Read The Billionaire's Bauble Online

Authors: Ann Montclair

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BOOK: The Billionaire's Bauble
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“I apologize for running away,” she lamely offered, and one side of her mouth lifted in wry acknowledgement. “I acted like a child. I’m not that same silly girl. My dad taught me to finish what I start. I was just so surprised by the intensity of . . .” She glanced away, color rising in her cheeks. “Why didn’t you look for me?”

He thought he heard a tinge of regret in her sultry voice. He answered honestly. “I thought you might be underage. I thought you . . .” He broke off for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. “Well, here you are all grown up, and there’s no need for regret, Sloane. We have time to ‘finish’ today—plenty of time.” When he spoke her name, a shiver worked its way up his taut back. Sloane. Sloane Porter. Mmmm, the name felt good in his mouth, in his mind, after wanting to know it for so long.

Her sparkling eyes grew even wider at his familiar tone, at the lust he was sure radiated from his eyes. David was drawn like a magnet to her side. Like a stealthy hunter, he navigated around the massive desk in an instant, and Sloane gasped as he knelt before her and put his giant hands to either side of her face.

He felt her fine cheekbones with his thumbs, and she closed her immense, luminous eyes. She wore little makeup, but her lashes were long, and they swept along his fingertips. He bent forward and kissed her quizzical brows, the wrinkle between them, the tops of her cheeks. His kisses feathered her face, and she sighed deeply before relinquishing her mouth to his.

“I have waited two years to do this,” he breathed the words into her open mouth before dipping his tongue inside. She smelled like sugared coffee, and tasted like strawberry muffins. He wanted to eat her up, but he settled for a kiss, this one as deep, as penetrating as the one they shared that night at the bar.

As he pulled his lips from hers, David wrapped his arms around her shoulders and buried his face in her neck, inhaling the expensive perfume she wore. It was as if they were back on the crowded dance floor, so immediate was his need for her.

“I want you, Sloane Porter. I must have you.” He put his hands in her hair and pulled the clip from the glossy strands. Her russet locks covered her shoulders, and she rolled her head back, exposing the hollow at the base of her throat. He groaned as he put his mouth there, and he let his tongue trace the circle of flesh. He began to unbutton her blouse, and she fumbled with his hands, finally pushing them away and kissing him again while she impatiently tore at the silky fabric.

Once her shirt was opened, David let his mouth explore her exquisite collarbones, then the line of her breastbone, finally burying his lips between the soft mounds of her breasts. Her lacy beige bra could barely contain them, and David moved his hands to her back where he unsnapped her bra.

With a gasp David didn’t know came from his own tight throat, her ample breasts tumbled out of her bra, and he gazed at the perfect, natural orbs, exposed in the sunshine. Her nipples were rosy pink and stiff—perfect buds to be feasted upon. He gazed at her with open admiration, and she returned his frank stare.

“Mr. Grant, I don’t think I’m right for this job.”

“No, you’re perfect,” David managed as he eyed Sloane hungrily. She stood suddenly, and the motion knocked David off balance. Afraid she would bolt again, he grabbed the fabric of her skirt at the hem, and held tight. Sloane quickly re-clipped her bra and buttoned her shirt. She seemed studied at seduction, at pulling back just when she almost had . . .

David stood up. “Sloane, don’t leave. Don’t run away from me.” His tone was husky, but firm. He towered above her, so he took a step back. He didn’t want to scare her away. Not this time.

He turned away from her as she continued to adjust her clothing. Feeling his own composure return, he realized he had to play it slowly, carefully, or he risked losing this spectacular gem. He sauntered back around his desk and hit the intercom button on his phone. “Bev, please call candidate number two and tell him to come to Human Resources tomorrow morning. He’s my choice. And Bev, please order in from AJ’s—the prime rib and lobster for two. I want it delivered in half hour. You can go home once those tasks are completed.”

“Yes, sir,” came Bev’s curt response, and David grinned. Bev would make him pay for this indiscretion. He knew Sloane was her first choice for the position, but David needed to put Sloane in a different position, preferably several before the night was through.

“Now, where were we, Sloane?” David asked, feeling infinitely pleased with the situation.

After calmly smoothing her clothing and securing her long hair into its clip, Sloane sat back down in her chair. David watched as her hands fluttered then came to rest in her lap. She was so young and beautiful, so utterly bright, shiny and new. David wanted to take his time and enjoy this bauble.

“We were at finding me employment, Mr. Grant. I came here for a job, and I plan to get one.” Her chin was raised and her shoulders squared. David admired her composure after the heat they’d just exchanged. “But definitely not here,” she said, exasperation edging into her voice. “I can’t work for you, not after this, not after today.”

“Yes, you are correct,” he smoothly countered. “I have better plans for you, starting with lobster and ending in my bedroom.”

“Mr. Grant!” she nearly cried, and her pale skin blotched with the effort of controlling her rising temper. Oh, she was a hot one, he thought, and he watched in fascination as her fantastically round breasts again began to rise and fall more rapidly. He almost licked his lips in anticipation.

“Ms. Porter, I have many friends in high places, and I assure you, your, um, skills, will not go to waste.” He could see by her wide eyes and oh-shaped mouth he had shocked her. He chuckled devilishly. “Your office skills, your management skills, not your physical skills,” he calmly stated, and Sloane’s shoulders relaxed, though she did not return his smile.

“You are obviously a young woman of style and means,” he continued as he eyed her expensive diamond ring and the label on her designer bag. “Why so desperate for work?” He had his own ideas, and none of them charitable. David was all too familiar with women who wanted nothing more than a man’s wallet. In his experience, work was just an idea for women as beautiful as Sloane.

Sloane took a deep breath and met his unwavering gaze. “I’ll have to go home to New York if I don’t find a job soon. My funds won’t allow me to stay in Alaska unless I get a paycheck.”

David took this in without blinking. It seemed unlikely she would starve, but who knows, maybe she did need a job. More likely she needed a new sugar daddy. David understood that was the way many gorgeous women earned their keep.

“I see from your resume you’ve had unpaid summer internships in executive offices. Who was paying your way while you attended college?” he asked, suddenly wanting to know the truth.

“My parents,” she admitted ruefully. “But they want me home now that I graduated. I don’t want to go.” The words brought a tightness to her mouth, and David immediately wondered exactly what had happened back home that this little morsel still couldn’t face.

“Bright lights and big cities no longer hold the allure? Is charming, little old Fairbanks, Alaska, more inspiring than the Big Apple?”

“I’m from Upstate, a farming community. The only bright lights we see are at the high school football games. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy New York City, but I prefer the quiet life, nature, hard work.” She brightened at her own tale.

David laughed aloud at the pretty story, as he reassessed her sophisticated presentation. Sloane’s eyes narrowed. She stood and said, “I guess I blew this interview.”

“On the contrary, I would hire you myself, but I plan to date you.” He smiled as she tilted her head and pursed her lips in disbelief. “You know, there are laws against CEOs dating their employees,” he added, and that made her smile a little.

David wanted to kiss her again and again, but he rifled in his desk drawer, finally pulling out a heavily embossed business card. He turned it over and wrote a few words on the back, then held the card out to her.

She hesitated, her hand wavering in the air like a virtuoso violinist before carefully removing the paper from his hand. He could see she didn’t want to touch him, was being careful not to. He must proceed cautiously.

“Tony is a very close friend, and he also happens to own a company that almost rivals Grant—at least in crude oil production. I’m sure he will have a place in his operations for a smart, hard-working woman like you.”

David wasn’t exaggerating. Sloane seemed determined to work, and it was the least he could do since this interview clearly had not gone as planned. Plus, he wanted Sloane Porter in Fairbanks so he could pursue her. He wouldn’t rest until he got those panties off.

Sloane held the business card in her left hand and extended her right hand to him. He held his own hand out, and she shook it vigorously.

“Thank you, Mr. Grant. I assure you, your recommendation will not be wasted.”

“Surely you can call me David. I
have
seen your breasts.”

She abruptly dropped his hand and turned to leave.

“Wait,” he added, and he could hear a bit of panic in his voice. What was that all about? He realized he wanted this woman more than he had wanted anything for a long time. Just one night would end this nonsensical obsession with her identity. “What about dinner? It should be here momentarily.”

Sloane turned back toward him. She held up the card, smiled brightly, and said, “I have a job to get. Thank you so much. Goodbye.”

She moved toward the exit, and he watched, open-mouthed, as her firm behind swayed out his office door.

 

Sloane felt the heavy door close behind her, and she leaned against it for just one moment. The luxurious outer office was empty. It glittered with sparse modernity, all black, gray and steel. Utter silence greeted her ears, except for the rapid beating of her heart. Frankly, she was surprised it hadn’t stopped. But it hadn’t, and she wouldn’t run.

Deliberately, slowly, she sashayed across the thick carpet and pushed the down button on the elevator panel. Please, don’t let him follow me, she thought. As the elevator doors slid open, she stepped in and allowed herself one look back. David stood, smiling rakishly, leaning against the doorjamb of his office doorway. She turned and waved with just the tips of her fingers as the doors slid shut.

Unfortunately, her self-control only lasted so long.

She practically ran out the building’s giant glass doors and toward her car. She had to get away before she whooped for joy. As she drove away from Grant Oil, she bit her lower lip and squeezed the steering wheel. “It was him. It was HIM!” she exclaimed to her rear view mirror. She drove to her apartment in an ebullient daze, trying to digest the facts and regain her equilibrium.

After that night at the low-rent bar, Sloane had dreamed she would cross paths with her mystery man. In her fantasies, she would run into him—at the grocery store or a nice restaurant—they would exclaim, exchange numbers, a romance would ensue.

Never did she imagine their reunion would occur at Grant Oil, that he would be the CEO, the owner. It was crazy! She’d almost let him have sex with her right there in his office chair.

How could she help it? David looked like a movie star, so fit and perfectly formed. His thick, dark hair and liquid brown eyes had nearly undone her. And the way he’d looked at her, with such naked desire. He wanted to make love to her badly. She could feel the heat of his arousal through his suit fabric. His massive shoulders, the V of his muscular torso, the thick thighs she almost touched as he kissed her shoulders. She had nearly ripped all her clothes off. At least she had the sense to stop at her blouse. She smiled and groaned all at once.

Sloane arrived at her tiny, tidy home, left her heels at the door, and went to her kitchen to boil water for tea. She got a yogurt from the fridge and sat down, dizzied, at the counter. She could feel an acute pulse in her thighs.

Trying to will her mind and body into order, she stood up and stretched.

Truth was, Sloane had been aroused before, but those interludes were nothing like what had occurred in David’s office. She’d had sex, but not fireworks. The way David had kissed her, so sensuously, so fiercely, it seemed they would both explode. He seemed as starved for her as she was for him. Could he feel as she did—that maybe they were meant to be together?

His words rang in her mind: “I want you. I plan to date you.” Was date plural? Did he want more from her than sex, than a hot time, one time?

When that evening so long ago ended, Sloane had never forgotten him. He had played at the corners of her memory like a foggy dream. If she admitted the real truth, she didn’t want to leave Alaska because of him. She long regretted missing her chance with a man so sexy, so real, a man who had ignited in her a passion that had flamed in her heart for two years.

BOOK: The Billionaire's Bauble
2.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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