Billionaire Novelist's Fiery Debutante

by Nic Saint

  He had to tear his eyes away from her, and return them to the synopsis and excerpts from her own novel she’d handed him as reading material. It wasn’t quite his style, but he had to admit she had a way with words and plot that enchanted him. Her stories were original and humorous, and her characters quirky yet real. He was vaguely familiar with the tropes of the genre, and it seemed to him that she managed to surprise the reader with the way she turned the plot. Not unlike what he did with his own stories.

  Among the reading samples she’d handed him, was a quite extensive love scene, and he felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he read it. The dark-haired stranger Antonia had met at the bus station turned out to be her childhood sweetheart, and while the rain poured down on his car, they made passionate love in the backseat, years of pent-up desire coming to a boil. He could really see Chloe in the Antonia character, and had little difficulty imagining himself in the role of the childhood friend. Before long, his heart was racing, his breath came a little faster, and he was licking his lips as he imagined it was him kissing Chloe and making wild love to her.

  “Like what you read?” suddenly her voice intruded upon his fantasy.

  With a jerk, he looked up, feeling caught. “I, erm—” He nodded earnestly. “It’s pretty good stuff.”

  She rewarded him with a bright smile and tapped the pages he’d handed her. “Yours, too. You’re a great writer, Josh.”

  “Thanks,” he said, having a hard time not picturing Chloe clasped in his arms and pinned beneath him on that backseat in the downpour from hell. “You, too. Quite… vivid.”

  She cocked her head and gave him a curious look. “You’re reading the love scene, aren’t you?”

  He grinned. “Busted.”

  “You… like it?”

  “Very much.”

  “Wanna… give me any pointers?” She blinked, seeming to catch herself. “On style, I mean.”

  “Nope. Your style is flawless.” He let his eyes roam over her body for a moment. “Absolutely flawless.”

  CHAPTER 13

  That night, Chloe had a hard time finding sleep. Throughout the day, she’d come to appreciate Josh more and more. Contrary to her initial impression, he was a great guy. The lousy temper he’d displayed at first was, she now saw, due to the immense pressure he had resting squarely on his broad shoulders. He had a lot riding on this retreat, and if it didn’t work out, life as he knew it might be over soon. So she did her best to prompt his creative juices by asking a ton of questions about his characters and their motivation. What was it that made Frankie Knox tick? And what place did Jacqueline Spark hold in his heart? He was surprised at first, not being used to approaching his stories quite this way, but he was a sport and played along.

  Gradually, she began to see that it was the connection between the two main characters of the Knox thrillers that formed the glue that held the stories together. Finally, she made a bold suggestion. Why didn’t he make Jacqueline the lead character for once? And why didn’t he place Frankie in mortal danger, with Jacqueline the only one who could save him. In the nick of time, of course. And what if… he made this book personal. An old enemy of Frankie bursting onto the scene, intent on exacting revenge on his nemesis. And Jacqueline, when she discovers Knox kidnapped and presumed dead, realizing for the first time that what she feels for him is more than mere friendship.

  She could sense that her suggestion had struck a chord. It was as if a light was lit behind his eyes, and for the first time in days a renewed vigor took hold of him. The rest of their session was spent spitballing possible plots twists and turns, an area he proved a real master in.

  She glanced over to where he slept. In spite of the AC, it was still pretty warm at night, so they both dressed appropriately. He only wore his boxers and she her panties and a simple white cotton T. She watched as his chest rose and fell, then her gaze slipped lower, to the domain hidden between his thighs. He’d thrown off his sheet and was sleeping on his back. He was so close now, not just literally but also figuratively. Throughout their sessions, they’d developed a kinship of sorts, as can only exist between two people sharing a common purpose and a shared love for their profession.

  She turned her head away. One of the first things they’d established was that their relationship should remain strictly professional. If they were going to be creative partners, they needed to remain a respectable distance.

  In fact, it had been Chloe who’d suggested this. She’d had her share of man trouble in the past, and really didn’t want to drag that hornet’s nest into what was a crucial collaboration for the both of them.

  “No sex?” Josh had quipped with mock indignation.

  “No sex,” she had confirmed. “For obvious reasons.”

  He hadn’t argued the point, quickly seeing things her way. The fact alone that he’d contemplated a scenario where the two of them would become lovers had made her heart skip a beat. So he fancied her, did he? She was surprised, to say the least. Judging from his past behavior, she’d figured he hated her or something. It just went to show that you can never really tell with a guy.

  She obviously felt a strong attraction to him as well. What was not to like? He was handsome, rich, intelligent, sensitive… And for the first time, she’d have a boyfriend her mother would actually rave about!

  No, she reminded herself. She so didn’t want to go there. So she turned her back on him and tried to find sleep.

  ***

  Josh hadn’t been sleeping. Like Chloe, the excitement of their day spent together made it impossible to doze off. He felt more than saw the way she was studying him, and it satisfied a deep urge in his psyche for attention. It’d been a long time since he’d been this intimate with a woman without actually being… intimate. Oddly enough, he felt more attracted to her the more he got to know her.

  With a lot of women he’d dated in the past, it had been the other way around. The better he got to know them, the less he was interested. But Chloe, so he’d gathered, was not like other women at all. For one thing, she didn’t really know him from Adam. Even though she’d heard of him—via her mother no less—she saw him like just another guy.

  Well, he hoped he wasn’t just another guy. In spite of himself, and the no sex rule she’d been quick to establish, his mind already drifted to a point in the future—the near future if it was up to him—when he could hold her in his arms, and worry those perfect lips of hers with his. He so longed to kiss her it ached. His body was hurting for her, and that was a first.

  Lying side by side, like brother and sister, was fast becoming a torture, a predicament he knew he wouldn’t be able to endure for very much longer.

  God willing, she’d soon see reason, and throw this ‘no sex’ rule out the window where it belonged. Where she belonged was in his arms, and the sooner she realized that, the better.

  He opened his eyes and saw that she’d turned her back. Following the curve of her shoulder, he longed to reach out and trail his finger along that delicate slope and follow it down her back to the gentle rise of her buttocks.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. God. This was torture, pure and simple.

  Abruptly, he turned to his other side, away from her.

  This madness must end, he thought. And quick. Or else he wouldn’t be held responsible for the consequences.

  CHAPTER 14

  As the days flew by, their collaboration bore fruit, both for him and for her. It wasn’t long before he had a working outline for ‘the best damn Frankie Knox I’ve ever written’ and Chloe, likewise, was well on her way to writing a book she truly felt good about. What it amounted to was that he helped her out with the male point of view, while she worked hard to turn Jacqueline Spark into a real partner for Knox, and not just a brainless sidekick—a comment Josh didn’t appreciate at first, but later confessed was all too true.

  Their outlines hammered out, they both set to work on their respective novels, Chloe lounging by the pool and Josh occupying the office. From time to t
ime, Chloe could hear him pacing the floor, and when he really needed inspiration, she found him staring out the window, his gaze more often than not drawn to her.

  The evenings were spent reading each other’s pages and scribbling comments in the margin.

  Chloe had felt more than a little uncomfortable about criticizing Josh’s work, but he encouraged her to be blunt and hold no bars. So she didn’t. And she had to hand it to him. Even if he didn’t like her butting in, he took her comments in stride, with only the minimum of grumbling.

  Likewise, he didn’t spare her when he spitballed ideas about her work-in-progress, and she had to admit he was right most of the time, and his assistance really helped her pound out a better novel.

  They now spent each meal together, and Chloe discovered many secrets about the man she only knew as her mother’s favorite author.

  Josh had been kicked out of school for unruly behavior at sixteen, and rather than find another institution to complete his education, had consequently dropped out completely. He said he now regretted that rash decision, even though he’d gone back to school in his early twenties to get his degree.

  He’d been something of a wild child in his teens, and getting kicked out of school was only one of his peccadillos.

  Asked where his parents had been throughout all of this, he’d grimaced and confessed he’d been a great disappointment to them, and they hadn’t taken kindly to his flirt with rebelliousness. Though in the end he’d patched things up, and was now on the best of terms with both his mom and dad—they were divorced now, unfortunately.

  “No brothers or sisters?”

  He nursed his drink “One. She lives in Montana. We haven’t been in touch much these past couple of years. She really made a great life for herself and her two kids over there.”

  Chloe laughed. “Two kids? You’ve got nieces and nephews?”

  “Two nieces.” He grinned. “Great kids, too. Pity I practically never see them. The whole gang gets together once a year for New Year’s. That’s it.”

  They were sitting on the terrace. Dusk had come and gone and they now only had the moon, the stars and the crickets for company. Chloe had found some insect repellent candles and had lit them all. She liked hanging out with Josh like this, his stubbled face lit up by the light of the candles. It lent the atmosphere an intimacy she cherished.

  “I’d like to meet them one day,” she said softly, a sudden wistfulness coming over her.

  “Perhaps you will.”

  Their eyes met and the electricity between them crackled and popped, like it had done for the past week. He just couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was wearing a low-cut lime green top in some sort of stretchy material over frayed jeans shorts and looked sexy as hell. Sitting out here by the pool all week had given her a nice tan and had bleached her hair to the color of ripe wheat.

  He purposely looked away. This was their last night together, and he’d kinda hoped they’d…

  “How come you didn’t tell me this story of your rebellious past before?” she asked, interrupting his train of thought.

  “I guess somewhere deep down I’m… embarrassed? No one likes to admit what kind of a loser they were. Especially—”

  “Especially the top thriller writer in the civilized world?”

  He gave her a silly salute that made them both laugh.

  Her laughter was intoxicating, and he drank it in greedily. He hadn’t told her this, but being here with her had revitalized not only his writing but also himself. She was so much fun to be around, so easy to talk to, he dreaded the moment they’d part. He wanted more. More of her.

  Neither of them had brought up the subject of their imminent departure. They both wanted these final moments to stretch on as long as they could. He just didn’t want their time spent together to end. Not now. Not ever.

  “I—”

  “You know—”

  They both halted and laughed again, then she held up her bottle and put it to her lips, her eyes never leaving his.

  “You go first,” he offered graciously.

  “Oh, ever the gentleman, huh?”

  He bowed his head courteously.

  “I was thinking that once we’re back in the civilized world, we should definitely keep in touch.”

  There. She’d said it. The truth that’d hung between them for the better part of the last two days was out in the open.

  “Sure,” he immediately agreed. “I would like that very much.”

  “Me, too,” she murmured and shifted in her chair. He watched as her boobs filled out her shirt and wondered how it would feel to press her to him, feeling her warm softness in his arms.

  “I mean, it’s not as if we live far from each other.”

  They’d discovered to their surprise they were almost neighbors. Although he had an apartment in Manhattan, he spent most of his time in his place on Long Island. He lived on the South Fork, though, inhabiting some prime beachfront property, while she lived more inland, in a small town called Surbrunton. He’d heard of it but had never been there.

  “Once we’re back in the real world we should definitely hook up.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Hook up?”

  “I mean, get together,” he quickly amended.

  “Where the mind goes, the tongue follows, huh?” she said, eyes sparkling.

  He didn’t reply but merely smiled. Her gaze drifted up to the sky, where a full moon shone brightly, surrounded by millions of twinkling stars.

  “Isn’t it the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen?” she whispered.

  He kept his eyes on her. “Yes, it is.”

  CHAPTER 15

  The candles, the moonlight, the beer… They’d all had their effect on Chloe, but they were nothing compared to the effect Josh had on her. They’d come a long way since their first meeting in the bathroom, and she felt so much at ease with him now that she could have told him all her secrets, if she’d had any.

  She really appreciated that he trusted her enough to talk about his misspent youth. She was pretty sure he hadn’t shared that part of his life with his readership before, or else her mom would have told her.

  She could totally see that side of him. He still had something rakish even today, although she doubted if anyone would ever kick Joshua Poole out of their establishment now. Quite the opposite.

  “You know what we should do?” she said, having drained her beer. She’d have drunk wine if they’d had any. Apparently, whoever owned this place thought that writers had no need for wine or other liquor, since all they’d found after a long search were these two measly lagers.

  “Tell me.”

  She held up her hands. “Only if you’re game, of course.”

  “Oh, I’m game if you are, honey.”

  She loved it when he called her ‘honey’, though it didn’t necessarily mean a thing, of course. Or perhaps it did. She gave him a fat wink. “Let’s go skinny-dipping.”

  His eyebrows rose, as did the corners of his mouth. “Pool or ocean?”

  “Pools are for wimps, buddy. Us real writers take the ocean any time. You with me, Poole?”

  “With you? I’ll bet I can beat you to it, Thomson.”

  “What?”

  But before she could react, he’d already jumped up from his chair with surprising agility and by the time she was up and away, he had a thirty yard lead.

  “Not fair!” she yelled as she pumped her arms in hot pursuit.

  “All’s fair in love and literature, Thomson. You know that,” he yelled back.

  Laughing uproariously, she chased him down the sandy path that led to the beach, but before she could catch up with him, he’d reached the surf and was shedding his clothes.

  Oh, dear. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to—

  “Told you I’d beat you!” he hollered, and splashed into the brine.

  She gazed at his bare buttocks, clearly visible in the light of the moon, and decided to hell with it, and started
shedding her top and shorts.

  “The water’s—” He dove beneath the waves and came up splashing and hollering. “Damn, it’s cold!”

  That didn’t deter her, however, and before she had the chance to reconsider, she’d joined him in the water. He was right. The water was pretty chilly. She didn’t mind, and jumped headfirst into a rolling wave. When she came up, his hands were on her. He lifted her up as she wiped the salty water from her face, and eyed her with such hunger that it made her giddy with heat. The next moment, his mouth had found hers, and she clung to him like a drowning victim. Her breasts mashed against his hard chest, their tongues colliding and searching—eagerly, hungrily.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t,” she breathed weakly when they momentarily parted. But then she couldn’t even remember why this was a bad idea to begin with, and she threw herself into their embrace with even more passion. His tongue traced the outline of her lips, then darted into her mouth once more, dancing with hers in a wild and crazy dance, and he gripped her so close she thought she would stop breathing. She’d wanted this so much—had yearned for this moment for days now, and when he finally carried her out of the surf and gently laid her down on the sandy beach, it was all she could do not to beg him to take her right then and there.

  Ever the gentleman, he merely ravished her body with his strong hands, feeling his way to her chest and palming her soft breasts with his strong hands, letting them lead the way for his mouth. When he sucked in her nipples, she arched her back at the sensation rushing through her, and moaned with pleasure. Sliding a hand beneath the small of her back, her lifted her up as he trailed his lips down along her belly, lingering at her belly button before kissing his way between her thighs.

  The fire that had been burning inside her flared up as his lips found the center of her being and clung to her, sending ripples of bliss up her spine. She clawed her fingers through his short, curly hair as he explored every inch of her, concentrating on the flower of flesh at her core.