Rocking The Billionaire (A Rich List Romantic Comedy Book 1)

by Talia Hunter

  Then his smile faded and his expression became serious. “The conference starts tomorrow and finishes on Sunday. By Monday, your car will be fixed and you’ll have a thousand dollars in your pocket. You’ll be able to move on.”

  Whoa.

  So that was what this was about. He was putting an expiry date on their time together. Even if he intended to seduce her, he was making it clear she wouldn’t be able to outstay her welcome, or kick up a fuss when he showed her the door.

  “You’re a businessman,” she said softly. “Making a business deal.”

  “Exactly. I think you understand what I’m offering. Once the conference is over, you’ll be free to go. With our transaction concluded, we’ll have no ties and no complications.”

  “At least you’re honest,” she muttered. And as screwy as it sounded, maybe his honesty was better than her ex-boyfriend’s lies. But how had the sweet, funny guitarist she remembered turned into someone who’d offer a thousand dollars to make sure a woman left when her time with him was up?

  “So, what’s your answer?”

  “Play something with me.” She motioned to one of the guitars. Of course it was an amazing deal, and she needed the money. But she wanted another glimpse of the boy she used to know. To see if he really was still in there, beneath that hard-edged exterior.

  He didn’t bother to reply, but stayed where he was, leaning against the mixing desk with his arms folded. His square jaw was dark with a five-o’clock shadow, and she couldn’t help but imagine how it might feel against her hand. And how its roughness might contrast with the softness of his lips.

  “What if I make it a condition?” she asked. “You play, or I won’t do it?”

  “This isn’t a negotiation. I have other women I could take.” But he stripped off his suit jacket and dropped it onto the mixing desk. Watching him, she couldn’t help but lick her lips. That body. His wide chest tapered to a slender waist, and the way his shirt clung to his muscles made her want to see more.

  “One song?” she asked. For some reason, she was walking to him, her feet moving of their own accord. And when his cologne seeped into her senses like a musky caress, she couldn’t help herself. She reached for his tie. “You can’t play guitar wearing this.”

  He put his hand on hers, and for a moment they were frozen like that. His touch was electrically charged, sending shivers of awareness over her skin. Her breath was suddenly too fast, her heart pounding. His eyes were dark and his lips close. He was going to kiss her.

  “I’m not playing,” he said, his voice low and as intense as his gaze.

  The double meaning in his words filtered into her brain. He was right. This wasn’t a game. She had a plan to follow, and this wasn’t part of it. She was supposed to be getting her life back on track, not complicating it further.

  Pulling her hand free, she stepped back. “Sorry. You don’t have to play.” Her face was warm. Looking down at the mixing desk, she let her long dreadlocks fall around it so he wouldn’t see her blush.

  “Do you agree to my terms?” he asked.

  He was still standing close enough to trigger full-arousal mode, so she took another step back and forced her brain back to the deal he’d offered. Three nights. One thousand dollars. And then he’d show her the door.

  Truth be told, his expiry date would make things simpler. Even if she slipped and let something happen between them, it wouldn’t have to affect her plan to get her life on track. Putting an end date on their reunion could be good for both of them.

  She reached up to finger the silver stud in her nose. “One problem. I’m not exactly going to fit in at your corporate parties.”

  “The first event is a costume party. I need to meet with some people to talk business, but I’m not planning to stay long. Come with me and see how it goes. No obligation. If you have a good time, accept my offer. If not, I’ll still pay for one night.”

  “A costume party? I suppose you’d expect me to go dressed up like Cinderella, or something just as boring?”

  He crossed to the phone extension by the couch and picked up the handset. It must have automatically connected, because after a moment, he spoke. “Freya, if Meghan decides to come with me to tomorrow night’s costume party, please help her with an outfit. Any costume she likes. No rules.”

  “No rules?” muttered Meghan. “What if I want to go as a giant carrot?”

  He didn’t glance at her, though he must have heard her question. “Correction, Freya, there’s one rule. No oversized vegetables.” He was silent for a moment, listening. Then said, “The theme for the party is Lords and Ladies? Good. That rules food costumes out completely.”

  Meghan rolled her eyes. So much for ‘no rules’. Going in period costume would mean lacing herself into a long dress with a bustle and corset, and how ridiculous would that look with her tattoos, dreadlocks, and piercings?

  “It’s up to Meghan whether she decides to also attend the other two conference events with me,” continued Jackson. “But if she does, please arrange for a stylist to come to the house and fit her with clothes, and whatever else she needs.”

  Meghan blinked. That sounded expensive. Wouldn’t a stylist want to dress her in designer outfits? Was Jackson really prepared to spend that kind of money just for a couple of business events?

  When he hung up, she asked, “Did you call a fairy godmother to wave her wand and magic me up a costume?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Maybe I’m getting my fairy tales muddled, but I feel like I’ve fallen through a rabbit hole into Never Never Land.” She went back to the guitar on its stand. “And now I have a strong urge to sing White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane.”

  “I’d like to hear another song, Alice, but I have work to do.” He looked at his watch. “You can either stay here and keep singing, or go and freshen up. We’ll have dinner at seven.”

  Five

  Meghan closed the bedroom door and leaned against it for a moment to catch her breath. “Oh my God,” she muttered. “This is too weird.”

  On the bright side, at least she had a bed for the night, and a bathroom to use. A bath was exactly what she needed. She could take her time, let her brain catch up with what had happened, and try to sort out how she felt.

  She poured half a bottle of scented oil into the massive tub, filled it with water, and eased into it with a sigh. The hot water felt wonderful, even if the song currently playing in her head was Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne.

  “Jackson Brent,” she muttered aloud, rolling his name around her mouth like chocolate. “Of all the people to crash into.”

  Thing was, she’d always liked Jackson. And there had been plenty of times she’d wished he wasn’t so uptight about the fact she’d briefly dated Peter, his older brother.

  Peter had been the school’s sports star and dazzlingly popular. For some reason, all the other kids at school had treated Jackson’s brother like someone special. So, the startling fact that he’d turned his attention on a weird, music-loving outcast like Meghan had blinded her to the fact that underneath his polished exterior, Peter happened to be a selfish jerk. They’d only dated for a few weeks before she figured out what he was really like and ended it.

  But even that short amount of time had changed things between her and Jackson, and from then on, he’d kept her at arm’s length. Probably because his entire family situation was screwed up. His mother had taken off when Jackson was young, and his father was scary when he was angry.

  His father was also fixated on Peter, and it was obvious he thought the sun shone from his oldest sun’s backside. Part of Peter’s popularity was because his father always bought him the latest, most expensive clothes and gadgets. Meanwhile, Jackson got by on hand-me-downs. At Peter’s football games and practices, their father would be cheering on the sidelines. But he never showed any interest in Jackson, or came to see their band play. And a couple of times, Jackson had shown up to practice with some nasty bruises that he’d refused t
o explain.

  No wonder Jackson hadn’t wanted to make a pass at his brother’s ex-girlfriend. But Meghan hadn’t known how messed up his family was before she’d dated Peter, had she? The situation had only become clear afterward, when it was too late.

  And now? Judging by the sparks flying between them, Jackson might have gotten over his mental barrier about her dating his brother’s ex.

  Only now there were other complications. Like the way he wanted to pay her to go out with him. Or the fact she’d been angry with Jackson for the last twelve years, since he didn’t turn up to the one gig that had really mattered.

  Okay, so he’d fought with his father that night, and that’s why he left town. But if he had turned up, their whole band might have signed with the agent, and her career might have been very different. Was she supposed to just accept that Jackson hadn’t even been able to call and let the band know he wasn’t coming?

  Hell, this was too confusing.

  Dripping wet, she got out of the bath for long enough to grab her phone out of her jeans pocket. There was only one person she could talk to who might understand a little of what she was feeling.

  But when she looked at her phone, she saw she’d missed a call. She blinked at the name on the screen. Trey Finnegan. What the hell did her slimeball ex-boyfriend want? Whatever it was, he could shove it.

  “Jerk,” she muttered. Then she dialed Geena’s number and breathed a sigh of relief when her school friend picked up.

  “Meghan, how are you?” asked Geena. Her friend had to shout over the noise of an Elvis song turned up to full volume.

  “You’re at the Gee Spot?” Meghan asked. Geena had startled her when she’d announced she was buying a sex store in King’s Cross, but on reflection, it was exactly the kind of thing Geena would do. She’d always liked being different from everyone else, which was why they’d bonded in the first place.

  “There are no customers, so I can talk. I’ll just turn the music down.” A moment later, Elvis was cut off mid-croon. “Okay, now I can hear you. How are you, Meg?”

  “I’m finally in Sydney. And get this. I’m at Jackson Brent’s house.”

  “Really? Jackson Brent? I haven’t seen him in forever.” Geena sounded breathless at the news, exactly like she used to when they were teenagers gossiping about the other kids at school. Meghan couldn’t help but smile. Coming back to Sydney was turning out to be like stepping back in time.

  “I ran into him this morning,” she said. “Now I’m having a bath in one of his palatial spare bathrooms. He has four, can you believe it?”

  “Actually, I can. I read an article about him just the other day. Who would have guessed someone we went to school with would do so well?”

  “You read an article about him?”

  “And I’ve seen him on TV. You don’t know about him?”

  “Know what?”

  “His company is huge. He makes electronic equipment. Not TVs or phones, but sound recording equipment and things for your computer. You know how useless I am with all that technical stuff, so I can’t give you the details. All I know is that he’s loaded. Seriously loaded. On the Rich List and swimming in money, like Scrooge McDuck.”

  Meghan stared up at the ceiling over the tub, her body suddenly heavy. On the Rich List? Then their lives really had gone in completely different directions. Talk about us and them. If he was that rich, he was definitely them. So much for the sparks that had flown between them.

  “You still there?” asked Geena.

  “Yes. Sorry. I should have guessed he was that rich when he showed me his recording studio.” She tried for a laugh, only it came out hollow. Crazy for her to feel so disappointed, but somehow she couldn’t help it. When she’d thought about kissing him, it had felt thrilling. Now it was like all her air had been let out.

  “Is his house luxurious?”

  “Yeah, and he’s offered me a weird deal. If I go to some conference events with him, he’s going to pay me.”

  Geena was silent a moment. When she spoke, Meghan could hear a frown in her voice. “He’s paying you to date him?”

  “Only for three nights. He says it’s just business, not personal.”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. There’s a costume party tomorrow night and he wants me to go along, then give him my answer.”

  “You’re going on a trial run first?”

  “Something like that.” She slid a little lower into the bath, wishing she’d thought to bring a drink in with her. The icy cold beer she’d been dreaming of earlier would have been perfect. “The reason I’m hesitating is because I came to Sydney to get my life together, and I’ve come up with a plan on how I’m going to do it. Doing this instead feels like thinking up an amazing song, then switching to new idea before I’ve had a chance to play more than a single note. You know what I mean?”

  “Oh yeah, I can relate. You’ve set your mind on something, and it’s frustrating when other things get in the way.”

  “Exactly.” Of course Geena knew what she was talking about. Hadn’t Meghan listened for hours while Geena raved about how she’d make her store different from all the rest? Geena had been determined women would feel comfortable walking into her store. Not a sleazy place, hidden from view, but a modern, fun sex toy shop.

  “Anyway, how’s The Gee Spot going?” she asked. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Things are kind of weird here too. The store’s having a few teething problems. Nothing I can’t sort out, but…” She hesitated. “I told you my sister Ally’s staying with me, right? She started a blog and she was trying to get a big story to make it work. Then one walked in the door, so to speak. And now…” Geena laughed. “Okay, get ready, because you’re not going to believe it.”

  “Believe what?”

  “You know how shy Ally is? Well, for an article she’s going to write, she’s pretending to be a dominatrix.”

  “She’s what?” Meghan sat upright, splashing water over the edge of the tub and onto the floor.

  “I know, right? To be honest, I kind of pushed her into it. She’s only doing it for a week, but I think it’ll be good for her. Help her get her confidence back.”

  Shaking her head with amazement, Meghan settled slowly back in the tub. “I can’t believe Ally’s willing to do that. You know I love your sister, she’s sweet and hilarious. But she’s the last person in the world I’d ever expect to become a dominatrix. Even for a week.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to imagine Geena’s sweet, slightly scatter-brained sister dressed up in leather and wielding a whip. Ally’s ex-boyfriend had been abusive, and destroying her confidence had been how he controlled her. Geena was right, acting this part would probably be good for her. Still, she couldn’t imagine how difficult Ally would find it.

  “Isn’t it quite a specialized profession?” she asked. “Shouldn’t Ally spend time learning all the tools of the trade before jumping in at the deep end of the kinky sex pool?”

  “I gave her a lesson on the basics.” Geena’s voice dropped, becoming conspiratorial. “Some customers just walked in. Listen, I’d tell you more, but I’ve promised to keep it on the down low. I probably shouldn’t even have said that much.”

  “Your life is officially crazier than mine. I thought I’d win with the whole being paid to date Jackson thing, but you’ve taken the grand prize for maximum weirdness.”

  Geena laughed. “What’s new? Anyway, hon, I’ve got to run. But call me tomorrow, okay? I want to know how your business-not-personal dating job goes.”

  “I’ll definitely call. I’ll need an update on how Ally’s doing.”

  Meghan finished her bath and put on clean clothes. The steam had loosened the adhesive bandage the doctor had stuck on her forehead so she took it off, but the wound was clean and had stopped bleeding.

  When she emerged from the bedroom, it was seven o’clock exactly and starting to get dark. She found Jackson in the living room w
ith a beer. A middle-aged woman emerged from the kitchen to ask what she’d like to drink, which made her wonder how many employees the man actually had. Jackson introduced her and said the woman was his chef, but Meghan was so flustered by the fact she was being waited on, she missed the woman’s name.

  On impulse, she asked for a glass of wine instead of a beer, then immediately regretted it. She’d been dreaming of beer all day, and it was silly not to ask for one because she felt intimated.

  “It looks better.” Jackson motioned to the cut on her forehead. He’d changed into dark jeans and a black open-necked shirt, which made him look more like the boy she remembered. That wasn’t a good thing. She didn’t want to be so attracted to him. And if he’d stop looking so gorgeous and wash off that should-be-illegal cologne, it would make things a whole lot easier.

  “I spoke to Geena,” she said. “Remember her?”

  “Of course. How is she?”

  “She bought an adult toy store in King’s Cross.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “A sex shop? How’s that going for her?”

  “Okay, I think. I’m going to visit first chance I get.”

  Jackson’s chef came back in the room with the glass of wine Meghan had asked for, and Meghan took a sip. Yum. It hadn’t been a bad choice after all. She may not have a sophisticated pallet, but she’d had enough cheap wine to recognize when she was drinking the expensive stuff. There’d definitely be good things about having as much money as Jackson did, and nice wine was one of them.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Starving. I can smell something delicious.” And for a change, it wasn’t his cologne. The smell wafting from the kitchen made her mouth water.

  “Would you like to be served right away?” asked his chef. Jackson nodded, and the woman disappeared again.

  “So weird,” Meghan said in a low tone. “Do you get waited on every night?”

  “When I’m home.” Instead of leading her into the dining room with its enormous table, he gestured for her to follow him out onto the balcony. A small table had been beautifully set with a flickering candle as its centerpiece. But it was the view that made her breath catch. The balcony was high above Sydney’s harbor, and it was that magical hour after sunset, when the water had turned a perfect shade of deep blue. Lights were starting to shine from all the buildings that surrounded the harbor, and the bridge looked both delicate and impressive with its span lit up.