The Long Hot Summer (Billionaire Season Book 1) (6 page)

You’re magic!
He wanted to say, but she was not his to toy with. She was intelligent, beautiful, sensual and intriguing and some lucky man would find his way to her and make her his own. A man who would live out his life wholly in love with this marvelous girl who was a prize to be wooed and won and cherished. William had never wanted a woman more than he wanted Allie and he was used to having whatever he wanted. But he would not use this girl for his own selfish pleasure, his father had been right to warn William not to hurt her.

“If we’re going to be friends Alaina then you should understand from the start that I
am uncompromising when I make up my mind about any given matter. So please don’t argue with me over a few articles of clothing that I intend to purchase for you. If you’re worried that I can’t afford it, well don’t, my credit is good at this hotel. Here we go, let’s check out Stella McCartney and Zac Posen, their designs are a fresh take on classic style.”

“If we’re going to be friends?”
Allie whispered as they entered the boutique and a sales woman rushed to meet them. Allie had been lukewarm about love in the past and absolutely tepid when it came to sex with her ‘somewhat serious’ boyfriend in college. But like a bolt from the blue she was thunderstruck by her desire for William Warfield, and maybe worse than that, she was probably thunder-fucked since he wanted nothing to do with her in the sex or romance department.

“Yes, Alaina, I think we should be friends… buddies. Alright, what would you like to wear for
your first day on the job? Pants, a skirt and blouse, how about this dress?” He said holding up a short wrap dress in black crepe de chine with a tiny pattern of white flowers.

“Oh that’s lovely!” The middle-aged
sales clerk gushed, plucking a smaller sized dress from the rack for Allie without taking her eyes off William. “Let’s get you into a dressing room, dear, and Mr. Warfield and I will pick out many, many beautiful items for you. Shall I make an appointment at the hair salon in the morning? Your hair is a bit long and shapeless, you might do well to have a chic new style.”

“Her hair is perfect the way it is,” William
said and the look on his face spoke volumes.

So, even the indomitable William Warfield has his Achilles’ heel
. The clerk mused, lifting an eyebrow as she sized up the young woman who had obviously found the proverbial weak spot in William’s armor. She was fresh looking, a rare classic beauty with large soulful eyes, enchantingly thick lashes and a naturally full pouty mouth that was all the rage these days. The girl wore an inexpensive dress that might have seemed tacky on someone less confident, but she wore it with unerring style. She had an enviously slim yet shapely feminine figure and her movements were fluid and graceful. If the unthinkable were to happen and William Warfield fell in love there would surely be a collective groan heard throughout the South from the single females in New Orleans and beyond. If this girl was the one to win his heart then he deserved a round of applause. He had his choice of mannequin-like, overly thin, frighteningly silicone enhanced, anxiously giddy debutants, but he had chosen the real thing, a woman who was less ‘Barbie’ and more ‘girl next door’.

“I love it,” William said when Allie stood in front of a full length mirror and fasted a black paten
t-leather belt at her waist. “The dress suits you, soft and yet it still shows that you mean business. Now, shoes, under… garments? Where can we find those, Miss…?”

“My name is
Leona, sir. The Agent Provocateur lingerie shop is next door and the Manolo Blahnik boutique is two doors down on your right. Mr. Warfield, now that I know your young lady friend’s size and style why don’t I hand pick the necessary items and have them sent directly to her suite? That way the pair of you can have time for… more interesting activities.”

“Agent Provocateur? I don’t think that sounds like the type of undies I would wear… not to work at least,” Allie glanced up at William and the look of mischief that crinkled the corner
s of his eyes set her cheeks on fire and her heart racing. “Fine, have them sent up… oh, whatever! Just ask if they have a nightgown without leather straps or chains. Actually, skip the nightgown, naked should work just fine since I have the bed all to myself.” And with that Allie thanked Leona and William for their help and generosity and went to collect the key to her room.

“Hey, slow down. Allie,
wait a minute. Let me get you settled in your room and I can send a car to drive you to work tomorrow,” William said taking long strides to catch up to her as she reached the hotel’s front desk.

She whirled around and placed a hand o
n his chest to stop him from moving any closer. “William, you are the nicest man I think I’ve ever met and also the most infuriating. I’ve tried to decipher your constant mixed messages for two days and it’s made me a little cranky. So, I thank you for the clothes and the flawless hospitality but I don’t need you to send a car for me and don’t waste your time with concern for my welfare. Contrary to your beliefs, I
am
a grown woman who knows without a shadow of a doubt what I want in life and how to get it. Hot billionaires with hearts of stone are not on my bucket list, so you are off the hook. The kiss we shared was incredible, I’ll just file it under ‘Best first kiss that ever existed in the history of the world’ and move on. Goodnight, I can find my room and my way in your city all by myself, thank you very much Mr. Warfield.”

And just like
that she walked away with William staring after her. He was truly at a loss for words. His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed at the unfamiliar twinge in his heart as Alaina Darling left him behind.

Chapter Five

Allie slept naked and her restless dreams were filled with images of William Warfield. When she woke at dawn, her bo
dy shuddered and then stiffened and her eyelids fluttered open as she squeezed her thighs tightly together to savor the orgasm.
Hmmm
, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a wet dream. She slipped two fingers between her legs and she gasped at how wet and overly sensitive her smoothly waxed pussy was. It had been a long, long time since she had given herself pleasure and the last few times she’d tried she gave up for lack of a suitable fantasy man to focus on.

The only thing that worked was the
handy-dandy little fingertip vibrator she’d ordered on the internet the year before. Only problem was she hardly ever used it thanks to the lack of door locks in her college dorm. Not only that, but the stupid batteries just loved to run out of power at the most inopportune moment. Mostly she forgot she even had the strangely effective gizmo since finding a moment alone in her dorm room was rare. Her roommate Jenna was a new age free-spirited hippie who encouraged Allie to go ahead and use her “masturbatory device” while Jenna was three feet away in her bed studying, it wouldn’t bother her. She informed Allie that she did most of her masturbating in the girl’s shower and she didn’t give a shit who saw or heard her, people had needs, so why didn’t all the little sorority prudes just get the fuck over it.

But Allie couldn’
t imagine having an orgasm with Jenna in the same room. The truth was she hadn’t
ever
had an orgasm with anyone else in the room, not even the boyfriend she had fairly frequent sex with. So she had basically given up on sex. Her battery-powered toy was unreliable and her now ex-boyfriend had hated to tell her so, but he said she really didn’t have a knack for sex… period, the end. The end until William Warfield had opened a Pandora’s Box of carnal desire and smoking hot imagery that was waking her up in more ways than one.

*

William or his father, she wasn’t sure which, had arranged for her to have a sumptuous suite rather than a single room. She slipped out of bed and shrugged into a plush bathrobe monogrammed with an ornate
CW
for
Countess Warfield
.
What a life
! She mused as she wandered from the bedroom to the ornate white marble bath and then to the living and dining rooms. The rooms were elaborately decorated in an Art Deco style to match the era when the luxury ocean liner was first launched into service. Large polished brass portholes provided a picturesque view of the New Orleans skyline paired with a glimpse of the wide green Mississippi River. Everything about this sultry city pulsed with a history of carnality and romance. It had been home to pirates who were bewitched by voodoo priestesses, southern gentlemen gallantly courting seductive southern belles, streetcars named for desire, and Storyville—the red-light district where the House of the Rising Sun had been the ruin of many willing young men and where prostitutes practiced their craft from 1897 to 1917 under the approving patronage of local authorities.

The irony was not lost on Allie. Here she was in the romance capitol of America and she was falling for the one man who wanted nothing to do with the nonsense of love or sex that might actually link his dick to his heart.
A knock at the door tore her thoughts away from William and his face and his body and his heart and his dick.
Man, what a lethal combination
! She sighed and answered the door.

“Breakfast, Miss Darling, compliments of the hotel and your… luggage, I suppose you could say, compliments of Mr. William Warfield,” the young man gave her a conspiratorial grin and rolled the cart into the suite.

“Thank you, and to refer to my duffel bag as luggage is pushing it a bit, don’t you think?” Allie found her purse, dug through it and held out a tip for the bellman. He waved his hands in front of him as he backed out the door, refusing the money and repeating “Compliments of Mr. Warfield.”

“Compliments of Mr. Warfield, compliments of mister I’m not the man for you
so steer clear of me Allie, blah blah blah. Well you can kiss my ass… not that I could even get you to, but make up your freaking mind William Warfield, either you’re in my life or you’re not! I DO NOT WANT TO BE YOUR BUDDY! Fabulous, now I’m talking to myself… and maybe shouting a little, too.”

*

William was trying desperately to rationalize the reason he was reading the Wall Street Journal in the lobby of the
Countess Warfield
at nine o’clock in the morning. After all, his offices were there on the top deck of the ship, all he had to do was step into one of the elaborate elevators and he would be at his desk in minutes. He wanted to see Allie Darling when she left for her first day on the job, that was the reason he lingered when he had more important issues to deal with and there was no denying it. It disturbed him, his undeniable attraction to a girl—a young woman, who was the polar opposite of the women he found himself attracted to sexually. He liked his women “bold and cold” as Walden had laughingly pointed out on more than one occasion. Women who shared his penchant for hot hard unemotional unattached mostly anonymous often with a hint of danger ‘hit it and forget it’ sex.

Allie
stepped out of the elevator and breezed across the lobby and was out the door as quickly as a breath of fresh air. And just that fast William’s heart had flipped over in his chest and his cock was irritatingly stiff.
Fuck it all!
He had known her for all of three days and just that fast emotions he had worked to suppress for the better part of his life were running rampant.

“She refused your
car and driver, sir,” the head valet stood next to William fidgeting, his eyes blinking rapidly, waiting to see what William’s response would be.

“Did she know it was my car?” William asked, st
anding and glaring down at the valet.

“Well sir, I didn’
t tell her but she must have figured it out. I told her the car belonged to the hotel and it was at the disposal of any guest who was staying in a suite, just like you said. But she saw right through that bullshit… excuse me sir, she said, “Tell Mr. Warfield I’m just fine on my own.”

So that was that, Alaina Darling mig
ht be fairly young and less than worldly, but she was no fool. William took the elevator up to his office and stared out the large angular windows toward the French Quarter. She was out there in his city without him, what a strange thought.
And she is fine, just fine, leave her alone
, his inner voice cautioned. That inner monologue had not shut up since the moment Allie climbed into his car for the first time and sat wide eyed and dripping with rain and unmistakable sensuality.

*

“You must be Alaina, welcome to New Orleans, darlin’. That’s crazy isn’t it? Darlin’ is your last name and it’s an everyday part of our vocabulary down here in these parts! I’m Thelma Maguire and that handsome young gentleman up on the library ladder is my son, Brodie. Come on in and let me show you around our humble office here at the Southern Gothic Literary Society. Did you have any trouble finding the place? We are just a tad hidden amongst all these crumbling warehouses. I have high hopes that the Warfield Shipping Company will get around to renovating more of those old buildings soon, but I’m not complaining. They gave us a rent-free one hundred year lease on this little gem of a building and you sure can’t beat a deal like that with a stick, now can you?” Thelma Maguire took a quick breath and would have continued to talk nonstop if her son hadn’t materialized beside her.

“Hello, Miss Darling, I’
m Brodie Maguire. How about a quick tour of your own personal office space and then we’ll grab a cup of coffee. The coffee shop on the edge of the district is not quite as good as Café Du Monde, but it’s better than the weak brew my Mother makes,” he said and he motioned for Allie to follow him through a high-ceilinged hallway to the back of the building. “How’s this? It has a better view than any of the other little rooms we use as our offices. My mother is a bit long-winded but she’s also a terrific gardener and you can see that for yourself,” he said as Allie walked to a narrow set of ancient French doors with wavy glass panes. The doors creaked as she opened them and a few flakes of the original faded delft-blue paint fluttered to the floor but she gasped when she saw the tiny courtyard beyond.

“Call me
Allie,” she said, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the extravagant beauty of gardenias, azaleas, bougainvillea and countless scores of blooming shrubs and vines and ornamental trees. “This is so cool! I’ve heard the French Quarter is famous for its hidden courtyards, but just
wow
! It’s like an oasis in the middle of the warehouse district, right?”

“
Yes it is, now, what do you say we walk a few blocks to the
Roasted Bean
? I hate to admit that I have an out-of-control dependence on that demon called caffeine, but I do,” Brodie said and his hand strayed to the small of her back for an instant as they made their way to the street.

Three streets over
from the derelict row of warehouses the area was completely transformed. High-end art galleries and restaurants crowded into refurbished four and five story high brick and stucco storefronts. Names of early Louisiana merchants like Lafitte and Thibodaux and Saint Michele were still visible where they had been painted in scrolled script above broad antique entry doors. Brodie carried cups of fragrant steaming coffee to a bench in a picturesque park on the corner and they sat in silence until Allie took a hefty swallow of the coffee. Her eyes watered as she tasted the famed coffee and chicory mix.

“Strong, huh? Believe it or not
it’s half steamed milk but the coffee and chicory are potent.” Brodie’s grin was crooked and boyish and Allie was instantly put at ease by his good-natured charm.

“Yes, strong is an understatement, spicy is more like it,” she said, laughing
as she dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief he offered her. “This really is the Old South isn’t it? Linen handkerchiefs and chivalry and all the stuff of romantic legends.”

“Yes ma’am! I suppose that’s the reason so many influential writers were drawn to this rarefied atmosphere. It’s the Big Easy and as far as scandal and secrets and unbridled hedonism go, well this is a hot-bed, literally, for the
‘anything goes as long as nobody knows’ way of life.” Brodie smiled and raised an eyebrow and Allie’s cheeks blushed pink as she realized he wasn’t just boyishly endearing, he was sexy in an unintentional sort of way. “Don’t drink the coffee if it’s not to your liking Allie… did you mean it when you said I could call you Allie?”

“I like it, the first taste was surprising,
that’s all. Yes absolutely, call me Allie. So you and your mother run the Literary Society by yourselves, just the two of you?”

“Oh hell no! There’s no way I could work with my mother full time, I’m just lending a hand while I’m home for the summer. I’ve just finished my second year of law school at Vanderbilt, by this time next year I’ll take the Bar exam and if I pass I’ll be one of those dreaded bloodsucking lawyers. You know, the sort of sc
oundrels Shakespeare swore should be eradicated to make the world a nicer place, how did he put it—‘The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers’?”

“I don’t know any lawyers, my parents were artsy people and anti-establishment. I mean my dad still is but my mom passed away last year… so who knows what
or where she is now. When my parents divorced they refused to hire an attorney, they just printed out one of those disillusion of marriage contracts from some bizarre website. It might not have even been legal and my dad has been married like, three more times so he could be a bigamist, which would serve him right since he’s definitely an asshole, what do you think?”

“What do I think? Hmm, I think you might be okay with lawyers but not too crazy about your father,” he said, again with the disarming smile. His tosseled light-brown hair kept falling over one eye so that he raked his fingers through the mass of shaggy waves. His eyes were large and round and a color of blue that changed depending on his pattern of thought. They were darker as he listened intently to Allie speak and more crystalline when he laughed at something
she said. “So you don’t get along with your father or you just don’t like the sort of man he is and the two of you have nothing in common?”

“Oh, who can say for sure? The only thing he and I
have in common is that we both love literature and especially the great southern authors. That’s his field of expertise, he’s an American Lit professor… and a philanderer. He had…
has
a distinct weakness for his students, my mother was one of the first he lured into an affair… Anyway, literature is my great love and his as well, so I suppose it bothers me that I have that in common with a man I have no respect and very little love for. That’s all, it’s no big deal,” Allie said and she glanced up with a small smile to find him watching her intently.

“Speaking of parents, we’d better get back or your mother will send out a sear
ch party, I would imagine,” she said, throwing her half empty cup into a trash can as they walked back into the heart of the warehouse district. “So parts of this area are really upscale and fancy, I guess the renovation gods haven’t made it as far as our street yet.”