Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle)

by Julia Kent

  Apparently he was not enough of a gentleman to pretend that he wasn’t staring – until he cut his eyes away abruptly. He threw his napkin in his lap, looked down at the menu, and said “I have no idea what any of this stuff is.” Then he turned and craned his head to watch one of the servers take a tray over to a nearby table. “Whatever it is, though, it smells incredible.”

  That loosened her up more, her nervous laughter shifting into something more genuine. These startlingly special few minutes felt like they had already altered reality for her and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but was trying very, very hard not to make more meaning out of these few perfect moments with Dylan.

  A giddiness, unfamiliar and not fleeting (to her utter shock), filled her skin and her thoughts as she shyly caught his eye and let it settle, not looking away. Their stare deepened into something more primal, more knowing, and her insecurity faded as they communicated without words.

  Interrupted by the waitress, she pulled her eyes away with regret as the woman brought their drinks. Dylan held his up in a toast and said, “To…business analyzing!”

  She nodded acknowledgment, and answered, “To firefighting,” clinking glasses before they drank and put down the empty shot glasses. She fingered the rim of her glass and then they both leaned forward on the table with great expectation.

  Finally, she realized he expected her to answer the question he had asked what felt like hours ago, and she said, “Oh, oh, I work for Stohlman Industries.”

  “Stohlman?” His expression showed he was impressed. That pleased Laura – it was impressive. Stohlman was known for being very, very competitive for jobs, and it had been hard to break in to the world’s third largest media company.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ve been there well, since I graduated college.”

  “Really? What is your degree, then?”

  “IT – Information Technology.”

  “But you’re a business analyst?”

  “Yeah, I work with the tech side of things.”

  He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, clearly making himself comfortable, and gave her a mirthful look. “So what do you do?”

  And she laughed, her face relaxing, her cheeks spreading and matching his mirth. “Do you really want to know? ‘Cause it’s awfully technical.”

  He leaned forward on his elbows, propped his chin in one hand and said, “Yeah, I do want to know.”

  She studied his eyes. He meant it – he really meant it. Oh, man, was this really the whole package? Did she really get a gorgeous, ripped firefighter who gave a shit about what she did for a living as a business analyst for some nameless, faceless, mega corporation? If so, she didn’t want to pinch herself cause this might be a dream. Then again, there were parts of her that she certainly wanted him to pinch. Whoa there, Laura.

  “Well, I work in healthcare IT, and what I do right now is work on a large project for one of the state governments, making sure that their old medical records program for children who get health insurance is compliant with new federal guidelines.”

  He nodded. Made an expression with his mouth that indicated that it was interesting and then said, “You lost me at children’s health insurance…” and he grinned.

  She said, “Enough about my job. What do you do? You’re a firefighter, right? So you pretty much save damsels in distress from burning buildings and rescue cats out of trees. I don’t have to really know more than that,” she teased.

  He laughed, bright teeth gleaming, straight and perfect, speaking to orthodontia decades ago. His eyes twinkled a bit as he fingered his empty sake glass and said “It’s a little more complicated than that, but you got the gist of it.”

  “Aw, come on. Tell me more. How is it more complicated? Are there, like, different levels of fire fighting?” The words came out of her mouth and she felt a slow, electric feeling creep up her spine as his fingers crossed the table and reached for hers, his fingers clasping hers, the warmth shaking her, going all the way up her neck, through her hips, into her belly.

  Rendering her completely speechless once again.

  “Well,” he said, peering down at her hands and then looking at her with raised eyebrows that asked an obvious question. She grinned back. He softened and clinched her hand just slightly more, and the added pressure was like having her hand turn into one big giant throbbing clitoris.

  “I do plenty of shifts where I rescue cats from burning buildings and help damsels in distress out of trees,” he joked, “but mostly, these days, I am in charge of fire management safety protocols for large corporations like yours.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. After 9/11, we had to really tighten up on how you empty out a thirty or forty floor building, especially in the face of a disaster, or in the face of massive, multi-level, widespread fires.”

  She could feel the blood drain out of her face. He had just, without knowing, dredged up her biggest fear. Something in his face said that he knew it. “Oh, no, I am so sorry, really, I did not mean to upset you. Did you lose someone in 9/11?”

  She shook her head. “No, no, actually I, it’s just that…” She took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “It’s just that it is one of my biggest fears. I’ve always been afraid of a fire in my building, and I work on the thirty-second floor of Stohlman Industries.”

  He took his hand away from hers and whacked his forehead repeatedly, shaking his head now, saying “I pretty much just picked the worst possible thing I could bring up during a first date, didn’t I?”

  Her heart rate resumed a normal beat. She took a risk now and reached across the table to retrieve his hand and said, “No, it’s ok, really, if nothing else, it’s interesting that you managed to tap into that about me, after having only known me for…” she glanced at her smart phone “…for fifteen minutes.”

  “It’s amazing what Google will help you figure out.”

  If she had had a drink in her mouth, she would have spit it all over him. Oh, my God, did he Google her? It’s only fair – she had Googled him. Did he know that she had Googled him? Was there some way he could have known?

  “Laura?” He reached out and touched her chin, tipping it up to catch her eyes. “That was a joke.”

  ***

  By the time the waitress brought his meal, which was something that he could not only not pronounce properly, but, by the looks of it, couldn’t even guess at about half the ingredients in it, he felt like he was losing her. Idiot, idiot, idiot! How could he have brought up the burning building scenario on a first date? Within fifteen minutes, no less? God, the look on her face! It was like something collapsed. There was more to it than she was telling; he could see that and it left him with too many questions, inquiries he couldn’t make right now because he was being too stupid for words.

  Yet here he was, babbling on about it like it was no big deal, and that’s what he did for a living, and ha ha ha, and here she was, you know, in charge of saving little kids’ health insurance.

  She began to eat her food. He dug into his. Even though he didn’t like it, he welcomed the silence, perplexed by the contradiction, but lately his entire life seemed to be one big steaming pile of complexity. He watched her. He took the dinner as an opportunity to just keep an eye on her. To see what she was like. To see what her body language would give away.

  She kept pulling on the shoulder of her sweater, correcting everything so that the edge of her black silk bra wouldn’t show, and every time she did it, a little part of him tugged. Mostly in the crotch area. But also in his heart. Because, man, was he lovin’ that little piece of black lace right now.

  He forced a mouthful of something that he was afraid might still be half alive in between his teeth. And then, “Mmmm!” he groaned. “This is incredible.”

  “Yeah, mine’s luscious.”

  So are you, he thought, spearing a piece of fish and holding out his fork. “Do you want a bite of mine?”

  He held the fork
out for her and she looked at him in a certain way, eyes narrowing a bit while cocking her head, one little curl floating out of her ponytail as she tucked it behind her ear and leaned forward. Her lips enveloped the fork, her mouth tugging at the piece of food as he reluctantly pulled the fork away, those lips, those lips, closing over the fork. Right now, he wanted part of him to be that fork. A very big, throbbing part of him that no napkin was capable of covering now.

  Chewing, she groaned; it was the sound he wanted to hear later at night in his bed or in hers or on somebody’s couch or hell – in the alley by the parking lot at this point. Dylan’s cock strained against his trousers, more aroused then he ever imagined possible, just from watching her eat that scrumptious piece of God knows what.

  “Isn’t it incredible?” he asked.

  “That’s perfection. Where does it comes from?” she asked.

  He glanced over at the menu and replied, “Malaysia and, apparently, Tibet.”

  “Oh, a Malaysian, Tibetan piece of perfection,” she said, then crinkled her brow with a bemused look. “Fishing in Tibet?”

  He shrugged. “The monks have to do something.” A diner at one table over frowned at them and Dylan just let it roll off.

  Laura speared something else on her plate and lifted the fork to him. He took it, eagerly, greedily, eating something he didn’t even understand, but, watching her, his eyes boring into hers, realizing that this meal was just the appetizer and he was going to have the main course later on.

  ***

  Oh, holy cow, she’d never been treated like this before in her entire life. In fact, she was a bit concerned that she was leaving a wet spot on the upholstered bench and that she had soaked completely through not only her thong, but also her pencil skirt and pretty much through the outer layer of the bench’s covering, the pad, and into whatever store was beneath this restaurant because this guy was not just hot, he was flaming and how appropriate that he was a firefighter.

  She could see it in his eyes, too. Whatever was going on, there was a kismet here that really shouldn’t be happening. After they exchanged their bites, like a cross between “Lady and the Tramp” and a porno movie, she realized that she was going to go home with this guy. Laura was going to sleep with him and she was gonna like it.

  From the look in his eyes he was in the same place mentally, too. Hopefully physically. They both seemed to sort of hurry through their meal and the conversation finally resumed after they had finished eating.

  “Do you want another drink?” he asked, reaching for her hand again, now that it was free from eating dinner.

  She wiped her mouth with the napkin using her other hand, set it down, and said “Um, I’m still too full. Maybe we could go for a walk?”

  “Actually,” he said, looking away, “I had planned something else if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, really? What’s that?” Breakfast? She stifled the thought, terrified she had actually blurted that aloud.

  “Turns out there’s a really a nice cruise here in town that I was hoping we could go on.”

  “Oh.” She looked at her watch, trying to hide her churning emotions. Oh, man, it was already late. A cruise. She did some quick mental math. A couple of hours on a cruise meant there was going to be no down time – she had to work, had to get up at 6:00 in the morning, and that meant blowing out the whole night. First date. Calm down Laura, don’t be a slut, don’t be a slut, don’t be a slut, she told herself.

  Don’t sleep with him on the first date, don’t sleep with him on the first date if you want a second date. Okay, okay. Okay. Josie’s voice entered in her mind. ’don’t sleep with him, Laura. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. Unless he’s incredibly hot.’

  Oh, yeah he is. Oh, yeah he is.

  She had this entire conversation in the period of about three seconds with herself, with Dylan looking at her with a very puzzled expression. Angel Josie and Devil Laura argued inside her head until she realized she needed to respond to Dylan’s comment.

  “Okay, yeah, sure! A cruise sounds great. Did you already get tickets?”

  He squinted and furrowed his brow, confused. And then his face went neutral. “Oh, no, actually, not yet. I just figured we’d go there, and, you know, climb on.”

  You can climb on me, she thought. Her eyes widened. Hopefully, those words hadn’t actually come out of her mouth, because at this point, she didn’t know what she was thinking as she squirmed and straightened her shirt again. The black lace seemed to pop out like an erection. If she could see his package from across the table, she suspected that he had his own little version of the black lace pokin’ out going on somewhere in his pants.

  The waitress brought the check and she had that internal dialogue that all single women have when going out on new dates. ’do I offer to pick up the check? Do I offer to go halfsies? Do I…’

  He didn’t even give her a chance. He grabbed the check, handed a credit card to the woman, and waved it off. Turned to her, he reached for her hand, and said, “Thank you for a lovely date. Or, thank you for a lovely meal.”

  “Oh, well, my goodness!” she said, a little taken aback that she didn’t even have an opportunity to fight for the check. “Well, thank you so much! I mean, I, really, I, can I, I’d like to offer to pay the…”

  He nodded. “You can get the next date.”

  “Oh! Oh!” She said, his words sinking in, finally. “Yeah, get the next date.”

  ***

  He couldn’t read her. It was driving him nuts. He just couldn’t read her. What, had he gone too far with the next date thing? Was she offended that he was implying that she should pay for the next date? Mike had suggested that there was a great way to handle women who tended to have good solid careers, but you didn’t know exactly how to handle the awkwardness of who paid for first dates. He had his own thing about paying.

  When he was taking women on dates, he had more than enough money these days now that he had come into his trust fund, which he had always viewed as a bit of a curse – but now he viewed as one hell of a blessing, because if it meant that he could treat a woman like Laura right, then maybe he could have the future that he had hoped for, then it wasn’t just a blessing.

  It was everything.

  Discomfort gnawed away at him. How he had come into his trust fund was an issue he had not begun to explore, he and Mike the recipients of an annual income equal to approximately 2.7 percent of the $2.2 billion in the massive trust, split in half. The trust manager had laid it out in such clinical terms that Dylan had nearly vomited on the spot, the words twenty-nine million and change per year for life, minus management fees, pinging around his skull like a racquetball that never stops.

  And that was two months ago. He still drove the same car, still worked his full shifts, but splurged in little ways, the enormity of his newfound – literally! – fortune not quite sinking in.

  Mike had bought a cabin on the slopes. Cabin wasn’t quite the right word. Haven was more like it, a four bedroom ski palace that he knew would keep Mike happy for the rest of his life. The ski resort, too – which had been almost an after thought. Oh, yeah, I can save the struggling ski mountain I love, because I have more money than God now. Well, almost.

  As Dylan caught Laura stealing shy looks at him, his money problems (twenty nine million of them per year) faded and he started to wonder if she could keep them happy for the rest of their –

  “Dylan? Ready to go?” The waitress had taken the check, cleared the table, and was practically pulling out the vacuum to clean their spot.

  The meal paid for, they stood and he put his arm around her waist. She leaned into him just enough to finally send him a signal that told him, Oh, yeah, and off they went outside. He reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers in hers. As they walked toward the boardwalk, he realized they weren’t going on that cruise.

  Her scent was intoxicating. He couldn’t believe that her unique mixture of perfume, musk, and soap fused together to produce
this. Even better – he knew that there were other scents, other tastes that would be even more divine if he could get there tonight.

  Dylan stopped, finally, bursting at the seams with his own internal dialogue, his own body’s cravings, and just looked at her and decided that he needed to be as forthright with her as he had been with most people throughout his life, because these games weren’t cutting it anymore.

  Time to make his move.

  He leaned down, caressed her jawline with his right hand, and brought his lips to hers. She responded, pressing her body against his until everything, from breast to hip, was his, pushed into him, and anything he felt for her was extremely obvious right now.

  They definitely were not going on that cruise.

  ***

  Cruise, what cruise? She had no intentions of going on a cruise. As his kiss deepened, lips parted, as their tongues danced, she found herself roiling in ecstasy inside, going so far as to be twisted into a cliché, one leg lifting up as she stood on her tiptoes, even in high heels needing to stand on tiptoes to match him in his kiss.

  His hands roamed her back. She returned the motion, her fingers splayed across the broad, muscular expanse of his shoulders, his hands cupping her jaw now, pushing, needing, craving….

  “Ah,” he said, his voice gravely and thick with desire, “Can we take a pass on that cruise?”

  She dipped her head down and laughed softly. “Yeah – good thing you didn’t buy those tickets after all.”

  Cocking his head, he looked at her with smoky eyes and asked, “Do you have a car parked nearby?” She knew what he was asking, his words code for Can I take you home and fuck you without worrying about your car getting ticketed or towed?

  How sweet. Most guys didn’t care.

  “No car. I took the train today.”

  Nodding, his smile widened. “I drove, so let’s take my car to my place? For drinks?”