Recipe for Lust: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Novel

by Ward, Alice

  From the moment Kennedy told me she’d been assigned Jackson as a student, I knew I was in for a long, dramatic ride. Little did I know just how dramatic it would get.

  Early on in their relationship, Kennedy found Jackson in the arms of his ex-girlfriend. She was pissed, but I’d been relieved the relationship had ended before it got too complicated.

  A few hours later, Kennedy’s mom, Gloria, and Jackson’s dad, Jack, confessed to a secret affair and announced their surprise engagement. That’s when the world turned upside down. Kennedy and Jackson were forced to spend time together and their feelings for each other grew. It was tiresome to watch them deny their feelings and even more so to keep their secrets while they tried to figure out how to tell their parents about their relationship. But after a long and rocky road, they finally found their way to happily ever after.

  “That seems like a lifetime ago, your first tutoring session with Jackson,” I observed with a reminiscent smile.

  “Sometimes it does,” Kennedy agreed. “Sometimes, it feels like the last three years flew by in a blur.”

  “They must have been good years,” Claire told her. “The good ones always seem to move faster than the bad ones.”

  “How many bad ones have you had?” Kennedy asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

  “Relax, not many,” Claire replied with a reassuring grin.

  “You have to remember, Claire and Royce have been together since we were twelve years old,” I pointed out.

  “That’s right,” Kennedy said with a nod. “Wow, that’s a really long time.”

  “Yes, it is,” Claire agreed. “And before you ask, no, I don’t really wonder what I’m missing out on by not dating other people. And no, we’re still in no rush to get married.”

  “You must get those questions a lot.”

  “More than you could imagine,” Claire replied. “Most people seem to think we should either be sowing wild oats or setting up house. But we’re both perfectly happy with the way things are.”

  “That’s all that’s important,” Kennedy commented.

  The technicians returned with stacks of fresh towels and carefully cleaned the mud off of our legs. I leaned back in my chair and let the rolling massage hands work their magic on my shoulders while Marsha painted my toes. The mimosa had given me a soft buzz and stoked a growing hope in my chest.

  Deacon Hall wasn’t just my colleague at the museum, he was also my mentor. We’d first met when I was in the eighth grade and he was a senior in high school. He was part of an extracurricular group that mentored younger artists, actors, and musicians. He was the one who’d advised me to go to college first and pursue my passion second. He said if I did it that way, I wouldn’t have to starve while I waited to be discovered.

  One of the things I liked about Deacon was that he took his own advice and graduated from Berkley with a doctorate degree in Art History. He worked his way up the ranks of the museum and recommended me for a job when I returned to San Francisco. We cataloged art in the office. We also created it in his home studio.

  I knew if the show went well, Deacon would be leaving the museum soon. And I knew as doors started opening for him in the art world, he’d do his best to help me through them too.

  “How far away is this gallery?” Kennedy asked.

  I turned to her and saw Mary slip foam flip-flops onto her feet.

  “It’s just five blocks from my building,” I answered, watching Marsha swipe a clear topcoat onto my nails.

  “Perfect. Jackson and I will take a taxi to your building and we’ll all walk from there. I don’t know if it’s the champagne or the sunshine, but I have a good feeling about tonight, Lauren. I feel like something big is about to happen to you.”

  God, I hope she’s right. The last thing I’d ever do is try to ride Deacon’s coattails. But like everything else, the art world is all about who you know. If he starts getting attention, he’ll put my work in front of people and it will speak for itself.

  “Lauren?” Kennedy cleared her throat and I looked up to see her and Claire on their feet, staring at me.

  “We’re moving to the manicure stations,” Claire explained.

  “Sorry, I must have zoned out for a second,” I replied, struggling awkwardly up from the chair. Kennedy grabbed my arm and helped me to my feet.

  “No more mimosas for you,” she teased.

  I walked arm in arm with her to the front of the salon, dreaming of the day we’d be getting ready for my first art opening.

  ***

  I slipped a final bobby pin into my sleek up do and studied my reflection in my full-length mirror. I’d fought my instincts and bypassed my collection of little black dresses in favor of a Versace pencil dress Kennedy had given me for graduation. The white dress was covered in gold geometric shapes and showed off all of my curves. I’d highlighted my chocolate eyes with gold liner and twisted my honey colored hair into an elegant knot. I completed my outfit with simple gold jewelry and nude stilettos; I looked like a woman ready to conquer the world. Until the doorbell rang and I jumped three feet in the air.

  It’s probably Eric. He said he might be early.

  I steadied myself and then answered the door. Sure enough, my date for the evening was fifteen minutes early.

  “Lauren, you look lovely,” he greeted me with a soft kiss on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Eric. You look nice too.”

  And he did. Eric was six-four with sandy blonde hair and the kind of All American good looks you expect to find in a movie about small town high school football. Physical attraction wasn’t our problem. It was the lack of fire behind Eric’s eyes that made me feel like we weren’t meant to be.

  “My last patient of the day canceled, so I was able to get home and shower instead of changing in my office,” he explained. He tossed his keys on my coffee table and made himself comfortable on the couch.

  “How late do you think this thing will go tonight? I have an early tee time tomorrow.”

  “Officially, it ends at midnight. Un-officially, it depends on who shows up and how well received the paintings are. But I’ll be fine if you want to leave early. Kennedy and Jackson will walk me home,” I assured him.

  He shook his head. “I know you’re excited about tonight. I don’t want to leave you. If it ends up being a late night, I’ll just have a few extra shots of espresso in the morning,” he insisted. He lifted a magazine from the coffee table and started leafing through the pages.

  “Kennedy and Jackson will be here any minute. I need to grab a few things from the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

  I escaped to the only enclosed room in the loft and sprayed a few puffs of perfume around my neck.

  Eric is a good man. He’s not like Rory or those other bastards who broke my heart. So he’s not really passionate about anything. He’s kind, loyal, all of the things those other guys weren’t. I’d much rather be a little bored than completely heartbroken.

  I heard my doorbell ring and returned to the living area. Eric rose to his feet while I let Kennedy and Jackson into the apartment.

  “You look gorgeous,” Kennedy insisted, stepping into the room. “I’m so glad you wore that. I was bracing myself for black.”

  “I thought tonight called for a little something special,” I explained with a grin. “You two clean up pretty nice yourselves.”

  Kennedy wore a cornflower blue silk slip dress, while Jackson had on tailored khaki slacks and a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. I smiled. Much better than Armani.

  “Kennedy and Jackson Montgomery, this is Eric Haskell. Eric, Kennedy and Jackson.”

  “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Kennedy said with a smile. Eric shook her hand and then Jackson’s.

  “It’s great to meet you too,” he replied. “It’s nice to finally have faces to go with the names.”

  “So tell me, Eric, are you an art aficionado like our Lauren? Or are you just along for the ride?” Jackson asked with a grin.


  “I like to think I have a good eye,” Eric replied. He put a hand on my hip and pulled me to his side. I blushed and twirled my handbag around my fingers.

  “We should probably get going,” I said, glancing longingly at the door. “I want to congratulate Deacon before he’s overwhelmed with people.”

  “After you,” Eric insisted, gesturing to the door.

  My friends followed me into the hallway and waited while I locked the deadbolts. We made our way down the staircase and onto the sidewalk.

  “Honey, don’t you just love this weather?” Kennedy asked. She took Jackson’s arm and leaned her head into his shoulder. He chuckled and took her by the waist.

  “You can quit trying to sell me on the San Francisco idea, baby. I already told you I’d run some numbers when we get home. This area isn’t exactly known for its cheap real estate, but that could actually bode well for us. The more expensive it is to live somewhere; the more people expect to pay when they come for a visit.”

  “Lauren tells me you have some beautiful properties,” Eric piped in. “Sounds like quite the glamourous life.”

  “It’s not nearly as glamourous as you’d think,” Kennedy assured him with a grin. “Lauren said you’re a dentist?”

  “An orthodontist, actually,” Eric corrected her, just as he did everyone who failed to acknowledge his more specialized degree.

  “That must be…” Kennedy was doing her best to be friendly, but she struggled to find a compliment.

  “It can be gross,” Eric admitted with a laugh. “And I can’t think of anything less glamourous. But you should see how much self-confidence people gain once they’re not ashamed of their smile.”

  “Sounds like a noble profession,” Kennedy offered.

  “It pays the bills,” he replied with a shrug.

  “Lauren, tell me more about your artist friend,” Jackson said, changing the subject. “We like to fill our resorts with work from artists who are local to the areas. If we end up building here, do you think Deacon would be interested in selling us a few pieces?”

  Uh, hell yeah!

  “I think he’d be more than interested,” I assured him, more calmly.

  “What about Lauren?” Kennedy asked. “You’ve seen her work. Don’t you think she might like to sell you a few paintings?”

  “I assumed that was already understood,” Jackson told her with a grin.

  “Here we are,” Eric announced as we approached the gallery.

  Mission Art was a cozy gallery, despite its relatively large size and solid glass storefront. The building boasted original Spanish tile floors, sculpted ceilings, and crystal clear lighting so the art would look its best. The open floorplan had been divided into a maze of white walls that ran three quarters of the way to the ceiling. The bright, bold colors of Deacon’s paintings greeted us as we stepped into the gallery.

  “These are beautiful,” Kennedy gasped, staring back at the abstract florals. She pointed at a large canvas full of misshapen poppies. “I want that one.”

  “Your friend has good taste, Lauren.”

  I turned and greeted Deacon with a friendly hug. “I’ve taught her well,” I replied with a laugh. I introduced my mentor to my friends and congratulated him on the opening. Before we could have a real conversation, the gallery owner arrived and swept Deacon away to talk to a group of people much more important than us.

  “Take advantage of the free food and drinks,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll meet up with you as soon as I can.”

  I waved goodbye to him and took a glass of champagne from the passing waiter’s tray.

  “I’m going to do my first walk through the show before I get food. Anyone want to join me?” I asked.

  “Of course, lead the way,” Eric insisted. He put his hand on the small of my back and guided me into the wide path. Kennedy and Jackson followed close behind us. If I’d been on my own, I’d have spent more time staring at the first painting than we spent viewing the first collection.

  “I’m starving,” Eric announced as we returned to the front of the gallery. He set off for the appetizer buffet and I turned back to the artwork.

  “I want to get a better look at a couple of the pieces,” I explained. “I’ll find you all when I’m finished.”

  Crowds of people had shown up during our first walk through. A majority of the guests crowded around the food and champagne and I saw Deacon in the corner, surrounded by a group of incredibly eccentric looking people.

  They seem to be congratulating him. Maybe Kennedy was right. Maybe tonight will be the start of the rest of our lives.

  I grabbed a fresh glass of champagne and set off for the large iris painting I wanted a better look at. I stood back a respectful distance while a couple admired the work, and then stepped in front of it and lost myself in the lines and colors.

  “It’s something, isn’t it?”

  I turned to face a very tan man with wild blonde curls. He wore khaki shorts, a black V-neck t-shirt, and black Converse.

  Another beach bum taking a curtesy look at the art before diving into the free food and booze.

  “It’s breathtaking,” I replied politely and honestly.

  He nodded and stepped up beside me. “I love how the soft curves of the flower stand in such strong contrast to the harsh lines of the rest of the landscape. And the way he plays with color and shading… this one reminds me of a late Monet I saw in Paris.”

  Hmm… maybe he’s not a bum after all.

  “Yes, Monet is one of Deacon’s favorite artists,” I explained.

  “Oh, so you know the artist?” he asked? He flashed me a smile so charming and unassuming that I felt my knees go momentarily weak. Wow. There was something in the way the stranger carried himself. Something in the way he looked at me that made my heart sputter then begin to race. And there was definitely a fire behind his fierce green eyes.

  “He’s my mentor,” I said, extending my hand and pulling myself together. “Lauren Matthews.”

  He took my hand and lifted it to his lips. “It’s lovely to meet you, Lauren,” he replied after brushing his lips across my skin. “I’m Ash.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Just Ash? Like just Beyoncé?”

  He laughed and let go of my hand. “For now, yes. So you’re a painter as well?”

  I nodded. “In my spare time, that is. By day, I’m an assistant curator at the San Francisco Museum of Fine Art.”

  “That’s pretty impressive. You must be as smart as you are stunning.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as a smile filled his face. I blushed and stared back at the canvas.

  “So what do you do, Ash?” I asked, desperate to avoid the awkward silence.

  “Oh, nothing worth talking about,” he insisted with a casual wave. “At the risk of sounding too forward, would you like to look at the rest of the work with me and then find somewhere quiet to discuss it? I know a great little diner a few blocks from here.”

  Oh my God, he’s so hot. And he wants me to get out of here with him. But I’m not exactly free to leave with a random hot guy who won’t even tell me his last name.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m here with friends,” I told him, keeping my tone even and calm.

  Ash straightened his shoulders and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Of course, I understand.”

  Before I could apologize or give him my number, Jackson and Eric rounded the corner. Ash took a few steps back as they approached.

  “There you are,” Eric greeted me. He put a hand on my hip and kissed the top of my head. “We were starting to worry about you.”

  “Deacon’s at our table,” Jackson added. “I volunteered to come get you, but we need to get back before Kennedy spends all of my money.”

  “Sorry, I guess I lost track of time.” I nodded goodbye to my new friend and let Eric lead me away.

  “Would you like me to get you some food?” he offered.

  “That would be great, thanks.” I shifted from Eric’s arm to J
ackson’s and continued toward the table.

  “Lauren, do you realize who you were just talking to?” Jackson whispered from the corner of his mouth.

  “He said his name is Ash… do you know him?” I whispered back, slowing my steps so we’d have time to talk.

  “I’ve never met him, but I know who he is. That was Asher Reynolds. He’s the founder and CEO of EnvisionTech Media.”

  “The virtual reality gaming company?” I gasped.

  Jackson nodded. “The one and only. It doesn’t surprise me you didn’t know who he was. He’s somehow managed to keep his face out of the press. I only recognize him because someone else pointed him out to me last year at a Saint Jude’s benefit.”

  When I was a teenager, X-Box and PlayStation fought for dominance in the gaming world. But that all changed when EnvisionTech Media released the Real Play, a gaming system that transported players into the game from the comforts of their home.

  I can’t believe I was talking to the founder of the company that topped last year’s Fortune 500 list.

  “So, what was he like?” Jackson asked as we neared the table.

  “Charming,” I whispered back.

  “Sweetheart, there you are,” Deacon greeted me. His face was flushed and happy, and an empty bottle of champagne sat on the table.

  “The paintings look beautiful,” I told him. “How do you think the show’s going?”

  “I’m three paintings away from being sold out.” Deacon’s face beamed with pride and the slight overtone of disbelief.

  “Congratulations.” I beamed back at him and took his hand. “Have you called Gale?”

  Deacon and his college sweetheart had a very unique marriage. Gale was an archeologist and spent huge chunks of time on overseas digs. When she was home, Deacon had a stay-at-home wife. When she was working, he was a bachelor. They handled the distance well, but I knew he was disappointed she couldn’t be at the opening.

  “I’ve been texting her with updates all night. She’s already planning some sort of surprise celebration for when she gets home next week.”