by Jenna Chase
Billionaire Temptation
An Alpha Billionaire Romance
Jenna Chase
Marie Carnay
Contents
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Also by Jenna Chase
Also by Marie Carnay
Copyright © 2016 by Marie Carnay and Jenna Chase
This is a work of fiction. Any and all similarities to any characters, settings, or situations are purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
Chapter One
RACHEL
Jacob Sinclair never looked so dashing. In the six weeks Rachel had lived in his San Fransisco mansion, the man had worn everything from track pants and a T-shirt to a three piece suit and aviators. All delicious and too damn sexy.
But right now? Dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Skin tanned and toned by more than just boardroom deals and billions of dollars. Forearms even cover models would envy.
Rachel swallowed and the spit caught in her throat. Jobs like this one should come with a warning label.
Danger: Too much animal magnetism for the average organizer. Proceed with extreme caution and ugly granny panties. No lingerie allowed.
She stifled a laugh.
“Something funny, Ms. Butler?”
Shit. “No, sir. My apologies.” Rachel twined her fingers together behind her back and tried not to fidget.
Never in the past few years as a personal organizer had a client thrown her this off balance. One sentence full of earned arrogance laced with sex and Rachel’s libido was as turbocharged as a college kid on vodka red bull.
Her boss rubbed at the stubble on his chin. She imagined her hands there instead, stroking up and down against the short scrub before she kissed his lips.
Damn it. She should focus on the job, but the way he stared at her made it impossible. “Is something the matter?”
“On the contrary. After looking over your work in the study, I’ve determined it meets my specifications.”
Thank God. Unpacking all those boxes had burned more calories than even mocha java fudge could replace. But she’d taken some liberties and made some choices she wasn’t sure he’d like.
Rachel scrunched up her nose. She hated asking questions. “Was the filing system satisfactory? I wasn’t sure how you’d take to—”
Jacob waved her silent. “Are you in the habit of questioning your employers, Ms. Butler?”
“I’m sorry?”
He looked her up and down, his stare languid but appraising. His eyes hovered at hip level for an obscene length of time. A bead of sweat bloomed between Rachel’s shoulder blades.
At last, he flicked his eyes up. “I said the organization meets my specifications. Was I unclear?”
Oh, God. That voice. All velvet coated steel. The hint of cocky asshole shouldn’t turn her on. Jacob’s words shouldn’t quake her knees and send a shiver up her spine. But they did.
She pressed her thighs together. “No.”
“Good.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to make a call. You can start on the bedroom today. I’ll be back to check on you later.”
Jacob turned and strode out of the room, all the oxygen clinging to his wake. Rachel stood in the void, mouth hanging open like a puppet without a master. She could start on the bedroom? His bedroom?
Mercy. With a groan, Rachel sank into the desk chair and closed her eyes.
All the bad decisions of her life paraded through her mind. Getting a tattoo on her eighteenth birthday. Bungee jumping despite throwing up on every kiddie ride at the carnival. Dating that first-year law student. None of them compared to this assignment.
After two and half years, she knew the job requirements cold. Being a professional organizer meant rifling through not just someone’s cutlery, but their old family photos and love letters. Their linens and underwear. It had never bothered her before.
But never had she worked for someone like Jacob Sinclair. He wasn’t just another client who needed tidying up. He was CEO of the biggest hotel conglomerate in the world. A billionaire at thirty-one with more money than all the residents of her hometown put together.
When the opportunity had arrived in her inbox six weeks ago, a thrill had rushed through her. Unpack a sexy billionaire’s brand-new mansion? Live in his guest quarters the whole summer and get paid boatloads to do it? Sign this girl up, she couldn’t wait.
Rachel had expected to share the place with the occasional housekeeper or a gardener. Maybe a hot pool boy for an afternoon. Not Mr. Playboy CEO himself. Billionaires didn’t monitor the help, they just told their assistants to write the checks.
Except Jacob Sinclair.
Rachel stood up in a rush. She didn’t get paid until the assignment was complete. It didn’t matter that one look at his chocolate brown eyes or mussed up hair made her giddy and off-balance. Or that his slim-cut pants left way too little to her dirty imagination.
She had a job to do. Forcing one foot in front of the other, Rachel made her way through the house to the wing of bedrooms. Jacob’s sat on the end with wall-to-wall windows that showcased one of the best views of San Francisco.
After pushing the door open, Rachel paused at the threshold. Oversized four-poster bed. White linens. She could imagine her hair fanned out on the pillowcase as he towered over her. His chest heaving, cock ramrod straight and eager.
Her hand found the door jamb and she gripped it for support.
It had all been manageable up until now. Kitchen and office. Bathroom and linen closet. But his bedroom. She groaned. Pure torture.
Rachel surveyed the boxes. I just have to start small. Reading label after label, at last her gaze landed on the one she wanted. Ties. Anyone can handle ties.
With her shoulders pulled back and her game-face on, Rachel grabbed the first box. Two hours later, she sat in the middle of a technicolor field of ties and pocket squares and had never felt more out of her element.
Growing up in a small town, her father owned one, maybe two ties. He only brought them out for a wedding or a funeral. Sure, she’d seen more living in the city, but nothing like this.
Picking up a crimson number, she ran her fingers down the silk. Soft and buttery, the fabric slipped over her skin. Rachel imagined Jacob standing in front of the mirror, fingers caressing the same silk as he looped the tie around his neck and knotted it just right.
She’d love to be the one to loosen it at the end of the day. Her cheeks flushed and she shoved the thoughts to the side. The man had paraded enough models and actresses through his Beverly Hills estate to make the Hollywood Walk of Fame jealous. His San Francisco mansion wouldn’t be any different.
No matter what Rachel did, she’d always be an ordinary woman. She could slick on some lip gloss and curl her lashes, but runway models didn’t come in five-foot-three packages with hips made for more than a slip dress and a catwalk. A billionaire like Jacob Sinclair would never be interested in her.
She set the tie back in the color-coordinated stack and opened another box. Oh, my. Tipping the cardboard on its side, Rachel dumped out at least a hundred more ties and pocket squares in a rainbow of colors. From black to green to pale yellow, Jacob owned enough hand-dyed silk to dress-up an entire fortune 500 company salesforce.
She checked her watch.
There goes the afternoon.
JACOB
Rachel Butler had curves built for his hands. She kneeled on the floor, a sea of his accessories laid out around her, her plump ass squishing her feet as she organized his world. Mmm. He could imagine her right now, straddling him in his bed, bouncing up and down as he fucked her senseless.
It took all of Jacob’s self-control not to walk up and give those delicious curves a squeeze.
The moment her bio had come through his email, he’d hired her. A woman with bright blue eyes and lush pink lips unpacking his personal effects was what dreams were made of. Billionaire dreams.
He’d worked his ass off in the hotel industry. Turning his father’s failing business into an uber-successful conglomerate through hard work and late nights. He should be able to enjoy the fruits of his labors. And he was, one folded pocket square at a time.
Rachel leaned over and her shirt rode up, exposing a pale streak of skin across her lower back. For weeks they had played this little game. Him dropping hints, her pretending not to notice.
Ordinarily, he would act the gentleman and leave her alone. One-night stands were more his style. Jacob didn’t do relationships or dates or anything that would generate feelings. He’d worked too hard in life to let love ruin his goals.
But something about Rachel Butler made him pause.
He’d entertained more fantasies about her than he cared to admit. Waking up to her lips wrapped around his cock as the sun streamed through the windows. Pressing her up against his office wall as he took her from behind.
Christening his brand-new place with her orgasms would be spectacular. He even liked Rachel’s company with her clothes still on.
Damn it. She’d gotten under his skin. A splinter of sex and longing that worked its way deeper every day. The more he talked to her, the more he wanted to. The more she laughed, the more he wanted to hear the sound.
The worst part? The attraction was mutual. She tensed when he spoke. Her breath hitched when he entered the room. Rachel wanted him.
Any other woman and he’d have already bent her over and had his way with her. Spanked her ass and demanded she tell him all her darkest fantasies. But Rachel was so different from the opportunistic parasites throwing themselves at him lately. Instead of schemes and lies, she was honest and open.
Beautiful.
He stepped into the closet as she scooped up a stack of folded ties with a hint of exasperation.
“Who needs three hundred ties?” Her words came out in a frustrated whisper, but he’d caught them.
Jacob leaned on the door jamb with a grin. Surprising her was always fun. “Three hundred and sixty-five to be exact. I never wear the same tie twice in a year.”
Rachel spun around, the armful of silk pressed close to her chest. “Oh! Mr. Sinclair! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
“Obviously.”
“I hope you didn’t take offense. I didn’t mean that it was bad to have so many ties. I just—”
He held up a hand and her voice cut out. “I’m not offended.” He pushed off the painted wood and stepped closer. “But I am curious. Just what are you planning to do with them?”
She swallowed and he watched her throat work the panic down. “Um… I’ve set up a revolving rack on the far wall. Over t-there…” Rachel’s finger emerged from the cacophony of dyed silk as she pointed it out. “I hope that’s okay.”
Her cheeks blushed pink. It had to be the highlight of his day.
“That sounds excellent.”
She exhaled in relief and Jacob made a snap decision. Screw his usual MO. When she finished his bedroom, Rachel would be gone. He needed to seize the opportunity before she walked out the door. He inhaled and pulled back his shoulders. “When you’re done, meet me in the pool.”
Her eyes turned to saucers. “Excuse me?”
“It’s time you took a break. Being on your hands and knees in my closet all day, your muscles must ache. A swim will help.”
The blush deepened. “I’m not really the swimming sort.”
Jacob stepped back into the doorway. Six weeks was long enough to avoid the attraction. No more Mr. Nice Boss. Rachel didn’t want to mix business and pleasure? Too damn bad. He was done waiting. “This isn’t an optional assignment, Ms. Butler.”
The ties quivered against her chest and he picked up a hint of defiance in her eyes. His cock throbbed.
She met his stare head-on. “I see.”
“You will.”
Chapter Two
RACHEL
I can’t do this. When Jacob asked her to meet him in the pool, she’d let her emotions cross her face. Hope. Desire. Anger.
It still all swam in a mix inside her and she hadn’t even left her room. Doing this fell squarely in the uncomfortable zone. It was one thing to stand by and pretend to work while he swam lap after lap or eased his tired muscles in the hot tub. For starters, she usually wore clothes. Lots of clothes.
She stared at her bikini in the mirror. Hot pink with strings everywhere, it wasn’t made for billionaire eyes. She only brought it in case she had alone time to work on her tan. If she’d known her boss would be watching…
Rachel shook her head. Going swimming together was inappropriate and unprofessional and a terrible idea. She squirmed. It was also hotter than hell.
Just the thought of sinking into that enormous heated pool while Jacob watched. Oh, my. Her nipples tightened and she tied the string tighter around her neck. There had to be an innocent explanation for the invite.
She could fantasize about Jacob Sinclair all she wanted; a man like that would never be interested in a woman like her. Billionaires could date movie stars and models and singers. Not personal organizers who lived in a five-hundred-square-foot studio above a comic book shop.
The whole thing was probably some crazy test to see if he could rattle her cage. Maybe if she passed, he’d give her a bonus. The thought calmed her nerves and she flicked off the light to her room before heading toward the pool. Her bare feet were silent on the plush carpet.
Jacob wanted to make her uncomfortable? Not possible. No way. She would walk into that pool room with her head held high and all of her assets on full display. He could choke on them.
A minute later, she barged through the door, refusing to let doubts crowd in on her resolve. Jacob floated in the water on his back, arms outstretched, waiting.
Rachel stared at him as she approached, jaw locked to keep her teeth from chattering. No man rattled her the way Jacob did. She’d only known him for a few weeks, but it had been enough. His eyes roved up and down her body, shamelessly gawking as she stepped into the water.
Perfect temperature, but she’d expect no less. The warmth enveloped her as she sank down each step, burying her body beneath the surface. Jacob’s stare lingered at the intersection of water and skin, watching intently as Rachel disappeared.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he found her attractive. But he couldn’t. She submerged, soaking her blonde hair before popping back up and slicking it back. While she’d been under, Jacob had moved, gliding close enough to touch.
“Did you finish the ties?”
“Arranged by color and style per your request.”
“Thank you.”
Rachel blinked. He never thanked her. Ever.
At last, she found her voice. “You’re welcome.”
Before she even finished the last syllable, Jacob dove under the water and disappeared. Rachel spun to find him. He popped up behind her, inches away as she turned to face him. Her breath caught in her chest.
“I meant to tell you how impressed I am with your work. True dedication to the job is hard to find these days.”
Surrounded by water and Rachel’s tongue turned to sand. She smacked it on the roof of her mouth. “I, um, pride myself on being thorough.”
The water rippled as he pushed off the bottom to brush past her. “Are you thorough i
n everything you do? Or just organizing?”
Oh my God. If she didn’t need to tread water to keep from drowning, Rachel would have crossed her legs. How did he make such an innocent question sound so filthy?
“I’ve always been a hard worker.”
His pupils swelled, the black eclipsing the chocolate brown of his irises. So damn handsome. Between the strong angle of his jaw to the lift in his eyebrow as he stared, Rachel didn’t know where to look. She reached behind her, scrabbling in the water to put some distance between them.
Jacob closed the gap with fluid grace. “Tell me, Rachel. Are you dating anyone?”
“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.”
“Why not?” He swam around her in a circle, easing closer with every pass like a shark.
“Employers aren’t supposed to ask things like that.”
“Then forget I’ve hired you. Pretend we’re just two people in a swimming pool getting to know each other.” His fingers grazed her arm as he kept himself afloat and a bolt of need rushed through her.
Rachel closed her eyes. It was so wrong. So very wrong. “I’m not dating anyone, no.” Blinking her eyes open, she caught the tail end of his smile.
“That makes two of us.”
This can’t be happening. He’s just toying with me. Nothing he says is real.
Rachel pressed her lips into a line. “You could have your pick of women, I hardly think you need to waste your time with me.” In an instant, Jacob invaded her space, face right up in hers, body pushing her back in the water. Her shoulders bumped the edge of the pool and Jacob reached out to grip the ledge.
In seconds, he’d caged her in. The taut muscles of his biceps bulged as he dug his fingers into the stone beside her. His chest heaved up and down less than a foot away, sending ripples of water over her breasts.
Rachel’s lips fell open and her nipples hardened. This wasn’t the cool, collected Jacob Sinclair she’d known the past few weeks. This man was all danger and heat. Power and sex.
