The Long Hot Summer (Billionaire Season Book 1) (2 page)

“Fuck it all
, here she comes, soaking wet and smiling like Rebecca of fucking Sunnybrook Farm. Later,” William said, tossing the cell aside and jumping out of the car to meet her as the relentless rain beat down on them.

He popped the trunk and the steward f
rom the jet hurriedly placed Alaina’s tattered duffel bag in the Maserati while William held the passenger door open for her. He wasn’t sure if it was the rain cascading over her honey-blonde waist length hair or the short pleated skirt and knee-high pink rubber boots she wore, but he was suddenly aroused which greatly added to his irritation. She leaned into the car but didn’t move to get in and the wet skirt clung to the most perfectly curved little ass he’d ever seen.

“I shouldn’t
do this, come with you, I mean,” she said leaning inside the car anyway, drawn to the aroma of luxuriant Italian leather. The car was amazing, unlike any she’d ever seen before, it was all polished burled wood and pristine leather, she really did want to slip into the butter soft seat and shut out the shroud of grey rain. “I’ll ruin everything, your car, the leather seats… I’m soaking wet, let me just take a cab… or something, really,” she said, standing to face him as the torrent slowed to a thick steady drizzle.
Holy shit he’s gorgeous
! Those were the exact words that flashed in her mind as she peered up into eyes so deeply brown they appeared to be black. He had a dangerous look about him, like the beautiful bad boys with killer foreign accents in movies. His father was Danish, she recalled her mother having said that, but his looks were more darkly exotic and he had those brooding eyes that couldn’t be described without using the word piercing. He looked as if Colin Ferrell, Henry Cavill and Jon Snow had been photo shopped into a single perfect specimen of a man. Only this man was right here standing impossibly close to her and he was without a doubt irresistibly blood-heating panty-dropping heart-hauntingly gorgeous.
Damn
.

“Get in,” he said,
menacing eyes sweeping over her, his voice deep and low with a slow southern drawl.

She opened
her mouth to object but the look of displeasure on his perfect face stopped her words.

She sat dripp
ing on the impeccable cream leather seat and watched as he crossed in front of the car, a tall broad shouldered figure in the haze. He wore a suit and tie even though it was at least a hundred degrees outside and the rain seemed to be the wettest rain she’d ever known.

“Dry off,” he said
sharply when he was in the car, he slid effortlessly behind the wheel, closed the door and handed her a folded blanket from the backseat.

“This is
Hermes,” she whispered holding the buttery soft cashmere in her hands. “It’s an Hermes throw, cashmere, it costs, like, three thousand dollars. I shouldn’t get it wet…”

“This is a Maserati, you shouldn’t get it
wet, use the throw, please,” William said and his tone left no room for argument.

“I’m Allie
… Darling,” she said, handing him the throw when she had dried off as best she could.

“I’m W
illiam… sweetheart. If we’re going to be that familiar, Allie darling. William Warfield… the son.” He said, raking his fingers through his short jet-black hair, the edges of his enticing mouth lifting into a slightly amused but still irritated smile.

“Oh, no! No, that’s my name, I
thought you knew. Of course it wasn’t a term of endearment at all, I swear. That’s my last name, Darling. Alaina Darling. Allie. There’s no way that I’d call you darling, William, but that goes without saying, right… Mr. Warfield? Sorry, sorry, I’m just here for an internship… for the summer, and your dad was nice enough to arrange it all,” she babbled on seemingly oblivious that her small round breasts were perfectly visible under the thin wet t-shirt she wore.

“I see,
Miss Darling, well that’s good to know. My father harbors some unrealistic romantic fantasies about your late mother… and by the way I’m sincerely sorry for your loss. Anyway, I’m sure my father would welcome any ‘term of endearment’ you might care to throw his way. I, on the other hand, am not interested in exchanging inane niceties or swayed by romantic fantasies. Now, the roads or rather slick thanks to this infernal rain and my father’s estate is more than an hour from the city so you won’t meet him until tomorrow. He doesn’t leave his estate, agoraphobia or something to that effect, but I suppose you know that. So, I have… my family has a modest townhouse in the French Quarter, you should be comfortable there for the night. I’ll see to it that you’re situated and then I’ll be on my way,” he said decisively, glancing into her unabashedly sincere grey-green eyes. Her hair was drenched from the incessant rain but it was still the color of fine corn silk and she wore no makeup to hide her creamy skin. There were pale golden freckles sprinkled across her small straight nose and somehow that fact combined with her large softly questioning eyes clutched at his heart just as the memory of Liza refused to release its grip on his father. He turned away quickly, caught off guard by a sudden ravenous stirring of physical need. He was glad the cashmere throw rested on his lap, he had an unwelcome and severely uncomfortable erection. Allie Darling was indeed young, probably twenty-one or two and she was definitely a wide-eyed innocent, not William’s type by a long shot.

Chapter Two

“Cool house,
amazing actually,” Allie said, her senses overwhelmed as William ushered her into the vast residence he described as modest. “When was it built? We have these great historic buildings in northern California, especially in Monterey and Carmel, but this house is breathtaking.”
You’re breathtaking
. Allie wanted to say, he had grabbed one of his jackets from the hall tree and draped it over her shoulders, peering down at her with his unreadable intensely dark gaze. Then he lingered close to her for a moment as if he were about to say something or maybe he was just sizing her up. The jacket smelled of him, spicy and seductive, and something deep, deep inside her clinched deliciously and sent a shot of adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream.

“
The original house was built in 1734, it survived the Great New Orleans fire of 1788 that wiped out most of the Quarter, but it was burnt to its foundation in a subsequent fire in 1795. The present structure was rebuilt the following year and it’s weathered every hurricane and natural disaster since. My grandfather acquired this townhouse as a residence for my father when he was a student at Tulane University, and I suppose he considered it a sound investment as well, which it certainly proved to be. Miss Hawkins must be here somewhere, she’ll get you situated, I have plans for the evening.” He said, his tone changing in an instant from cordial to business like as he peeled off his jacket and tie and dumped them and his wet shoes in a pile at the foot of the stairs. “Hawkins!” he called out and a young woman scurried into the foyer and explained that it was Miss Hawkins day off. It was Monday and the entire staff had the day off, she went on, and she alone had remained in the house because the rainstorm had frightened her and she was watching a new and exciting episode of
The Bachelorette
.

“
Fine, Ginny, fine. Go back to what you were doing, I’ll deal with this myself. This is Alaina, she’ll be here for the night,” he said and Ginny blushed and covered her mouth to stifle a fit of giggles. “She’s not here
with me
, she’s a family friend. Just… if she needs anything make yourself useful, Ginny. Never mind, forget it, don’t let us disturb your TV viewing.”

“I should go to a hotel, this is way too much trouble. Honestly, I can afford it and you have plans. I’m dying to get out and walk around the French Quarter and here I am right in the middle of it. Please, William, don’t let me take you away from your everyday life
and your plans,” she said, dragging her fingers through her damp scruffy hair.

His heart seized for a split second at the sound o
f his name on her pouty lips. It sounded so sweet and pure, free from the burdens usually heaped on it when his father or his business colleagues or the women who waltzed in and out of his life called him William. It was startling really, the pretty way she said it, even when he was a boy and his mother was alive she had spat out his name as if it burned her tongue.

“
No. I can’t allow you to wander these streets, the sun’s going down and you’re a beautiful young woman all alone. Safety’s an issue in the French Quarter these days, Alaina, things have changed since Hurricane Katrina. There are undesirable elements…” He picked up her duffle bag and scaled the gracefully curved staircase two steps at a time. He glanced back at her as they reached the third floor landing and she looked exasperated. Her bottom lip was full and pink and it was all he could do to keep from running his tongue across it as she stood there pouting. She probably wasn’t really pouting but that damned luscious mouth certainly was begging for his attention.

“I’m twenty-two and a college graduate, I think I can do a bit of sight-seeing in New Orlea
ns without getting into trouble. And seriously, I wish you’d call me Allie. Alaina is an old fashioned poetic name my parents saddled me with. I prefer Allie,” she said and she brushed past him when he opened the door to a large bedroom with tall arched French windows and charmingly sloped ceilings.

“You’re twenty-two?” he asked, leaning back against the door frame as he watched her move gracefully through the roo
m, her delicate fingers skimming the surface of antique chests and tables and the tasseled fringe on the toile de jouy drapes. She crossed to the decadent four-poster bed, sat on the mattress with her hands at her sides and bounced a few times with a blissful smile.

“Almost, well, I will be in November. This room is like something from a fairytale, a French fairytale, like Beauty and the Beast…
This bed is
huge
, I bet I could get lost in all these whisper-soft linens.” She held a feather bed pillow to her cheek and closed her eyes with thick fringed lashes resting against her cheeks as her voice trailed off. Her eyes fluttered open just as he jerked the shirt-tail from the waistband of his pants and her breath caught in her throat when she glanced down at his enormous erection just before the hem of his shirt covered it from view.

“November is a long way off, it’
s barely June, Miss Darling, you’re most definitely not twenty-two. I’ll let you get situated… make yourself at home. The bathroom is well stocked I’m sure, and it has a steam room and… I don’t know what all, but get comfortable. Get dressed, I meant to say, we’ll go have some dinner. Just wander downstairs when you’re ready, I’ll have a shower and change and then I’ll meet you in the… downstairs… downstairs living room,” he stumbled a bit over the words as she slipped off the bed, crossed the room and stood staring out the gracefully arched window. She didn’t turn to face him but kicked off her rubber boots and began to carelessly weave her damp hair into a single thick braid.

“It’s almost dark out
side and the rain has stopped,” she said. “I’m still on California time, seems like it should be the middle of the day. Just so you know, I graduated in the top two percent of my class at UC Berkley and I did it in only three and a half years. ” She turned to face him, to look right in his eyes and let him know what she had seen, but he’d already gone. The sight of his arousal was imprinted on her brain and picturing it sent that electric jolt of endorphins or adrenaline or lust thundering from the pit of her stomach to the center of her sex. She’d only just met the man and she’d never been gung-ho about sex in the first place and yet here she was, short of breath and tingling and wetter in some places than she had ever been before.

*

The rain had moved on and thankfully it had left none of its usual humidity behind. The bright full moon hung above the slate roofs of the tightly clustered townhouses in the Vieux Carre, or French Quarter as it was more commonly called. Allie begged William to walk with her rather than driving to the restaurant and he had put on his stern face at first but eventually he caved. They left his house on St. Louis Avenue and turned onto Bourbon Street with Allie demanding to try one of the infamous NOLA Hurricanes.

William
wanted to tell her no, that the drink contained an ungodly amount of alcohol and she was too young to handle it. He had no right to dictate what this unknown girl drank or ate or did while she was in his city. But he felt responsible now that his father had basically dumped her in his lap and fuck if that image didn’t stir up his libido again. And what the hell was that all about? He had sex with women, a lot of women, but it was simply a physical release and they certainly didn’t cause his cock to react like he was thirteen instead of twenty-eight. She was twenty-one and looked younger, on top of that she seemed completely unaware of how unintentionally sexy she was. She walked beside him touching his arm now and then to stress some point she was making as she spoke and it affected him. She wore a short floaty sundress with the half-moon tops of her small high breasts just visible above the bright fabric. A little white sweater was tied at her waist and she wore flat sandals with leather laces at her ankles. Her toenails were polished bright blue with tiny palm trees and a sunset cleverly painted on them. She was intoxicating in the most simple and wholesome and elemental way.

William
had his choice of women, thanks to his striking good looks and family name and fortune. But he avoided romantic relationships. His parent’s ruinous marriage and combative attitude toward each other coupled with his father’s tiresome insistence on carrying the proverbial torch of undying love for Liza had soured him on the idea of love and monogamy. He kept his interaction with women purely social or purely sexual, never combining the two. He attended society functions with young women from suitable families and had sex with anonymous women he met at The Cathedral or happened upon in the course of the day or night. Women whose names he didn’t care to know, which wasn’t an issue since they were drawn to the wild carnal hunger in his eyes and blatant erection outlined in his finely tailored pants. He reached out to the unknown beauties and one or more took it with wildly heated blood and they followed him to barely secluded hallways, alleys, elevators, park benches or any place where their sexual acts might possibly be discovered. That was his need, the risk, the anonymity, the lack of emotion, the excitement of fucking women he would never see again, the possible discovery amidst the undercurrent of danger in the seedier parts of his native city.

This girl, Alaina Darling, Allie, was not one of those women. He doubted that she’d ever had sex with a stranger or in any position other than missionary. Of course looks could be deceiving, but h
e’d be willing to bet she was a ‘nice girl’ with one or two boyfriends left behind in her home town and no desire to explore her sexual limits. It was really too bad, he mused, and then he wiped the thought away quickly. She really was a stunning beauty. Her hair proved to be a light shade of honey shot through with darker golden highlights and that wide pouty mouth made him want to lift her lips to his and taste her sweetness. Her body was disarmingly enticing, long and lithe and yet softly curved in all the places where a man’s hands and mouth and cock might take pleasure. She had the hypnotic eyes of a dove, bottomless and soulful, the kind of eyes that promised respite and understanding, but he doubted that she would understand or condone his sexual proclivities.

“
I want a Hurricane in an outrageously tall glass from one of those touristy looking bars,” she laughed at the look of disbelief on William’s face when he explained that there would be fine wine and decent cocktails at the restaurant. And what a face it was, he had shaved his sexy stubble and his hair was slicked back from his shower. He smelled of that clean hot spicy male scent that had planted itself in some primal part of Allie’s brain. It was a smell that made her want to reach up and bury her face in his neck and maybe taste his skin on her tongue and then rest her hands against the firm wall of his chest and move them lower…

“
Alright, Allie Darling, here you go. One obnoxious and probably poisonous Hurricane,” he said, handing her the unsavory drink as the corners of his delectable mouth turned up into a quizzical smile.

She took it from him with
a huge grin and then she stretched up onto her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek, he turned just then and their lips brushed lightly. He had to reach out and steady her as she gasped at the current that passed between them and again his brows knitted in annoyance before he stepped back and stared down at her.

“Thanks for the drink,” she said and it was barely more than a whisper. They walked a few blocks in silence
and then he hailed a cab that whisked them to the Restaurant August on Tchopitoulas Street.

*

“Good evening Jacob, any chance you still have a twenty-ten Screaming Eagle Sauvignon Blanc?” William handed the wine list back to the sommelier without having opened it as soon as they were seated in a quiet corner of the restaurant.

“Yes sir, we have a single bottle reserved especially for you. This must be a special evening, would you care for oysters
on the half shell with that, Mr. Warfield? They’ve just arrived, and they are indeed exceptional this evening.” William could see that Jacob was trying not to stare openly at the lovely Miss Darling and her small but fascinating cleavage but it was no use, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“We’ll start with a dozen, thank you,” William said taking note of the slight wrinkling of Allie’s nose as if she’d smelled something unpleasant. “Let me see, Alaina, are you displeased because I disposed of your ridiculously gaudy street-vendor cocktail or do you have a distaste for fine wine?”

“Oysters, I don’t want to look at them much less put one in my mouth,” she said and he had to hold his long fingers to his lips to keep from smiling.

“I see, well, you’re in the Big Easy now. It’s sacrilege to refuse to eat a plump fresh oyster, but I suppose if you have trouble pu
tting certain distasteful delicacies in your mouth, then I wouldn’t want to force you.”

Her eyes widened and her cheeks burned scarlet as her pretty mouth dropped open and she uttered just one word, “Oh!”

“I think you should try it at least once, eating oysters, that is. The chef here at Restaurant August has access to the most proprietary oyster beds along the Gulf coast.
They’re smooth and creamy with the most delicate flavor, it’s like taking a bit of cool ambrosia onto your tongue and swallowing.”

“Ambrosia?” she asked, as
Jacob returned and poured the cold white wine and waited until William tasted it and nodded his head.