An Accidental Date with a Billionaire

by Diane Alberts

  Her jaw dropped. “Twenty minutes? Seriously?”

  How much more time did she need to pitch a business proposal? “I feel that is more than enough time, but…” He shrugged lazily. “I suppose we could up it to thirty, if you insist.”

  “A thirty-minute date with you, all for the low cost of three thousand dollars,” she said drily. “Wow, how generous of you.”

  Date? But she’d just said she didn’t want a date with him. Damn, this woman was confusing. He couldn’t read her, and she was still frowning at him as if he were gum under her shoe.

  “I’m sorry, I must’ve misunderstood your intentions. Would you like a date? I can take you to a nice restaurant.” He gave her a once-over again. That was definitely an off-the-rack gown and discount shoes, despite her expensive purse. But, damn, she wore it well. “You would probably like that, right? A special treat out somewhere nice?”

  She reared back, nostrils flaring. “Excuse me?”

  Shit, he’d pissed her off again. He seemed good at that tonight. Annoyed at this whole situation and himself, he gestured with his business card again. “Look, I don’t care if you want a date or a business meeting. Either way, call my assistant, and she’ll set one up for us. Bring a tight portfolio because I’m only giving you thirty minutes, no matter how much you pout at me.”

  She took the card angrily. “I won’t be shortened to thirty minutes. You owe me a full date for the kind of money I’m paying for you.”

  “That’s fine. If you want a date, I’ll give you a—” His phone buzzed again with a counteroffer. It was ridiculous. “Son of a bitch.”

  As he typed furiously, her foot tapped faster.

  After he finished, he glanced up. She had her arms crossed and was watching him with death in her eyes. He flexed his jaw, meeting her stare dead-on. Damn, the woman gave a good stare-down. He was half tempted to hire her and send her to Granger Pharm. She’d set them straight in no time at all. “Now, where were we?”

  “You were ignoring me for your phone,” she said with a fake politeness that grated on his nerves.

  Determined not to show it, he forced a smile. “Ah, yes. Date or business meeting. Which is it going to be? Let’s get this over with soon, too. I have a busy schedule the next few weeks.”

  “I want a date. Why would I want to pitch to you? I don’t even know who you are or what you do for a living, and to be completely honest? I don’t really care.”

  A laugh escaped him. He couldn’t help it. He was so used to people kissing his ass for his power, money, or both—but she was refreshingly abrupt and clearly didn’t give a shit about what he could give her. It was…amusing. “Okay, then—”

  She interrupted him. “Pick me up tomorrow at nine?”

  “At night?” It was a little later than he’d usually go for, but whatever.

  “No, in the morning.” She scribbled something on the back of the card he’d given her and handed it back. “Here. That’s where I live.”

  He glanced at the address and tried to remember the last time a woman had asked him to breakfast—that he hadn’t already slept with. Even more interesting. “All right. I look forward to our date, Sam.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. Actually rolled them.

  “I’m sure,” she said drily.

  He said nothing—almost because he was afraid to interrupt what she might say next. So he waited patiently instead, though he couldn’t stop himself from raising one eyebrow in humor as she continued to stare him down. For her, he might just have all night to continue this battle of wills.

  An almost evil smile stretched her mouth, and he had to catch himself from smiling back at her. There was very little he loved more than a good challenge, and this lady had stubborn intelligence in spades.

  “Oh, and dress casually,” she added.

  And there she did it again, surprised him almost speechless. He frowned. “Casually?”

  “Yeah, you know. Jeans. Flannel. Boots.” She tipped her head, her blue eyes flashing with something he could only assume was amusement at his expense. “Do you own those?”

  “I own everything, darling, including your apartment building,” he said cockily.

  “My…?” Her jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

  He gave her a wink. “See you at nine. Make sure you’re ready, I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “Because your time is so valuable,” she shot back at him.

  “You said it, not me.”

  For the first time in years, Taylor’s well-oiled world had a monkey wrench thrown into it. He had absolutely no idea what tomorrow would bring. And he was shocked how much he liked the prospect. And the woman.

  Chapter Three

  Taylor had insisted on going out ASAP on a date she didn’t even want to go on, and neither would he…especially once he realized what they were going to be doing.

  But, hey, she’d paid three thousand dollars for the “privilege” to go out with the pompous asshat, so at least she’d get her money’s worth out of him this way. Smiling, she tugged her hooded sweatshirt closed, watching the parking lot for any signs of the likely overpriced car he’d be driving. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he realized what their “date” was going to be.

  That man…he was as frustrating as he was attractive. It was time to bring him down a few pegs. What better way to annoy a spoiled rich man who had probably never had to worry about bills than to make him build a house for the poor? After she’d gotten home last night, she read over the rules of her date, and as long as her idea of a fun time didn’t put his life in danger or require him to do something sexual, she was good to go. Their date didn’t end until he dropped her off at home, so he’d be forced to help her make the world a better place.

  A shiny black Alfa Romeo pulled into the parking lot, and she swallowed hard. Had he been kidding last night when he told her he owned her apartment building?

  He pulled up, stopping directly in front of her. She started for the car, but he hopped out, rushing around the front. He wore a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans that appeared as if they’d just had the tags ripped off this morning. They still had the creases in places where they’d been folded.

  Had he gone out and bought what she told him to wear?

  “Let me help you,” he said immediately, taking the toolbox out of her hand. He frowned down at it. “May I ask what’s in the toolbox?”

  She forced a smile. “No, you may not.”

  “Right.” He flexed his jaw. “Let me guess? It’s the giant chip that’s normally on your shoulder? Did it not match your outfit, so you had to put it in a box?”

  “No, it’s for your huge ego,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Excuse me?”

  Ignoring the question, she asked, “Should I sit in the back or the front?”

  Hastily, he set the toolbox down and opened the passenger-side door for her. “The front, of course. I’ll set these in the backseat.”

  “Why not the trunk?” she asked as she slid into the car. The leather seats were the softest leather she’d ever touched. Softer than silk, even.

  “There’s no room because that’s where I put my huge ego,” he said, smiling as he slammed the door in her face.

  Sam: 0

  Taylor: 1

  After sliding the toolbox onto the backseat, he went around the back of his car and joined her inside. As he shut his door, he let out a sigh. She echoed it. He smelled even better today. Like Yves Saint Laurent. God, she loved that cologne. Why did he have to wear it?

  The flannel he wore hugged his biceps, leaving nothing to the imagination. Those arms would come in handy today, hammering nails into wood.

  “You don’t like me,” he stated, breaking the silence.

  It wasn’t a question. “Did you go out and buy that outfit special for today?”

  He glanced at his clothes. “My assistant did. Why? Is it not what you wanted? You said flannel, jeans, and boots—”

  “I know,” sh
e said, touching her seat belt.

  “I did what you wanted,” he added, frowning. “I wore what you asked me to.”

  “It’s good. You’re good,” she said, trying not to laugh. He acted so worried that he’d done something wrong, and it was hard not to laugh when he clearly took everything so seriously. She was totally not that kind of person. At all. “Why do you care so much, though?”

  “I always try to give a woman what she wants,” he stated.

  She bit her lip, biting back the snort trying to escape. “Of course, you do.”

  This guy…he was too much. On any other woman, his polite words and charming smile might work, but on her?

  Nope.

  But she had a feeling Taylor was a guy who didn’t relinquish control easily, or ever, and she wasn’t down for some dude telling her what she could and couldn’t do, thank you very much.

  No matter how hot he is.

  “Do you like it?” he asked into the silence.

  Crap. How long had she been sitting there?

  She pursed her lips. “Like what?”

  “The outfit,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

  They were so green. So…so…

  No. She wasn’t going there.

  She wasn’t about to wax poetic about his eyes, or the fact that they were greener than the grass in Scotland on a spring day. Crap. Too late.

  “It’s, uh, nice.”

  He shot her a frown. “Well, uh, thanks.”

  Even though she tried to hold it back, a smile broke out across her face like a mad case of the chicken pox—and just as unwanted. She couldn’t help it.

  She loved a quick-witted opponent.

  “Wait a second. Is that a smile?” he asked, his eyes comically wide.

  She killed it ruthlessly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

  She faced the window.

  No more smiling, Sam.

  She couldn’t give him the wrong idea.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Sighing, she gestured for him to go ahead. They still hadn’t moved from the parking spot, and time was wasting.

  He ran a hand through his hair, and it popped back into place obediently. “Why do you hate me?”

  “How could I hate you when I don’t know you?”

  Dropping his hand to the back of his neck, he said, “You tell me.”

  She fidgeted, uncomfortable with this topic. “I don’t like you, but I don’t dislike you, either.”

  “I disagree,” he argued. “I think you’ve made it pretty clear that you wouldn’t like me even if I saved ten orphans from drowning in the Chicago River in front of your eyes.”

  She clenched and unclenched her hands in her lap, trying to decide how to respond to that statement. He wasn’t wrong. She didn’t really like him. She tended to avoid people with a lot of money, and there was that devastating handsomeness of his…

  But she didn’t hate him.

  Forcing her tone to stay flat, she finally settled for: “I don’t know. I have a soft spot for people saving drowning children from certain death.”

  “Oh, great, I’ll keep my eyes open, then.”

  She snorted out a laugh.

  He still wasn’t satisfied. “Is there another reason you don’t like me, besides my lack of heroics with drowning children so far?”

  She faced him again, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Is there a reason you want me to?”

  He hesitated, lifting a shoulder. “You don’t know me, which you admitted. It bothers me that you made a snap judgment.”

  That admission made him seem a little more…human. “And?”

  “And…I don’t like it.” He finally backed out of the parking spot, his brow furrowed when she didn’t continue her sentence. “I’m not sure why.”

  “If it helps, I don’t like a lot of people,” she admitted, though it wasn’t true. She was just trying to make him feel better. “Turn left.”

  Pulling up to the exit, he flicked his blinker on. “Oh, I get it.”

  She frowned. “Get what?”

  “It’s your thing. Not liking people.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t have a thing. I just stopped caring about what other people thought about me when I…”

  His brow lifted. “When you what?”

  “When I walked away,” she admitted, though it wasn’t any of his business.

  “What did you walk away from?”

  “Nothing. Everything.”

  He side-eyed her as a UPS truck flew by. “Let me guess. You used to be an actress, with millions in the bank, but now you choose to live a simpler life in Chicago, in a rent-controlled apartment, without the cash you acquired with your beauty and luck.”

  He was closer than he might think.

  She’d grown up rich. But when her parents stole money from their company and its employees and were sent to jail, she’d been shunned—with good reason. She’d been seventeen, in her senior year, about to go to college, and had to give up her Ivy League college acceptance because she could no longer afford the cost of tuition.

  She lost everything all at once.

  No one would ever be allowed to hurt her like that again.

  She wouldn’t waste her time forming relationships that would fall apart.

  “Am I right?” he asked, chuckling.

  “Nope, not an actress,” she muttered.

  “Damn.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.” She cleared her throat. “What about you? Were you born with a silver spoon in your hand and a diamond in your pacifier?”

  He snorted. “No. I could barely afford to have a clean diaper on my ass.”

  “Really?” she asked, blinking.

  He glanced at her, those green eyes of his pinning her to the soft leather seat more effectively than his actual touch would.

  How did he do that?

  “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  Gesturing at him, she pursed her lips. “Because you’ve got the whole guy-who-never-struggled-a-day-in-his-life thing down to a tee.”

  He laughed. “To succeed in my world, you’ve got to be cutthroat. Confident. Ruthless.”

  Her parents had certainly been all those things, and more. “I’m sure you’re good at that last one.”

  “I have to be,” he said, shrugging. “It’s my job.”

  She said nothing, tapping her fingers on her thigh.

  He pulled up to a red light.

  “Keep going straight. What do you do, anyway?” she asked slowly.

  She didn’t care. She was just making conversation.

  “I acquire and consolidate businesses.”

  No. He wasn’t that Mr. Jennings.

  He must have mistaken her silence for confusion, because he continued on. “What that means is that I find companies that would fail, ones that are about to go under, and I buy them. Then I either turn them into something profitable or close them down.”

  She crossed her arms. “I know what it means.” Figures he’d think she didn’t understand.

  “Okay.” He approached a stop sign. “Straight?”

  “Right.” She hesitated. “I mean, right, as in turn right.”

  He got into the proper lane. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see,” she answered. Boy, was he going to be surprised when they arrived. “Are these people whose companies you take willing to sell, or do you rip them from their hands by force?”

  She already knew the answer.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. “A little bit of both.”

  “So…some are forced into it.”

  He nodded. “Unfortunately. In those circumstances, shareholders find me and ask me to step in.”

  “For a hostile takeover.”

  He frowned. “I’ve helped a few, but they’re not the norm.”

  “And the employees…?”

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Some lose thei
r positions, but—”

  “So, basically, you take people’s jobs and companies away?”

  He squared his jaw. “There’s more to it than that.”

  “Is there, though?” She had no patience for people like him.

  He didn’t answer, and she glanced out the window, ending the conversation. He might try to make it sound better, but at the end of the day, he took people’s dreams and lives, crushed them in his palm, and walked away with the profits…

  Just like her parents.

  Chapter Four

  Damn, she really didn’t like him.

  Some small part of him liked that about her, but the bigger part wondered what the hell had happened to her in her life that she hated him so damn much. Had her family lost their business to a company like his? Had it been his company? That would, at least, explain the anger.

  “How about you? What do you do?” he asked, breaking the steely silence. There was something about her that drew him in, and he was genuinely curious about her.

  “I work for a small organization that helps struggling companies save themselves, and we create plans to help them succeed before the sharks sense blood in the water.” She shot him a smile that wasn’t so sweet. “Sharks like you, I guess.”

  Out of all the jobs in the world, she had to be on the opposite side of the ring as him.

  He cocked a brow. “I see.”

  She might think he was a complete dick, but his company was fair, honest, and generous. He didn’t get off on ending dreams. He did what he had to do, and he tried to make it as painless as possible for everyone involved.

  “You make a living off ending businesses,” she added, as if that proved anything.

  “And you make yours from trying to help people who can’t be saved, and in the end they walk away from me with less cash in their pockets than they’d hoped.” He gritted his teeth. “So, really, who’s the bad guy here?”

  “Go left,” she uttered.

  He got in the proper lane. “I really am sorry for whatever I did to make you dislike me so much.”

  “You…” She relaxed her hands in her lap. “You never did anything to me.”

  Relief hit him in the chest as he waited for the light to turn green. The idea of him personally causing her harm didn’t sit well in the pit of his stomach. “I’m glad. Believe it or not, I try to do good in the world, not bad. I never take my lifestyle and the things I’ve earned for granted. I go out of my way to help charities and donate to good causes, to do good with what I’ve been given.”