Kiki's Millionaire (2 page)

Publicity for his bad behavior would be huge, so she
figured he was telling the truth. A new job would be hard to find in the
current economic climate, and her experience level as a junior PR person was
minimal. Not to mention the fact that her boss wasn’t thrilled with her and
probably wouldn’t give her a good reference. “Yeah, fine. Three times. No sex.”

“Okay. Hit the F3 key.”

“The F3 key?”

“Yup.”

“That’s it? Just tap a key?”

He smiled. “Mmhmm.”

“You’re a sneaky bastard, making me agree to those
dates for one damn keystroke.”

“Did you know to hit the F3 key? Would you have
figured it out by yourself?”

“Well…no.”

“Then go ahead.”

Skeptically, she reached out and gently depressed the
key. Her dark computer screen lit up and opened the mail application and her
presentation program application. New mail was waiting, and her proposal was
right there, just as she’d left it. “Holy shit!”

He smiled, but reprimanded her. “All that cursing.
Tsk.”

She quickly attached the proposal to an email and sent
it off. This time, it went without a hitch. “Fan-fuckin’-tastic!”

“I’m glad I made you happy.”

“You saved my life! I could have lost my job.”

There was a brief pause in the conversation as she
turned back to the computer, grinning from ear to ear.

“Is your real name Kiki? It’s very unusual.”

Her cheeks got a little hot. “Well, actually, it’s
Kitten Kimberly Ann Mackenzie.”

He didn’t laugh or even smirk; that was kind. “Your
parents must have liked cats.”

“Um…yeah.” Kiki’s smile was a little forced. Her name
was a permanent thorn in her side, but she refused to change it. Her mother had
so loved the name she gave her daughter; it made Kiki feel like a traitor to
consider modifying it more than with a nickname.

“Where shall I pick you up for dinner tonight?”

“Huh?”

“Dinner. A date.” His look was indulgent. “You know,
the first of the three you agreed to.”

“Oh, right! So soon?” Apparently he was serious about
that. It made no sense. She was fairly ordinary. Pretty, maybe, but not a
knockout. Her legs and behind were okay—she bicycled to work and home
every day—but her boobs were too small and her shoulder-length
chestnut-colored hair and gray eyes were common enough. Well, whatever.

She gave him her address. “What time?”

“Seven.” He took out a pen and a business card,
scribbled something on the back, then handed it to her. “In case you need to
reach me. Use the cell phone number on the back.”

Kiki looked at the card, and mumbled his engraved
name. “James Aaron Chesterfield. Yeah, okay.” Folding up her laptop, she
pocketed the card and stood up from the table. Her coat and purse went over her
arm. “I guess I’ll see you later…Jim.”

He nodded and smiled, boyish but mature at the same
time. “Until then, Kiki.”

* * *

Watching her sweet behind sway out the door, Jim sat
at the small table for half-a-minute, then returned to the table where his
brother, Cal, was once again reading his newspaper.

“Reminds you of Isabella, doesn’t she?”

Jim thought about his dead wife wistfully for a moment,
then nodded. “In some ways.”

“Same color hair, same lanky body.”

“Same foul mouth,” Jim pointed out with a smile.

Cal laughed. “Oh yeah. She’s got that in spades.”

“Except Isabella cursed in Italian.”

“Like a truck driver.”

“A very pretty truck driver.”

“No argument about that.”

Jim drank his cold coffee. “I’m taking her on a date
tonight.”

Cal’s dark eyebrows, so like his older brother’s, shot
up. “That was fast.”

“I like her.”

“I guess so!”

Jim smiled. “She’s got no artifice. She just is what
she is.”

“What’s her name?”

“Kiki.”

Nodding, Cal moved the newspaper around, folding it
neatly, though it had already been folded with precision. “Are you ready for
this, Jim?”

He had to think about that. Was he ready? Isabella had
been dead for two years. But he’d been prepared when she passed. She was
horribly sick for the entire year before. When he buried her, he thought he’d
never find anyone as vivacious, as beautiful, and as sensual as her again.
Maybe that was still the case. Maybe this Kiki Mackenzie was nothing special.
No…there was something different about her.

“Yeah. I think I’m ready. It’s been two years.”

“True, and you’ve hardly been celibate.”

The coffee tasted good as it went down. “No.” Women
had been eager to climb into his bed, each for her own reasons, and none of
them honorable. They weren’t interested in him, just his money and prestige. He
needed what they were offering—sex—but he didn’t need a trophy wife
or someone who didn’t sincerely care about him. Isabella had cared. “I had to
coerce Kiki.”

“After she knew who you were?”

Jim nodded. “Yup.”

Cal sat back in his chair. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow.”

Standing, the younger man gathered his coat. “Good
luck, brother. This one’s different.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

* * *

Jim never drank alcohol when he was driving. If he
planned to have wine or cocktails, he had his man-of-all-work drag out the
Rolls-Royce or the Lincoln. He had several cars, and the Rolls was perhaps his
least used. Purchased on a whim, it was elegant, but not very practical.
Generally, he liked to fly under the radar and avoid paparazzi by using less
flashy cars but, on the other hand, he didn’t ever want to be arrested for
drinking and driving. That would be a publicity nightmare. So, since he hoped
to have wine with his dinner with Kiki, the Rolls got shined up and his man,
Ernie, put on his best suit.

They arrived at Kiki’s place at seven-oh-five owing to
Silicon Valley traffic. Jim knocked at the apartment door, a little nervous,
which was a change for him. He wanted this woman to like him. Really like him
for himself.

The door opened the width of the security chain and a
gray eye peeked out. “Hi, Jim. Hold on a sec.” She closed the door, and Jim
heard the rattle of the chain being pulled away.

When he saw her, he felt a stirring that had little to
do with the romantic pleasure of enjoying the company of a lovely woman, and
everything to do with pure lust. He had to grit his teeth a bit to remind his
parts to behave. She wore a dark blue, knit dress, low cut in the front. It
showed off her curvy hips to perfection, and made her long, gorgeous legs look
even longer.

A little tongue tied, all he could think of to say
was, “Hi.”

“Hi there. Want to come in?”

“Sure. Are you about ready to go?” The apartment was
small. No, it was tiny. It appeared to be one room, an open kitchen, and a
bathroom. He’d lived like this in college, unwilling to believe that the
software he’d invented would be more than a flash in the pan. In Kiki’s case,
every available space, except for a spot for the bed, was taken up with
bookshelves. She had hundreds of books.

She pointed to her feet and held up a pair of strappy
black shoes with ankle bands. “I just need to get my shoes on. The goddamn
buckles are driving me crazy. They’re so fuckin’ small, I can barely deal with
them.”

 
“Let me
help you, then. And honey, watch the language.”

Her teeth worried her lower lip for a moment, then she
agreed, dropping the shoes on the floor.

He squatted down and helped her with the left shoe,
enjoying the smooth curve of her delicate feet as he slipped the shoe on, and
the turn of her ankle as he fastened the ankle strap buckle. He did the same
for her right foot, then stood, smiling. “Done. Grab your purse.”

Kiki’s smile warmed him to his core. She slid into her
sturdy cloth coat and they made their way to the car. Her eyes widened as she
took in the expensive vehicle, then she looked suspiciously at him. “No
Volkswagens for you, I guess.”

Jim felt his face flush. Maybe he should have simply
eschewed drinking and driven himself. “We could take a cab, if you’d prefer.”

“You don’t drive?”

“Not when I plan to drink. I thought we’d have a
little wine with dinner.”

She appeared to ponder this. “Well…here you are, and I
guess it’ll be okay this once. We’ll take your car.”

He grinned. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

Although she mumbled, he understood her when she said,
“Fuckin’ rich guy, thinks he can get in my panties by showing off his goddamn
car.”

“Language,” he said softly as Ernie opened the door.

Kiki shot him a dirty look then slid in.

They rode silently for a few minutes and then Cal
called. Jim considered letting the call go to voicemail, but he didn’t like to
do that with his little brother. Well, maybe he was not so little.

“Joe’s morgue. You stab ‘em we slab ‘em.” It was an
old joke, but it always got a chuckle out of them both.

“Dinner at Mom’s on Saturday. You coming?”

Jim thought about it, looking over at Kiki. His
parents weren’t ready for her potty mouth. More was the pity, too. Cal would
get along with her, though. “I don’t think so. How about the Rosicrucian’s new
exhibit opening?”

“You’re going to that? I thought it might be kind of
dull.”

“Maybe. But I’m going anyway.”

“Okay. I’m dating someone new. Ginny is her name.
You’ll like her.”

“I’m sure. Hey, I’ve got to go. Bring Ginny to the
Ros, why don’t you?”

“Good idea. ‘Night, bro.”

Jim rang off, hoping that Cal would finally find a
girl he could be serious about. Jim didn’t like to give advice about Cal’s love
life, though. It wasn’t really any of his business unless Cal brought up the
subject first.

He turned to Kiki with a smile. “Sorry about that. The
restaurant isn’t far. You’re familiar with the Crescent Inn?”

She pushed a silky-looking lock of hair off her face;
a slight hint of her perfume wafted toward him—vanilla and cloves. “I’ve
heard of it, but I’ve never been there.”

“I like it because the chef is a guy I went to
elementary school with.”

“No kidding?”

“Really. His name is Ozzie. We were in third and
fourth grade together. Inseparable.”

“And you’re still friends?”

“Yup.”

“Neat. My family moved a lot as I was growing up. I
wasn’t able to keep most friends from grade school. But I still have college
friends.”

Jim reached out and stroked her hand, noting that it
was fisted on the seat next to her purse. “You’re tense.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t often go on dates with
millionaires.”

He hated to talk about money. At least this appeared
to be one woman who wasn’t particularly motivated by cash. “Just forget that
stuff for tonight. I’m just Jim. Jim, the guy down the block.”

She snorted, then looked askance at him. “Sorry.”

He grinned, charmed by her lack of guile. “Just be
yourself.”

* * *

The restaurant was elegant, and Kiki immediately felt
uncomfortable. The Maitre d’ greeted Jim like royalty, leading them to Jim’s
“favorite” table. The sommelier brought three bottles of wine for Jim to choose
from. Also his “favorite” selections. His friend, Ozzie the chef, came out and
served them the evening’s amuse-bouche himself, then stood and chatted amiably
with his childhood pal for a few minutes.

Kiki didn’t even know such a thing as an amuse-bouche
existed before their date, but it seemed to be a very tiny appetizer. Tasty
stuff. She’d have liked to have more of it, but the dishes just kept coming.
They were small portions, but there were so many of them, by the time they got
to a cheese plate and dessert wine, she was stuffed.

“How the fuck do you stay thin?” she asked Jim.

“Language, young lady. You really need to fix that.”

“I’m not a kid, Jim. I resent that you call me ‘young
lady.’ I’m twenty-six years old.”

He frowned. “Let’s have this conversation in the car.”

“No, let’s have it right now!” She tried to keep her
voice low; she didn’t want to embarrass herself, but he was being insufferable.

“You’re acting like a spoiled little girl.”

“You’re acting like a fucking pompous jackass.”

His frown deepened and he slid out of the booth,
dragging her by the arm. “You deserve a spanking. Into the car. Now.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.

“Oh, but I do dare.”

He pulled her along by the hand and they exited the
restaurant quickly. “Don’t you need to pay the check?”

“They run a tab for me. Don’t change the subject.”

They’d reached the car and Ernie opened the door for
them. “Thank you, Ernie. Take us on a trip around the local shore.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get in, Kiki.”

“What if I don’t?” She pulled her hand free and
crossed her arms over her chest. The nerve of the man. He’d as much as promised
to spank her once they were in the car, and he expected her to actually get in?

His voice was low, almost a growl. “Then I’ll leave
you here to take a cab home. And that will be the end of that.”

She was being difficult and she knew it. She didn’t
think he’d really spank her, though she did deserve a little telling off,
maybe. It seemed like she’d lost control of herself, and it was not the first
time. Her foul language had bothered him all along, and now she was using it to
keep him at arm’s length, sabotaging any chance of simply having a good time
and seeing what the other half lived like. But he was pissing her off with his
parental attitude. She wasn’t a child. Still, if he left her in the parking
lot, she’d have to call a cab, and she had no money to pay for it.

“You know I don’t have money for a cab!”