Seduced By My Billionaire Boss (The Billionaire Boss Series, #1) (10 page)

“I’m sorry,” I shook my head quickly to pull myself together, “I didn’t mean to be forward, or even imply that anything would... I mean, you’re my boss, and we don’t even know each other, and—”

“And it’s against the rules,” he finished.

I took a deep breath. “Yeah. It is.”

We stared at each other for a moment longer. I felt like there was a good chance I might actually faint with the amount of tension in the room, but his eyes were sparkling as he leaned closer. His head came down until we were even—so close that I could see the golden flecks in his ocean colored eyes. For a split second, I thought he might actually pull a Michael and kiss me, but he merely smiled, staring down at me with that same mischievous look in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Jenna.”

I caught my breath.

“Goodnight, Tom.”

And he left.

“F
EEL THE BURN! I SAID FEEL IT! IF YOU’RE NOT SCREAMING, YOU’RE NOT GOING FAST ENOUGH!”

I got off the bicycle and discreetly left my cycling class.

The idea of peddling my ass off without actually going anywhere had never sat well with me, and the fact that my instructor was some sort of neo-fascist sealed the deal.

I patted the back of my neck with a towel, gulping down half of my water bottle in one fell swoop. Since I’d started my internship last year, I rarely got the chance to go to the gym in daylight hours. It was usually just an after work, expel the frustration, take-my-mind-off-things calorie burn. I usually got home after midnight and never had the opportunity to take any of the classes I saw advertised on the billboard on the way in. But perhaps that last part was for the best. After all, that’s how cycling happened...

“So what? Did you feel the burn?”

I spat out a spray of water. How...was this happening again?

Tom calmly wiped his face. “I couldn’t tell if that was a cycling class, or if that man was shooting an Adderall commercial.”

I laughed in spite of myself—that breathless, nervous laughter I always tried so hard to avoid. Tom seemed to like it though. He smiled back, politely refusing to let his eyes stray below my chin to the yellow sports bra and little yoga pants below.

“Yeah, it was unclear. I think there were also subliminal messages going on. I feel the sudden need for a Sprite.”

This time, it was his turn to laugh. And did my ears deceive me, or did he sound as nervous as me? I took a second to study him while he was still gazing over my head into the cycling room. I was not as polite as he was, and let my eyes take in the whole glorious thing.

He was wearing simple workout clothes—black, athletic shorts and a matching t-shrit. But while there was nothing inherently flashy in the clothes, I saw at least two women trip over the elliptical machine as they walked past. I could see why.

The shirt clung to his chest like a second skin—showing every muscle, displaying every chiseled curve. My eyes dilated slightly, and I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell a man who worked as many hours a week as he did had time to work on his body. Something that delicious didn’t just happen on its own—there was time involved.

And speaking of going to the gym...why exactly was he at mine?

I might not stalk the Larchwood brothers for their looks like so many other people did, but I stalked them for their business prowess. I knew for a fact that neither brother had a membership here. And yet, I’d seen them both within the last week. Michael, I guess I could understand. But Tom? Tom was a different story altogether. No matter how hard I tried to figure him out, I could never quite guess what he was thinking.

“I didn’t know you go here,” I said with a coy smile.

He hesitated for a moment, before, “I don’t. Just trying it out. It’s close to the office, you know,” he added for good measure.

Interesting. Same line as his brother. And yet, when Tom said it, it made me smile.

I nodded quickly, playing along. “Well, I’m just off to the—”

“Treadmills?” Tom finished, his eyes sparkling with an invitation.

I grinned back. “Why yes. It was to the treadmills.”

He held out his arm and I took it, shivering a little to be pressed so close against his skin, as we headed to the back room. An army of treadmills awaited us. Most of them were already in use, but fortunately, there were two open side-by-side. I climbed onto the nearest one and set the pace for a brisk walk, smiling as he climbed up on the one beside me and did the same.

I eyed up his speed and bumped mine up another point, so I was technically going faster.

“No headphones?”

“Nah, I just watch T.V.”

He glanced over at my machine and bumped his speed up by two. We were both jogging now. Both deliberately pretending we weren’t matching each other’s speed.

“So what about you?” I asked, a little breathlessly.

“What about me?”

“It can’t be easy for the famous Thomas Larchwood to go out for a casual day at the gym. What’s your story? Personal trainer? Martial arts?”

I pressed up my speed by three more notches and started to run. A second later, he was running beside me.

“It’s easier than you’d think,” he panted. “I try to go at least four times a week. If I run into trouble or paparazzi, I can usually just rent out the back room or just workout at home.”

I flashed him a sideways gym. “You could always buy it.”

He chuckled and bumped up his speed some more. “Is that a challenge, Jenna?”

“Think of it as an invitation.”

We were both sprinting now. Too out of breath to talk.

I pulled in quick gasps of air, well aware that I was past my usual time limit and way over my usual speed. I glanced at him again out of the corner of my eye, only to see him doing the same thing to me. He maintained direct eye contact as he pressed up the speed another level. As he did so, I could have sworn I saw him wink. Not to be outdone, I knocked mine up another two levels. All my concentration now was focused on not falling off the machine as I literally ran my heart out. He pressed his up as well, and a few seconds later, I heard him breathing heavily beside me.

The glances we shot each other now were furtive, growing more desperate. As we finally passed over the three-mile marker, I swallowed back my pride. I didn’t want to be the girl who died on a treadmill.

“Hey, Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m done with the treadmill.”

In unison, the two machines turned off at once. Our hands shot to the railings so we wouldn’t go flying right off, and we were careful not to look at each other until we’d gotten ourselves at least a little under control. The second the room stopped spinning, I hopped down and headed straight for my towel, patting off my face and gasping in silent breaths. A moment later, he joined me.

At first, neither one of us said anything. We just stood there, admirably nonchalant, trying not to breathe too loudly. Then he peeked at me from beneath his lashes.

We burst out laughing.

Gasping for air, collapsing on the bench, burying our faces in our towels to smother the sound. It was the first time I’d heard him really let loose, and it was utterly adorable. His hair dripped down his face, and without his usual guards up, he looked almost like a kid again.

“Have dinner with me,” he blurted.

The laughter stopped, and I stared at him in surprise.

Dinner? Like, a
date
dinner? What happened to the no fraternization policy? What happened to the rules?

My mouth opened to answer, but I was temporarily speechless. When I didn’t say anything, he was quick to clarify.

“For work. A work dinner,” he said swiftly. “We can go over the finer points of the merger to review before you submit it to Macer tomorrow.”

My face fell, but I nodded quickly, looking down to hide my expression. “Oh, I see. Well, in that case, yes, of course. That’s probably a good idea.”

I glanced up to see him biting his lip. Some of those old walls were up, and just like usual, I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Where to?” I asked, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I really was.

“Bello,” he answered without hesitation. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice.” And without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away.

I stood there in shock, watching him leave when a pair of giggling women about my age came sliding up to me.

“Oh my gosh,” the little blonde one gushed, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but did Thomas Larchwood just ask you out on a date?”

I glanced at her, then stared out the door where he’d just left.

“I honestly have no idea...”

*   *   *

R
osalie helped me get ready that night. I’d gotten home from the gym just as she was waking up, looking a bit like I’d been lost in the sewers for a few days.

“Oh no, Jen,” she said when she saw me, “was the cycling class that bad?”

I shook my head numbly. “Treadmills. I was racing.”

“Racing? Again?” She shook her head disapprovingly. “You know you’re not supposed to do that anymore. Do you remember when that eighty-year-old man beat you? I thought your ego would never recover.”

“He was definitely on steroids,” I mumbled. “And I was racing Tom Larchwood.”

She froze in her tracks. “Tom Larchwood?”

“And he asked me out to dinner.”

She literally dropped her mug of coffee. Good thing it was empty. “A business dinner? Because that can feel like a date...without the flirting. It will be just as stressful. And I think it’s best not to drink. Just stay focused on the project. Don’t complain about your food. And if the waiter dumps a glass of water on you, do
not
react. Say something funny, like, this is my lucky day. Use humor to diffuse the situation. Oh, and don’t have your phone out. Set it on mute. Let the boss guide the conversation. Don’t discuss office gossip. Let him pay. He makes more money and will write it off as an expense anyway.”

“All great tips. But he told me to wear something nice.”

“That doesn’t sound like work. I think it’s like a real date. Wow. A real date with Mr. Larchwood, your boss.”

“He said it was business. But I’m not sure. I thought it was about work. But the way he looked at me. I don’t know. Should I go? Am I breaking all the rules?”

“Well, yeah! You know you can’t hook up with him. He’s off-limits.”

“It’s not my intention to bang the boss.”

“The line between boss and friend can become blurry very quickly.” She winked. “Especially after a bottle of fine wine.”

“I know mixing pleasure with business is tricky.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because there’s an electricity between us I can’t deny. I know it’s work. But part of me wants it to be more.”

“All the more reason to stay away.”

***

T
wo hours later, I was showered, dressed, and dry, and she was helping me put the finishing touches on my makeup.

“There,” she leaned back with satisfaction, “if that isn’t a panty-dropper, I don’t know what is. You look fantastic!”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “I keep telling you—that’s a male thing to say. Guys don’t wear panties.
We
can’t say it.”

She shrugged teasingly. “You don’t know what kind of stuff he wears.” She winked. “But with any luck—you’ll find out tonight.”

“It’s a
work
dinner—I keep telling you.”

“Oh, if I know Tom Larchwood—he’ll make you
work
for it.”

I smacked her on the shoulder and stood up to get my buzzing phone. “He’s here,” I said, looking down at the text. “How do I look?”

I was wearing a brand new black cocktail dress—something that cost an insane amount of money considering how little fabric there was. The bottom fell just below my thighs, and the top was a series of intricately woven straps that looped once around my neck to hold itself together. My makeup was simple on the face, but I’d gone with a smoky eye to match the dress.

That, a bracelet, and some lip gloss were my only accessories. But I was bringing my laptop as well. To be honest, I didn’t really want to—but he’d said this was a work dinner, and work dinner meant computer.

“You look incredible.” She grinned excitedly. “Now go and make both our business dreams come true by sleeping with a Larchwood. Just don’t end up on TMZ, that celebrity gossip show.”

“You are impossible!” I shook my head and headed out the door with a grin.

A black town car was waiting for me. As I approached, Tom slid out from the other side and walked around the back to open the door. He was looking mouthwatering as usual in a dark suit with a silver-blue tie that perfectly complimented his eyes. I tried not to stare, merely smiling politely as I approached. Tom, however, couldn’t keep the admiration off his face as those beautiful eyes gave me a slow once-over, lingering on my curves.

“We have a lot to discuss about the merger,” he said quickly, holding open the door.

I nodded, and slipped swiftly into the car.

We talked about the merger in great detail on the ride to Bello. He told me about his new ideas and I thought they were brilliant. The man was definitely a genius. I opened my laptop and showed him some charts and graphs I’d drawn up and he loved them. He looked over at me a couple times, but his eyes seemed to be having a constant struggle as to whether to look at my legs or the laptop.

When we got there, the maître d’ led us up past the normal dining area and to a service elevator in the back. Once he’d escorted us there, he left and I looked at Tom curiously.

“What’s this?”

He pressed a button and the door closed. “You’ll see.”

When it opened again—we were in a fairy world.

I blinked in amazement as I stepped out onto the roof terrace. Little twinkle lights had been strung in a beautifully tangled web from corner to corner, and there were marble space heaters set up in tasteful columns to provide warmth. A candlelit table stood in the middle, complete with crystal stemware and a bunch of white roses on top.

“Oh my gosh!” I squealed. “This is gorgeous!”

“You like?”

“Like? I love it!”