by Lexy Timms
“No, Jace Roma, my focus is usually on listening to my patients, not the other way around.” She was getting flustered. He enjoyed seeing her a little off her game. “There’s also no room for us to have a different relationship.”
“Doc, there you go again, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. What kind of relationship are you talking about?”
She cleared her throat. She wasn’t answering that question and they both knew it. “The Arizona State Parole Board assigned me as your therapist and you as my patient. That was before we…had an interaction. This puts me in a tenuous situation, Mr. Roma. You do understand that, right?”
“If I sign this form, we’ll no longer be in this…tenuous situation, correct?”
“Exactly. That’s the point. We can’t continue on, Jace. We’ve…no, I have compromised my professional standards.”
Jace nodded and fought back a smirk. Compromising professional standards never felt so good.
He continued to taunt her with it. “What you’re saying is we’ll just be Jace Roma and Jessie Gardiner. Is that what you’re telling me? Or Jace and Jill?”
The doctor was unravelling, slowly handing him control. And it showed. “Mr. Roma, there are other therapists who are better suited to guide you in your adjustment to the outside. It doesn’t have to be me.”
“Because you don’t trust yourself with me…”
“That’s not correct.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Doc. Besides, my support network is guiding me just fine.”
“How do you mean?”
“I have my brothers back. I have good job prospects. I have a place to stay. It’s like I never left. I’m right where I would have been if I had stayed on the outside. I don’t need your therapy, Doc.”
“Is that what you want? To get me to recommend ending these sessions completely? Wait. Is there more to what you just said?”
“More as in what?”
“Never mind. What is it, then?”
“You know, Doctor, you should come by the clubhouse sometime.”
“What?” She was visibly shocked. She obviously didn’t see that one coming.
“You should see ‘the life’ up close. Or maybe stop by one of our shops. I want you to see what supports I have access to. Maybe you or the next therapist, if there is one, will stop being so judgmental.”
“Mr. Roma,” she cautioned.
“Don’t say it’s crossing a line. You can attend as my therapist. You know, investigate my progress so you can put it all in your little report to the court,” Jace continued.
“You don’t want to be reassigned because you feel you can convince me to make a recommendation to the parole board to conclude these sessions. Is that what this is about?”
“Those were your words, not mine.”
“That’s not going to happen, Mr. Roma.”
“Fine. Have it your way, Dr. Gardiner. You can’t seem to let this go, and I’m not up for being harassed for a bunch of sessions that won’t end up counting toward fulfilling the conditions of my parole. As you refuse to let these sessions progress, I’ll sign the form.”
Dr. Gardiner didn’t like what he was suggesting, but seemed relieved he would sign it. She slid the form across the desk and produced a pen so he could sign it.
“I’ll sign it on one condition,” Jace added.
Jessie groaned. “Which is?”
“Have dinner with me.”
Their eyes met. Behind her glasses, he saw her expression change. “Mr. Roma, I don’t know,” she finally said.
“You said it yourself. This form will dissolve our professional relationship. No more doctor-patient formality. No more reminders about what I saw or didn’t see. All you have to do is come to my place, let me cook you dinner, and relax.” He walked up to her and added in the most gravelly whisper, “Whatever happens after that is fair game.”
Dr. Gardiner blushed. “I want you to understand that signing this does not mean we can pick things up where we left off.” She paused before adding, “I’m not looking to get romantically involved.”
“Hey, I didn’t say a thing about romance, Dr. Gardiner. It’s just dinner. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“You know what I mean,” she said.
Jace slid the form off the desk, folded it, and slid it into his back pocket. This close to her, his dick was already getting ideas. The woman had a sexual presence like nothing he’d ever seen or felt. “Dinner at my place. I’ll sign it then.”
Jessie’s eyes searched his face. He couldn’t tell whether she was trying to find a way out, or looking for some confirmation that he was not being serious. Jace could think of a few ways to get her mind on something else. He was about to turn and leave, and in the next second, decided to do something else. Facing her again, he stepped directly in front of her, crowding her personal space. She really was a tiny little thing. Standing this close, he dwarfed her tight, compact frame. Dr. Gardiner wouldn’t hold his gaze for a second. Her eyes kept darting around the room, avoiding what he was sure she felt too.
Suddenly he didn’t care where they were, what she thought, or how she’d react. It was clear as day. He wanted her, and fuck, he was going to have her. He lifted a hand to the side of her face, tilting her head up so she’d finally look him in the eye. His fingers slipped back into her hair, gripping the base of her loose ponytail. The doctor may have been nervous, but she didn’t move an inch. He could hear her breathing become ragged, and her eyes closed briefly as he lowered his head and planted a kiss on her lips.
He pulled away right then. “I’ll text you the address, though I’m sure you already have it in your files.”
Her eyes slowly opened before she asked, “When?”
That was the right question.
He had her.
“How soon do you want this form signed?”
“Tonight,” she blurted out. “How about tonight?”
“Fine with me. After that, we’re through here.”
“Yes. Thanks for understanding.”
Jace got up to leave but stopped himself. “Hey, do you have any enemies? Or any patients who might want to hurt you or anything?”
“If you mean do I expect you to rough up a few exes, then no,” she answered, her tone turning cold.
“No, it’s not that,” he assured her.
“Why did you ask?”
“Two men were outside, and they looked like they were staking out your car. They jumped into an SUV and drove off when they noticed me driving up. That got me to wondering. You do work with us hardened criminals. You may have a patient or two who might hold a grudge.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Never mind. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tonight, Doc.”
“Tonight,” she agreed.
To Be Continued…
Continues in Bad Boy Biker 2, coming to Amazon soon.
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Billionaire Biker
Fortune Riders MC Series
Book 1
By
Lexy Timms
Copyright 2016 Lexy Timms
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication
/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2016 by Lexy Timms
BILLIONAIRE BIKER
Description:
Katie’s not the usual rich girl and Morgan’s not your typical biker. The two collide at a bar, and again after Morgan leaves the scene of a terrible crime. Falling for one another is inevitable, but when the truth of who Katie is comes out, will it change everything?
Fortune Riders Motorcycle Club Series
Billionaire Biker
Book 1
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Billionaire Ransom
Book 2
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Billionaire Misery
Book 3
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AL0XC7Q
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CHAPTER 1
Tall, lean and curved in all the right places. Her breasts were on full display in a crisp red top that contrasted perfectly with her wide-legged white slacks. Her blondish-brown hair had been twisted into a perfect fishtail braid and the expensive, oversized sunglasses on her face hid her eyes but not her straight nose or full, lush mouth.
She was definitely in the wrong place. Morgan had seen her type before, curious rich girls from the other side of town slumming it up in the biker bar, grabbing their chests in excitement as they eagerly stepped in the door, blinking from the strong sunlight outside.
None of them ever dared to cross that threshold during the night hours, they came in the day—usually with one or two of their friends, all of them giggling madly at their own daring. Morgan tossed back a shot and watched her. He wasn’t the only one. Heads turned all over the place.
During the day the crowd was not so much biker as it was folks who just liked to ride. There was a definitive difference. Most of the people seated at the tables or who bellied up to the bar didn’t wear a patch, and if they did, those colors belonged to small obscure clubs, little vanity clubs made up of rich guys who wanted to be bikers on the weekends, and hedge managers during the week. The woman strolling across the floor fit in with them, for all he knew she was there to meet one of them.
Her perfume hit his nose. It was spicy and rich, and her ass was on full display as she leaned across the bar, causing those pants to pull taut across the pert slopes of her bottom. His eyes went right to those firm, uplifted cheeks.
Her voice, a sweet and slightly husky thing, filtered through the air as she said, “I’d like Maker’s Mark and a twist of lemon. Just a twist, not a huge wedge please.”
Jack, the burly bartender, gave her a filthy look and stalked off. Her red-hued nails tapped the bar. Morgan shook his head and took another sip of his drink. He had more important things to think about than this woman, but he couldn’t seem to get his mind off her, or his eyes either.
“He’s probably going to give me the whole damn lemon.”
There was amusement in her voice. Her fingers lay on the bar and he stared down at them before saying, “You’ll be lucky if he only gives you one.”
“Damn! Hoisted by my own petard. Or pickiness. Whichever suits the current situation.”
He chuckled, surprised by her wit. She whipped the glasses off to reveal a set of baby-blue eyes surrounded by a thick fringe of black lashes. He looked away. He had to keep his mind focused. Dealing with Craig was always tricky, dealing with Craig when he’d pulled some dumb-fuck move that could get the whole club in trouble was worse. The last thing he needed was to be distracted.
But what a freakin’ beautiful disaster of a distraction.
Jack came back and plunked a heavy tumbler filled with two fingers of whiskey onto the counter. He held the lemon half up in the air and gave it a hard twist. Morgan winced as a long squirt of lemon juice filled the glass, causing the lovely amber whiskey to turn cloudy.
Jack said, “With a twist, just like you ordered.”
Her hand shot out. She picked up the glass and turned it up, drinking down the vile-looking concoction. She set the glass down and gave Jack a creamy smile. “Perfect. Thanks. How much?”
She had guts. Morgan admired that and he saw the unwilling grin tugging at Jack’s lips. Morgan leaned in. “I got it.”
Jack nodded and walked away.
Her head turned. “Thanks but that’s not necessary.”
A closer look revealed her youth. Early twenties. Morgan grinned and shook his head. “I can’t believe you drank that.”
Her smile widened, revealing square white teeth. “I won’t believe it either later, I’m sure.”
He laughed, he couldn’t help it. He also couldn’t help asking, “No offense but what brought you in here, to the Orphan Pint bar?”
She sighed. “I’m escaping my boss.”
“I see.”
She checked her watch and rolled her eyes. “I should probably get back.”
“Or quit your job.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice? Just chuck it all and walk away.”
“It is.” His eyes met hers. “What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Her teeth went to her bottom lip. “I’m an assistant.”
“Like a personal assistant?”
“Yes.” She thought for a moment and added, “For the Wilkes family.”
He grimaced. “Ouch. I would’ve pegged you as one of them.”
Her face showed consternation. “Oh no, no. Not even.”
Her hand came out and he took it. Her skin was soft and her nails scratched along the palm of his hand, lightly. So she wasn’t a rich girl slumming. Even better. He didn’t have anything against the very rich, he just didn’t have anything for them either. He took another look at her clothes. Personal assistant? That explained the clothes. To work for the rich one had to look rich.
“Is this a permanent escape?” His fingers closed over hers even more tightly.
“I wish!” She glanced down at her cell. “That’s them now. I have to go.”
“Come back soon.” His smile widened. “It’s pretty amusing to watch you confound Jack.”
“Jack?”
He indicated the bartender with a lift of his chin.
She gave him an impish grin. “I’ll come back. Maybe I’ll order some disgustingly cute drink and ask for an umbrella. The forecast calls for rain all week.”
Then she was gone.
Her perfume hung on the air, a phantom reminder. He leaned a little closer to where she’d stood and took a slow appreciative sniff before settling back into his chair. He turned his mind back to Craig, but running through his thoughts was a single one.
He really hoped she came back.
**
Katie dashed back across the street, her expensive bag banging into her hip. She crossed at the intersection and stared up at the tall glass and concrete building right before her. Wilkes Enterprises, one of the largest corporations in the entire country, and number thirty-six in the world.
She sighed and slid into the revolving doors, letting them spit her back out into the echoing marble and teak foyer. The desks were elegant, curved, and manned by beautiful women and men. Armed security strolled nonchalantly past potted plants and artwork.
Katie didn’t want to go back to her office, not at all, but she knew she had to. Her father, Blake Wilkes, would be there soon.
She got into a private elevator and used her key to close the doors and send it skyward. She leaned her head back against the wall, a slight smile on her face. The man at the bar had intrigued her. Even sitting down he’d been tall. His black hair hung in messy waves across his high forehead and his eyes had been a piercing hazel. His voice, that low sexy baritone rumb
le, had made shivers run down her spine.
He’d told her to come back and she wanted to, but she knew she couldn’t. She’d lied about who she was, but she’d done it reflexively. It was a rough place, and her parents had always raised her to worry about potential kidnappings and other security risks.
Of course, her bag, her designer sunglasses, and the thousand-dollar shoes decorating her narrow feet had probably been a dead giveaway that she had money. She looked at her reflection in the polished brass wall and winced. She looked like exactly what she was, a spoiled rich woman. He was probably sitting there laughing his ass off at her right now.
He wasn’t like the men she knew, not at all. There’d been an air of danger about him that had made him even sexier. She knew he wasn’t one of the men who worked at the company, she’d spotted a few of them hanging around in the bar. They liked to pretend to be badasses. The man she’d spoken to had been a badass.
Little shivers ran through her body as she stepped out of the elevator and into her spacious, well-appointed offices. She closed the door firmly and took a look around at the thick carpet and impressive view, the teak desk and the solid gold pen lying in a holder engraved with her name.
It was a prison.
A very beautiful prison, just like her luxury apartment. Katie sighed and dropped her bag into a drawer then wandered to a window. The door opened softly but she heard it and she tensed.
“Kathleen, I called you over half an hour ago.”
She didn’t turn around. “Sorry Father, I was out.” She then turned, forcing a smile.
Blake Wilkes was blond, tall and imposing. Katie had heard him described as glacial and she could understand why. His hair was thick and perfectly blond, his eyes were a light clear blue, and he always wore a distant expression. Not just distant either, cold. There was an iciness that hung all over him, and that chill emanated toward her, making her want to cross her arms or excuse herself.
