The clock on her nightstand read 8:00 a.m. Not answering you today, she silently informed the phone. It’s Saturday.
The ringing continued. Who could be so cruel as to call so early after the night I had? Still, she didn’t reach for the phone; it would eventually go to voice mail. She would deal with it later. Much later. She rolled over and pulled the sheets back up around her neck, fully intending to sleep the morning away, and maybe continue the dream where it had left off. Then the annoying sound started again. Must be important, she thought, and then said out loud, “This had better be important.” Grabbing the phone, she checked the caller ID. She didn’t recognize the number. Fumbling with the buttons, she answered, “Hello?”
An unfamiliar male voice said, “Good morning. May I speak with Miss Lizette Burke?”
“This is Miss Burke,” she said with a yawn. This better not be a political poll or sales call, because they were going to get an earful if it was.
“Hello, Miss Burke, my name is Matt Phillips. I am calling to schedule the Date of Your Dreams.”
“The date of my dreams?” she asked. “I think you have the wrong number.” If she was still dreaming, then this dream took a wrong turn and was fast approaching her worst nightmare.
She was about to hang up when the man said, “No, I have the correct number. Miss Burke, Mr. Vinchi asked me to contact you this morning to schedule your dream date. Will you be available today at noon?”
Had he said Mr. Vinchi? “Who are you again?” she asked.
“My name is Matt Phillips. I am Mr. Jonathan Vinchi’s personal assistant.”
Ah, of course, his personal assistant. “Mr. Phillips, do you know what time it is?”
“Yes, Miss Burke. I do apologize for calling so early. However, Mr. Vinchi asked me to update you on the scheduled plans for today.”
“Plans for today? What are you talking about, Mr. Phillips? I have no plans with Mr. Vinchi today or any other day, for that matter.”
He cleared his throat and continued, “I was informed you were the winner of the raffle last night. I am calling to finalize the arrangements regarding the Date of Your Dreams with Mr. Vinchi.”
Lizette was fully awake now, trying to process what she had just heard. Jon couldn’t even be bothered to call her himself. Instead, he had had his personal assistant call her. And she bet Jon apparently was too busy to be bothered to make the arrangements for this so-called Date of Your Dreams himself. That was probably all being planned by his personal assistant too. None of this surprised her. She actually would have been shocked if he had made any effort. The almighty important Mr. Vinchi was going to find out her time was valuable too, and she had no intention of spending a minute, never mind the day, with him. “Mr. Phillips, please inform Mr. Vinchi I do not wish to claim my prize. They can draw another name.”
“Sorry, Miss Burke, but that’s impossible to do at this time. The event is over and your name was drawn as the winner.”
“Fine. Please explain to Mr. Vinchi he can consider himself off the hook.”
“All the arrangements have been made. If you can be packed and ready by noon, I will send a car to pick you up. I promise you will love the place I have chosen.”
“That you have chosen?” Yep, she’d called it!
“Yes, Mr. Vinchi asked me to take the liberty to arrange the activities for the day.”
“Really? Mr. Vinchi could not even be bothered to call me himself to ask me what I wanted to do?”
“Mr. Vinchi is unavailable this morning, however, he has rearranged his schedule so as to meet with you this afternoon.”
Oh, yes, too busy to make a five-minute phone call himself. And little ol’ me, sitting by the phone, just waiting for someone to save me from my boredom. Yeah, right! “You are assuming I’m free at that time. Has Mr. Vinchi considered I may already have plans for today?”
After a brief pause, Matt said, “I am sorry, Miss Burke, if today is not convenient for you, I can see if Mr. Vinchi can reschedule for tomorrow.”
No, not today, not tomorrow, not ever! she wanted to scream. She did not want anything to do with him and definitely did not want to spend a dream date with him. He’d lied to her last night, letting her ramble on about what she does, pretending to listen, pretending to care. Oh, God, she’d even asked him to speak to his boss for a donation. He could have cleared up the misunderstanding at that time, but no, instead he’d chosen to continue with the lie. Well, he may have gotten the last laugh last night, but today almighty Mr. Powerful wasn’t going to play her.
And yet, she realized if she didn’t meet him today, he would continue to bother her until his obligation had been fulfilled. Lizette didn’t have the time or the desire to spend the day with Jon, but if she had to, it was going to be on her terms, not Jon’s, and most certainly not some corporate personal assistant’s.
In a much more professional tone she said, “Mr. Phillips, you will need to cancel the plans you have made. If Mr. Vinchi wishes to move forward and fulfill the obligations of being the date of my dreams, he may accompany me to the event I am scheduled to attend today. Please ask him to be here at eleven o’clock this morning, as we need to be there by eleven thirty. Let Mr. Vinchi know this is the only convenient time for me.” She smiled to herself.
“Miss Burke, I will update Mr. Vinchi on your request. Please enjoy your day.” Matt rattled off a phone number in case she needed to reach him anytime in the future. She jotted it down while thinking, Why would I ever need to call?
She hated surprises or last-minute changes. Both of which seemed to be following her for the past twenty-four hours. She made schedules and lived by them. Lizette believed those who didn’t plan were those who lost everything. She had seen it happen to many people and wasn’t going to let it happen to her. There had been no way out of last night’s change of plans—they had been made for business reasons. But nothing was going to make her change her plans for today. If Jon was adamant about fulfilling his obligation as a Date of Your Dreams, then it was going to be on her terms. Let’s see how he feels out of his element. After today, her life would go back to normal.
Her normal Saturday morning consisted of staying in bed until ten while enjoying her morning cup of coffee, reading the Providence Journal and watching the local news. Usually it was a lovely, stress-free way to start the day. No matter how hard she tried, stress-free was no longer in the cards for her day.
Looking at the clock again, she saw it was already nine. Oh, my God! She had told Mr. Phillips to have Jon pick her up here at eleven. What had she been thinking? She didn’t want him coming here, to her home. But it was too late to call and change plans now.
Forcing herself to throw the covers off, she let out a long sigh. No matter what lay ahead, she was going to start this morning off with yoga, hoping its peaceful effects would last throughout the day.
More than an hour later, she grabbed her robe from behind the bedroom door and entered the bathroom. This morning called for an extra-long hot shower to melt away any lingering tension in her body.
As the hot water beat on her back, she thought of the day ahead. Lizette looked forward to this every month. Rain or shine, it never ceased to amaze her how many people turned out for them. Okay, she had to admit, she did prefer the warm sunny days over the rainy or, worse, snowy days, but they never, ever canceled for weather. Yes, this was something she looked forward to all month—well, that was before Jon was going to be there. The only consolation was this was her type of event, not his. She could not wait to see the look on his face when he saw what she had planned for their dream date.
Out the shower, she went through her wardrobe, looking for the right outfit. It not only had to be appropriate for what she was going to be doing, but she wanted it to make a statement too. From the bottom drawer of her dresser, she grabbed the pair of Levi’s that fit her perfectly. All she needed now was the right shirt. She pulled several T-shirts from another drawer. Some were adorned with flowers, one with
a kitten, another with a puppy. None of these were right. They were all too nice and said, “I’m a sweet girl, feel free to walk all over me.” Okay, so she normally would wear these, but today she needed something bold, something not her. Then she remembered getting a free T-shirt with one of the romance books she had ordered online. At the time, she couldn’t picture herself ever wearing it and had planned on donating it to Goodwill. Digging through a box she had set aside for donations, she found the tight pink T-shirt. Holding it up she knew it was perfect. She slid it over her head, tucked it in at the waist of her jeans, and turned to look at herself in the mirror. It was definitely a snug fit. Probably should have been a size bigger, but it made the right statement. “Yep, perfect,” she said. Lizette could not help but laugh as she read the saying again on the shirt: Real Men Know How to Get Down and Dirty. Today it fits the situation perfectly and somehow she could not picture Jon getting dirty. Yes, this T-shirt said it all.
She brushed her long straight hair and twisted it into a French braid—a practical choice for today, but still less conservative than the tight bun she wore each day at work.
One last item to put on, then she was ready. Digging in the bottom of her closet she grabbed a pair of beige Timberland work boots with steel-tip toes—a wardrobe addition she’d discovered was essential two years ago when she dropped a hammer on her foot and badly bruised a toe. Accidents happen, but prevention is the key.
All she had left to do was pack her supply bag, which included a hammer, heavy work gloves, protective goggles, bug spray, sunscreen, plenty of hand wipes, and a small first-aid kit. Done.
The morning had flown by, but she was ready now, with fifteen minutes to spare. “Excellent, I still have time for coffee and the news.” Knowing her time was limited, she only made one cup, since she had no intention of offering any to Jon. She opened her front door, grabbed the local paper, and walked back to her couch, coffee in hand. Leaning back she slowly flipped through the paper. Page one: local taxes on the rise. Yes, no surprise there. It seemed to be the topic every day, everywhere. She continued to turn the pages until she came upon the wedding announcements. Another one of her high school friends had found happily ever after. Had it really been ten years since they had last seen each other? That would explain the lack of an invite. Next page was full of local and national sports, neither of which interested her.
Taking another sip of her coffee she turned to find her horoscope. “Leo: Your day will be filled with adventure and surprise. Open your mind and heart. Today the stars are aligned for love!” Yeah, they are way off today. Well, that only left the entertainment page. She hated to admit it, but she always enjoyed those cheesy gossip stories. Some star was always doing something outrageous that you couldn’t help but read about. To her horror, today’s main article was about the charity event she’d attended last night in Boston. And whose picture was front and center but Jonathan Vinchi’s. date of your Dreams with billionaire jonathan vinchi. Thank God she hadn’t gone up to collect her prize or her picture would have been in the paper too. Resisting the urge to rip up the newspaper and throw it in the trash where it belonged, she began to read the article.
“Three hundred thousand dollars were raised to benefit the Fight Against Hunger at a party that was held at Boston’s Venezia Restaurant Friday night. The highlight of the evening appeared to be the extraordinary raffle prizes, which included new cars and extravagant vacations. But the one that seemed to bring the crowd to a roar was a Date of Your Dreams with one of the most eligible bachelors, billionaire Jonathan Vinchi. Without a doubt, Mr. Vinchi’s participation was a major draw to make this charity event such a huge success. Unfortunately, the winner of the raffle, local Miss Lizette Burke, seemed to have left the event early and was unable to claim her prize in person. One can only imagine the shock and excitement Miss Burke will feel when she is informed of her luck.”
She was so absorbed by the article that she did not hear the first knocks on her door. She only noticed when the knocks grew into a frustrated pounding. It was obvious that someone was losing his patience. There could only be one person who would fit that bill. She debated letting him wait even longer, but eventually she had to open the door. Well, let’s get this over with. Folding the newspaper neatly, she laid it on the coffee table. She walked to the kitchen and placed her now-empty coffee cup in the sink, then went to answer the door. Remember, this is on your terms, your turf, she reminded herself. The knocking had continued even as she turned the knob and began to open the door.
Chapter Four
It took all her strength not to burst out laughing when she saw Jon dressed in what she guessed to be a Ralph Lauren suit, ready for another “Who’s Who” charity event. Perfect!
“Am I early?” he asked as his eyes took in her attire.
And it begins. “No, not all at. You’re right on time, Mr. Vinchi. Let me grab my things and we can go.”
She was dying to see the expression on his face, but instead she turned and grabbed the bag she had purposely left right by the front door. She walked past him onto the porch and closed the door behind her, not so subtly hinting, You are not welcome in my home.
Parked directly in front of her modest home for the second time in twenty-four hours was a limo. Last night she had no choice as to her transportation, since Elaine had made all the arrangements. Today she was in control, and her arrangements did not include anything close to a limo.
Stepping off the porch, she pulled her keys from her jeans pocket and held them up without turning toward him. “I’ll drive,” she said as she walked to her more than slightly beat-up 1970 Volkswagen Bug, with its original red paint job—or what was left of it. Lizette hopped into the driver’s seat fully expecting to hear an argument, but to her surprise Jon opened the passenger door and sat down next to her.
“Are you sure this thing is going to get us to whatever event we’re going to?” Jon’s tone held a bit of sarcasm in it.
She couldn’t blame him, but still she hoped he’d soon get the point that he wasn’t wanted here, get out of the car, and go back to his limo, back to where he belonged. Patting the dashboard, Lizette said, “She’s a classic, but don’t feel obligated to come with me. We can end this date now if you wish.”
“Hate to be the one to inform you, Lizette, but I don’t believe the old Volkswagen Bugs ran great when they were brand new, so I don’t know how you think it would be considered reliable almost forty-five years later.”
Jon had not acknowledged her other comment, so she started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Lizette did not want to be spending the day with him and planned on making sure it was obvious all day if she had to. One solid way was the silent treatment—at least, it always seemed effective in the romance novels she read.
The drive took only about five minutes, but she could feel his eyes on her the entire way. He obviously didn’t know who he was messing with if he thought she would give in and break the silence. Instead, she gripped the steering wheel tighter and tried to focus strictly on her driving.
Thank God, she thought as she finally pulled into a parking spot at a local park.
“We’re here.” Lizette opened the door and got out.
Jon followed. “And exactly where is here?” he asked as he scanned the area for a sign.
Lizette pointed down to where a group of all ages had gathered and was already being handed assignments by what looked like the event’s leader.
“Cold Spring Park. This is the event we’re attending. We’re going to clean and repair the park.” She could not help herself. She turned to him with a smile and said, “Mr. Vinchi, I guess this is not the type of event you expected, or what you’re used to attending.”
“Is it that obvious I expected something different?” he asked sarcastically. “What is also obvious is the lack of surprise by this fact. Could it be you neglected to give more details on this event on purpose?”
Acting shocked, Lizette said, “Now, Mr. Vinchi, why
would I do such a thing to someone as important as you?” Her smile looked less innocent as she continued. “You don’t have to stay. Feel free to call a cab and go back to your office. I am sure there are other ways you can spend your day. I’m staying, and we are late. I need to head down and grab an assignment before they’re all gone.”
Without looking back, she headed across the parking lot. To save time, she opted to walk down the park’s steep hill instead of taking a set of stairs farther away. She joined the group a moment before it began to disperse.
***
Jon continued to stand by the car as Lizette walked to meet the group. His eyes roamed over her backside. Without a doubt, she was beautiful and sexy, with a fiery personality. Last night he’d been drawn to her, and he had to admit she’d provided him with some sweet dreams overnight, but today, the way those jeans hugged her ass and the way she swayed those hips was more than tempting—it was driving him crazy. There is no way she’s not doing that on purpose. His body reacted as he thought of grabbing her ass and pulling her toward him while he tasted that sassy little mouth. He would love to pull that tight T-shirt off her and suck the nipples that continuously pressed against the cloth, begging to be released. She could pretend to be reserved, but something told him she would be a freak between the sheets—and that thought only enhanced the tightness in his pants.
A horn beeped behind him, interrupting his fantasy. He scanned the park for Lizette. More time had passed than he thought because she was already working, painting the bottom of what he thought was a seesaw, if memory served. It had been many years since he was in a children’s play area. Thinking back, the last time he had “played” was probably when he was ten. Times were different then. He was different then. That was before his father died. No time to waste on children’s games then, and no time to waste on adult games now.
The Billionaire's Secret (Betting on You Series: Book One) Page 4
