Heat Exchange (The Alpha Billionaire's Virgin Book 1) (16 page)

Janey hopped up and dashed for the kitchen. She grabbed an oven mitt and removed the browned cheesecake from the oven and then deactivated the timer. Tempted to dawdle, she made herself go back into the living room with all signs of dignity. She took her seat again slowly, aware of everyone staring at her, but she addressed Oliver with lifted chin.

"I know it's not normal at my age," she said. "But there it is. I'm a virgin and Nyall was kind enough to offer to teach me how not to be. Only I couldn't follow his rules. There are rules I have to follow if he's going to help me. But I couldn't do it and so that's that. He wants me to stay because he's sexually frustrated and can't be bothered to call someone else to relieve that problem. I don't want to. End of story."

Their jaws had dropped during her speech. Uneasily, she looked across at Nyall. He had one leg crossed sideways over the other and was leaning back, twirling a pen in one hand, a cushion shoved between his legs. Something about the hard way he was looking at her and ignoring the other two made her glance hurriedly away and fan herself.

"Er." Oliver drew in a breath and gathered himself. "All right, thanks. So now the next stage is isolating. We need to isolate the problem here exactly—what we think is really going on. Janey? Why don't we start with you this time. What do you think is the underlying dynamic here? What's really happening?"

She said instantly, "Nyall should be spending his vacation hiking, not helping me. He's being stubborn. He says he, uh, wants me but he really just wants sexual release and I'm the wrong person for that. I've figured out I'm not good mistress material."

Oliver cleared his throat. "Right. So, Nyall, what would you say is really going on? Try not to let Janey's answer influence you."

Nyall kept twirling the pen, his gaze never moving from Janey's face. "Janey's got a blind spot the size of Puget fucking Sound. She thinks I'm doing her a favor in exchange for casual sex, when what I want is to fuck the hell out of her because my dick won't calm the fuck down since I met her."

"Nyall!"

"No, Janey, it's good," Oliver said. "This is what we want. We're hearing what's in your heads, both of you. Okay, so the next stage is goaling. Goaling is where we pinpoint together where you both want to be by the end of this discussion. Now, we've already established that you, Nyall, want Janey to stay with you in your home this week, and you, Janey, want to go. What we want is a common goal. To get there, we project what happens with each outcome in terms of what's best for both of you."

"I'm not following this at all," said Janey.

Oliver frowned, then reached in his pocket and took out a pen. "Just want to make a note here. Not…following…goaling. Okay, where were we? Let's start with staying and let Nyall go first. If Janey stays with you this week, Nyall, what effect will that have on each of you?"

"If Janey stays with me, I'll be happy," Nyall said briskly. "There's no downside."

"Okay, happiness for you. What about for Janey, Nyall? How does staying benefit or hurt her?"

Nyall's eyes hooded. "I take care of her. She gets her sex certificate. I keep her from getting hurt."

"Good. Now your turn, Janey." Oliver smiled at her encouragingly.

Janey knew her face was beet red. "I don't understand your answer, Nyall," she said, looking at him. "You wouldn't be happy."

"Why don't you address me, Janey," Oliver advised. "Not Nyall."

She made herself look at Oliver, but she was aware of Nyall's fixed stare. "If I stay, I get everything but Nyall gets nothing. He, uh, he makes me feel, uh…" She looked helplessly over at Amy for confirmation of Nyall's lover-as-magician status, but the other woman's nose was buried in her phone again.

"Nyall makes me feel amazing," she hurried on. "But I'm not experienced so I can't teach him anything new and he doesn't actually want to learn how to cook. He's rich and important. He has business obligations that are a
really
big deal. If I stay, sure, he gets some sex but he says that's just sex and not a big deal and I forget the rules. That means his work suffers and he gets mad and I'm a crybaby. I'm pretty sure that makes me high maintenance. He wouldn't be happy and I wouldn't be happy and there'd be more of
this
." She pointed to her wet eyes.

"Janey!" Nyall exploded, looking livid. "You promised you'd stop—"

"No yelling, please, Nyall," Oliver said soothingly, holding up a hand. "We don't raise our voices during resynthesis. The idea is to listen, not dominate the conversation. So Janey, why don't you move on to the outcome you see if you go away instead of stay."

She nodded. "Going away is much better. If I go, Nyall's life can return to normal."

"What about your life?" Oliver asked.

"Well, sure, I'll be sad, but that's only because I was silly before and made this into something way more important than it was." Realizing her honesty wouldn't help her cause, Janey added reassuringly, "I was super lucky to meet Nyall on that elevator and I'll never regret anything. He's already taught me so much. He truly
doesn't have to worry."
She nodded emphatically. "I'
ll find somebody else to finish the lessons if necessary. A nice, decent, regular guy. I'm sure I just haven't been patient enough. They can't
all
be sleazeballs. It's really
okay
."

That should relieve Nyall of any guilt about not fulfilling his promise, she thought. Even if it wasn't exactly true. She couldn't imagine doing what she'd done with Nyall with anyone else, but he didn't need to know that.

"What about you, Nyall? Let's hear your thoughts on what happens if Janey goes," Oliver said.

Janey followed his gaze and was caught; Nyall's teeth were bared and for a moment, she had the bizarre idea that he was about to launch himself at her.

"You'd fucking better not," he growled, "let another man touch your pussy, Janey."

"Ah, dude," Oliver said, sounding flustered.

Janey's hands flew to her cheeks. Her gaze encountered Amy's. The woman's attention had finally been torn from her phone.

"Nyall, chill. You're freaking her out."

"Shut up," he said, recapturing Janey in his stare. "Are you getting me, Janey?"

She shook her head, frowning.

Loudly, Oliver cleared his throat again. "Nyall, the question is really what emotional and lifestyle effect will Janey's leaving have on you and her. That's the kind of thing we're looking for here."

"If she leaves," Nyall said deliberately, "I'll be fucking upset. Why the fuck do you think you're here? And she'll be fucking upset too because I don't have time for that shit and I'll be in a bad mood when I come to fetch her back to where she fucking belongs. Are we done here?"

"Wait!" Oliver sounded excited. "No, this is great. You're a little ahead of the game, but you're advancing to the next stage of resynthesis. Blaming. This is where you get it all out in the open, all the dark forces inside you. Just say what you're feeling. Nyall, why don't you go on with your train of thought? I think we're all feeling the emotion here."

Janey was bemused—by Nyall's impassioned speech, by Oliver's enthusiasm about dark forces. She caught Amy's eye again.

He's good,
the woman mouthed. Janey stifled a hysterical giggle.

Nyall's tone was disbelieving. "Blaming? Sure, I can do that. Janey, this whole thing is your fault because I fucking want you and only you and you're punishing me for screwing up because of some idiotic idea you have about my being out of your league."

She gasped. Did he
really
want her? Her, Janey, specifically?

"Me?" she said, just to be sure. "Janey Pankowski."

He rolled his eyes, then reached out and dragged her by the legs along the sofa. "No, the queen of England. Of course you. You're not exactly interchangeable." Janey shrieked a little as she was yanked close against Nyall's body.

Oliver leaned forward. "Great, great, we're making real progress here. Now you, Janey. Try some blaming."

She struggled to think of something blaming to say. Then she snapped her fingers. "Nyall has stupid rules. He thinks work always has priority. If that's what he thinks, then he shouldn't make arrangements with virgins."

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," Oliver said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's move on to vantaging. Here, we're aiming to leave history behind. Move past what's happened. We're aiming for forgiveness. Janey? Why don't you start?"

"Um. Like, I should forgive Nyall for his stupid rule, you mean? Is that what you mean?"

"Yeah, that kind of thing."

"Okay." She turned her head to look at Nyall doubtfully. "I think your rule is stupid. But I understand that you have to have it. You're forgiven." She didn't feel like that really settled anything, but the words made her feel a little better.

"Nyall? What about you?"

A muscle moved in his jaw. "I forgive you, Janey, for everything. You can stay with me."

Oliver smothered a laugh and Amy hooted. "Er, right," Oliver said. "Maybe be more specific?"

Nyall sighed and ran his hands up Janey's arm and hip, shifting her further up against him, reminding her of the elevator incident again.

"Janey, stop assuming you're like Amy here, or anyone else," he said. "No offense, Amy, you were the best, bud."

"Creep," Amy yawned, and to Oliver, "Don't freak out, lover, Nyall's not even in your class." She winked at Janey, who decided she
really
liked Amy.

Nyall's hands tightened. "And stop assuming I'm being noble. You're not a charity case, you never were a charity case." He whispered in her ear: "I was just hot for your ass, only hotter than I've ever been for any ass, ever, because it's
your
ass. I keep telling you that. Maybe you'll believe me now."

She swallowed. In the same hushed tone, she said, "Because there's something about me even though I can't figure out what it is and you don't know either."

"More or less." He kissed her head, then said in a normal voice. "So if you do that then I forgi—"

"Hold on," Oliver said. "You're doing it again. Rushing to the next stage. That's negotiating. Did we ever agree on the goaling? Because the negotiating depends on the goaling." He scratched his head.

"If you want to wait to finish this until you've worked out some bugs, that's cool," Nyall said. "We've settled that Janey's staying with me, isn't she? Aren't you, baby?"

Janey frowned. "Not necessarily. I still don't think I'm offering you anything remotely near what you're giving me. You don't want to learn to cook."

"You can teach me how to cook."

"But it's not that valuable to you."

"Maybe I can help here with a re-isolating moment," Oliver said. "Janey, what is it you want in this relationship with Nyall?"

Janey bit her lip. "You mean for this week? I want to learn everything Nyall can teach me about sex and men and how to deal with them. I want my —" she flashed a smile at Nyall, "sex certificate."

"And Nyall? What is it you want in your relationship with Janey?"

There was a pause. Eventually Janey looked around again and found him looking annoyed. "I want her with me," he said. "To take care of her. To teach her whatever she wants to know."

"And you want me as a mistress. A sex partner," Janey supplied.

"Janey," Nyall said clearly to the room at large, "is
not
a mistress.
Not
a sex partner."

"Then what is she?" Amy said suddenly. "Girlfriend, Ny?"

Before Nyall could dismiss that himself, Janey shook her head. "No, no. Not a girlfriend. Nuh-uh. This is just for this week."

"You heard her," Nyall drawled, his voice at odds with the suddenly bruising pressure where he held her arm and hip. "I'm not peon enough to be boyfriend to this woman. Right, Janey? You want yourself a—what did you call him—nice, normal, regular guy?"

She nodded. "Nyall's the dashing, worldly guy I'll think back on when I'm an old and feeble grandmother as the one who made my first experience with sex something wonderful instead of scary."

"Oh, brother," said Amy. "So you're just into him for his bod?"

Janey flushed. "It's just that we live in different worlds and our agreement is only for the week. It's supposed to be mutually beneficial, except it's not so beneficial for him. He won't even let me buy groceries."

"Rightyo," Oliver said. "The last stage of resynthesis is futuring. Let's envision what the future holds here. This is a relationship we're talking about, so let's do some futuring centering around relationships. Janey, do you want to get married one day?"

"Oh, yes. I hope so."

"And who do you see yourself married to in the future?"

She closed her eyes. "Maybe somebody in the hospitality industry like me. The last guy I asked out managed events for his company. We handled the CEO's birthday and he seemed interested. I asked him out, but he acted like he was only interested in my orange vanilla cream cake. So not him, obviously, but somebody."

"All right. Nyall, Amy's said you're not the marrying type, but you've been married before, if rumor has it right," Oliver went on. "Do you ever plan to marry again?"

"Yes," Nyall said firmly.

"You're freaking me!" Amy said. "I thought Kimberly burned you out on marriage but good."

"Only singed," Nyall stretched, which made his chest look very appealing. "I still think a normal life is not outside the realm of possibility. So yes, I want to get married again."

Janey's eyes became saucers. "You do? Really, Nyall?"

His eyes narrowed and he tilted up her chin. "Yeah."

"You actually want to get married." She was suddenly excited. She gave his arm a little shake. "I didn't know. I thought all you were interested in was uncommitted sex. Nyall, this is perfect. I have an incredible idea. This is what I'm
good
at."

His mouth curved into a twisted smile. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Oh, boy." Her heart gave a huge, painful squeeze at the images in her mind, but she ignored it. It didn't matter what she wanted. She was already getting so much out of this arrangement. This was the answer that would not only give something back to Nyall, but keep her heart protected from hurt.