Southern Charmed Billionaire (7 page)

I looked down at my pedicured toes, admiring the shade of pale pink. “It’s the color of the season.” The nail technician had raved earlier.
 

So, he’s a billionaire. This guy to my left insisting to take me to corporate housing.  I kept waiting for something dark to happen.
Plot twist! Hot billionaire guy who, oh also plays the guitar and sings, is really Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Maybe that’s the reason for him not being around a lot of women at these events.
 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He pushed a button and an easy Nat King Cole song lightened the scene, adding magic to the night. The stars shone brilliantly and the crescent moon smiled as if to encourage me of brighter days ahead.
 

“Do you like jazz?”
 

“It’s nice.”
 

“I love the 50s' and the 40s' music. There's something about the time before big-
money production companies running the scene that captured the music really coming from the heart.
 

“Yeah, it’s…” Well, to be honest, I had never really listened to this type of music before. I had only heard brief snippets in movies.
 

“Blues and jazz come from New Orleans. But its roots are very African. That’s why there’s that groove element to it. I like playing it.” He lightly danced to the music in his seat, and suddenly, I felt its magic, too. Or was it the magic of him moving and my naughty thoughts picturing him shirtless again, dancing. It was like the weight of the world lifted for a moment. My anxiety left, and replacing it was energy of equal intensity, named lust.
 

“It’s very nice. I’ve actually never been to New Orleans before.”
 

“Oh, it’s amazing. And the food’s so good, too. Do you like spicy food?”
 

“I love spicy food. I, uh…” had a food truck back in Brooklyn that specialized in the best Baracoa around! I wanted to share. Being a chef was so much a part of me. But I suddenly felt embarrassed about sharing my food truck history with a rich billionaire. He probably wouldn’t even know what that meant, even though it was the latest craze. I doubt he’s ever eaten at a Taco Bell!
 

“You what?”
 

“I love spicy food and really enjoy making it, too.”
 

“Yeah? What do you make?”
 

“Oh, just a few sauces and dishes and things.”
 

“Aw, come on. You have to tell me more than that.”
 

“Oh only everything you can imagine! Tomatillo sauce, a signature homemade avocado sauce with lemon, killer habanero pico with cucumbers, splash of lemon and salt.”
 

“That all sounds pretty enticing. You’re really into cooking. You really know how to make a lot of things.”
 

“You could say that. I guess that’s not really um, a normal thing around here?”
 

“What’s not?”
 

“In your world.”
 

“My world?”
 

“Your billionaire world? Like people in your circle actually cooking when you have chefs, private dining…” My voice trailed off.
 

“Ah,” He nodded his head, not really answering the question.“So what were you going to make tonight with all of these groceries?”
 

“Some cupcakes.”
 

“Well, now you’re just making me hungry.”
 

You make me hungry too. Gosh, I felt so stupid thinking that. Why did I even think that? I shook my head from the stupid chatter in my head.
 

Time flew by, and before I knew it, we pulled up to a charming townhome nestled next to gorgeous gas lit lanterns.
 

Of course this was company housing. If he really was a rich billionaire, I guess nothing less would do.
 

“Home sweet home. Come on.” I know my jaw was hanging open. These things just
did not
happen to me, nor had I ever heard of something as unbelievable as what was happening right now to anyone. Unless, of course, they were like what the gossip columnist so rudely implied: "you’re an escort."
 

I swallowed my pride, and the hurtful accusation that I was viewed already by a few people as a something I'm not. I’m an assistant! That is it!
 

A strange one!
 

My stomach did another flip at the way he took control of my baggage and led the way up the stairs. His free hand rested on the small of my back and I had to swallow hard. What if he was expecting something more? Something else?
 

He unlocked the door and flashed his pearly whites my way.
 

Fuck. Maybe this was the part where he really told me what he was after?
 

Sex.
 

Chapter Six
 

Kate
 

Before I could even allow myself to look around at the already amazing gorgeous home, I blurted it out.
 

“Are you just trying to sleep with me?” I cringed at how it sounded.
 

The smile on his face was easy.
 

“You're the one putting those crazy thoughts in my head, you know.” He winked at me. This was
not
happening to me! Guys in decked out tuxes worth thousands of dollars did not wink at me! I pinched my arm.
 

“Why did you just do that?”
 

“Because. This. Being brought to a home…like…wow.” It was the nicest home I’d ever been into in my life. In Brooklyn, square footage was very expensive. Buildings were old and smelly.
 

I thought Claire had a nice apartment.
 

But this? this was something straight out of a Veranda magazine for the wealthy. A gorgeous chandelier hung in the entryway. The white wooden floors and the elegant crown molding gave this home such a luxurious yet easy cozy feel. I just knew I had to see the kitchen. I knew it was going to be grand. It had to be grand with an entry way like this!
 

I felt his eyes on the back of my head. I knew he was staring at me, but I didn’t mind looking like a kid at Christmas.
 

His steps were quickly behind me.
 

“Kitchen’s this way.” He pointed. I was heading the wrong way.
 

“How’d you know?”
 

“Just a lucky guess.”
 

I heard him place the grocery bags on the counter as a choir of the heavens opened up and sang “Hallelujah!” Two ovens, two sets of gas-burning stoves, and so much space on the white marble counter top. I could bake and bake and bake, and still have space in this kitchen. Hell, making it through an event each night would be absolutely, hands-down worth it if it meant I got to play around in this kitchen, coming up with new recipes in my free time.
 

Okay, I needed to calm down. I really needed to know something and snap back into reality.
 

“As much as kitchens are a total high for me, I just, I have to ask you this, Atticus. Is this what you do?”
 

“What?”
 

“To get girls to sleep with you?”
 

“See, there you go again talking about sex. You must really be all hot inside, longing for a little release.”
 

My face beamed with heat.
 

He took a step closer to me, and I gulped, bracing my hands along the cool marble.
 

“I um, that’s not what I meant. I mean this. Like, I just feel like I’m waiting for the shoe to drop. For the punch line to all of this.”
 

“There are no expectations, Kate, other than the job I hired you for.”
 

“So, is this just another charity case to you? Is that what I am?”
 

He looked perplexed by my comment.
 

“Your sister says you have an affinity for charity and lost puppies. Oh, I’m not lost.”
 

“I don’t think you're lost at all. I’m sorry about my sister. That’s what I meant about cattiness. She's like that with everyone who is new to our circle.
 

“I don’t understand this at all. Why are you being so nice to me? Are you one of those men who do this to random women to get them to sleep with you?”
 

He took a step closer to me. He was standing so close to me, we could have slow danced.
 

A laughed escaped his lips, and I couldn’t stop staring at his hands. My body was soaring with heat inside to be touched by them. And it didn’t make any sense to me. I shook my head, freeing up my lustful thoughts.
 

Here I was, alone in a gorgeous home with a very handsome, rich stranger.
 

And all I wanted him to do was to kiss me.
 

And maybe more.
 

And it didn’t make sense at all.
 

Fuck me, I was in trouble. If I didn’t watch myself, I may just jump into this stranger’s arms.
 

Atticus
 

If curves could kill, I’d be a dead man. Because hot damn, her body was perfection. Each curve sizzled like oil in a hot pain. She was on fire and born in a flame. Sweat beads ran over my skin and down my back. I was so hot for her.
 

When I saw her in the office earlier today, she wore a very conservative blouse that teased me with how much it covered up. And last night, well, all I could really  pay attention to was her angelic face.
 

But the moment we arrived to pick her up, she took my breath away as she walked out of the doors in the black tight ball gown with Bentley.
 

In the limo, my jaw dropped, and I got an immediate jump in my pants from my cock letting me damn know well that it liked what he saw a lot. With each step she took my way, I saw her gorgeous rack bouncing. Her luminous skin glowing beneath the gas lanterns on the sidewalk gave the grand reveal an almost ethereal feel. There was so much to look at at once and hidden in the shaded windows of the limo, I wish I could stop time and just stare at her beauty.
 

Her long brown hair was swept over her shoulder in silky curls, giving me a perfect view of that rack! Damn! They had to be a double-D
at least
.
 

And then her tiny waist gave way to nice hips, and I couldn’t wait to see her ass again. I knew it was juicy because of the gray pencil skirt she wore earlier.
 

And now she was standing mere inches in front of me, and all I wanted to do was run my hands over her breasts and feel their fullness. She was like an open cookie jar. You just had to touch it. And you can’t have just one bite.
 

I knew that was how it would be with her if I so much as made physical contact with her bare shoulder to reassure her. Because it’s what I wanted to do, to run my fingers over her smooth skin, and I wouldn’t trust myself to not do more.
 

It would not just be one slow, tender, tempting kiss.
 

I wouldn’t be able to pull away.
 

Her gorgeous face was dressed in concern, asking me if I wanted to sleep with her, if that was my intent behind all of this niceness. Oh, I heard her, alright, asking me if this is what I did to get women to sleep with me. To answer her question, it is not what I
do. I’m a man with means and with plenty of outlets to make me fulfilled.
 

Some say I’m a good reader of people. And I could read between the lines here. She may have a feigned concern on her face, but I could see by the way her plum-stained lips parted slightly, and I could see her breasts rising, her heart pounding with adrenaline behind the smooth skin of her breasts. I could practically smell her desire as her breath quickened as soon as I took a step closer to her.
 

Between the “fuck me” little phrases she kept saying this morning was a blatant, subconscious request she wanted of me. And with all the questions of whether I wanted to sleep with her and why was I being so nice well, it took everything within me to keep my hand from reaching for her dainty fingers to wrap them around my hard cock so she could feel for herself my crazy desire for her.
 

It took every ounce of control within me, mastered from athletics, marathon training, and discipline to not touch her as I leaned into her, allowing my palm to rest on the cold marble behind her frame. My tux jacket lightly touched the outside of her arm. Even through my dress shirt and the thin merino sheep wool blend from my jacket, I could feel the heat coming from her body.
 

“Is that what you want, Kate? For me to
fuck
you?” I asked her, making sure to slowly say the word that she just insisted on using. The shock on her face was worth uttering a word that hadn’t resurfaced in my vocabulary for over a decade. Mother hated vulgar language, and I had a mouth like a dirty sailor up until her passing. I’d say the word again just see the pink flush across Kate’s cheeks, giving me a delicious preview of the way her face flushed when she was heated in desire, nearing orgasm.
 

I bet she tasted so sweet.
 

She batted her eyes, shocked, as if searching for what to say next.
 

Did I want to sleep with her?
 

Of course I did.
 

What guy in his right mind wouldn’t want to left alone with a woman like this? Her body was off the charts, she was a bona-fide woman, the way a woman should look.
 

The sparks in the air were so thick that a thousand volts couldn’t have competed with this electricity between us. Oh, desire was thick in here. So thick it would have taken a heavy industrial knife to slice through. I knew she had to feel it to. I could tell by
the way her breasts heaved up and down that she was holding her breath. That she wanted me to, too.