Dinner with the Billionaire (Erotic Romance) (Rendezvous with the Billionaire Book 2) (3 page)

“It’s just…” Now that I was talking I had no idea how to say it. “Something occurred to me. About that night. I mean, you know.”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, but he didn’t quite look at me. “Yes, I know which night you’re speaking of.”

“In light of what happened after, the police…” I closed my mouth, pursing my lips for a moment. “I woke up, really early. And you weren’t in the room. Not in the hallway either.”

Evan stood up in a fluid motion and stalked towards me, only stopping when he was clearly within my personal space. He put on hand on the door next to my face, leaving the other side open. I didn’t move. “Are you asking me if I had anything to do with Nick Bitterman’s death?”

“No,” I swallowed, my skin chilled. “I’m asking you why you took off in the middle of the night and then why you came back.” I made the mistake of tilting my head up, of meeting his eyes. Even in the short time since I’d last seen him, I’d forgotten how green they were. Like emeralds, or jade, something hard and cold, but worth a lot.

The corner of his mouth tugged up and my mouth went dry once more, this time it wasn’t out of apprehension. “I had to take a phone call.” His other hand seemed to come out of nowhere and gently touched my shoulder. I didn’t jump, but it was a close thing. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

That made a lot of sense. “So you didn’t have anything to do with that guy? Didn’t know him?”

His eyes shuttered, somehow turning even colder. But the expression on the rest of his face didn’t change. I would have never noticed it if I wasn’t looking closely. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this. It was just supposed to be a bit of fun.”

His hand hadn’t stopped caressing my shoulder, if anything, he was growing more insistent. But I tried to ignore it, at least for the moment. “Just tell me you had nothing to do with his death, please.” It shouldn’t have mattered so much. I didn’t know why, but I really, really didn’t want Evan to turn out to be a murderer. I mean, I didn’t want anyone I knew to be a murderer, but this seemed more. More what, I didn’t know.

And now he did smile, dimples forming. “I didn’t kill him, I promise.”

I believed him, maybe because I wanted to, maybe because it was true. “Good.” I smiled back.

We both stood there for a long moment, smiling at each other. But the mood shifted and his eyes dropped down. I licked my lips and swallowed at the sudden heat in the room. One look and I knew he was going to kiss me, and I knew I wasn’t going to try to stop him.

He captured my mouth with an unexpected swiftness, the hand on my shoulder sliding around to cup the back of my neck. My hands were on his chest, my fingers bunched in the shirt and feeling the hardness of his abs underneath. I knew what they felt like naked, and yet there was something even sexier about this. Something even more forbidden than it had been before.

I opened my mouth, licking at his tongue, sucking him in. He held me closer, keeping me in place while I tried to move my trapped hands to his sides, to wrap around his back and get him even nearer. We were wearing far too many clothes.

His knee snuck between my legs, nudging them apart. I gave no resistance, riding him as we kissed. I was already wet, ready and willing to take him again. He gave no quarter, possessing me with every stroke of his tongue, trying to dominate me with every caress. And I knew there was only one way to win against such a campaign.

I met his every challenge and doubled it back on him. And within minutes my hand was on his cock, stroking it through the fabric of his trousers.

A knock at the door had us breaking apart. He jumped back, clearing nearly half the room. One look at him told me all I needed to know about how this looked, anyone who saw us would know immediately what we were doing. I looked around the room for any escape, but this conference room had only one door. And the window was on the 37
th
floor, not an option.

Okay, what else?

I looked around with new eyes and saw a chance, “Give me that folder, and some of those papers.” Evan raised an eyebrow but did as I asked. I looked at him with a critical eye. Thank god I wasn’t wearing lipstick. “Now smooth your hair down.” I kept my voice quiet, but still he followed my orders. There was something intoxicating about that, but I didn’t let myself dwell. The person on the other side of the door knocked again. I made some sort of gesture for Evan to respond.

“One moment!” He called, sounding busy. Perfect.

I straightened my clothes as best I could and took the folder. Showtime. I started talking as I moved towards the door. “Thanks for taking the time to discuss the Chambers account,” I was careful to keep my head down and look at the papers in the folder as I opened the door and stepped out. “I’ll have the report to you by next Wednesday.” I stepped down the hallway without even glancing at the man who wanted in. But when I was far enough away I closed the folder and let out a sigh of relief. Hopefully it was enough.

I couldn’t focus at my desk. I only sat there for about three seconds before I scooped up my purse and headed for the elevators. It was a beautiful day outside and just about lunch time. But my trip was almost cut short in the elevator bank. The pair of detectives who’d been given supporting actress roles in my nightmares were standing in the lobby. I tried to duck out of the way, but Detective O’Hara saw me before I could hide.

She had long dark hair and olive skin. Hard brown eyes and cheekbones that could cut, but I hadn’t noticed until this moment that she wasn’t very tall, in fact, I thought she was shorter than me. Her partner, Detective Santiago, was the tall one, probably close to six feet with ice blond hair and blue eyes. But her face was nice, someone you could trust. If she wasn’t investigating you for murder.

“Ms. Bowen,” said Santiago, smiling, “How are you?”

That wasn’t a trap, right? God, I’d become so paranoid. “I’m fine. You weren’t looking for me, were you?” They had my number, and my lawyer’s number. No need to come so far from their precinct.

It was O’Hara who answered while Santiago shook her head. “Not today.”

“Okay, well. Bye.” I hightailed it out of the lobby without saying anything else. I felt like such a spaz, but I couldn’t deal with them, not with my nerves still on edge from those few minutes alone with Evan.

In half a daze I walked down the street to one of my favorite delis. It was called Ma’s and was barely more than a hole in the wall. I’d found it on my first week on the job. It was everything I wanted from a deli, and no matter when I went, it was nearly deserted. But the food was delicious and it wasn’t hideously expensive, so I’d take it.

But it looked like I was destined to have company that day. Another man stood in line by the counter, looking over the selection of pastries in the glass case. I could see that he had long dark hair and wore a really nice suit. And while I did take a moment to appreciate how well it fit his ass, I tore my eyes away after a second. Ogling men had gotten me in enough trouble as it was.

And my opinion of his hotness, or at least the hotness of his backside, was quickly declining. He needed to make a selection before I just skipped ahead of him. But he turned around and offered me something approaching a breathtaking smile. I damn near expected the light to wink off of his white teeth. He had dark eyes and heavy brows, but fine cheekbones and a sturdy chin. It should have been all a mish mash, but he made it work. “So, baklava or a cookie?”

He had to ask? But his smile was doing things to me and I could feel my lips tugging up. “Baklava, always. Unless it’s my grandma. Then cookies.”

Wait, why was I sharing that? But he laughed and nodded. When he turned away to speak to the cashier, I assumed that was that. But he waited until I finished ordering and sat with me at my table without so much as asking. “Excuse me?”

The dark eyed man laughed. "You're excused, though I don't know that you've done anything to warrant it."

"Wait, to warrant what?" I felt like I'd missed a vital part of this conversation somewhere.

"I see no need for you to be excused, you haven't done anything wrong, have you?" He smiled as a server brought us our food and thanked her when she left. So he might be presumptuous, but at least he wasn't rude to wait staff. "I'm Dylan, by the way. Marquez."

"Charmed, I'm sure." But there was something about this guy, maybe just the super aggressive confidence that lead him to sit at my table when there were plenty of other ones available. I didn't know, but I decided to play along. "Amy."

His lips smiled around his coffee cup. "That's a nice name. So what brings you by? Not too many people know about this place."

I took a dainty bite of my sandwich before answering. "I work right around the corner. What about you?"

His face grew dark, "My sister is meeting her fiancé for lunch; she insisted that I accompany her. She hates Manhattan."

I looked him up and down, he looked 100% Manhattan, and it seemed strange that his sister wouldn't be. I loved the city too much, couldn't understand when people didn't. If they didn't want the hustle and bustle of the city, why would they even come here? I shrugged. "Her loss." But there was that look on his face, "Do you share her view?"

His face cleared and he smiled again, this time it didn't quite encompass all of his face. "Oh no, I love it here. Couldn't imagine being anywhere else." He told me more about himself, he worked for his family's investment firm and was just back from a great vacation in Europe. He'd lived in the city his entire life except for during college and a short stint in his early twenties.

And he got the same information from me. I wasn't from New York but got there as soon as I could, that I'd gone to a tiny liberal arts college that I was sure he'd never heard of. But maybe he'd heard of where I worked, at Daringer Associates? His eyes lit up when I said that, but he didn't tell me why.

His phone beeped just as I finished up the tiny piece of baklava he'd made me try. Of course, knowing how delicious it was, I hadn't resisted too hard. He checked it and cursed. "I'm sorry, Amy, this has been great, but I have a conference call I need to jump on in five minutes."

I glanced up at the clock on the wall. "It's okay, I should be getting back to work anyway." But something made me linger instead of just getting up and going.

Dylan wasn't leaving either. He smiled a bit sheepishly and looked down at his phone. "This has been a great time. How would you feel about doing it again?"

Like a date? I didn't say it out loud, but the prospect of a nice looking guy actually wanting to go out with me in public and let me talk about it sounded nice in light of all of the recent secrecy. "That sounds good." I gave him my contact information.

But he didn't leave it at that, instead kissing me on the cheek before walking out of the deli. I followed him not too much later with even more pep in my step. Damn, at this rate guys would start falling out of the woodwork by next week.

After all of the excitement, a few days passed where nothing seemed to happen. Dylan didn't call, Evan didn't speak with me, and I was able to get some of my work done in peace. Another weekend flew by and I was starting to appreciate that my life just might get back to normal. And then the cops called.

I didn't know if it was good or bad, but I was starting to be less freaked out every time they got in contact with me. That probably wasn’t a good thing.

One call to Carmen Brown and we were scheduled to meet at the police station on Sunday evening. She met me in the lobby, her white suit impeccable and makeup making her skin look nearly dark gold in the harsh fluorescent light. "They didn't tell me what it was about," were the first words out of my mouth.

Carmen just smiled, "I'm sure it's nothing serious."

When Santiago and O'Hara greeted us, I began to think that Carmen might be psychic. They were both all smiles and this time led us to a conference room instead of the interrogation room where they'd questioned me before. The room was small but comfortable, it could probably accommodate six or seven people so we weren’t hurting for space.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice,” said Detective Santiago. “We’re fairly certain you’ll like what we have to say.”

What, were they going to offer me a plea bargain? Or was that the district attorney who did that? Conscious of Carmen by my side, I gave a sort of half-smile and said nothing.

She spoke for me, “Is there anything you have to say that couldn’t have been covered with a phone call?”

O’Hara leaned back in her chair, but it was Santiago who kept speaking. “We have eliminated Miss Bowen as a suspect in the case.” Joy soared through me. I knew it had been weighing me down, but I hadn’t realized how much. But once she said those words I felt like I could float away from the lightness of my newfound body. “However,” and with one word I could feel the pressure building up again. “We still have a few questions.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Carmen put a hand on my arm before I could say anything. “Please give us a moment?” The detectives stepped away from the table, but they didn’t leave the room. I guessed that Carmen was fine with that when she didn’t insist. She leaned in close and whispered, her breath tickling my ear. “Just because they’ve eliminated you as a suspected does not mean that they will not change their minds. You’ll need to be careful, however, cooperation at this point will more likely reflect well on you.”