Lily and the Billionaire

by Beth Michele

  That ends today.

  Is it presumptuous of me? Absolutely. But one thing is for certain: I didn’t imagine the spark, the way the air was charged with electricity, desire ping-ponging between us. Nor did I imagine the way those green eyes swept over me as if she wanted to peel off my tuxedo to get to the hard muscle underneath. Jesus, I can only begin to fathom how good we could be together.

  Combustible.

  Plus, she’s got me curious, and curious about a woman is something I haven’t been in a very long time. Do I want to learn her body? Know what gives her pleasure? Yes and yes, but I also want to know what’s behind those eyes. What makes her tick.

  In three days, I’m leaving for Canada, but you wouldn’t know it. Stacks of paperwork fill every corner of my desk, and I have more files to sift through to prepare for my presentation. Do I care right now? Not a whit. There’s only one thing I’m concerned about at this moment, and that’s the meeting I have with Lily Conrad in approximately forty-five minutes.

  With the element of surprise on my side, I exhale a relaxed breath. The only thing Miss Conrad knows is that she’s meeting with the buyer of the painting, someone who is so impressed with her work they need to meet her in person. It’s a tiny lie. I’m impressed with her. Her work, I can take or leave.

  The painting is growing on me, though. I can attest to that. I’ve had four days to stare at it without interruption. I can even admit the bold colors add life to the stark white décor. When the sun hits it at just the right angle through the floor-to-ceiling windows, it’s iridescent, not to mention the way it brings Lily to the forefront of my mind—not that she ever left it.

  I drop my feet to the floor, snatching my cell and keys from the desk. There’s one stop I need to make before my timely arrival at the café.

  “Mr. Harlow, your car is out front waiting,” my assistant indicates as I pass her by.

  “Thank you, Cynthia. I’ll be back in two and a half hours, in time for my two thirty meeting.”

  Curiosity flashes behind her dark glasses. “Where did you say you’d be?”

  “I didn’t.” I keep my expression even, trying to hide my unexpected excitement. “Get in touch for any urgent matters. I’ll see you later.”

  As I ride the elevator down to the lobby, it occurs to me that I’m making a rather large assumption. But I pride myself on reading people well. I haven’t gotten this far in my career without that keen ability. She may have walked away from me, but it wasn’t due to lack of interest. Perhaps it was because I insulted her. Even so, there was something else holding her back.

  And I intend to find out what it is.

  She’s early.

  Fifteen minutes to be exact, and I like that. It tells me a lot about her, tells me she takes her work seriously. She’s a professional, she cares, and when she shifts in the chair as I watch her through the café window, she reminds me of something else.

  She’s even sexier than I remember.

  I stare covertly, hoping my tongue isn’t hanging out of my mouth. Her attire is conservative today: a white blouse and black pencil skirt she wears so damn well. Then there are those lips, covered in a deep red. I can’t help but take it as a sign. Perhaps she’s desperate for adventure, clamoring to take more risks, wanting to live on the edge.

  I’m just the man for the job.

  First, though, I need to stop drooling over the tight-fitting blouse barely containing her breasts. Three buttons are open, revealing that dip. What would it be like to feast on her nipples? To use my tongue to drive her wild, swirling and sucking until she’s a writhing mess beneath me? I take a hard swallow as my eyes drift down to that skirt, and—thank fuck—legs that were completely hidden from me the other night are revealed. Long. Tanned. Firm. My cock hardens in my dress pants, the thought of spreading her open making my erection strain against the rough material. What kind of panties is she wearing? Are they black lace? Pink? Red? The visual of peeling them down all that smooth skin… I need to stop. If I’m not careful, I’m going to come in my pants like a prepubescent boy. Then, holy hell, she crosses and uncrosses them, once, twice, three times, and it becomes increasingly clear: Miss Conrad is restless, needy, and I can give her everything she needs and more.

  Calm down, Jace. You don’t want this to end before it even begins.

  I straighten, trying to regain some of my composure. It’s not an easy feat, I can assure you of that. Somehow, even with the stiff rod in my pants, I manage to walk into the café with casual ease, zeroing in on the object of my attraction. It’s impossible not to notice her. Lily would stand out in a sea of people.

  She has her head in a menu as I approach, giving me another minute to study her. Her hair is down today, long, silky waves spilling over her shoulders and reaching past the tops of her breasts. She is the picture of perfection, right down to her strappy heels—red, to match her lips, of course.

  All that red makes me want to growl. I want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out the back entrance, palming her sweet ass as I do. Be patient, Jace. Good things come to those who wait. Lucky for me, patience happens to be one of my strong suits.

  When I’m standing beside her chair, I set the lilies on the table and she looks up. “Miss Conrad, it’s lovely to see you again.”

  The corners of her glossy lips dance and she shakes her head. “I should’ve known.”

  I bend, immediately catching wind of her floral scent. It makes me want to close my eyes and inhale her like an ocean breeze. Instead, I tilt my head and stare intently into her eyes. “Should’ve known I’d track you down, that I was desperate to see you again?” I whisper, and she lets out a gasp of surprise. “Yes, you should’ve known.”

  As I take the seat across from her, she picks up the flowers with a peculiar expression, and if I expected her to be pleased, I’m sorely disappointed. She brings them to her nose with a tight smile. “These are beautiful, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I edge forward, wanting to erase the distance between us. “It was the least I could do after I insulted your work.” With my hands steepled on the table, I let my eyes roam in open appreciation. “You look…breathtaking.”

  A streak of pink paints her cheeks. Her eyes dart away but quickly come back. “Thank you.” She sits up taller in the chair. “Why did you buy my painting?” she asks, tone clipped, as if it’s time to get down to business. “You despised it.”

  My mouth hitches. “Maybe I protested too much.”

  “Hmph.” Her eyes narrow. “I seem to recall something about…finger painting.”

  Now my cheeks flame. “That might’ve been too hasty. I liked it enough to hang it on the wall in my office.”

  “Did you?” she asks, amusement clear in her voice.

  “Yes, and I have to say, it really brightens the place up, gives it life.” Another hmph leaves her sumptuous mouth. I suppose it is a bit hard to believe considering my harsh comments. “I really am sorry for my unkind words.”

  She taps one manicured fingernail on the table. “Are you genuinely sorry? Or are you only sorry because you know it was me who painted it?”

  I rub a hand across my stubbled jaw, contemplating. “I’d like to opt for the truth here, so I’ll admit that it was mostly you who caused my remorse. However, I shouldn’t have been so quick to criticize, especially given the fact that my creativity only extends to the occasional stick figure.”

  That garners a genuine smile. She seems to appreciate my honesty. “Apology accepted.”

  I lean back in the chair, a relieved breath whooshing from my chest. “So…”

  She mimics my position, giving me the perfect view of her sculptured upper body. “So…”

  “You’re an artist.”

  She smirks. “It would appear that way.”

  “Is that your sole focus, or is there something else?”

  “Right, because I couldn’t possibly make very much money on my finger painting.” She raises a brow and adds a twist to
her lips.

  God, she’s feisty.

  “I don’t know—I almost depleted my bank account purchasing it.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and surveys me. Something shifts in her eyes, maybe resignation? I’m not quite sure. “I work at a mergers and acquisitions firm by day, artist by night.”

  My ears perk up. “Which one?”

  “Jackson Holdings.”

  Motherfucker.

  Red and green blur my vision. Alec Jackson is my enemy, Jackson Holdings is a strong competitor of mine. Now I’m one jealous bastard. She works for him? How the hell did he get so lucky?

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, which tells me my emotions must be etched on my face. It’s hard to contain when it comes to Jackson.

  “He’s my rival in the business world. The company I own is in direct competition with his.” My jaw tics with the admission. What I want to say is he’s one dishonest motherfucker, but that’s her employer we’re talking about so I keep my mouth shut.

  “What is your role there?” I inquire, hoping like hell they don’t work closely together.

  “I’m his secretary. One of two, actually.”

  Of course he has two, the greedy bastard.

  Plus, who even uses a word like that anymore? Which leads to an even bigger question: why didn’t I know this? I deal in information and make it my business to know everything.

  I fire off another question, trying to keep my annoyance at bay. “How long have you been working for him?”

  “A little over a year,” she answers, staring at me as if trying to read my thoughts. She wouldn’t like what she finds—that her duration of employment is six months longer than his last three assistants—but again, I zip it. Besides, she seems to be the type of person who could hold her own with Alec.

  My anger is doused by the sudden visual of bending her over my desk in that fitted white blouse, a tight skirt, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. A sexy fantasy I’d like to make a reality.

  I clear my throat. “You don’t wear glasses by any chance, do you?”

  Her nose wrinkles. “Glasses? No.”

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “Come work for me.” I blurt out the words, shocking even myself. “I’ll pay you triple what he’s paying you.”

  Green eyes grow wide. “What?” She recoils, jerking back in the chair. First I insult her, and now it appears I’ve offended her. Nice work, Jace. “What’s this really about? Are you offering me a job or are you propositioning me?”

  “Whoa. Just wait a minute.” I backtrack, needing to ensure my position is clear. “I wasn’t offering you money to sleep with me, if that’s what you’re implying. I was simply offering you a role at my company, as I’m sure you’re exceptional at your job.”

  “How can you know that? You don’t even know me.”

  “I know enough. I know what it takes to do that job, and I know you’re a professional.”

  “What it takes?” She lets out a huff tinged with bitterness. “You mean organizing meetings and coordinating schedules, along with the three million other things I do on a daily basis?”

  “Yes,” I affirm. “I know that being an executive assistant is demanding, hard work, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that you are the person who keeps the ship from sinking.”

  Confusion mars her pretty forehead, but then her expression opens like a flower in bloom and I’m rewarded with a grateful smile. My chest inflates. “Thank you for acknowledging me,” she says, hopefully realizing I’m a decent guy—certainly not one who would ever offer to pay her for sex. “My parents have criticized my choice of work for years because they don’t see the value in it.” A light wave of her hand. “Then you show up, a near stranger, and with a few words, I feel reborn.”

  “I tend to have that effect on people,” I say dryly. Finally she laughs, and it’s light and beautiful, yet her gaze is a weighted rock at the bottom of the ocean. Does she like what she sees? If I’m judging by her stare alone, I’m guessing the answer is yes. “And besides, I’m no longer a stranger.” I extend my hand and she reaches out to shake it. “Jace Harlow. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Lily Conrad.” Then she nods toward the flowers. “But you already knew that.” She pulls the softness of her hand away and I want it back. “Now tell me why I’m really here.”

  “The truth?”

  Arms folded in front of her, she says, “Why not? What have you got to lose?”

  There’s that challenge again, and I won’t back down.

  I expel a breath and go for broke. What’s the worst thing that can happen? She’ll turn me down and I’ll walk out with my tail between my legs—but she won’t, because she wants me just as much as I want her. I’d bet my entire bank account on it.

  Every part of me inches toward her as I speak. “I’d like to take you out, wine and dine you. Find out what your favorite food is, your favorite color. What brings a smile to your face, what your worries are, what makes you laugh. And at the end of the night, when I bring you home…” I lower my voice to a hush. “I’d like to ravage your mouth until it’s kiss-swollen and part your legs so I can taste how sweet you are.” A tiny whimper escapes her lips and I reach under the table to adjust myself. How can I wait that long when I want her right now? My leg bumps up against hers under the table and a zing travels straight to my cock. “I want to know if your panties are cotton or lace, if—”

  “Lace,” she confesses. Then in a softer, more sexy tone, “Red.”

  To match her full, glossy lips.

  I can barely contain my groan, let alone my next thought. “Would you let me?” I whisper, wetting dry lips with my tongue, clamoring for just a taste to hold me over.

  Her breath stutters out with her answer. “I would.”

  Hearing that confirmation from those sweet lips has me wanting to kick my chair back and steal her away, find a quiet place where I can dive into her mouth and claim her. “Would you be upset if we skip dinner and I toss you over my shoulder right now like a caveman then march you over to The Plaza?” Another laugh overtakes her, glorious and carefree, and for one unusual moment, I feel it right down to my bones, that same carefree feeling.

  God, I want her.

  And now that I’ve confirmed she wants me too, a few hours won’t be enough for all the things I plan to do to her. I leave on Sunday and will be gone for a week. The thought pushes another groan from my chest.

  She curls a lock of hair behind her ear and I want to sink my teeth into her lobe, suck on the sensitive skin there. “I need to go.” Before I can argue, she’s out of her chair, lifting the bouquet from the table.

  “What? I thought—”

  “I only have an hour and a half for lunch today and I have a meeting with a potential buyer.” She smirks. “One who is an actual fan of my work.”

  Rawr.

  I stand quickly, trying to think on my feet. It’s usually a strength of mine, but this woman has me all turned around. “Can I have your cell so I can get in touch?”

  She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “That depends.”

  “On…”

  That surveying gaze passes over my face. “Whether you’re actually going to use it.”

  How could she think I wouldn’t call her? I bought her painting just so I could see her again. Someone must have done a number on her. Maybe that’s what I see behind her eyes.

  “I’ll call.” My tone is serious and, apparently, all the reassurance she needs. She nods once then recites her number and I save it in my phone. Afterward, I lead her out, placing a hand on the small of her back. We’re both quiet when we reach the sunshine, and I get the sense maybe she wishes she didn’t have to go. Maybe she feels the pull between us.

  We stop just outside the door and I hold her gaze. “When can I see you again?”

  “Tomorrow I have a gallery event and then I’m traveling to Seattle with Alec for a company off-site.”

  Bile rises in my
throat upon hearing his name. The thought of him anywhere near her makes my skin crawl.

  “And I’m leaving for Canada in a few days, so I guess…”

  My voice trails off and she glances at her watch. “I really have to go, Jace.” Her smile is sweet. “Thank you again for the beautiful flowers.”

  I can’t help but return the expression. “Thank you for meeting me.”

  She stares at my face for a beat, as if she has something else to say. Meanwhile, I’m doing everything in my power to catalog her features, not that I could forget her lips, those eyes, that smile.

  “So long, Jace.”

  “Goodbye, Lily.”

  I watch her walk away until she disappears around the corner. Internally, I’m giving myself a swift kick in the ass. That’s it? That’s how I let her leave, knowing I might not see her again for weeks? I curse under my breath and retrieve my cell from my pocket, quickly pulling up her number and typing out a text.

  I should’ve kissed you.

  What feels like minutes go by and when there’s no response, I drop my phone in my pocket with a sigh.

  “You still can.”

  At the sound of Lily’s voice, I whirl around on the sidewalk. Surprise doesn’t slow my stride as I take the four steps needed to reach her. My eyes search her face, landing on her soft gaze. “You came back,” I murmur, still stunned, cradling her face in my hands.

  A smile plays at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t like living with regret.”

  “I like that motto very much.” My thumb strokes along her bottom lip, so soft, so sweet. God, I can’t wait to taste her. “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Pizza.”

  “Favorite color?”

  “Green.”

  “What’s something you’re afraid of?”

  She pauses for a second, as if working through something in her mind. Then her nose wrinkles on a half-smile. “Spiders.”