver. The server looks really disappointed. I attempt to reassure her, “If you have a phone or something, I can call my assistant and have her come out this way. Don’t worry; I’m going to take care of you.” The server smiles and hurries off to locate her cellphone that I am sure she has stashed behind the counter somewhere.
“Hey,” I hear a lovely voice, and I look up and realize the model is talking to me and standing right over me. I open my mouth, but no words come out. “Do you mind if I sit down here?” she points to the empty chair across from me, “They don’t have any empty tables, and I think I might have twisted my ankle while I was out running.”
“Of course!” I say, a bit too eagerly.
She raises a brow at me before sitting down. She takes out a cell phone and starts scrolling through it, and I can tell she’s doing it, so she does not have to talk to the awkward stranger she is sitting with. A few minutes’ pass, and I have yet to say anything. I feel like an idiot. Soon the server is bringing her order to her, and hanging me a cell phone. “Thank you,” I say to the server, “I’m really sorry about that.”
“It’s okay, James,” the girl says, “You come here all the time. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” She trots off.
I am staring at the cell phone, I slowly start dialing the number, but before I finish the model interrupts me, “What did you do? Forget your wallet?”
I take a breath, and I remind myself to act charming instead of like an awkward moron. “Yeah. I walked here, and I left my wallet and phone back at the office.” I say, “I’m just going to have my assistant bring it.”
The model laughs, “Don’t do that. The traffic is terrible. You’ll be sitting here another hour. I’ll buy you lunch.” She waves the server down before I have time to oppose. She slips the woman a twenty and tells her that she’s paying for my lunch and to keep the change. The server leaves us, fairly content with the tip she received.
“That was awfully kind of you.” I say, “You don’t even know me.”
She smiles, “You have a nice face. Pay it forward.” She takes a bite out of the sandwich she ordered and a sip of her drink.
I smile, “What’s your name?”
“Sylvia Stapleton.” She says.
“I like that.” I say, “My name is James Caldwin.”
“A pleasure.” She says and then pauses, “How do I know that name? Sounds familiar?”
“I’m the CEO of Shattered,” I say.
She laughs, “That’s right. Wow. Now I get to say I bought a billionaire lunch.”
I laugh too, “Yes. I suppose so.”
“You look familiar as well.” I say, trying to play it cool, “Have we met before?”
She looks embarrassed, “I have gotten that a lot ever since that billboard went up. I’ve model for your competition, Mr. Caldwin.”
I laugh, “You can call me James. And I believe I know what billboard you’re talking about.” Of course, I know! I have a picture of it on my phone that I’ve gotten off on before, but I’m not telling her that! “So you’re a model?” I ask.
“I do it on occasion.” She says, “I prefer sporting. I test athletic gear for a living.”
“Really?” I ask, excited. As an athlete myself, I find that quite intriguing.
She nods, “Yeah. I make decent money doing it, but I model for a little extra income.”
“What sort of gear do you test?” I ask.
“Anything and everything.” She says, “Clothes, shoes, rock-climbing gear, surfing gear, skateboards, you know –sports stuff.”
I smile, “That sounds like a dream job.”
She laughs, “This coming from a multi-billionaire?”
“If there is one thing I have learned from having money, it’s that money really isn’t everything.” I say, “I’d like to walk in your shoes for a day.”
“So you’re an athlete, I’m guessing?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, “I’ve actually done a bit of modeling for my company too. Looks like we’re two like souls.”
She laughs, “Don’t judge me, but is that your chest on all your promo’s?”
“That’s me,” I say.
“Wow, conceited much?” she smiles, “This is embarrassing, but I have one of your fliers up in my apartment just because, well…” she grins. “Damn.” She blushes slightly, “I stare at that stupid flier whenever I run on my treadmill.”
I smile big back at her, “Okay, okay, I got, to be honest. I knew who you were the moment you walked in here. I stare at that billboard on my way to work every day.”
“Oh my God, are you serious?” she asks, “How funny! Have we both met our fantasy pairing today?”
“Looks that way,” I say, “I don’t suppose you would be interested in going on a date?”
Sylvia leans forward on the table, “I really would.”
Hell yeah! This guy just scored a date with a model. Not just any model, though, the model! The model I have gawked over for the past year. Today is starting to look up after all.
Chapter Ten
I decide that if I am going to be going on a date with my fantasy girl, I need to make it a good one. As a woman who makes a living testing athletic gear for a living (and loving it), I decide to do something a little different. I tell her to dress comfortably, and I have my driver take me to her apartment on the outskirts of the city. Being the gentleman I am, I, of course, bought her a few flowers. Roses.
I leave my driver waiting outside and head up to her second-floor apartment. I knock, and she answers wearing a pair of jean and a nice looking blue shirt. I myself am dressed similar in a pair of jeans and a gray V-neck. She smiles when she sees the mall bouquet of roses. “Well, aren’t you adorable?” she teases.
“Of course,” I say, and she takes the flowers.
“Hold on. I want to put these on water.” She says and hurries back into her apartment before meeting me at the door. She locks the door behind her, and I took her arm in mine.
“Are you ready for the most fabulous first date of your life?” I ask.
“You’re cocky, you know that?” she laughs. “And I hope it will be better than my last first date. The guy forgot his wallet, and I wound up paying for his lunch.”
“Very cute,” I say with an eye roll. “That was not a date. And believe me, I assure you that I will make up for that sandwich you got for me.”
“I hope so,” she jokes, “It was kind of expensive for a coffee house sandwich.”
We get into the back of my car, and my driver takes us straight to a local airstrip where my private jet is awaiting us. I can tell she is somewhat excited and trying to play it off as if it is nothing. “So… where are we going?” she asks as we are boarding up.
I laugh. “What? And ruin the surprise?”
We sit in the cabin, and my personal stewardess brings us two glasses of Champaign and some chocolate covered fruit to snack on. It’s going to be a long flight. Sylvia and I start talking, and I find her exceptionally easy to talk to. She is not just a pretty face. I love the fact that she is really into her job. She talks about some of the amazing things she’s done before and some of the new equipment that’s not even out yet that she has worked with. She tells me she has gotten flown
out to beaches before by companies just to test beach gear like the top of the line surfboards. “I wish I had your job,” I say.
“I wish I had yours.” She laughs, “Come on, you make being a playboy billionaire sound like a bad thing.”
“It has its perks, I’ll admit, but it's way more trouble than it’s worth.” I say, “It has caused more family drama than you could imagine.”
“Now that’s something I can relate to.” Sylvia grumbles, “I have a big sister who thinks she is a big shot. I love her and all, but damn! If I have to hear her talk about herself at our family dinner one more time, I might punch her.”
“So you’re on the other end of it all, I see,” I say under my breath.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“My older brother is my factory manager,” I say.
“Older brother?” she asks, “Oh, no, that’s way worse than what I deal with. My sister would lose her mind if her baby sister was better off than her.”
“That bad?” I ask.
“Hell yeah!” Sylvia laughs and takes a bite of chocolate-covered strawberry, “Come on Marty, you’re telling me you don’t know how the whole lineup is supposed to go? Oldest sibling is the boss. They’re the ones who get all the hell from the parents, so they wind up being the successful ones. Look after your little sister. Why is your little sister this –why doesn’t your little sister that –as if it’s their fault their younger sibling is a screw-up. And you’re telling me your brother probably went through the same thing his entire childhood and young adult life, and he wound up working for you?”
“Well if you put it that way…” I frown; I did not really expect this topic to come up on our date. “I really screwed up with him this week,” I say, “I know he’s been having money trouble, so I gave him a raise.”
“Ooh…” she cringes.
“How come everyone knows that would be a bad idea except for me?” I question aloud.
“You’re kind of clueless, aren’t you?” Sylvia asks, “I mean seriously, how did that even happen? You and your brother’s situation, I mean.”
“It’s kind of complicated, but to explain it simply, my dad left me pretty much everything when he passed away, and my brother got the short end of the stick,” I say.
She raises a brow, “Why? That seems kind of cold.”
“We didn’t know until after he died, but Eddie was not really his son.” I say, “So he didn’t leave him much. He left me pretty much everything –the company included.”
“Wait, but he had no idea he wasn’t your father’s son? So your father raised him?” Sylvia sounds almost angry. Good to know that that is a normal reaction to have.
“Pretty much.” I say, “I mean; he always gave Eddie a hard time. Like you said, that’s what happens when you’re the older sibling. That’s all we thought it was. Honestly, I was sure that Eddie was going to inherit the company. Eddie knew way more about the company than me –he still does. He thought he was going to walk away as the CEO of Shattered Supplements, but all he got was a summer house that floods every winter, a small sum of cash, and a note telling him he was the result of an affair and basically to go fuck himself.”
“That’s so harsh!” Sylvia rolls her eyes, “Poor guy.”
“Yeah, and it turns out his biological father was a horny bastard. He has all these other half-siblings, each with a different mother, that he is just now finding out about, and they’re a bunch of damn leeches guilt-tripping him into giving them money all the time.” I frown when I think about it, and it really pisses me off, “I mean, who do they think they are? They barely even know him. The way they ask him for money all the time really makes me so pissed. That’s why he’s so broke right now. They can take care of themselves; they’re not some charity case.”
“So… your brother basically feels guilty that he was the lucky sperm who wound up latching onto the egg of a rich broad while the rest of them are struggling to make ends meet… so he gives out money to them… then you make him realize he’s not all that rich at all by making him into a charity case with the raise just like he does with his other siblings?” she questions, “So does that pretty much hit the nail on the head?”
“Damn,” I say, realizing she is right.
We push the conversation aside; she’s given me a bit to think about. Soon we are landing, and she laughs when she realizes we are in Paris. “What’s this?” she asks, “Do you take all your girlfriends to Paris? I bet this gets you laid every time.”
“Not exactly.” I say, “Don’t you realize what is taking place in Paris today?”
She pauses, and then her eyes light up. “The Tour de France? Are you serious? We’re coming to see the Tour de France?” The athlete in her is about to explode.
“Oh, no.” I say, “We’re going to bike it.”
“What?” she questions, “We don’t… I don’t… we don’t have a team, and we haven’t trained…”
“Relax.” I say, “We’re not going in the actual race. I called in favor. You and I will be heading out a few hours before the race begins. They were not going to let me anywhere near the tracks during race time.”
You better believe that she is beyond thrilled. What athlete doesn’t dream of biking the Tour de France? Before we head out, we change into some workout attire. It’s going to be a hell of a ride. The bikes I ordered are waiting for us as volunteers are still setting up for the race. “You ready?” I ask as we make our way towards the starting gate. She is more than ready. The two of us speed through the race, exhausted incredibly early on. We wind up halfway through the track before having to stop for half an hour to stretch and laugh about not being quite up to par with our biking abilities. We’re off again, and soon we complete the track just as the actual racers are heading towards the lineup. We’re exhausted, but we hang out to watch the race anyways.
By the end of the day, we’re both incredibly tired, but that does not stop us from renting a hotel room for a little after-race party of our own. She does not have sex with me, of course. She’s clearly classier than I had anticipated. No sex on a first date despite how amazing it was sort of rule. I can respect that, but now she’s made it a challenge. We wind up collapsing in bed together, and she makes me cuddle. I don’t mind. She is my fantasy girl, after all…..
End of Sneak Peek
Would you like to know how this continues?
Click here (FREE on KU)
BONUS SNEAK PEEK: Chasing Bad Boys Book 3
Chapter One
“Get ready. The truck’s coming.”
Jimmy Holden’s order to his partners meant that they had to hide behind the stolen Cadillac, which was blocking the tree-lined road right outside Highland Park, Dallas. Jimmy, Martin and Nicolas had been scouring the vast state of Texas, looking for opportunities like this. Armored truck drivers usually changed their itineraries, but that was not the case with Andy Reigns, the man that they had recently met in a bar in downtown Dallas. Despite being a raging alcoholic and a bad gambler, he appeared to be an honest man and kept talking about his boring life. In three weeks, Jimmy managed to earn his trust. He stole the weekly schedule from his desk on one of his visits to “Centurion”, the security company that employed his newly acquired friend. Andy used to work nights; he was carrying more money but the pay was better.
But Jimmy and his small crew were not exactly honest men. Jimmy himself believed that shooting people was just part of his job. Neither Martin nor Nicolas had the stomach for it. What Jimmy loved to do though was stealing. He actually enjoyed it. Amounts did not matter; anything above $50,000 was good enough. That Friday night was different, though. The armored truck would be full of money. It was a perfect chance for him and his crew to make the score of a lifetime. None of them would have to worry about money for a long time.
Jimmy pressed his eye to the optics of his M4. The night vision scope of his rifle allowed him to see everything, as clear as broad daylight. Their plan was simple: Kill the truck driv
er and his colleague and steal the truck. They would blow up the rear door later, miles away from the small town. However, Jimmy was stunned to discover that Andy was not behind the wheel that night. In his stead, there was a young woman. He couldn’t make out her identity, but, even if he could, Jimmy had never shot a woman before. Adding to his already big surprise, there was another woman in the passenger seat.
“Shit…” He hummed, frowning, as the truck approached at a steady pace. Jimmy leaned back, taking his eye from the scope. For the first time in more than three years as a robber, he was in a dilemma. He was torn by indecision, but Jimmy had to think fast. Tension tightened the back of his neck. The high beams of the truck blinded him, but he would not back down now. The three men had been waiting for this for a while; wasting their chance was not an option. He put his right hand on the edge of his black, ski mask and pulled it down.
“Jimmy? Talk to me baby, what’s going on?” Marty’s question in the intercom forced a quick, but decisive response.
“Change of plans, boys…” Jimmy said. “We blow it up right here.”
The truck began to slow down, as the driver noticed the big Cadillac blocking the way. She pulled over on the right side of the empty, quiet road, less than ten yards away from Jimmy, but neither woman got out. They kept staring at him, as he aimed the driver.
“Out of the truck! Right now!” His stentorian voice rumbled like thunder, audible over the sound of the diesel engine. The driver opened her door with fear-clumsy fingers. She stepped down from the tall vehicle. Jimmy discovered that she was a lot prettier than he could possibly have imagined. Her colleague followed her example, but she was much calmer than her. Her grip on the door handle was firm and her hand did not shake at all.
“On your knees! Hands behind your head!” Jimmy cried, as he approached the truck with caution. Marty and Nicolas brushed past him, as he made his way towards the driver. Her long, whiskey hair was neatly gathered in a ponytail and her chocolate skin shimmered in the ample moonlight. But, her light-green eyes were only partially open and the skin on her face tingled with fear.
