The Billionaire's Bauble (13 page)
“Nate, go check my ride. Make sure it isn’t scratched or dented, and turn off the car alarm while you’re at it,” David demanded as he took the keys from his pocket and tossed them at Nate.
Nate scurried toward the elevator.
David scowled at Nate’s back, at the window, at his car, at the world.
He was in a foul mood and it was Sloane’s doing. She was as unreasonable as any woman he’d ever known. Why he had thought she would be different, he didn’t know. Probably because she was better looking, had nicer breasts, the most vivid eyes, and had provided the best sex he’d ever had. David would only focus on the external qualities. If he started to list her real assets—the way she spoke so authentically and intelligently, the humorous things she said, the way she looked at him, the way her look made his heart crash against his ribs, he’d be even more frustrated than he already felt.
She took the car
; and he smiled, despite his worsening disposition. Of course she did. What woman wouldn’t want a beautiful, new car? Still, her accepting his extravagant gift seemed to not gel with the independent nature that so provoked his ire.
Why had she driven it? Probably so she could use it to crash into his car. She read all those crazy books, so who knows what schemes the jilted heroines had taught her? David watched as Nate toured around the car and then got in and shut off the blaring alarm. It looked as if his assistant picked up a sheet of paper from the ground. David pressed his nose against the glass like a little boy trying to search out Santa. What was that slip of damp paper in Nate’s hand?
David strode to the elevator and waited impatiently as the numbers above the contraption lit up. Ding, the doors opened, and David snatched the paper from Nate’s hands.
“Is the car damaged?” he asked. Nate shook his head in the negative.
“Take a break,” David said over his shoulder as he stomped away with the car receipt.
He sat at his desk and read Sloane’s note over and over again.
Sitting there with a puzzled look on his face, he pondered the meaning of her words.
She was sorry. Check. Made sense to him after the highhanded way she had behaved when he visited the previous evening.
She liked the car, was grateful for it. Yes, so who wouldn’t love a new car and say thank you?
The part about paying him back was pure Sloane. Prideful, stubborn, driven Sloane. He knew she’d remunerate him no matter how long it took or how many hours she had to slave. Tony better be paying her well if she expected to reimburse him. He better check on that. The old skinflint might just be taking advantage of her youth and inexperience.
It was the last part of her note that made David tense his muscles and grit his teeth. He already had a great life, and he was plenty happy. Was she indicating otherwise? Did she actually think she was done with him, and he with her? No way. No how.
He grabbed his cell and stabbed out Tony’s number. As the phone rang, David shuffled the papers on his desk and scrolled through the emails on his computer screen.
“What’s up, David?” Tony answered and he sounded busy.
“Are you paying Sloane enough?”
“What?”
“You are giving her a decent salary, right? The woman is trying to support herself. She went to work the day after a car accident. You need to pay her what she’s worth.”
“What is she worth?” Tony asked. The sly fox.
“Everything,” David admitted.
Tony whispered, “Then tell her that. She’s here right now. Shall I put her on?”
“Hell no,” David groaned and Tony laughed into the line. David wished he could punch him.
“Just treat her right,” David said, and he began pacing in front of his desk.
“I could say the same to you. Hold on a minute, okay?” David could hear Tony mumbling to someone, probably Sloane, and he heard Tony shut a door.
“She’s gone. What did you do to her, David?” Tony accused.
“Nothing, man. I brought champagne, I bought her a car, and then she kicked me out of her place,” David protested. He could hear the confusion in his own voice, and it irked him further. He should be outraged!
“I have no idea how any of that could offend her.” Silence. David plopped into his chair. “Maybe it was telling her brother we’d come for his wedding?” David balefully conceded.
“What?” Tony asked incredulously. “You got on the horn and spoke to her family without her knowing?”
“No, I did it right in front of her. She was online, doing the web conference thing, and I offered to . . .”
“Chicks hate that,” Tony interrupted.
“Hate what?” David thought Tony must be nuts.
“They don’t want to be told what to do, how or when. You broke a cardinal rule, my friend.” Tony sighed into the phone.
“I know,” David admitted, and he rolled his head around on his shoulders trying to ease the tension collecting in his neck. “Now what?”
“Let me ask Maya tonight, and I will get back to you on that one. Until then, dude, do nothing.”
“She left me a Dear John note on my car today. Yadda, Yadda, have a good life. Why do I even care?” David complained as he palmed a Waterford paper weight.
“Do you really want to know? I can tell you.”
David sat up. “Tell me.”
“Because she’s the one, man. Maya and I could see it right away. You’re just too pigheaded and dumb to notice what’s staring you in the face,” Tony surmised.
David felt like he’d been run over by a train.
“Bull,” he countered, but even he wondered if Tony could be right. Could Sloane Porter be the one? What was ‘the one’ anyway? David felt a long way from understanding the idea, and the words made his skin tighten at the temples.
“Okay, David. Whatever you say. Promise me you’ll hang loose until I get back to you.”
“Yeah, whatever. Bye,” David clicked off his phone and grabbed the note again. He read it ten more times before he threw it in the trash. He paced for a few more minutes before he got up and fished the paper from the trash can and folded it neatly, placing it in his leather wallet.
By the time the work day ended, David was ready to hear what his best friends had to say. He exited Grant Oil and drove straight to Tony and Maya’s place.
They listened to the whole, annoying story over a fabulous Italian dinner Maya prepared, and then they offered David their best advice. He really didn’t want to hear that he needed to be patient, that he needed to give Sloane time to think things over, time to miss him, that he needed to woo Sloane slowly, that he had to apologize or risk losing her for good. But he listened and told them he’d think about it.
What did make him feel better was Tony’s description of how miserable Sloane seemed. He was also secretly proud that she was quickly proving to be an asset at Forster. David knew the woman was smart, and that Tony was lucky to have access to her skill set. Sloane was being adequately compensated, as well, and that made David smile.
On his way home to the mansion, he drove past Sloane’s apartment. He could see the light on even though she had the curtain drawn. What was she wearing, eating, doing? It took all his strength not to stop his car and knock on her door, but he heard Maya’s voice, “Slow down, David. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Thank goodness she hadn’t mentioned “the one” like Tony had or he might have left angry and ignored all her well-intentioned advice. It seemed he despised being told what to do and when as much as Sloane did. Another thing they had in common. The thought did not ease him.
David went home, and for the first time in his life, he tried to write a letter. Sure, he’d written plenty of business correspondence, but an actual “this is how I feel” letter. Never. A novice at anything slightly related to getting the girl, he felt like a baby trying to learn to crawl. Everything he typed, he deleted. He tried it the old fashioned way, too. He got out a legal pad and used a pencil. But, by the time midnight rolled around, he’d only managed to make a pencil erased mess of the entire project.
He rang her number. She answered on the first ring.
“David?” she said, and he could hear the sleep in her voice. He imagined her in her little bed, and he wished he could tell her this over the pillow, like they had spoken just a couple nights before. The thought made him go hard, and he tried not to let his desire sound in his voice.
“Yes, it’s me. How are you, sweetheart?”
No answer.
“I am calling to apologize for. . .”
He didn’t really know what he had done so wrong. What was it Maya said?
“. . . being so stupid and pigheaded last night. I shouldn’t have gotten into your business, and I won’t do it again.”
He heard Sloane sigh deeply.
“Yes you will, if I give you half a chance. You can’t help it, David. You’re accustomed to getting everything you want when you want. Well, that won’t work for me.”
He waited. Was that it? Was she done talking? She wasn’t.
“David, I need to focus on my new job, on growing up without the help of my parents’ checkbook or yours, on finding my . . .”
Now it was her turn to pause. David felt the tension on the phone thicken.
“Soul mate?” he finished for her.
“Yes,” she said, and he detected a note of wistfulness in her sultry voice. The hairs on his arms stood up. David wished he could say he would try to be her partner for life, but the words got stuck in his throat and all he could do was cough.
“David, I have to go. Please give me some space.” There was the word Maya used. Were all beautiful women reading the same damned dictionary?
“Okay, Sloane. I will. But don’t expect me to wait forever.” He hung up the phone. Good. The ball was in her court and she could hit it his way or forfeit the game. Either way, he would win. He certainly wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. But he would wait. He would plan his strategy carefully.
One thing was for sure. Sloane Porter would not get away again. Like he grabbed up stocks and bonds, like he gobbled up corporations, he would take her over. He smiled and turned on the TV to watch the business news.
Watching the quotes and averages roll by, he realized it would be another long wait to make the big deal Tony and he had planned. Maybe even a couple of months. Why did everything take so much time, he wondered.
Spending the ensuing weeks learning the ropes at Forster, avoiding David’s phone calls, and preparing for this dreadfully long trip to New York had exhausted Sloane. As she slumped into her seat in the coach section of the airplane, she was grateful there wasn’t another plane change until she hit the continental United States. The puddle jumper from Fairbanks to Anchorage had been a bumpy, unpleasant ride. She hoped the jet would ease some of the fear she had felt on the previous leg of her journey home.
As the flight attendants prepared for takeoff, Sloane prayed the seat next to her would remain empty. The leg room in coach miserably limited her long legs from stretching. If the seat to her left stayed free, she could spread out a bit and enjoy the long flight ahead.
Adjusting her earphones and listening to the music the plane provided as entertainment, she grabbed her e-reader and a bag of pretzels from her tote. Finally she’d be going home. Her heart ached in her chest and her stomach reeled. Even the salty braided twists couldn’t lessen the burning in her belly.
Nervous?
Scared?
No, she knew it was more longing for David.
She’d spent weeks fighting a stomach ache, and from everything she’d read, she knew the symptoms were like home sickness but worse because it was love sickness. She hoped a trip home would help her decide one way or another if she was going to give him the chance to completely destroy her heart.
His flowers kept coming. Almost every day he sent her a fresh bouquet—one to her apartment and one to Forster. His phone calls never ended. He’d leave her voice mail that made her pant.
But he never once told her what she needed to hear. She wanted to give him a chance, but she was drowning already, and if she gave him that chance, she would be doomed to loving him forever. While most girls would take a billionaire, a sexy, hot, completely exciting billionaire any way they could get him, Sloane hoped she could resist. Truth was, she was awfully close to allowing him to have her any way he wanted. Thank goodness, the trip had given her an escape.
The pilot announced the plane had reached cruising altitude, so Sloane lifted the arm rest next to her and with her e-reader in hand, stretched out her legs. Having splurged at her favorite book selling web site, she had several new romances into which she could sink her teeth. Just as she began a wonderful, exciting story, she heard a familiar voice.
“I’m sorry, but you’re in my seat.”
Sloane didn’t want to look up. No way. It couldn’t be. But it was. Sloane’s heart jumped into her throat as David casually pushed her legs off the adjoining seat and settled into place.
“Hi, sweetheart. Long time no see, eh?” He smiled into her gawping face.
Sloane rubbed her eyes, and blinked several times, making sure he wasn’t a longed for hallucination; but there he sat, all knock-out handsome in his blue jeans and golden and white striped polo shirt, muscles rippling and tanned from the long summer days they’d spent apart. His dazzling smile only further assailed her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she gasped, trying to make herself as small as possible so he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t unmake all her weeks of strenuous effort. Her heart beat a staccato in her ears.
“Going to a wedding, of course. Did you think I’d break my promise to your brother? I said we’d be there, and we will be. Though God knows it’s going to take all day. Why did you buy a ticket with so many stopovers? It ended up costing me a small fortune to fly coach.”
“Well, it was cheap for me. Ha,” Sloane rejoined quickly, feeling some small satisfaction at making sure he knew
she
hadn’t been ripped off.
“Good,” he said, and smiled even more broadly, making Sloane’s body temperature rise as quickly as the jet’s altitude. “A working girl has to mind her dollars and cents. Thanks for the payments on the car, by the way. I’m so pleased you like it. You know I don’t want the money back, but I do appreciate a woman of her word.” The flatterer.
Sloane felt gutted, completely stripped bare. David’s smug attitude, his tone of entitlement, his presumptuous actions aroused Sloane powerfully. Damn, she had missed this man.
“Oh my God,” she said, and she prayed for the strength not to kiss him. Too late. He came in for the kill.
His mouth hovered over hers for a moment, and she couldn’t help but lean in and caress the lips she had been dying to kiss for almost two months. The gentle kiss soon turned into a full blown make-out session, and when Sloane finally had the sense to pull away, she could see in David’s soft brown eyes he had missed her just as much as she had missed him.
“Now that’s more like it,” he said, his voice husky with passion.
How could she resist? She couldn’t bolt out the plane doors mid flight; nor could she conquer the elation that made her feel suddenly weightless. David looked like a cat that swallowed a canary, yet Sloane had never seen a more precious face.
