The Billionaire's Secret (3 page)

As quickly as she had appeared, the woman
vanished into the sea of black tuxedos and lavish gowns. Slowly
Lizette wandered among the other guests, not exactly sure where to
start in terms of working the room. Then she remembered the
envelope the limo driver had given her during the drive there.
Elaine had thought of everything. Or more likely Jill had pulled it
together. Between them they never missed a thing. The envelope
contained pictures of the most significant guests attending the
event, with a note saying,
Start here, work your way down.
Remember, we are all counting on you!

Not wanting to forget anyone, she had placed
the pictures in her purse in case she needed a refresher. Scanning
the crowd, she spotted number fifteen on the list. He was short,
bald, and about seventy. From his picture he had looked like the
most approachable person on the list. But when Lizette approached
him she noticed he was with a tall, very attractive companion, who
was laughing at everything he was saying. Maybe he had a great
sense of humor, but the woman was blatantly flirting with him, and
he was eating it up. She definitely would not make a friend if she
interrupted their little party to ask for a donation.

As she continued to scan the room she
located number twelve on the list. He was average height, average
looks, and, at the moment, not speaking to anyone.
A good place
to start,
she thought, and began to make her way through the
crowd toward him. She was almost there when her hands started to
tremble.

Think about something else . . . like
what . . . ah . . . oh, the raffle. I like raffles. Well, if I’m
lucky, they will raffle off a nice bottle of champagne,
she
thought. Then softly she said, “I think I am going to need a drink
to get through tonight.”

“I’d second that,” a soft deep voice said
from behind her.

Oh, my.
Totally embarrassed that she
had spoken loudly enough to be overheard, she turned to apologize.
Not realizing how close he’d been standing to her, she turned to
find herself face to face with a tall male. And what a handsome
face it was: such strong features, framed by jet-black hair, with
eyes so dark they could devour a person. Everything about him
screamed Powerful Businessman, and one not to be messed with. Her
mind raced through the pictures. Surely someone like him had to be
on the list, but she couldn’t place him. Thank God, since she never
could have willed herself to ask him for a donation, no matter how
badly Another Chance needed money.

Lizette opened her mouth to say something,
but as she did someone bumped her from behind just enough to move
her forward. Those inches were all that had been between her and
this handsome stranger. Now they were not only face-to-face, but
her breasts were pressed against his chest and her hands were
gripping his shoulders to steady herself. He had brought an arm
around her waist and held her closely, trying to steady her.
Normally she would have regained her composure instantly, however,
her unsteadiness wasn’t from lack of balance, it was thanks to the
tingling sensation that coursed through her as his strong, warm
hand touched the bare skin revealed by her open-back dress. Their
eyes met for only a few seconds, but drew them even closer as if
they were alone. Lizette could feel his muscles tense beneath his
jacket as his thumb gently, sensually, stroked her bare skin on her
lower back. She wanted to close her eyes and enjoy this moment in
his arms—forget where she was and why she was there.

The intense moment was broken when as she
heard a young man’s voice behind her saying, “Oh, sorry, excuse me,
hadn’t seen you there.” After the waiter offered his apology he
quickly brushed by again.

A sudden feeling of awkwardness rose inside
her as she realized she was still in the arms of this stranger and
had made no attempt to pull away. Reluctantly, she slowly began to
step back. “I . . . I’m sorry, I . . . I didn’t realize you were so
close,” she said, her voice shaky from the encounter.
Don’t
stammer,
Lizette told herself.

“Not a problem, Miss,” he said in his husky
voice.

Offering her hand to him while trying to
regain her composure, she said, “Burke. Lizette Burke.”

Taking her slender hand in his, the man
said, “Jon Vinchi. It was my pleasure bumping into you, Miss
Burke.”

The combination of his double meaning and
her own thoughts brought a blush of pink to her cheeks as she
removed her hand from his and clutched her purse ever so tightly.
Stop thinking of his strong, warm hands, broad shoulders, and
the rippling muscles sadly hidden beneath that tuxedo jacket.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Vinchi,” she said in the most professional
tone she could muster at the moment.
Small talk, something,
anything . . .
“Do you attend many of these events?” she asked.
Of course he does.
These events are full of the Who's
Who, the cream of society, and he definitely fits that bill
.
She preferred a man who dressed more casually. Picturing what he
would look like in jeans and a fitted T-shirt that showed off what
promised to be a rock-hard chest only made it worse
. You’re here
on business, Lizette,
she reminded herself.
Focus.

“No, I don’t normally attend these things. I
am here tonight fulfilling a business obligation.”

Odd answer,
she thought. Since he
wasn’t in any of the photos she had been provided, maybe his boss
had sent him as well. “My boss, Ms. Manning, was ill and could not
attend this evening. So I’m also here tonight fulfilling a business
obligation. Seems we have something in common,” she said.

“So it seems, Ms. Burke.”

Mr. Vinchi was staring at her.
Make small
talk,
she reminded herself. “I don’t know how people do this
all the time,” Lizette said as she glanced around the crowd. “Who
wouldn’t rather be soaking in a bubble bath than be here?” Her hand
flew to cover her lips as she realized what she had said.
What’s
wrong with me? That’s not small talk!
She reprimanded
herself
. Pull yourself together.

A smile crossed his face and his eyes
softened as he said, “The thought of that is appealing. However, I
believe we are both stuck here for the evening. May I take a rain
check?”

“It wasn’t a . . .” She stumbled over her
words as her cheeks turned from pink to red in embarrassment. “I
didn’t mean to . . . what I meant was . . . well, it didn’t come
out exactly the way I meant it. I wanted to say, I am sure there
are places we both wish we could be besides here.”

“Miss Burke, relax. I was only joking.”

“Yes, yes, of course, I knew you were,” she
said, but there was something in his eyes and the way he was
looking at her that told her otherwise.

“Would you care to join me for a glass of
champagne?”

Lizette paused, debating his offer.
Tempting, but no,
she thought.

As though he felt her hesitation, Jon
stepped even closer. “I don’t bite,” he whispered in her ear so no
one could overhear.

His hot breath sent a chill down her spine
as she thought,
How about a nibble?
How she wished her body
did not betray her private thoughts as her cheeks flushed again.
She prided herself on self-control in all situations, but sadly she
was losing the battle at the moment. It’s not like she hadn’t
talked to handsome men before. What was it about him that drove her
to such sweet thoughts? Was it his voice, his eyes, his rippling
muscles? She was sure it was the combination of it all, but this
wasn’t the time or place to analyze the depth of this sexual
attraction. She was here on business, and she was sure this wasn’t
what Elaine had had in mind when she’d said she should enjoy
herself. No longer trusting her voice, she merely nodded. Jon
offered her his arm; without hesitation, she gently linked her arm
in his. She was going to mingle later.

They made their way to a quieter spot in the
ballroom. Was it her imagination or were the men and women they
passed trying to catch Jon’s attention? She stole a quick look at
him, but he seemed oblivious to the crowd as he guided them away
from the crowd of people, far enough away to be able talk
privately, but not far enough to be considered private. He motioned
for a waiter carrying a tray of champagne, who quickly delivered
their drinks.

As they stood together, Lizette thought even
though Jon was not on the target list, it couldn’t hurt to practice
the pitch she had written while waiting for her dress to arrive.
“Mr. Vinchi, have you—?”

“Please, call me Jon.”

“Okay . . . Jon, have you ever heard of
Another Chance?”

“No, I don’t believe I have.”

This didn’t surprise Lizette, as the company
was not well known outside of Chepachet, Rhode Island, where they
were located. She knew asking for a donation wasn’t going to be
easy; she was out of her comfort zone. She hoped her voice wasn’t
betraying the fear she felt as she began her first attempt at
finding a sponsor. “I am here tonight representing Another Chance.
We step in where government assistance cuts off. When someone has
exhausted all other avenues for aid, they come to us. Last year
there was an apartment house that burnt down. None of the residents
had apartment insurance. That meant all four families in the
building lost everything. We were able to assist alongside the Red
Cross and make sure these families didn’t end up homeless. But over
the past few years, the government funding for such needs has been
cut almost in half, which has caused the need in the community to
almost double.”

Jon nodded as though he understood her
dilemma, but he said nothing.

“This has put a tremendous financial strain
on our organization and others like us.”

“I’m sure it has. Times are difficult. And
it sounds like Another Chance is trying to make a difference.”

“Yes, we are,” Lizette said proudly.
Here
comes the tough part!
she thought. “Well, that brings me to why
I am here. We are a not-for-profit agency and we depend highly on
the generosity of donations. Tonight, I’m hoping to either get
enough donations or land a corporate sponsor so we can continue our
services in the community.” Pausing once again, she continued
nervously, “I . . . I was wondering if you could maybe mention
Another Chance to your boss and explain everything we do. Maybe he
would be interested in making a donation?” she asked hopefully.

“You would like me to ask my boss for a
donation?” Jon seemed intrigued by her request.

“Sorry, I hate putting you in that position.
I understand how you feel. I hate asking for donations too. Please
tell him we would appreciate anything he can do. And if he’s not in
a financial position to help us, we understand.”

He smiled slightly and asked, “Do you have a
card that I may give to
my boss,
Miss Burke?”

Was it her imagination, or was there a hint
that he found her request a bit amusing?
Shrug it off, Lizette.
It’s because this is new to you.

She fumbled with the clasp of her purse and
quickly realized she had packed too many of what she thought were
essentials for this type of event. Her cards were in there
somewhere. Turning to Jon, she shyly asked, “Would you mind?”

Without waiting for a reply, she handed him
her champagne glass, then pulled out her lipstick and compact and
handed them to him. Lizette then proceeded to hand him a notepad
and pen, a cell phone, and keys. She didn’t want to pull out the
photos in front of him, so she rummaged through the pictures in her
purse and finally located the business cards. She didn’t want to go
through the hassle of trying to locate them again for the next
person, so she slid them into a small inside pocket of the purse.
Lizette pulled one out and began to hand it to Jon. Only then did
she realize Jon was standing there patiently, holding the contents
of her purse and their champagne glasses. Obviously handing the
card to him wasn’t an option at the moment, so she slipped it into
his breast pocket and said as confidently as she could muster in
the situation, “Here is my boss’s business card. She can be reached
at any of the numbers listed.”

Trying to avoid eye contact, since she could
feel her cheeks were still flushed from embarrassment, she began to
retrieve the items one by one. As she removed each item, her
fingers brushed against his. Only her lipstick remained. He had
such large, sexy hands. She wished it were her body he was holding
intimately instead of her lipstick.
Oh, get your head where it
belongs.
You are here on business. He is here on business.
That is it.
Slowly she took lipstick, enjoying one last brief
brush of skin before placing it back in her purse. If Jon noticed
the effect such a simple touch had on her, he covered it well.

“I believe this is also yours, Miss Burke.”
Jon handed her the champagne glass.

She accepted it gladly. “Please call me
Lizette.” Then she took more than a ladylike sip to quench the
thirst that had overcome her.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jon
broke the silence by asking, “What do you do at Another Chance,
Lizette?”

Happy to be back on a topic she was
comfortable with, she answered, “I’m the accounting manager.”
Funny title, manager, when you’re the only person in that
department,
she thought. They operated with only essential
staff to keep costs down.

She could feel Jon’s eyes slowly roam over
her in disbelief. “Accountant? Really? You don’t look like the
accountants I deal with.”

If only he saw what I look like normally, he
would not have said that.

“So tell me more about what Another Chance
does.”

Now she was in her comfort zone. The event
was abuzz with music and conversation, yet it seemed as if they
were in the room alone. Another fifteen minutes passed and Lizette
didn’t even touch her champagne. She told him about some of the
company’s past achievements as well as what they were hoping to do
next. Elaine was right about one thing: It’s easy to talk about
something you are passionate about, and it didn’t hurt that she
found Jon not only easy on the eyes but also easy to talk to.
Occasionally he would ask a question, but he genuinely seemed
interested in hearing what she had to say and was content
listening. This was a new experience for her, because she normally
would not take the lead in a conversation like this.