The Brazen Billionaire

by Elana Johnson

  “Twelve hours a day.”

  “And you clean for me.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but it burned in his forest-green eyes instead.

  Her retort got stuck in her throat. She tried to clear it away, but only succeeded in making herself sound like she was dying a slow death.

  Jasper nudged his coffee toward her, but she still had plenty of her own.

  She got her coughing to stop and took a deep breath. “I’ve, uh, had some unexpected expenses lately,” she said. He didn’t need to know more than that. Didn’t need to know she’d listened to the wrong person, implemented changes that had cost her a fortune to do and then more to reverse.

  She blinked and his fairer features turned dark for a moment. When he spoke, it was with a foreign accent—and not a funny British one.

  “…I’m sorry.” He looked genuinely sorry, and thankfully like Jasper again instead of her ex-fiancé Newton.

  “I’m recovering,” she said.

  “We all have to do that from time to time.”

  Surely he didn’t, but Sasha didn’t press the point. “So before I decide if I can come to the party, I think I should know a bit more about you,” she said. “Any crazy ex-girlfriends out there?”

  The next morning, Sasha didn’t see or hear from Jasper. She felt like the walking dead, and she had to re-sweep the front steps three times before she was sure she’d done it. Not only was her mind whirring over last night’s coffee outing—it wasn’t really a date—but she couldn’t seem to get her drink ideas out of her head either.

  At least those hadn’t abandoned her when Newton had, taking her entire staff with him. Of course, if he hadn’t been cheating with her full-time employee, Sasha might still have Amber’s help. Last she’d heard, Newt and Amber were somewhere in Europe, probably on one of those river cruises Sasha had talked to Newton about so often.

  Sasha was just starting to get her mojo back after almost a year of heartbreak. She liked to have a new, limited-time specialty drink each month. They brought repeat customers who wanted something new, and she usually made a bundle on them.

  She felt like her taste buds had abandoned her when Newton had, and she hadn’t done a new concoction in six months.

  So it was time, especially with Valentine’s Day just around the corner. After all, she paid for the texting options on her loyalty account, and all she had to do was log in and send one message to get hundreds of people coming to The Straw over the course of a few days.

  While she steam mopped the kitchen, she let her tongue direct her mind on which flavors to try for Valentine’s Day. Something red or pink, for sure. Strawberries were the obvious choice. They were sweet, the right color, and ninety-nine percent of the population liked them.

  But she had half a dozen drinks featuring strawberries. No, she wanted something more unique. More romantic. Something people couldn’t get at Two Coconuts.

  In fact, if she could figure out how to get more people over to the east bay, she wanted to do that. Maybe with her brain starting to function again after its hiatus, something would come.

  Because of her repeated chores and distracted thoughts, she didn’t have time to shower before heading to The Straw. She served customers, prepped fruit for the day, and kept everything clean. When Maddy showed up, Sasha let her take over the front of the stand while she slipped into the background to make the drinks.

  In between customers, she made sample drinks, hoping to find the one that would be her Valentine’s Day special.

  Mango was a big favorite on the island, and it paired well most berries and bananas. But it was too ordinary, and Sasha wanted something beyond that.

  She tapped her pencil against the paper in front of her where she’d crossed out several ideas and fruit combinations already.

  It was Valentine’s Day. She needed sweet, romantic, pink…. “Passion fruit,” she said, the words a little louder than she intended. But it was perfect, and right there in the name was everything she needed.

  She scrawled the word in her notebook and followed it up with some possible drink names. Passion fruit Power. The Power of Passion. The Passionate Pear.

  She liked the word play of the last one, but she wasn’t sure pears and passion fruit would be the best pairing. The name would come, and what she needed to do now was find the right combination of flavors to go with it. She didn’t currently have any passion fruit in the stand either, so she started making an ingredient list.

  Ginger—she knew that went well with passion fruit. It would also bring a spiciness to the drink that would need a powerful sweet to overcome it.

  “Peach,” she muttered, jotting down one of her favorite fruits. Frozen peaches brought great body to frozen drinks too, and peach was sometimes a term of endearment.

  Be a Peach. She added the name to her list, her mind whirring now. Coconut would make the drink tropical, and she eyed the bottle of syrup on her counter. It would take a delicate hand to make sure the exact right amount of the extract got added to the drink, otherwise it could be a flavor disaster.

  Maddy called an order back, and Sasha left her notebook open on the counter as she got the desired drink blending. Business picked up then, and it didn’t take long for Sasha to notice that a lot of the people getting drinks were wearing business attire.

  “Where are you guys from?” she asked.

  “The optometrist conference,” one man said. “The line at the other drink stand was simply too long, and we were directed down here.”

  Sasha marveled at the number of men and women still streaming down the walkway under the palm trees. How long was the line at Two Coconuts? And would they bypass The Straw if she couldn’t get drinks out fast enough?

  “Send ‘em all back,” she said to Maddy, taking three new tickets. Sasha had six blenders, and no one knew her fruit combinations better than her. She worked at a feverish pace, determined to show these customers that the walk had been worth it.

  Forty minutes later, the line had died and the beach in the east bay was dotted with people soaking in the Hawaii sun. Sasha watched them for a moment, feeling sticky from head to toe. She had approximately ten minutes to wash up and replenish her stock before the high schoolers would get out—creating another mini-rush that usually lasted about twenty minutes.

  Amidst all of them, a sandy-haired man joined the line. Sasha’s heart tumbled around in her chest like clothes in a dryer, but after another second of staring, she realized it wasn’t Jasper.

  It wasn’t Newton either, though he’d stopped by her drink stand all the time while they were dating. He doesn’t even live here anymore, she told herself as she turned away to make the next drink order.

  But this man definitely wasn’t there just to get The Guava Great.

  “He wants to talk to you,” Maddy said, stepping to the back of the stand and taking over the Purple People-Eater Sasha was about to cup up.

  Sasha didn’t turn around and didn’t relinquish her hold on the blender either. “Who is he?”

  “He didn’t say. Looks a little shifty.”

  Sasha finished the drink, her empty stomach cramping as she turned to deliver it to the customer while Maddy started on the next ticket.

  “How can I help you?” she asked, staring right into the man’s dark eyes. Something predatory lived there, but she refused to look away.

  “I’m Walter Cromwell,” he said, his voice greasy. “You opened a Lettuce account several months ago.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t use any of that money.” Another of Newton’s great ideas—more credit than the bank down the street would give her. Apparently, anyone could get money online, and she’d filled out the application and been approved before Newton had pressed someone else against the door of the drink stand and kissed them—oh and then he’d skipped town.

  Walter gave her what was probably supposed to be a sympathetic look. “Well, I’m afraid that’s not true.” He brandished a fistful of papers and laid them on the counter. �
��There’s over a thousand dollars here that needs to be repaid, and we haven’t received a payment from you yet.”

  Sasha’s throat closed. “A thousand dollars?” She shook her head. “I didn’t use any of that money.” The papers felt like lead weights in her hands as she scanned the statement. “These aren’t my charges.”

  “Well, they were made on your account, so….” That slimy, not-sympathetic smile again.

  “I need to dispute them then,” she said, her anger rising. She glanced at the several customers still in line and motioned for him to step around the side of the shack. He did, and she pushed through the back door with a look from Maddy that said Hurry up!

  If only Maddy knew how much Sasha wanted to do exactly that.

  She handed the papers back and said, “Look, those are airplane tickets to Spain. I didn’t go to Spain in March last year.” But she knew who did. “You can see my passport if you want. I haven’t left Hawaii in years.” The words almost choked her, but she drew herself up to her full height.

  “It might be my account, but I didn’t make those charges. I want to dispute them.”

  “Well, we don’t really—”

  “I’ll give you the name and number of who did make them, and you can go after him for your money.” She really didn’t want to hear this guy start another sentence with “Well….”

  And she wasn’t paying for Newton’s and Amber’s little tryst to Espania.

  Oh, no, she was not.

  Chapter Six

  Jasper didn’t see Sasha on Wednesday or Thursday, and that was simply not okay with him. So while he was bone weary from a long week of cleaning up a mess he’d thought was irreversible, he set an alarm for ten o’clock on Friday morning. He was done working until Sunday night, so he could catch a nap later.

  He deliberately didn’t leave her money on the table with the list of chores either. When she’d admitted she worked twelve hours a day at The Straw and had some unexpected expenses, he knew she wouldn’t leave that day without getting paid.

  He tucked the five crisp hundred-dollar bills in an envelope and sealed it. She’d definitely come looking for this, even if he didn’t catch her before she got in the shower. Satisfied with his plan, he got in bed and motioned for Frankie to join him. The forty-pound goldendoodle jumped up, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he circled and then practically laid right on top of Jasper.

  “Move over, bud,” he told the dog, but Frankie just swung his head back as if to say, What? This isn’t okay with you?

  Jasper chuckled and gave the dog an affectionate pat. So maybe he didn’t have a lot of parties or very many friends over to his place. But Frankie didn’t seem to mind.

  Turned out he didn’t need his alarm, because he couldn’t sleep. His thoughts kept rotating and tormenting him with thoughts of Sasha and if she’d arrived yet. What she’d be wearing that day. If she’d quit once she didn’t need his money anymore.

  Of course she will, he told himself. No one would voluntarily work seventeen hours a day if they didn’t need to.

  Jasper simply felt alive in a way he never had before, and that made sleeping difficult. When Sasha had asked him about his crazy ex-girlfriends, he’d had nothing to say. His relationships were always made of vanilla. If the fuse was there, it was short and fizzled out quickly.

  As he lay in bed, he acknowledged the fact that he was lonely. So very lonely, especially after having Brighton and her kids with him for the holidays. The house had quieted considerably since their departure and he didn’t like it.

  Giving up on sleep entirely, he rolled over and picked up his phone. It would be late in Paris, but Brighton would answer his call, day or night.

  Sure enough, she said, “Hey, brother of mine,” almost as soon as the line started ringing. “Miss us already?”

  More than she knew. Jasper chuckled instead, and said, “I got a maid to do that deep clean.” He laid back against his pillow, his eyes tracing the lines in the ceiling above him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He exhaled. “I gotta say, though. I don’t think that’s what my house needs.”

  “Your house needs a deep cleaning,” she assured him. “It also needs….”

  “You can say it.” He was already thinking it.

  “You need someone, Jasper. How do you stand living there all alone?”

  The despair welled behind his lungs at her words. Why did she have to be so dang good at saying the truth? He reached over and patted his chocolate-colored dog. “I have Frankie.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “I’m…working on that,” he said.

  “Oh?” Brighton sounded truly surprised. “You’re dating someone?”

  “Kind of,” he hedged. “We went out for coffee once, and I invited her to a party, but she didn’t ever say if she’d come or not.” And he still hadn’t invited anyone else. If Sasha said she’d come, he wanted it to just be the two of them, cuddled up together on the luxury leather couches in his basement. He wondered if she liked action films or more of the romantic comedy variety. He added it to his mental list of conversation topics.

  Brighton laughed. “Coffee doesn’t sound like a date. And you failed to get another one.”

  “She had a blueberry muffin too,” he said. “And I have her number.” He wasn’t going to admit to his sister that he had Sasha’s number because she cleaned for him. Because he’d hired her over the phone, sight unseen. His heart jumped over a beat and then came back to it when he thought of her in one of the rooms below him, scrubbing or polishing.

  “You got her number. Good man.” Brighton wore a smile in her voice. “So did you just call to brag about your new semi-girlfriend?”

  “No,” he said quickly, though he didn’t really have another reason. Maybe because Brighton was his closest human contact at the moment. “Just seeing if you’re adjusting to real life after such a fantastic holiday.”

  She trilled out another laugh, which caused Jasper to smile. “We’re doing great. The girls want to come to the warm beach again though.”

  “Anytime,” he said.

  “I heard you were coming to Europe?”

  Jasper sat up, his grin gone. “Who said that?”

  “Danni.”

  The middle sister.

  “I don’t know why she’d think that,” Jasper said, his tone guarded now. He’d cleaned up the issue with the Swiss taxes. There was no reason for his father to get involved. But if Danni was saying Jasper was coming to Europe, then his father knew of the issues Jasper had spent hours on the phone dealing with.

  “She just mentioned it this morning.”

  “Well, I wish.” He blew out his breath. “All right, I was just calling to chat, but it’s late there. I’ll let you go.”

  “You sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “All right,” Brighton said, clearly not believing him. “Hey, be nice to this woman. It sounds like you like her.”

  Jasper was about to say goodbye and hang up, but he stalled. “What does that mean? How can you tell I like her?”

  “Jasper, you didn’t even tell me about Lara until you’d been dating for six months.”

  “So?”

  “So, you just called about a woman you’ve had coffee and a blueberry muffin with. Once.”

  He still didn’t see her point, but it didn’t matter. The clock was ticking closer and closer to ten, and he couldn’t go another day without seeing Sasha.

  “So be nice,” Brighton said again. “Be charming. Be fun. Be all those things you are but don’t show anyone.”

  “I show people.”

  “Did you wear a suit to the coffee house?”

  Jasper grunted and sighed. “I had a meeting right before our date.”

  “Riiight,” Bright said, drawing the word out. “A meeting, when all your business is conducted overseas, over phone lines, Internet cables, and in the middle of the night.”

  “I have friends he
re,” he said.

  “That you wear a suit to meet with?”

  “Yes,” he said simply. Fisher had never set a dress code for the Nine-0 meetings, and Tyler certainly wore whatever he wanted, but Jasper had always worn his suits. He didn’t get much opportunity to do so otherwise.

  Working from home wasn’t as glamorous as people thought it was.

  “Okay,” Brighton said.

  “I need to go.” Jasper swung his legs over the side of the bed, which caused Frankie to perk up. Sometimes he felt bad for the dog, like maybe he should give him to Tyler, who took his golden retriever to the beach every day. Frankie would love to romp through the sand and chase a Frisbee, but Jasper only took him every once in a while. And in the winter, it was usually dark, his favorite time of day to overlook the bay.

  “All right. Be nice!” Brighton hung up and Jasper shook his head at his sister. What made her think he wouldn’t be nice? Did she think he hadn’t been nice enough to Lara and that was why things hadn’t worked out between them?

  He’d been nothing but nice to Lexie—and that was all. There had to be an element of wanting to be naughty with a woman to keep Jasper interested, and there was simply nothing naughty about a mutual fund heiress—at least not for him.

  Now a broke drink stand owner in a tropical location…that was interesting, and Sasha definitely had his pulse pounding before he even left the bedroom.

  He’d given her tasks on the patio today, as well as the pool house, so he loitered near the back French doors, wondering if she’d come in yet. When his alarm went off, he startled and silenced it, glancing around like he’d done something wrong in his own house.

  Don’t be a stalker, don’t be a stalker, he coached himself. But he still moved away from the doors and toward the bathroom where she’d been showering. It was empty. So she hadn’t come in yet. His investigative skills would surely impress the likes of Sherlock. He rolled his eyes and turned back toward the French doors.

  “Hey.” Sasha had just come in, and he startled again. She laughed and dusted her hands off. “Sorry to sneak up on you.”