Tempting the Billionaire (4 page)

S
o? How’s it going, Ms. Rat Race?” Sadie asked, sipping her blush-colored wine.

Today marked the end of Crickitt’s first week at August Industries. Sadie had invited her to the wine bar down the road from her apartment to celebrate. The place was packed to the walls, but they managed to snag a table on the patio before it filled up.

Rather than tease Sadie for her equal participation in the Giant Maze of Life, Crickitt said, “I like it. It’s different from what I was doing before, but not in a bad way. As much as I loved working for myself, it wasn’t always as fun as it sounded.”

Sadie gave her a dubious glance. “Yeah, working a grueling four hours a day must have been rough. And then to have to eat, drink wine you didn’t pay for…” She elevated her glass and took an exaggerated drink. “I don’t know how you stood it for as long as you did,” Sadie finished with a teasing wink.

Her bestie may have crammed Crickitt’s former career into a nutshell, but essentially, it was the simplified truth. And hadn’t Crickitt described it the same way over the years? As if she was living in enviable luxury while her personal life silently crumbled down around her ears.

And, yes, part of her former workday had been spent in slouchy sweatpants. But she wasn’t lounging on the couch watching daytime television. There were meeting notes to prepare, orders to enter, customers and team members to call. Errands like trips to the bank and post office were an almost daily affair. By the time most people were commuting home from work, she’d already put in a full day. There’d been plenty of evenings when she’d rather not have packed her car full of display products and headed straight into rush hour traffic.

Just remembering the hustle of those days was exhausting. Or maybe it was the memory of Ronald alongside her career that had her grousing at the basket of complimentary crackers.

“You’re right, I’m being ungracious,” Crickitt confessed. “But it is nice to have my evenings back. What I wouldn’t have given back then to spend more—” She cut herself off, realizing what she almost said.

More evenings with my husband.

She took a hearty swig of her wine, expecting the crushing weight of loss, or loneliness, to press down on her. It didn’t come. Oddly enough, life had recently struck her as simplistic. She wasn’t defined by
Before Ronald
or
After Ronald
, he was simply a notch in her timeline, marking the separation from past to present. She used to have a husband. Now she didn’t. And she felt…fine.

“So what do you
do
at August Industries?” Sadie asked, saying the name of the company with a deep, reverent bass and pulling Crickitt from her self-analysis.

“Mostly, I handle Shane’s schedule. I thought I did a lot in my business, but he puts me to shame. I schedule his meetings, conference calls, company announcements, business dealings, pitches…”

“You call Shane August of August Industries by his first name?” Sadie asked.

Crickitt shrugged. “He’s a person.”

“He’s a billionaire.”

“He’s very common.”

“He’s hot.”

Rather than agree, which she did, Crickitt hedged. “You didn’t think so that night at the club.” She lifted her wineglass to her lips to keep from saying more.

The truth was it’d become increasingly difficult for her to ignore the strain of Shane’s biceps beneath his sleeves. She was only a woman, after all, and
any
woman could appreciate the way his long legs stretched out into a purposeful, confident stride. But noticing him at work had led to thoughts of Shane
outside
the office…thoughts, if she wanted to continue to stay employed at August Industries, that were best kept to herself.

“That night he was just another guy trying to pick up a girl. I didn’t know he was Shane August,” Sadie said, lowering to near baritone to say his name.

“Well, it doesn’t matter how good-looking he is. He’s my boss,” Crickitt said, unsure which of them she was trying to convince.

“If he were my boss,” Sadie said with the rogue lift of her brow, “I’d saunter into his office, perch on the edge of his desk, and ask if I could dictate.” She snorted.

Crickitt laughed, the sound not all that convincing to her own ears. For some reason the idea of Sadie garnering Shane’s undivided attention made her prickle.

“I’ve been so busy I haven’t asked about your date with Shane’s cousin. What’s his name?” Crickitt said, deliberately shifting subjects.

“Aiden.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug and avoided looking at Crickitt. “It was nice.”

A blush crept up Sadie’s neck. Crickitt never thought she’d see the day. “Sadie Ann Marie Howard.”

Sadie flinched. “What?”

“You
like
him.”

Again with the shoulder shrug, but a smile spread her lips. “He’s okay.”

“And the sex?”

“Crickitt!”

Crickitt laughed. Sadie never acted embarrassed about…well, anything. “
That
tells me everything!”

“Stop it, it’s not like that,” Sadie said.

“Is that why you’re glowing like a stoplight?”

Sadie’s jaw dropped.

Crickitt shook her head. “A dirty, one-night-stand-having stoplight.”

Sadie became fascinated with the table, running her thumbnail back and forth in a scratch on its surface and fervently avoiding looking her best friend in the eye. “It wasn’t one night,” she murmured. “I’ve seen him twice.”

Crickitt was stunned into silence. She didn’t think of Sadie as trampy, but she did tend to have a lot of first dates that didn’t morph into seconds. Then again, this was the woman who had fed her wedding invitations into a shredder moments after her fiancé announced he was leaving her for her sister. Was it any wonder Sadie discarded her dates like tissues out of a box?

“He’s not like other guys,” Sadie said.

“Meaning?”

Sadie tilted her chin. “He’s charming and funny in this oddly genuine way.”

“He has hair down to his shoulders,” Crickitt said, recalling Sadie’s penchant for bulky athletes or suave businessmen.

“I know,” Sadie said, a wistful smile on her face.

“Wow.” This was more serious than she’d imagined. Crickitt decided to let her friend off the hook. “Keep me posted on that.”

“Oh, I will.”

Saturday morning, a motorcycle roared into Shane’s driveway. Shane stepped out of his front door as Aiden slipped his helmet off. His hair was back in a ponytail, but several strands had wrestled their way loose.

“You need a haircut,” Shane lectured.

“You need not to shave,” Aiden retorted.

“Hippie.”

“Yuppie.”

They smiled at each other, and Shane held the door open for Aiden. “Come on in, man.”

Once inside, Aiden shrugged out of the leather jacket he wore whenever he rode. “What brings you my way?” Shane asked. “Need money?”

The expression on Aiden’s face suggested he might pop Shane in the mouth for even joking about such a thing. Shane expected as much. “Coffee?” Shane held up the pot after pouring himself a cup.

“That, I’ll take.” Aiden sat on a kitchen chair. “I was visiting Mom and thought I’d swing by.”

“How’s she doing?” Shane delivered his coffee. They both drank it black, no frills.

Aiden’s mouth formed a grim line. “The same.”

Shane nodded. “I guess that’s good. At least she’s not worse.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Anything else going on?” Shane asked, knowing Aiden came here to get his mind off his mother’s illness, not dwell on it.

“I’m seeing your new PA’s friend Sadie tonight.”

Shane paused, the mug halfway to his lips. “Really? Again?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Well, it’s just she’s—”

“Hot.”

“Well, okay. I was going to say she wasn’t like the other girls I’ve seen you date.” Aiden’s ex-wife, and his ex-girlfriends before her, were as hippie-chick as they came. “Sadie’s a little…city for you, isn’t she?”

“If you ask me, she might be just what I need,” Aiden said a tad defensively. He sipped his coffee and shifted in his seat. “I hate your furniture. It’s like you decorated for an institution, not a house.”

“Sorry, they were all out of vinyl barrel furniture and crocheted afghans.”

Aiden made a rude gesture and Shane laughed.

“How’s the new girl working out? What’s her name, Butterfly?”

“Very funny.
Crickitt
is a fantastic assistant. I should have fired Myrna years ago.”

“You couldn’t. Mom would have killed you.”

“True.” His last assistant was his aunt’s best friend. She was better suited to being a personal shopper than a personal assistant. When she announced that she was leaving because of an out-of-state move, Shane was secretly relieved. He’d put up with her less-than-stellar performance and frequent flubs for the sake of keeping the family peace.

“So, did you do her yet?” Aiden asked.

Shane coughed and settled his cup on the glass table with a
chink
. Aiden slapped him on the back. “Jeez, man,” Shane croaked, coughing again and clearing his throat.

“What? I thought you liked her.”

“I do. She’s a valuable employee.”

Aiden shot him a look.

It was the truth, albeit a lame, understated truth. Shane
did
like her. He liked the way she dove in and tried to solve problems on her own before asking for help. And he liked how she blew into the office like a stiff wind was at her back. Hell, he even liked those formless button-down shirts she wore. Still— “I can’t have sex with my assistant.”

No matter how tempting it was.

“Suit yourself.” Aiden finished his coffee and stood. “I’m going to ride down to the Brink, want to go with me?”

Shane hadn’t been to the Brink since he was a teenager. A glorified creek, the wide body of water was home to a man-made sandy beach and stands selling foodstuffs and art. It was also where Aiden’s ex-wife worked. “You wouldn’t be going down there to see Harmony, would you?”

“Of course not.” Aiden pulled a face.

“Careful,” Shane said. “You know how…persuasive she can be.” Aiden’s ex had a way of wrapping Aiden around her henna-tattooed finger whenever she wanted something from him. Which was always. Afraid he sounded preachy, Shane glossed it over with, “I have a few proposals to write or I’d take you up on it.”

“Yeah, sure you would.” Aiden shook his head, seeing right through him. “It’s okay to take a break sometimes, you know.”

“You know me,” Shane said dismissively. But did he? Shane wore his stiff-upper-CEO lip even around Aiden. Shane hadn’t noticed it before, but he was starting to see another aspect of his personality that only seemed to surface around Crickitt. Whenever he was with her, his business facade slipped right off its hinges.

Aiden held up his hands. “Okay, I won’t push.”

Good.
Because Shane wasn’t anywhere near ready to make the admission he’d just made to himself. “I wouldn’t listen anyway,” he said.

Now
that
was the truth.

B
y Thursday evening, Crickitt decided she really, really liked her job. Shane gave her enough space to allow her to find her way, never losing patience when she interrupted him to ask questions or clarify how he wanted something done. Which would be exactly the kind of career she could settle into if it wasn’t for her daily minifantasies starring Shane August, CEO of sex gods.

Crickitt tossed the empty Chinese container into the trash can and congratulated herself for avoiding dishes another night. Eating leftover takeout at 9:05 p.m. was just one of single life’s perks.

Right! Single! Have at him!
her errant hormones chanted.

Like that was going to happen. First of all, it was ridiculous. Shane August was a
billionaire
. Crickitt bought knickknacks from thrift stores. The idea someone like him could be interested in someone like her was…she fanned her collar, suddenly warm. Well, it was…distracting.

“Absurd” is the word you’re looking for.

She reached for a dishcloth to wipe down the counters in her already tidied kitchen and distract herself from more inappropriate thoughts about Shane. She covered the minuscule space in a few seconds and, not for the first time, grieved the loss of the spacious kitchen in the house she and Ronald had built. They’d been far from wealthy. In fact, they were mortgaged up to their ears in an attempt to keep up with their affluent neighbors. Ronald’s idea.

He’d kept the house, explaining that as an investment banker, he’d had appearances to maintain. Meanwhile she was Holly Hobby Homemaker who, according to him, “didn’t have a real career.” Funny, she’d outearned him for the last five years.

She refilled her water glass, carrying it to the living room with her. Her canvas shoulder bag sat on the corner of her sofa, a manila folder poking out of the top. Shane had dropped the folder onto her desk before he left, assuring her with one of those sideways smiles of his that she didn’t have to read over it tonight. And she’d intended to leave it for tomorrow, she had. But at the last minute she brought it home. For all her declaring she wanted to watch mindless television, she couldn’t make herself care who was stranded on an island or in the running for a recording contract.

And, okay, she’d admit, she was looking forward to tomorrow’s meeting in Columbus with Mr. Henry Townsend. Settling onto her comfy sofa, a find from an estate sale shortly after procuring her apartment, she opened the folder and began to read about the company August Industries had been hired to represent.

Crickitt’s cell phone rang, demanding her attention. She frowned at the unknown number on the screen. Maybe it was a former customer or a wrong number… It rang for the third time before she gave in and answered it. Better to handle it than end up with a voice mail she’d have to deal with later.

“Crickitt,” a silken male voice said after she said hello. “It’s Shane.”

“Hi.” The word sailed out on an exhaled breath, and she’d unintentionally added a second syllable. Maybe he’d assume the husk in her voice was because she’d been sleeping. Which made her imagine being in bed. Which made her wonder if he was. She stood and began pacing across the room. “I, uh, didn’t recognize this number.”

“It’s my home office line,” he said. “I thought I’d given it to you. Listen, I apologize for calling so late, but I forgot to tell you we need to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“I thought the Townsend meeting was in the afternoon,” she said, sifting through the file in search of a time.

“It is, but I have another client in Columbus scheduled in the morning and I want you to sit in on that meeting as well.”

“Oh, okay. No problem.” Nope. Just an entire day of one-on-one time with Shane. No problem at all. It might take extra concentration to keep her eyes from bugging out of her head, and she’d have to keep her voice from having the breathy
do me
quality it had right now, but she was totally up for it. “I’ll just, um, what time do you need me to be at the office?” she asked, starting off toward her bedroom to find something to wear.

“If it’s all right with you, I’ll swing by and pick you up at your place. How does six a.m. sound?”

Early, she thought, grimacing. “Sounds great.”

“Liar.” His voice lilted, tipping her equilibrium. Was he…teasing her? She could feel the force of his smile in her stomach. “I’ll need to brief you before the first meeting,” he continued. “I thought we’d get to town, have some breakfast, and go over the details then.”

“I’ll be ready,” she promised, hoping she could sit across the table from this man for a second time and not lose her cool. Not that she was all that cool to begin with.

“Great, see you then.” Then he added, “Sweet dreams.”

He hung up and Crickitt stared at her phone until the light went out.

Sweet dreams? If she managed to sleep at all.