Lazer Focused: A Jet City Billionaire Romance (The Billionaire Matchmaker Series Book 1)

by Gina Robinson

  They were even excited that I was bringing in a renowned dating and relationship expert matchmaker to set them up and coach them on how to catch the girl.

  I couldn't get Ashley out of my mind. If she were my matchmaker, what kind of a woman would she choose for me? The thought amused me. Would she find a woman with as much sexual chemistry as we had together? As much in common? Could she put that all aside to make me a match?

  It was an interesting question. And not one I was likely to find the answer to. I had no intention of testing it. The thought of working with her and being close to her got a rise out of me and made my heart race. I liked her competitive spirit and business sense. I had been serious when I'd said we could do good business together.

  Times Square was always hopping, night and day. My hotel was in the center of it. I could have gone out on the town. Found myself another girl for the night. I didn't have any trouble picking up women. Manhattan, according to Ashley, was one of the hookup capitals of the country. If a guy wanted sex and didn't care about getting a woman's hopes up…

  I was too high profile and the pickings here too easy. Strangely, I wasn't in the mood for easy game. I'd had enough mental stimulation sparring with Ashley. According to her, Manhattan was crawling with intelligent, witty women. Which should have been exciting and enticing. But if they were all looking for a husband…

  I wasn't that guy. It seemed cruel to take advantage and get their hopes up.

  I thought back to my meeting with Ashley, trying to guess what she'd decide. My money was on her coming on board with me. I'd seen the hunger for a new business venture shining in her eyes. The excitement of a new challenge.

  By the way, if she'd pushed a little harder, I would have gone higher with that marriage bonus. There were things I could teach her about business. If I got the chance.

  I sighed. I had work to do. There was always work to be done.

  Ashley

  I spent the night eating chocolate hazelnut ice cream and going through my database of clients and potential matches. It was madness, but I was seriously considering Lazer's offer. The power of lust. I was lusting after quite a few things he could offer, and they didn't all have to do with business.

  Lazer had called it right. I was itching for a new challenge. I wanted that West Coast branch so badly I could almost taste the sweet thought of it. I'd been dreaming of expanding for over a year now.

  As for logistics, I'd been subtly building toward branching out for months now. I had two very capable matchmakers working for me. I'd personally picked them for their innate talent and trained them myself. I had full confidence they could handle the Manhattan office while I went to Seattle to set things up. In addition, Lottie was training a second assistant who was proving to be very competent, efficient, and good with the clients.

  I could take Lottie with me and still feel the office was in good, capable, well-trained hands.

  I read and reread Lazer's terms—a fifty/fifty split in the Seattle matchmaking branch in exchange for startup capital. A small royalty from app sales in exchange for providing betas and promo. My usual fees to match his friends. A nice bonus, as we discussed in my office, if one of them married one of my matches. And a trial period in Seattle, all expenses paid, while we tried to establish an office.

  It seemed I couldn't go wrong. I wondered what was in it for Lazer. Besides a bunch of potential best-man gigs. And happy friends.

  I took another bite of ice cream and returned to scanning my list of clients and matches, looking for women who were good candidates to move to Seattle. I had to be analytical about this. I wouldn't jump into certain failure. If I didn't feel I could produce enough women, I wouldn't bite. Not everyone in my database was a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker. There were many transplants here who might be willing to uproot and head to Seattle.

  So many women came to the city thinking that there had to be more potential mates for them here than in the small towns they came from. Seattle was booming. Lots of career opportunities there if a woman was in the right fields. Okay, so they didn't have Wall Street or Broadway. But Seattle had banks and law firms. Hospitals and universities. Plays and musicals. Lots of tech companies. A major airframe manufacturer. The world's biggest online store and several competitors. And an amazing array of outdoor activities just minutes outside the city. A little something for everyone.

  It was also fast outpacing New York in terms of being the heart of the publishing industry. Which gave me a devious idea—if I took Lazer's offer, would Danika King put her money where her mouth was and come to Seattle with me? That would be interesting to watch.

  The idea of starting a new business was exciting. Of being in on the ground floor of something that could revolutionize the industry I loved. The only drawback was Lazer and my dizzying attraction to him. Under different circumstances, that would be an enticement. In this one I was in danger of the female equivalent of thinking with my dick. The way he made my pulse race…

  Was it wise to go into business with someone you'd slept with only hours after meeting? Could I keep my heart and my hands to myself? Was it ever wise to mix business with pleasure in quite that way?

  My late grandmother's advice came to mind. I could almost hear her saying it: "If you don't jump at new opportunities, you'll never know what you missed. Maybe you missed something bad. But maybe you missed the opportunity of a lifetime. You can always learn from bad. But you can't recapture a missed chance.

  "Grab for the brass ring, Ashley. Always lean way out for it so you don't miss it."

  All night long, all night long I mulled over the pros and cons, barely sleeping. In the morning, I knew my mind. I got up early, showered, and dressed with a purpose. I knew exactly what I was grabbing for.

  Lazer

  I shouldn't have been up so early. Six a.m. in Manhattan was three a.m. in Seattle. Nevertheless, I rolled out of bed, eager as a kid on Christmas morning, and strolled into the shower. The hot steam woke me up and gave me clarity. I placed a bet with myself that Ashley was going to take me up on my offer. I had to look good when she arrived.

  Why wouldn't she jump at the chance? A sweet deal like this only came along once in a lifetime. I was like Midas, offering her my unlimited gold and moneymaking touch.

  Yeah, I had the touch. My grandpa used to say that some people had the knack for making money while other equally intelligent, hardworking people would never get ahead. Grandpa was a character. But right about many things. My college buds had much more technical IQ than I could ever hope to have. When they talked shop, I didn't understand half of what they said. They knew their stuff. Their combined net worth? An infinitesimal fraction of mine.

  Making money was a talent like any other and a skill that must be practiced. Some people made music. Some made money. Grandpa always told me not to let my talent go to my head. You had to be a risk taker and overconfident to succeed as an entrepreneur. I'd been that way since birth.

  Sooner or later I'd trip up and bet on the wrong thing making it big and lose my shirt. Probably several times. He was willing to lay money on it. If I learned from my mistakes, he'd said, I'd be even better off in the end.

  That hadn't happened yet and wasn't likely to. These days I protected a large chunk of my capital. But I had enough to play and have fun with. Practice makes perfect. I was constantly practicing the game of making money. Grandpa had been the one that taught me not to think that talent didn't also need hard work to flourish.

  The fun I was having with the new app wasn't enough for me to invest heavily in it with both my time and dollars. I was betting this app and matchmaking business would be big enough to earn me a decent return on investment. It wasn't going to be as big as some of my other investments. But the risk was much less. The capital investment small compared to other ventures I'd started. And it intrigued me. But only if Ashley would play. She was my catnip in this experiment.

  I toweled off and began getting dressed. I zipped my pants and was buttoning my
shirt when there was a knock on the door of my suite. I ran my fingers through my hair and smiled to myself. Ashley? My heart raced with anticipation. "Coming!"

  I tucked my shirt in and opened the door in my stocking feet.

  Ashley stood in the doorway. A woman doesn't usually show up to turn down an offer. Rejection is much easier to do from a distance. The sense of victory alone would have made her look good to me. I was going to get my matchmaker. I cleared my face of a gloat and a damn happy smile that kept threatening to pop up.

  But more than that, she looked perfectly beautiful in a refreshingly stylish way that made my heart race. Very few women had the effect she had on me. She was not too beauty-queen perfect. Hair loose and flowing over her shoulders. Her makeup was fresh and natural. Her smile mysterious and playful.

  She wore a three-quarter-sleeve ballet-style wrap dress in a white and black gingham print with enough spandex to hug her body like a leotard.

  Her dress was so damn hot I would have dressed in a leotard myself if it meant I got to dance with her.

  The dress tied at the waist with a black belt and had a luscious, deep V-neck that showed just enough cleavage to be seductive. The skirt of the dress was the same material, but sheer, tantalizing the eye by making you think you'd get a glimpse of something.

  She wore a pair of black and white high-heeled sandals that wrapped around her ankles. A purse shaped like an enormous bumblebee was slung over her shoulder. It gave the outfit an air of whimsy. I had to love a woman with a sense of fantasy and fun.

  She carried a plain paper bag, a drink carrier with two steaming to-go cups, and the folder I'd given her yesterday.

  Her gaze travelled down my body. She smiled slowly, as if she approved of what she saw. The way she did it was positively tantalizing. And sexily flirty.

  "I was going to say I hope I didn't wake you," she said in sultry voice filled with amusement. "Clearly I didn't. No jetlag? Shouldn't it feel like the dead of night to you?"

  I laughed. "Cruel woman. Rule of the road—once I leave my home time zone, I forget what time it is back there. Come in." I stood aside to let her in. "What are you doing out and about so early? Didn't you have big plans last night?"

  Ashley

  A night away from him resisting temptation hadn't dampened the chemistry and attraction that crackled between us. Or the fun with verbally sparring. He didn't disappoint. My pulse felt like it beat just for him. Wildly, at that. If an ounce of sanity had prevailed, I would have backed out the door and run.

  Instead all I could think was, Touché! You bad boy. How gutsy of you to ungallantly bring that up in a way that made me feel I should be flattered he'd remembered.

  He wore a wry, flirty smirk, as if he was catching me out in a lie and enjoying it. He didn't know whom he was dealing with.

  The reason I was out so early was purely strategic and selfish. But wasn't business always selfish? I wanted to catch him off guard. I was hoping to wake him and negotiate for what I wanted before he had time to grab a cup of coffee and wake up fully. Didn't all Seattleites drink coffee by the gallon? I was counting on the element of surprise.

  "Oh! That. Just a client," I said mysteriously. "They keep me up and out at all hours. I'm used to it." I shrugged and held his gaze steadily, which was the key for selling lie and tiny fib alike. "One thing you'll learn about me is that I'm always available for my clients." I paused to let that sink in. "And their dating emergencies. I run on very little sleep.

  "But to be honest, your proposal kept me up last night. I couldn't stop thinking about it." Or him.

  "Did it? Good. That was my intention." He looked pleased with himself. And amused. He leaned into me and whispered in my ear, "You smell delicious."

  Damn I wanted to run my fingers through his damp hair. Worse, I wanted to get to know him better. See if there were any more deal breakers about him. As if a total lack of commitment wasn't deal breaker enough to send me running. "I smell like bacon."

  "That's what I said—delicious."

  "Don't tell me you're the kind of guy who flirts with delivery girls and waitresses?"

  "Only if they're wearing essence of bacon. Paris perfumeries should learn how to bottle it."

  Crap, I liked the way he bantered with me. Some men were so deathly dull. Even among my clients. It was so rare to find one who knew how to flirt so well and had a sense of humor that matched mine.

  I grinned at him and rattled the bag I'd brought. "I'm guessing you haven't had breakfast yet?"

  "You're a mind reader. I just got out of the shower."

  I saw that only too well. His hair was still damp and sexily finger-combed. He smelled like hotel soap and expensive aftershave. His skin had that soft, freshly scrubbed glow that made me want to run my fingers over him and simply delight in it.

  "I get that a lot. I'm good at anticipating needs."

  Where had this flirty Ashley come from? It was as if she'd sprung up from a long, dark sleep and now couldn't be restrained. At least not in his presence. With heart pounding and fingers dying to touch him. An inner voice was trying to get my attention. Just walk away, Ashley. He'll only break your heart.

  I ignored it.

  "I come bearing the best bagel breakfast sandwiches in the city and, better yet, fresh New York coffee. It's always best to negotiate on a full stomach. I find people are so much more agreeable after they've eaten."

  The coffee was decaf, but he didn't need to know that. You didn't think I was going to give away my advantage, did you?

  "Negotiate?" He arched an eyebrow and nodded toward the folder I carried.

  "You're too savvy a businessman to lead with your best and final offer. Which is why I'm warming you up with bacon." I winked at him.

  His grin was infectious as he took the coffee tray and bag from me. His hotel room was a suite with a sitting room, bar, and conference table, and separate bedroom. I ignored the rumpled bed as we walked past the open bedroom door to the table. But I couldn't keep my pulse from racing.

  He set the food on a round conference table near the windows and a spectacular view of the Empire State Building in one direction and Times Square in the other. "Negotiating on a full stomach makes your opposition more agreeable. Huh. That explains business dinners, is that your theory?"

  I smiled. "Business dinners are all about impressing the other party, bribery with food, and establishing social capital. Kind of like dating. In the end, rather than expecting sex as payment, the other party expects your business."

  "Interesting theory. What are you expecting to get from me?"

  "A fantastic deal."

  He took a seat next to me, close enough that I was too aware of him and we could each admire the view. Though I found the view of him more thrilling than that of the city. I had a moment of doubt. What was I doing? Was this good business or simply madness? I almost chickened out, not trusting my motives. Business hardly seemed part of what I was about to do.

  I handed him a cup of coffee, a bagel, and a napkin, and took one each for myself, watching as he unwrapped his sandwich and grinned adorably.

  "It's still hot," he said.

  "Would I bring you a cold sandwich?" I grinned back at him. "That's just bad business. Taste it. It's even better than it smells." I unwrapped mine, watching as he took a bite.

  His eyes rolled back. He sighed. "You're right. We don't have bagels like this in Seattle."

  "Watch what you say if you don't want to scare me away!" I laughed. "How will I live without my morning bagel?"

  We made small talk while we ate, saying nothing at all, really. But everything. It was a rare thing to be able to make small talk comfortably with someone you barely knew.

  When he was finished with his sandwich, he balled the wrapper and tossed it in the bag I'd brought it in. To be perfectly honest, I was having a hard time eating. I was simply too nervous about what I was about to do.

  I set my half-eaten bagel down, and spread the file I'd brought open before us w
ith considerable care.

  "Right down to business?" His eyes met mine.

  I admired his prowess. He managed to imbue a simple question with a promise of something much more tantalizing.

  "Didn't I tell you? This is a working breakfast." I reached for my purse on the table—my bumblebee always gave me confidence—and pulled a pen out. The very same pen I'd used to sign my first client. So, okay, maybe I was a bit superstitious. Or maybe I just liked things with happy memories and success attached to them and hoped they'd bring more good karma with them.

  I pulled a stack of my standard client contracts from the folder. I set them before him, twirled the pen in my fingers, and laid it before him with a flourish. "Before we discuss further details of your offer, I require a written contract with each of my clients."

  I tapped the set of documents. "It's pretty standard, laying out the number of matches I've agreed to for the price. In this case, unlimited matches for a period of one year, at which time the contract can be renewed. It lists the price we've agreed upon. It's spelled out there." I pointed to a line in the contract that was on top.

  "I have few other rules. But I need to be up-front about them. Number one, I'm not a madam or a pimp. Clients who sexually harass or force themselves on a match will be let go immediately. All fees forfeited. And the proper authorities notified.

  "To be perfectly clear, I'm the opposite of a madam. I'm not slaking lust. I'm finding true love for my clients. I strongly encourage all my clients to abstain from sexual relations until a minimum of five dates. Better yet, as long as possible and until they are exclusive with each other."

  He watched me carefully and took the pen from me. "Shouldn't be a problem for my guys. They're good guys."

  "Good," I said.

  "Anything else?"

  "No two-timing me." I'd been burned by this before.

  "What?"

  "Call me a jealous bitch. But what's mine is mine. My men. And my clients. No working with another matchmaker while you're working with me. You'd think that would be obvious, but I've had clients try it. Again, if I find out about it, you again forfeit all fees. I don't take kindly to being cheated on."