His Greed (Billionaire Blind Date Book 1)

by Jacinda Chance

  His Greed

  Billionaire Blind Date

  Book One

  Jacinda Chance

  Copyright© 2016 Jacinda Chance

  All Rights Reserved

  This book or any portion of it may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or people, living or dead, is a coincidence.

  Visit me at JacindaChance.com where you can sign up to be notified when the next installment is out!

  His warm breath, carrying the light scent of scotch, washed across my face, my lips.

  “I don’t wait, Sophie. I don’t have to. I have as many shots as I want, but I want you.” His lips brushed mine. “And I know you want me, too.”

  He leaned back to look at me. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll take you back to Bill where your dinner will be on me.”

  “I don’t want to go back,” I said, my tongue trying to stick to the roof of my mouth. I didn’t want Bill. I wanted this, but it was hard to admit to myself that I did. That I could be this easy.

  “I know. I know what you want, and I’m going to give it to you.”

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two - Sophie

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven - Grant

  Eight - Sophie

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen - Grant

  One

  I’ve had a lot of beautiful women in my bed, on their knees, bent over a table, doing whatever I wanted them to. But I have never wanted to clear out a restaurant so I could slide a woman’s dress up and wrap her legs around my hips the moment I saw her.

  And then Sophie walked through the door.

  She pulled some of her long, reddish-brown hair forward over her shoulder, fluffing the ends and trying to arrange herself. She wore a black mini-dress that clung to her generous curves, with a flattering plunge that didn’t allow for a bra and put the swell of her perfect breasts on display. They bounced lightly as she walked in her fuck-me pumps, and for the first time I could remember, I got hard right in the restaurant just from looking at her and imagining how it would feel to sink into her. I’d fuck her until those big amber eyes went dark with need and she begged me to let her come.

  She wasn’t even there to meet me. Had no idea I existed. That was about to change.

  I always get what I want, and I couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more.

  “Sophie?” I said, sliding out of the horseshoe-shaped booth with a smile. I held my hand out to take hers.

  Her smile was uncertain but brightened within a second. “Bill?” She took my hand, so I enclosed hers in both of mine. I moved for her to slide into the booth where I’d been sitting, so she wouldn’t be facing the back of the restaurant, and I sat across from her.

  The man she’d expected to see was in the bathroom, having had one too many Jack and Cokes while waiting for his supposedly gorgeous blind date named Sophie, or so he’d explained to every server who passed his table and one couple on their way out. This Bill she was here to meet was tall and pale, balding in front, sweaty, and not someone the gorgeous creature sitting across from me should be having a dinner date with.

  “Aunt Carla described you . . . differently.” Sophie put her clutch on the seat, put her hands in her lap and leaned forward a little. I could already feel her big tits in my hands. My mouth watered.

  “Are you disappointed?” I leaned back and sipped my scotch.

  “Are you crazy?” She laughed. “No, not at all. Just surprised.”

  I know I’m handsome enough, even though I could look like a troll and still have any woman I wanted. Money and power turn most people on more than looks ever could. But her admiration shot right down to my cock. It throbbed as I imagined her full, pink lips wrapped around it.

  She reached behind her neck and scooped more of her thick, shiny hair forward over her shoulder.

  “Don’t do that,” I said.

  She straightened. “What? My hair?”

  “It’s beautiful. I’d like to have it wrapped around my fingers. But don’t cover yourself up like that.” I reached across the table and used my index finger to push the hair behind her shoulder again, exposing the top of her round breast. “There. Gorgeous.”

  Her eyes fluttered as she glanced down at herself and then the table. Her cheeks pinked up before she looked back at me, so nervous but obviously pleased. This remarkable beauty was shy.

  I was going to taste that creamy skin before the night was over and make her skin flush for better reasons.

  Two - Sophie

  My Aunt Carla had a lot to answer for.

  First, she knew I didn’t want to go on a blind date. Only my cousin’s upcoming wedding and the need for a suitable date to quiet the hens in the family drove me to go. Second, she described Bill as unfortunately skinny but a reserved gentleman and very sweet. I knew it was unlikely he was physically attractive since she’d gone on and on about his personality, but I didn’t mind. It was just a date and possibly a future date to a wedding—I wasn’t signing a marriage license with the man.

  Turned out Bill wasn’t skinny. And he wasn’t reserved, pushing my hair back and ogling my breasts. He looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive.

  And I don’t think I’d have minded if he had. When his fingertip brushed my skin and I realized what he was doing with my hair, a rush of wetness surprised me. I’m not easily impressed, and I don’t ever feel attracted to anyone that quickly. Yet I couldn’t deny the warmth between my legs.

  He wore a white shirt open at the collar with black slacks, and if I had to guess, I’d say they were tailored. His shoes looked more expensive than my entire wardrobe. And he smelled like rich musk, just a hint that made me need to swallow. Only expensive cologne could be that subtle and dramatic at the same time.

  Aunt Carla said Bill was an accountant. Unless he was Warren Buffet’s accountant, Bill couldn’t afford to dress that way. Why wouldn’t you talk somebody up instead of down when trying to get your niece to date him? Was this opposite world?

  “A drink?” Bill asked.

  “Yes, thank you. White wine.”

  He smiled as if I’d told a joke. “Any preference?”

  I shrugged and wished I’d caught myself before I did it. “I don’t know much about wine.”

  He ordered a glass of “your best pinot grigio” and went back to devouring me with his eyes as he sipped his scotch. “Tell me something about yourself, Sophie.”

  “My aunt probably filled you in, didn’t she?” Though if she’d been as accurate as she had been when describing Bill, maybe I was as much a surprise to him.

  “I want you to tell me.”

  His voice was deep and smooth like everything about him, and it hit me like a fist why my aunt hadn’t warned me how gorgeous and sophisticated my blind date would be.

  She didn’t want me to back out.

  “There’s . . . not much to tell. Fresh out of college, degrees in hand, haven’t found anything permanent yet.”

  “Degrees?”

  “Art and marketing. I plan to work in commercial art.”

  He nodded. “Do you paint or prefer computer graphics?”

  “I paint, but I prefer sculpting.” My wine arrived. I licked my lips and took a sip. Bill’s short, quick questions unnerved me. “So, how long h
ave you been an accountant?” I asked, my voice too high-pitched.

  “My business interests are more varied than that.” One corner of his mouth quirked up. “As are all my interests.”

  I took another sip of wine. Aunt Carla had been right. I would never have imagined anyone like this man to be interested in a date with me. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was as polite as my aunt had said. But the way he kept looking at me was intense enough, it almost felt like a touch.

  He leaned back and tilted his head. “Tell me, Sophie, how long did it take you to choose that dress tonight?”

  Three

  I leaned back in surprise and rubbed my thumb up and down the stem of my glass. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Did you pull several dresses out of your closet, unsure what to wear, before deciding on that one? Did you buy it especially for this date? Or did you grab whatever was black and short without giving it much thought?”

  One of Bill’s eyebrows raised as he waited for my answer. He looked amused. He might have been making fun of me, if not for the look in his eyes as he regarded my breasts.

  “I tried a few on before picking this one. I take it you don’t like it.” I put my hands in my lap and braced myself to leave if necessary.

  “I like it a lot.” His foot bumped my calf under the table. “There’s just too much of it,” he said, his voice deep and soft.

  I swallowed hard, another rush of heat in my center going against all my principles. I should have been put off by someone so brazen, focusing on my body, my breasts. The feminist in me should have been railing. But I sat there, feeling my heartbeat between my legs instead.

  “You’re blushing. I like that,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “This place is a dump. Let me take you somewhere nice.”

  I laughed. “You picked this place.”

  “Even so.” He slid out of the booth, dropped some crisply folded bills onto the table, and held out his hand for me to take. I lay my hand in his without even hesitating. What the heck was wrong with me?

  “Grant?” A short, balding man in a suit a full size too small for him walked up to us, grinning at Bill. “Never thought I’d see you here. How are you?” He held his hand out, but Bill lifted my hand as explanation, and I rose from the booth.

  “Richard,” Bill said. “I’m fine. We were just leaving.”

  Was Grant his last name? I couldn’t remember Bill’s last name, or whether Aunt Carla had even told me. When Richard kept talking, Bill slid his hand around my waist and pulled me against his side, as if we were a couple. I didn’t resist, and in fact my arm naturally went around his waist as we stood there. I was a little overwhelmed at the closeness of our bodies, so I missed much of what Richard said to him.

  “Here spying on me, no doubt,” Richard said, when I could manage to pay attention. “Wouldn’t it be easier to hire someone to watch me and report back if I’m making secret deals?”

  “My, aren’t you paranoid,” Bill said.

  “Sure.” Richard smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He held a hand out to me. “I don’t believe we’ve met. You’re Grant’s new girlfriend?”

  Before I could move or even open my mouth in surprise, Bill kissed my forehead. “She is. Sophie and I have plans, so if you’ll excuse us.”

  I stared at him. I was his blind date, not his new girlfriend.

  Richard laughed. “I’m sure you do. See you in the boardroom.”

  Bill walked us toward the door. I tried to look back at Richard, but Bill kept his arm in place so that I couldn’t turn without drawing attention to myself. Once we were outside the door, however, I pulled free of him.

  “What was that?”

  “Richard sits on the board of one of my companies, and he’s an asshole.”

  I held my hands out, my mouth open, trying to figure out which question of the many I had to ask next. “What—why did you—?”

  He put a finger over my lips. “Slowly.” His fingertip traced my bottom lip back and forth, and dipped just inside before he dropped his hand.

  Again, I should have been furious at such a thing, shushing me with a fingertip, but the touch sent a warm rush down my body. My nipples hardened, and I wanted to squeeze my thighs together. When had anyone had this effect on me?

  “Why did you lie to him? And why did he keep calling you Grant?”

  “Grant is my name.” His hand touched my shoulder, and then found its way into my hair.

  “Your last name?”

  “First.” His thumb stroked my cheek. I shivered.

  “Aunt Carla said—”

  “Sophie, I’ve never met your Aunt Carla.”

  Four

  Bill—no, Grant—slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and thumbed the screen, his other hand still cupping my neck, thumb on my cheek.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Your date, Bill, is waiting for you inside the restaurant. He’s the tall, skinny one with sweat on his forehead. Blue shirt under a brown pullover, table on the right.”

  I looked past him to see the man my Aunt Carla had actually set me up with. He looked much more like an accountant than the man touching me ever could.

  “I was here keeping an eye on Richard when I overheard your Bill talking about the date his friend set him up with. His description to the server didn’t do you justice, my dear.” Grant lifted his gaze to me and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “He has no idea how fucking gorgeous you really are.”

  I tried to suppress the shiver that laddered its way up my spine, because this was insane. “I don’t understand. Then who are you?”

  “I’m Grant. I overheard him talking about his blind date. And when I saw you, I couldn’t bear to see your evening wasted on him when it could be spent with me.”

  Sexy and flattering, or creepy? I think it skirted the line between them, but the throbbing between my legs kept screaming sexy.

  “So you just . . . lied?” I swallowed hard and leaned away from his hand, just barely. He dropped it, but stepped closer, too close, into my personal space, so much so that he had to look down at me.

  “I never lied. Not once.” A corner of his mouth turned up. “I just didn’t correct you.” His hand brushed my elbow.

  I thought back on the things he’d said to me, and he hadn’t lied. He’d never acknowledged anything I’d said as true, but had said something else instead. Clever.

  “You lied by omission—it’s the same thing. And you outright lied to that man. You said you weren’t spying on him, and then you said I was your girlfriend.”

  He cupped both my elbows, our bodies brushing when I breathed too heavily. “I did not lie, Sophie. I didn’t say I wasn’t spying, just that he was paranoid. That’s true.”

  “But I’m not your new girlfriend.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  When my mouth dropped open, he shook his head. “That one’s close, I’ll admit. I don’t do girlfriends, but you, Sophie . . . you’re about to be the next best thing.”

  A long, black limousine pulled up to the curb a few feet away from where we stood. I caught it out of the corner of my eye, and still had a hard time pulling my gaze away from Grant’s dark, intense eyes. I was about to be the next best thing? What did that even mean?

  He leaned too close, his lips brushing my cheek. Despite my discomfort at being lied to—or not corrected—I didn’t pull away from it.

  “Let me take you to dinner.”

  A man in a black suit got out of the limo and opened the door for us.

  “I—I don’t even know you. The only thing I do know is that you have a curious relationship with the truth.”

  He tossed his head back and laughed, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t imagine how it would feel to lick his throat.

  “What a diplomatic way of putting it.” He lifted my chin with two fingers, the smile dropping from his face. “I haven’t lied to you, and I won’t. But if you’d rather spend the evening with Bill,
feel free to go back into the restaurant.”

  He dipped his head and pressed his lips against mine, his tongue bold and quick, slipping between my lips to slide back and forth. It was so slick and hot and intimate, I leaned forward, chasing his lips after he pulled away.

  “Or you can be my date for the night, Sophie.” He pressed his lips against my ear, his chest touching mine, rubbing over the hard points of my nipples. “I’m the one who’s made you wet. At least give me a chance to follow through.”

  God, how did he know? His tongue flicked my earlobe before he leaned back and took a step away, letting go of me completely. I glanced at the restaurant, Bill’s head visible in the window as he looked at a menu and then his phone, probably wondering if he’d been stood up.

  Grant moved to stand in the open door of the limo. He held out his hand as he had when we’d left the restaurant.

  Sorry, Bill. I’m sure you’re a nice guy.

  “I’ll go to dinner with you,” I said, trying to regain some type of dignity and composure. “But just dinner, I won’t promise anything more.” I’d accused him of lying moments ago, and now I was the one saying things that probably weren’t true.

  Grant nodded and gently pulled my hand, leading me into the limo first. He slid in next to me, leaving no room between us, his arm going behind my head. He crossed his legs and smiled at me.

  “I’ve never been much for promises,” he said. “Most get broken in the end.” He took my nearest hand in his and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.

  “Chanti’s,” he said to the driver. “Find somewhere to park as close as possible, and I’ll let you know when we’re ready to go in.” Grant pushed a button on the ceiling. A panel between the front seat and the huge rear section where we sat slid up. Grant rubbed my shoulder and held my hand until we parked only a few minutes later.

  The ceiling lights came on dimly, allowing Grant and I to see each other better, before the driver got out and walked away from the car.