Bedding The Billionaire

Tuesday the fifth was rapidly turning into the worst
day of Abbey's life. She'd quit her job, discovered her boyfriend (who was also
her boss) had slept with her friend, and she was about to have sex with a
complete stranger.

Surely it wouldn't come to that. Lucy had assured her
she probably wouldn't have to go
that
far. But 'probably' was still too
likely as far as Abbey was concerned.

Standing
outside a stranger's hotel room wearing her shortest skirt, her highest heels,
and laciest lingerie, Abbey suddenly wished she'd tried harder to find a job. She
could wait tables, deliver pizza or clean houses
—
anything that
paid her bills.

This
job was paying her bills, she reminded herself. It may not be in
her chosen career path, but it was easier than waiting tables and as Lucy had
said, no experience was necessary. Besides, it was too late to think about
getting another job now. She needed the money, and this was the best offer
she'd had so far.

Okay, so
it was the only job offer, and she'd only been unemployed for about ten hours,
but money was so tight her credit card could hardly breathe. If only that
bastard of a boyfriend and boss hadn't cheated on her, she wouldn't have been
forced to quit and she wouldn't be standing outside a stranger's door in such a
revealing outfit. This was definitely all his fault.

When
Lucy, a private investigator and her best friend, offered her the job when her
regular girl called in sick, Abbey jumped at the chance. It paid half of what
Lucy would receive from her client and it might lead to another job, if she did
it right. If she
wanted
another one.

At least
Lucy had assured her she wouldn't have to get completely naked. Not if she
didn't want to. All Abbey had to do was get the man into a compromising
position long enough for Lucy to get some good shots, then she could get out of
there.

Abbey took a deep breath and clenched her fist to
knock.

Hell, what was she doing? This was insane. She wasn't
a hooker. She wasn't even comfortable looking at her naked body in the mirror. And
Lucy expected her to undress in front of this man? A total stranger?

Abbey sucked in a deep breath then let it out slowly
to calm her nerves. She had to do this. She needed to do this.

She knocked. Waited. She hiked down her skirt,
suddenly ashamed of its death-defying height, and mentally ran through her
lines. Maybe it wasn't too late to leave...

The door opened and a disheveled man glared back at
her.

Abbey gasped despite her nerves. He was gorgeous, and
he was dressed in nothing but a hotel-issue towel wrapped around lean hips. His
muscular chest was tanned and a sprinkling of black hair tapered down to into
the towel.

Well.  At least he was already undressed. That
was half her problem solved.

"What?" It was a demand, not a question.

"Um," Abbey swallowed and tore her gaze
away. "My name's Abbey." She turned on a bright smile. "I'm here
to inform you, Mr. Vane, that you've been selected to receive a free massage,
compliments of Le Miridian hotel management."

The man, Damien Vane, scanned her from head to toe,
lingering over her bra-less breasts and her exposed thighs. Abbey felt her face
heat up, but she didn't move.

This was good. From the spark in his eyes and the
quick jerk of his Adam's apple, she could tell he liked what he saw.

But instead of inviting her in, he shook his head and
began to close the door.

"Wait!" She pushed on the door. He waited
impatiently. "It's free," she said weakly.

"No thanks. I just arrived in Melbourne, I'm
tired and I want to get some sleep. I don't need a massage."

He began to close the door again and Abbey panicked. She
wanted to get this over with and collect the money from Lucy's client. If she
didn't...

Abbey didn't want to think of the alternative. Moving
in with her mother was definitely not something she wanted to experience again.
Ever.

Anyway, the guy was damned cute.

She stuck her hand in the door. It closed on her
fingers.

The scream that followed was broken only by the most
vulgar expletives Abbey could think of. It wasn't entirely an act
—
jammed
fingers didn't tickle
—
but it wasn't as painful as she made out.

It worked. The door flew open.

"Jeez, are you all right?"

Her hand was caught by two large ones and gingerly inspected.
For a thrilling moment she thought he was going to kiss them better, but he
didn't.

A girl could dream though couldn't she?

Now that the door was completely open, she could get a
better look at him. He was a lot younger than his profile suggested, and he
oozed masculine power. He was tall, with a chest built for manual labor and
shoulders for leaning on. Dark stubble dappled his chin and his black, tousled
hair needed a comb run through it.

Or her fingers.

"Come inside," he said quickly, ushering her
in. "Run them under cold water."

He led her into the hotel room and she heard the door
slam behind her, minus her fingers this time. He showed her into the bathroom,
still steamy from his shower, and turned on the cold water tap. He gently
guided her fingers under the cool rush.

"How's that?" he asked.

Abbey glanced up and caught him watching her
reflection in the mirror above the sink. Their eyes locked for a long moment
and Abbey saw something in them that she liked. Something mysterious, sensuous.

Warm tingles rushed down her spine and sent the blood
pumping in her veins. Her entire body heated up under that stare. She was
caught, mesmerized like a moth in a circle of light. It gave her a rush.

Suddenly, he let go of her hand, as if it had bitten
him.

"Okay?" he asked, turning away and reaching
for a towel from the rack.

Abbey blushed as she thought about taking off the one
he wore. Something told her that his bottom half would be just as sexy as the
top.

"Fine," she managed to say, accepting the
towel. "Thanks for taking care of me."

"You
know you should've been more careful. You could've done some serious
damage."

I could've done some serious damage?
Abbey wanted to say, but refrained. Arguing
with Damien Vane wasn't going to make him want her. And she needed for him to
want her.

Badly.

"You're right," she muttered.

"Are you sure your fingers are okay?"

Abbey wiggled them and nodded. "All
attached."

"Good. Next time be more careful." He
paused, still watching her. One eyebrow rose and he coughed politely. Her cue
to leave.

She ignored it.

"How about that massage now?" Abbey cringed
at the high pitch of her voice. She sounded like a bimbo, desperate to bed this
man. It wasn't far from the truth. She did feel a little stupid today,
especially after finding out about Tarken and Melinda, considering everyone in
the office had known about their affair for weeks.

Damien Vane grinned. Actually, it was more of a smirk,
but it did produce one cute dimple on his cheek. "Persistent aren't
you?"

It wasn't a flat out refusal. Could he be wavering? If
he was, it was time to go in for the kill.

"I just want to give you your prize from hotel
management. They'd be most upset to find out I didn't deliver."

"I guess..." Damien glanced from Abbey to
the doorway, as if realizing there was no escape.

"I won't bite." She grinned, and touched his
bare arm. His skin was warm and smooth. "Come into the bedroom where
you'll be more comfortable." She took his hand the way he'd taken hers a
moment ago.

He snapped it away. "How about the lounge?"

"That'll be fine too."

She led the way out of the bathroom, using her best
bottom-wiggling walk which she hoped looked seductive and not as ridiculous as
it felt. In the lounge room of the Executive Suite she stopped by the window
and opened the blinds.

He crossed his arms and glared at her as if she were a
fool. "What are you doing?"

Great, his sympathy was drying up fast. Time to make
her move. Abbey turned to him, leaned forward and lowered her lashes and her
voice to a seductive whisper. "I like to do this by moonlight."

"Moonlight?" He peered out the window and up
at the dark sky. "I think the moon's gone behind the clouds."

"It'll come out again soon. This is Melbourne. You
Sydney-siders don't know how the weather can change down here." She
snapped her fingers. "Like that."

His large, black eyes narrowed, watching her. Studying
her. It was unnerving but thrilling at the same time. She hoped he liked what
he saw. Why wouldn't he? She'd never worn an outfit so daring, so revealing, in
her life and her body was quite good, if not supermodel hot.

From the way Vane looked at her, she got the
impression he thought so too. Like a compass pointing to magnetic north, he
couldn't keep his eyes off her.

"How did you know I was from Sydney?" he
asked, suddenly focusing on her eyes.

"Um, management told me."

He nodded slightly. His gaze shifted down again,
lingering around her breasts and Abbey suddenly wished she hadn't worn such a
revealing top. She also wished she'd worn a bra because her nipples were
puckering
—
and not because she was cold. In fact, she was far from
it. Her body felt like it was sizzling and his intense gaze wasn't cooling her
down any.

"You sure you're a masseur?"

His eyes traveled lower to her waist where a patch of
flesh was revealed between top and skirt, and down to the hem of the mini
skimming her thighs just below her butt.

"An
official
hotel masseur?"

His eyes flew to her face and Abbey swallowed.

"Of
course," she said, walking over to the phone beside the couch. She picked
up the receiver. "Call reception if you like."

Damien Vane strode over and for a sickening moment,
Abbey thought he was going to call her bluff. But he reached for the receiver,
took it from her fingers and placed it back in its cradle.

He looked down at Abbey with that stare which
entranced her and heated her to boiling point. "I believe you." His
voice was low, dangerous. "I don't know anyone in Melbourne. No one who'd
send me a ... masseur, already paid for."

"Good," she said lightly, ignoring the
implication that she was there to give him more than just a massage.

"Let's just get one thing straight," he
said, his tone back to its deep hum. "I've never had a...massage...before
and if this one isn't what I expect then I'll ask you to leave. Got it?"

Abbey nodded. Damn. The implication that he would
refuse her if she gave him anything more than a massage came through loud and
clear. So he thought he had willpower of steel, huh? She'd just see about that.
Let him try to resist Abbey McPherson in full sensuality mode.

"Sit," she ordered. He sat on the couch and
she knelt beside him.

Lucky for her the couch was facing the window,
although there was another chair in the way. She stood and moved it.

"So I can see the moon when it finally
appears," she said.

He eyed her as if she were a nut job then bent his
head forward, waiting patiently for her to touch him.

She did, and the same tingle zinged through her as
when he'd looked at her in the bathroom mirror. It started at her fingertips,
where his flesh met hers, and rippled up her arms, into her breasts, her
stomach and thighs.