He smiled slightly and asked, “Do you have a card that I may give to my boss, Miss Burke?”
Was it her imagination, or was there a hint that he found her request a bit amusing? Shrug it off, Lizette. It’s because this is new to you.
She fumbled with the clasp of her purse and quickly realized she had packed too many of what she thought were essentials for this type of event. Her cards were in there somewhere. Turning to Jon, she shyly asked, “Would you mind?”
Without waiting for a reply, she handed him her champagne glass, then pulled out her lipstick and compact and handed them to him. Lizette then proceeded to hand him a notepad and pen, a cell phone, and keys. She didn’t want to pull out the photos in front of him, so she rummaged through the pictures in her purse and finally located the business cards. She didn’t want to go through the hassle of trying to locate them again for the next person, so she slid them into a small inside pocket of the purse. Lizette pulled one out and began to hand it to Jon. Only then did she realize Jon was standing there patiently, holding the contents of her purse and their champagne glasses. Obviously handing the card to him wasn’t an option at the moment, so she slipped it into his breast pocket and said as confidently as she could muster in the situation, “Here is my boss’s business card. She can be reached at any of the numbers listed.”
Trying to avoid eye contact, since she could feel her cheeks were still flushed from embarrassment, she began to retrieve the items one by one. As she removed each item, her fingers brushed against his. Only her lipstick remained. He had such large, sexy hands. She wished it were her body he was holding intimately instead of her lipstick. Oh, get your head where it belongs. You are here on business. He is here on business. That is it. Slowly she took lipstick, enjoying one last brief brush of skin before placing it back in her purse. If Jon noticed the effect such a simple touch had on her, he covered it well.
“I believe this is also yours, Miss Burke.” Jon handed her the champagne glass.
She accepted it gladly. “Please call me Lizette.” Then she took more than a ladylike sip to quench the thirst that had overcome her.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jon broke the silence by asking, “What do you do at Another Chance, Lizette?”
Happy to be back on a topic she was comfortable with, she answered, “I’m the accounting manager.” Funny title, manager, when you’re the only person in that department, she thought. They operated with only essential staff to keep costs down.
She could feel Jon’s eyes slowly roam over her in disbelief. “Accountant? Really? You don’t look like the accountants I deal with.”
If only he saw what I look like normally, he would not have said that.
“So tell me more about what Another Chance does.”
Now she was in her comfort zone. The event was abuzz with music and conversation, yet it seemed as if they were in the room alone. Another fifteen minutes passed and Lizette didn’t even touch her champagne. She told him about some of the company’s past achievements as well as what they were hoping to do next. Elaine was right about one thing: It’s easy to talk about something you are passionate about, and it didn’t hurt that she found Jon not only easy on the eyes but also easy to talk to. Occasionally he would ask a question, but he genuinely seemed interested in hearing what she had to say and was content listening. This was a new experience for her, because she normally would not take the lead in a conversation like this.
After some time she noticed three gentlemen staring at them. She recognized them from the pictures. They were the top three on her donation target list. Number one was Ross Whitman. He appeared to be the more serious of the three. Next to him stood the second on her list, Trent Davis. And finally number three: Drew Navarro. Something about his smile said he was enjoying this more than the others. Every so often Drew or Trent would look at Jon and her, smile, say something to the other men, and then they would all laugh. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she felt like they were talking about her. The more she tried to ignore them, the more obvious their interest in her became. If Jon noticed, he didn’t let it show. It was getting difficult to stay focused on what she was she was telling him. Oh, how she wished she knew what they found so funny. And then, as if on cue, all three men were walking toward them. It appeared she would have her answer soon.
Jon never took his eyes off her as the gentlemen approached. There was a brief silence before the tallest of the three, Trent Davis, spoke. “Jon, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”
He put a protective hand on the small of her back and pulled her slightly closer. She had to admit, it felt good, natural. “Miss Burke, may I introduce you to Trent Davis, Drew Navarro, and Ross Whitman. Gentlemen, this is Miss Burke.” She exchanged handshakes with both Ross and Drew. Trent, however, raised her hand to his lips and placed a light kiss on it. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Burke.” His eyes never left hers as he did so.
Oh, yes, he thinks he is so charming. Some women may have found his attentions flattering or sexy, but she found them unnerving. Lizette pulled her hand back. She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if Jon’s expression had changed as well since their arrival. His eyes had darkened, his jaw was tense, and his hand seemed to have taken on a possessive hold on her back.
From their casual conversation, she found it difficult to tell if they were friends or not. They all appeared to be close in age. Maybe they know each other from college. Either way, she could feel Jon’s muscles stiffen each time Trent spoke directly to her. She had to admit she was impressed that Jon was not intimidated by their wealth or power. She wished some of his confidence would rub off on her. She could see Jon out of the corner of her eye. Everything about him in that moment screamed, “Don’t fuck with me.” Most men would have taken the hint and excused themselves, but Jon’s demeanor only seemed to encourage Trent more. Ross seemed to have noticed the tension building and said, “Okay, Trent, I think we’ve worn out our welcome here.” Turning to Lizette, he said, “Miss Burke, it was a pleasure meeting you and I hope to see you again. Please enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“Thank you, Mr. Whitman, you also,” she responded.
Though the men had only been with them for a few moments, it had been long enough to break the ease of conversation she and Jon had been sharing before. They stood quietly as the gentlemen walked away, still laughing. She thought she heard Trent say, “Fifty to yours, Drew, if you can pull that one off.” Ross was shaking his head. Drew looked right at her, smiled, and said, “I’ll take that bet.” Then he and Trent shook hands before they disappeared into the crowd. Trent seemed to be exactly what she had thought: an arrogant ass. She hoped he wasn’t Jon’s boss because she was sure someone like him would never donate to Another Chance.
Damn, I forgot to ask them for a donation! What a missed opportunity. But there was no way was she going to search them out and have another encounter with Trent again if she could avoid it. Somehow she would have to work harder on the remaining twelve on her list. As she turned back to Jon they were once again interrupted. This time it was it was by the woman who had greeted her at the door earlier.
“Miss Burke, are you enjoying yourself?” she asked.
“Yes, very much so. Thank you.” What amazed her was, it was true. She was enjoying her evening—well, most of it, at least.
“Wonderful,” she said to Lizette before turning to Jon. “Mr. Vinchi, I hate to interrupt. However, Mr. Scott asked that we go over the preliminaries so you’re set for the raffle tonight.” Turning back to Lizette she asked, “Would you mind if I borrowed him for a while?”
“No, of course not,” Lizette answered. Turning to Jon, she said, “I’m sorry, Jon, time seems to have gotten away from me. I didn’t mean to pull you away from your duties for so long. You have been so gracious keeping me company and listening to me ramble.” As she walked away from the table, she thought, I hope he is not in trouble for spending so much time with me.
Great. A
s Jon walked away, Lizette realized she’d been mistaken again. First she’d thought he was a “Who’s Who,” then she had thought his boss had sent him as Elaine had her. But now it seemed he worked for the event chairman, Mr. Scott. Lizette watched as the woman pointed to the stage and gave Jon instructions. She could tell by his expression he didn’t like what he was hearing. The more the woman spoke, the tenser he looked. Jon nodded a few times, then the woman rose and left the table. Jon sat alone for a moment before also rising. He did not follow her. Instead he walked in the direction of the stage. Something seemed wrong. Oh, God, she would feel so bad if he was in trouble or, worse, fired for neglecting his duties because of her. She had to fix this.
As the woman approached, Lizette asked, “Excuse me. May I speak to you for a moment?”
“Of course, Miss Burke. What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Vinchi wasn’t neglecting his duties. See, I was nervous, with this being my first time at an event such as this, and Mr. Vinchi was kind enough to spend time with me so I would feel more comfortable. Please don’t hold that against him. This was purely my fault. I am sure he will prove to be invaluable to this event if given the chance,” she said as she pled her case.
“Mr. Vinchi?” the woman said questioningly. Then, with a smile on her lips she said, “Miss Burke, I have no doubt Mr. Vinchi will prove to be invaluable to this event, and hopefully more events in the future.” With that the woman turned, still smiling, and continued on her way. Lizette felt she had at least made her point. Jon would not lose his job. Somehow that gave her peace.
She spent the rest of the evening doing exactly as Elaine had requested. She mingled with the people on her list—well, most of them—and talked about Another Chance. She felt confident she had accurately presented the plight of both Another Chance and the community it served. No one had requested a business card from her as Jon had, but she had handed them out anyway. When she wanted to withdraw and hide, she remembered it wasn’t only the company on the line and all who worked there, but all those in the community who would suffer if she wasn’t successful. Funny—when she thought of that, she found herself able to face challenges she normally would have shied from.
Lizette found a waiter and finally was able to slowly sip a drink and exhale. The evening was coming to an end. Though she did not have a purse full of donations to bring back to the office, she could only hope someone would reach out to Another Chance after the event.
Now she could relax, but before leaving she had hoped to see Jon again. She searched the crowd and found Ross, Drew, and Trent engaged in deep conversation, but no Jon. He seemed to have vanished as quickly as he had appeared. He must be in the back assisting with the raffle, she thought.
Looking at her watch, she could not believe how much time had passed. It had been a long evening. Now Mr. Scott was speaking. “Thank you all for your generous donations, for the hard work of the participants who have made it all possible . . .”
Lizette tried to focus on his speech, but she was thinking of Jon. She wanted to see him one more time. She hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye and, since she had no plans to ever attend an event like this one again, she knew this would be her last chance to see him.
The chairman was announcing the raffle winners. “And the third-prize winner is . . .”
Blah blah blah, she thought as the chairman announced the second prize and the winner. None were important to her at this moment. It was obvious her chance to see Jon again had slipped away. There was nothing left to do but go home. She placed her empty champagne glass on a passing tray and began making her way to the exit.
The crowd became quiet as the chairman announced the grand prize. “And the moment I am sure all you ladies have been waiting for. Which one of you will be lucky enough to win the Date of Your Dreams with this eligible, handsome billionaire bachelor today?”
Without pausing to turn around, Lizette thought, What? Imagine the man so full of himself he would let himself be raffled off. Shaking her head, she answered herself: Trent Davis, most likely. She almost laughed when she heard the same excited tone that would arise at the local meat raffles back home when they were about to announce the winner of prime rib cuts. She could hear women hooting and hollering like schoolgirls. Really? Who would want a prize like that? Disgusting! She shivered at the thought. You would never catch her acting so foolishly over a man she didn’t even know.
As she reached the exit, Lizette turned one last time and scanned the crowd, hoping by chance Jon would be searching for her too. She didn’t fully understand why, but something inside her was drawn to him, yearned to see him again, in a way she had never felt before. He somehow had the power to ignite what no one else could. Yes, he was good-looking—extremely attractive, if she was being honest with herself. But there was something more, something you read about in a romance novel, a unique chemistry that was undeniable.
But her search for him was turning up fruitless. And it was obvious he wasn’t out there looking for her. Maybe what she thought had transpired between them had only been felt by her. That thought gave her an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I need to get out of here,” she said softly.
She pulled open the door to the exit but then paused. The room had suddenly fallen silent—so silent she could hear her own thoughts for the first time that evening. Then once again she heard the chairman’s voice: “And the grand prize winner is . . . Miss Lizette Burke.”
She stopped in her tracks by what she thought was her name being called. Impossible, she thought.
After a short pause, the chairman repeated himself with excitement and enthusiasm reserved for the greatest prize a person could win. “Miss Lizette Burke, you are the lucky winner of the Date of Your Dreams with Mr. Jonathan Vinchi! Come on up and claim your prize!”
Oh, my God! she screamed inside. Jonathan? Jon? He was the most eligible bachelor? It was impossible. Billionaire? Jon is a billionaire? It could not be. Despite her earlier intention not to feed into the frenzy surrounding the raffle, she needed to confirm what she’d heard was not a mistake. Everything within her prayed it was.
Lizette turned toward the stage across the room. Even from this distance, the truth was apparent. Jon stood next to Mr. Scott as cameras flashed. Why hadn’t he told her? Why had he lied and told her he was here on business? She felt foolish for thinking he’d enjoyed the time they’d spent together. He was probably only humoring her, showing her pity for being so awkward and uncomfortable in his environment. He was nothing like her; he was one of them, the elite. That knowledge brought what had been a wonderful evening for her to a crashing halt. How could she not have known, not made the connection? Her initial reaction told her he was powerful; why hadn’t she listened to herself? And to add insult to injury, she had just won him in a raffle. Could this night get any worse? She wasn’t going to wait to find out. One thing she knew, there was no way was she going to walk back into the main hall and claim her prize. Let them call another name, someone who actually wanted to see Mr. Vinchi. Right now all she wanted to do was go home and forget all about tonight, forget all about him. If she never saw him again it would be too soon. Angrily, she turned and exited the building.
The coolness of the night air offered little relief from the anger that boiled within her. As she stepped into the limo, Lizette felt like Cinderella when her coach turned back into a pumpkin. The limo pulled away, leaving behind the sweet dream of what might have been.
Chapter Three
The room fell quiet except for the orchestra, which now played a soft love song. They glided across the floor as though they had been dancing together for years, one of her hands on his shoulder and one of his on the small of her back. As the dance continued, she moved closer to him, so close their bodies now felt as one. His hand gently stroked her back as the dance slowed and they stopped, standing still and holding each other. Neither of them looked away as she traced her lips with the tip of her tongue. She felt him take a deep breath and
his hands twitched against the bare skin of her back. She raised her right hand to the thin shoulder strap of her red gown. Without breaking their gaze, she hooked it on her thumb and slowly slid it off her shoulder. Tipping her head to the left and arching her back, she offered her neck for the taking. He did not disappoint. She sucked in her breath as his lips touched her for the first time. A soft moan escaped her lips as he pulled her hard against him. Her hips pressed tightly against his hard bulge. She could feel the heat through his pants. There was no denying it: He wanted her as much as she wanted him. His lips now trailed kisses across her jaw, then her neck. Wanting more, she pulled the strap down even farther until it revealed her bare breast. His lips eagerly replaced what the fabric once covered. His kisses continued from her neck to her breast to rest upon her nipple. He gently traced it with his tongue, licking and sucking until her legs began to quake. Only the support of his strong hands kept her standing. Loving what his lips were doing, she wanted even more. Her left thumb unhooked her dress’s other strap, revealing both breasts. His hands cupped them possessively, eagerly, bringing her to the brink of climax as his tongue began to trace its way lower. He removed his hands from her breasts to grasp the gown that now hung loosely around her full hips. In one fluid movement he slid it to the floor, leaving her standing in front of him in, wearing only her lace panties. Hands on her hips, he pulled her closer as his tongue quickly made its way to the only barrier left between them. He slipped a finger inside her panties and stroked her, slowly at first, then circling her clit, bringing her over the edge as she began a shuddering climax. She wanted more as she pulled him closer. As she did, the music that had been playing changed. It became louder, more annoying . . . like a buzzing . . . or a beeping . . . so distracting . . .
Slowly, reluctantly, Lizette opened her eyes to the sound of her cell phone ringing. It had only been a dream. A sweet, wonderful dream, but a dream nonetheless.
The Billionaire's Secret (Betting on You Series: Book One) Page 3
