Not Just Another Romance Novel (17 page)

I locked myself in and whipped my dress up to my chin. I hadn’t worn the sexiest bra in the world, but it would have to do.

I reached in my purse for my phone only to discover I hadn’t sealed the water bottle tightly enough.

I sighed in complete frustration as I pulled my dress back down and grabbed some paper towels to try to soak up the water floating at the bottom of my purse.

I worked as quickly as I could. I didn’t have much time to kill before my meeting with Mr. Greene.

As soon as I dried everything as best I could, I pulled my phone out, lifted my dress up, and took a couple of shots of just my cleavage, wondering if that would be good enough for Master Scott.

Wait a minute.

Master
Scott
?

Why did my brain call him Master
Scott
?

I pulled my dress over my head, unhooked my bra, and stared at myself in the mirror for a second.

What the hell was I doing?

Was this really in the name of research? Or had I gone too far?

I shook my head at my reflection. I’d gone too far, but I was in too deep to turn it around.

I snapped a picture of one of my nipples for good measure. As I’d said from the start of this whole project, I was all in. I had to give it everything I had.

Even though I was sure I’d never actually send anyone a picture of my nipple.

I put my bra back on and then pulled my dress on, and then I checked the pictures. The cleavage shots looked better than the one nip picture, so I sent off one of the ones where my bra made my boobs look much bigger than they actually were. I must’ve been pushing my arms into them to lift them up, because they looked full and lush.

The clock on my phone told me I only had about two minutes until my meeting, so I grabbed my purse and rushed back to Justine as quickly as my gimp ankle would allow me.

Another woman stood at the end of the hallway by the waiting room when I walked back. She was older than Justine, but a beauty just the same. I estimated her to be in her early forties. She had dark hair pinned up in a bun and wore cute, chic glasses that matched her black dress and black heels. Red lipstick outlined lush lips.

“Ms. Andrews?” she said.

I recognized her voice immediately. Oh my God. That was Alice?

I pictured some straight-laced, blunt woman with a healthy dose of sass, not a supermodel.

“You must be Ms. McClelland.”

“I am. Follow me. Mr. Greene’s eleven o’clock finished early and he is ready for you.”

I followed her down the hallway opposite the restrooms. I lagged behind her. My choices were either to lag or hop my way across the floor. I winced in pain with each step.

She turned back toward me. “Come along, then,” she urged.

We turned down a few other hallways that all looked identical in a giant maze, and then we reached her desk and the waiting area for Mr. Greene’s office. A wall of glass faced us, covered with these really sensual drapes. They were closed.

I thought about the sheer money behind that glass.

I still didn’t know how Alice had granted
me
this interview. I imagined hundreds of people called every single day wanting to meet the eligible bachelor. I couldn’t figure how I was one of the ones who’d gotten through, but I counted it as a lucky break.

She sat at her desk and called the man behind the glass.

My heart was racing again.

Oh God, I just knew I was going to do something to make a complete ass out of myself.

“Mr. Greene, your eleven-thirty is here…No, sir…yes, sir.” She hung up the phone, pressed some buttons on the keypad, and the glass door opened to allow me in.

Mr. Greene’s office was expansive. It took up one corner of the building, providing windows on both the north and west side of the building. The beach and ocean were in view.

It would have been a gorgeous view if I could rip my eyes away from the man behind the desk.

He appeared younger in person than he seemed to be in his pictures. He looked like an ancient Greek god sitting back there. I realized my romance novels called all of the hot ones “Adonis,” but it actually kind of applied here. Everything about him was precise. His sharp jaw, straight nose, piercing eyes.

He wasn’t just gorgeous. He was inhuman.

He sat behind this huge black desk in this huge black leather chair as he ran his world. Images and holograms were projected on the glass to my right. The guy was so cool that he didn’t even need computer monitors. It seemed like something I’d seen in a television show or on a movie, but it was all this technology right in front of me.

He stared intently at me.

He rested his elbows on his desk and brought one finger up to rub his bottom lip. He looked, at the very least, intrigued.

“Uh, hi,” I said.

He stood in greeting. So he was a gentleman. I’d remember that for my report. “Good morning, Ms. Andrews. Take a seat.” He nodded his head toward the chairs at the foot of his desk.

His voice was deep, rich, and gruff. And hot. So freaking hot.

I walked as gracefully as I could over to one of the chairs and sat.

“What can I do for you today?” he asked as he sat back in his chair. The leather squeaked under his weight, and I wondered what he looked like under his perfectly tailored navy blue Prada suit.

He leaned back casually and crossed his leg over his other knee. He looked relaxed but uber-professional.

“Um, it’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Greene.” I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. “I’m just here to talk about you for a few minutes.”

“What is this regarding?”

“I’m actually working on my master’s thesis at SDSU and wanted to get some insight into one of San Diego’s most eligible young CEOs.” I blushed as I said
eligible
.

He smiled at me, and I died a little inside.

“Do you mind if I record our talk?”

“Of course not. What are you studying?”

I set my phone on his desk and hit the button to record.

“I’m actually studying Psychology, and I’m specifically looking at male stereotypes.”

“Sounds fascinating.” His eyes flicked briefly down to my phone, and I saw his eyes widen before he looked back at me. Something in his demeanor changed. He gazed at me with some heat behind his eyes.

It had to be my imagination.

I opened my notebook and averted my eyes to the first question I’d written, thankful I’d at least written
something
down. “Mr. Greene, you have quite the reputation as a ladies’ man. How would you say your reputation as a businessman coincides with your private life?”

My phone buzzed with a new email from Master Sebastian. Shit. I couldn’t answer it in the middle of my meeting. I supposed I’d have to deal with his punishment, because I refused to be so rude as to answer in the middle of an interview with someone who really didn’t have the time for me.

I heard a beeping noise.

“Excuse me just one minute.” He pressed a button. “You’re on speaker.”

I looked at him in question. Was he talking to me?

“Mr. Greene, I have a Mr. Johnson Blackwell on the phone for you.” I heard Alice’s voice come through the speaker in Mr. Greene’s phone.

“Take a message.”

“Sir, if I may?”

“You heard me, Ms. McClelland.”

“Yes, sir.”

I saw his eyes flick toward my phone again.

“Hold my calls for the next fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes? I thought Alice had only scheduled me for five! I didn’t have enough questions to fill fifteen.

He cut his call with Alice and his searing green eyes fell back on me. “My apologies. You were saying?”

I repeated my question about his personal life and his business life.

“The two don’t coincide. They’re…mutually exclusive.”

“How can they not? I’ve seen pictures of you with a different woman at every event.” I flushed as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

He chuckled. “Ms. Andrews, the pictures of business functions in the press and the rumors you’ve obviously read online have nothing to do with my personal life. While I’ll contend the rumors certainly haven’t hurt business practices, particularly when it comes to closing deals with women, I don’t get involved with business associates on anything other than a professional level.”

He was lying through his teeth. I knew from the second I spotted Alice that he was fucking her. They’d make a beautiful couple, actually. So to tell me he didn’t mix business with pleasure…I just didn’t buy it. He was hiding something, telling me what he wanted me to hear.

He’d closed the door to that line of questioning, so I read off my second question. I swore I saw his eyes flick down to my phone again before I glanced down in the notebook on my lap.

“Lots of books have been written on the subject of millionaire or billionaire men who run successful businesses. Stereotypes tell us these men are controlling, arrogant workaholics who care more about advancing their careers than cultivating personal relationships. To what degree do you believe in these stereotypes?”

“Your topic is fascinating, Ms. Andrews, but I’ll caution you against bringing my personal relationships into the discussion again.” He gave me a warning look before continuing. Did the temperature just shoot up to about a thousand degrees? It sure felt like it. I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d scolded me—which proved he was controlling and arrogant—or if it was because he pinned me to my seat with those smoldering green eyes.

“To answer your question, I believe stereotypes are oversimplified. Each man lives a different life. Have I been controlling? Of course. A man can’t achieve much without some degree of control. Am I arrogant? You be the judge. Am I a workaholic? Depends on your definition.”

I wanted to define workaholic for him, but I couldn’t figure out a way to do it without somehow bringing personal relationships up again. I thought for a moment. “A workaholic is one who is addicted to work.”

He ran his finger across his bottom lip again.

Holy Lord in Heaven, I wanted to lick his bottom lip. It was so…lush.

An image of Scott popped into my head.

My phone buzzed again.

I felt guilty when Dax appeared in my mind after Scott.

God, this was all so damn confusing.

He nodded. “My company is the first thing on my mind when I wake up. It’s the last thing on my mind before I go to bed. It fills the hours in between. Everything else is a distraction.”

As he spoke those words, I couldn’t help but think they were everything I wanted out of life.

Except I wanted someone to say those words about
me
. I wanted someone to be in love with me the same way Conrad Greene was in love with his work. I wanted to be on someone’s mind every minute of every day.

And I wanted to return those feelings.

Maybe someday I’d get there with Dax. I enjoyed being with him. I was on his mind throughout the day based on the random texts he sent me.

But a man like Conrad Greene would have a hard time committing to one woman until he was willing to part with his first love: Greene Apps.

“Next question?”

I blinked up at him. I hadn’t realized a full minute had passed since either of us had spoken. His words had a profound effect on me as what I really wanted dawned on me.

While I may have been on the road to it with Dax, I also thought about the one problem I had: the guy who kept somehow forcing his way into my thoughts despite my best efforts to forget about him.

“Those were my only questions.”

He chuckled. “Two questions?”

“I’ve been busy,” I defended myself weakly. I looked at the piles of reports on his desk and the images projected on the glass next to me and realized I was preaching to the choir when it came to being busy.

My phone buzzed. A-freaking-gain.

I was going to be in major trouble with Master Sebastian.

“So you waited God-knows-how-long to get in to interview me, and you came with two questions?”

I nodded, feeling stupid.

He stood and made his way around his desk. He perched on the edge in front of the chair next to me. I could feel the heat of his proximity, and my heart started beating a little faster.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket. “You seem like a sweet girl, Ms. Andrews.”

“Thank you?” My voice was a question. Was that a compliment?

“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t have been honest with me from the moment you walked into my office and the door shut us into privacy.”

What the hell was he talking about?

Did he somehow guess my end goal of procuring a date with the millionaire so I could write about it in my report?

There was no way. I’d been careful. Sure, I’d mentioned personal relationships, but it didn’t mean I wanted to enter into one with the CEO.