TheBillionairesPilot

by Suzanne Graham

  “At forty dollars an hour,” he continued, “that’ll be two thousand dollars, plus whatever clothes you’ll require.”

  Damn. Even if he was an ass, he was offering her two thousand dollars for a weekend on a Caribbean island. Her shaky financial ground was starting to feel a little more solid.

  He must have mistaken the shock on her face for disappointment because he added, “Of course, with after-hours’ overtime factored in, I’d make that twenty-five hundred.”

  To escort him to a tropical island and not have sex with him, he was willing to pay her twenty-five hundred dollars? That would give her enough to keep Jeff’s minivan from being repossessed and maybe appease her landlord for a while until she could come up with the rest of her overdue rent.

  She studied the man across the table. Would he go higher with his offer? A little more and she might be able to put a stop to the harassing phone calls from the credit card company.

  She did some quick mental math—which he apparently hadn’t thought she was capable of—before making her counteroffer. “Technically, since I will be working all weekend, all my time should be reimbursed at the overtime rate, which is usually time and a half for wage workers. In addition, the fifty hours only covers Saturday and Sunday. What about Friday night’s hours? Plus, you’ve got my time at this dinner tonight.”

  She made a show of checking her watch, then looked up to meet his dark stare. She nearly faltered at the intensity in his gaze, but the threat of homelessness kept her pushing on. “So, let’s add another ten hours, which would give us sixty hours at sixty dollars an hour for thirty-six hundred.”

  The candlelight flickered in his eyes, giving him an unreadable expression. Had she pushed him too far? How badly did he need her to go with him? She held her breath, waiting for his answer. She knew in negotiations that keeping silent could lead to big payoffs.

  He inhaled deeply and his chest swelled under his navy dress shirt, drawing her attention to his breadth and firing up her girl parts. Oh, why couldn’t she have a preference for thin, scrawny men?

  Slowly, he let the air out. And still she kept her mouth closed, anticipating his response.

  “So,” he finally spoke, “if I rounded up to a nice even four grand, you would accompany me on this weekend trip?”

  Her stomach somersaulted. Swallowing hard, she tried not to toss the sparkling water she’d sipped earlier. “Yes. For four thousand dollars, I will be your date without sex this weekend.”

  “You’re asking for twice the amount of my original offer?”

  “Yes, I am.” She clenched her hands together in her lap to still any twitches, refusing to reveal her tell.

  He studied her, as if to appraise her worth.

  She pasted a Mona Lisa smile on her face and hoped her years of playing poker with her dad’s Navy buddies would pay off.

  “Fine,” he conceded. “An even four grand.”

  She let out a mental whoop while keeping a benign smile on her face. “Then you have a deal, Mr. Mitchell. Shall we shake on it?” She leaned forward and held her hand out over the table toward him.

  “Yes, but you must call me Evan, as we are supposed to be a couple.” His fingers caressed her palm as he released her handshake.

  Unwanted shivers scattered her senses for a moment. “Yes. Evan,” she managed to say, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.

  It was at that moment she knew she was playing with explosive ordnances here, and her only experience in the past had ended with her getting badly burnt. She would need to work extra hard to keep herself at a safe distance from Evan’s potent sensuality.

  The corners of his lips rose in a self-congratulatory smile. “It’s going to be a pleasure doing business with you.”

  Cassie fought the urge to flee as he placed the first land mine.

  Chapter Three

  The following afternoon, dressed comfortably in khakis and a black linen shirt for San Miguel, Evan settled next to Cassie in a leather seat on the company jet.

  “Do you need anything before we take off?” he asked her.

  “You mean like a preflight cocktail?” She looked up after buckling her belt.

  “It’s only two o’clock. Do you always drink this early in the day?”

  She grinned. “No, I was just teasing. I’m fine. Thanks.” She wriggled in her seat as if to find the most comfortable spot then looked out the window.

  He studied her profile while pretending to watch the busyness of the Boston airport over her shoulder. Their dinner the previous night had been unexpectedly entertaining. Not only had she cleaned up nicely in a sexy dress, she’d turned out be a gutsy negotiator, even though he’d easily been able to read her face and body language, a skill he’d honed through his years as a Dom.

  He’d gotten a kick out of her bargaining strategy and had willingly given in to her demand for more money. He would have paid her twice what she’d asked if he’d needed to. Hell, he’d spent at least that much on jewelry for his last girlfriend’s Christmas present.

  Although he’d enjoyed the interplay with Cassie, he hadn’t wanted to push her too far. It was too important to have her with him this weekend. For the health of Mitchell Industries, he needed this deal to go through with Xavier and having a woman at his side was Xavier’s requirement.

  After his negotiations with Cassie, they’d enjoyed a delicious dinner and lively conversation. She’d entertained him with amusing stories of growing up a Navy brat, but he couldn’t help noticing the hint of sadness in her tone the few times she’d mentioned growing up without a mother’s influence. There’d also been an underlying tension in her words when she mentioned her father, and for some reason, he’d wanted to push her into telling him why.

  Evan had delayed their departure for San Miguel until this afternoon, so Cassie could do some emergency shopping for the weekend. He scanned her from head to toe. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d gone for a complete makeover, and the results were impressive. She looked every inch the part of his socialite girlfriend.

  Her hair was cut shorter in a way that stylishly curled around her shoulders. Her fingernails were polished, as were the toenails peeking out of her strappy heels, and they matched the bright pink sundress she wore under her white cardigan.

  When they reached San Miguel, she wasn’t going to need that sweater anymore, and he was anticipating the opportunity to brush his fingers along the soft skin of her bared shoulders as he helped to slide it off her.

  He’d been taken aback by his enflamed reaction when she’d opened her hotel room door last night. She’d changed so completely from the androgynous helicopter pilot into a sexy woman, he almost hadn’t believed it was the same person.

  Her brown hair had fanned around her heart-shaped face and hung just below her shoulders. Her skin had looked soft and smooth, but it was her eyes that had really caught his attention. The startling blue sparked with life and a touch of heat that his body responded to with an answering burn.

  It wasn’t just the way she looked because he was used to being around sexy, sophisticated women. There was something else about Cassie that got his blood running hotter. Maybe it was the spicy floral scent with the Asian undertone swirling around her that put his senses on full alert, but his instincts whispered it was something deeper.

  Whatever it was, he was glad to have three days to immerse himself in it. He was looking forward to this weekend reprieve from the long hours he’d been putting in at the office, though he was expecting a tough negotiation with Xavier tomorrow.

  Once they were airborne, Dan appeared at Evan’s elbow and handed him a stack of printouts. “I think you should look through these before your meeting with Xavier.”

  “What are they?” Evan asked, while next to him, Cassie pulled a paperback novel out of the handbag resting at her feet. He caught a glimpse of a dark cover with red letters. It looked like a murder mystery, the kind of book he used to enjoy when he had time to read something other than busin
ess reports.

  “I told you Linders was going after Xavier too,” Dan said, “but there’s no way he can match what we can offer. These are his financials.”

  Evan stared at the older man, debating whether or not he wanted to know how Dan had got his hands on this information. He decided some things were best left unspoken. “Thanks, Dan.”

  As the older man returned to his seat at the rear of the plane, Evan bent his head over the columns of numbers and silently thanked his father for having such a useful assistant. Evan’s negotiating position would be so much stronger with this information.

  After nearly an hour of deciphering Linders’ financials, Evan stuck the papers in his briefcase under his seat. Then he stretched his arms above his head and arched his back to work out the kinks.

  Cassie had remained at his side, silently reading her book the entire time. Now, she glanced at him and smiled. “Ready to talk?” she asked.

  “Talk?” he repeated dumbly, dropping his arms to his sides.

  Her eyes widened as she studied him. “Don’t you think we need to work out the back story of our relationship before we meet your business associate?”

  “Right. Do you have any suggestions?” He bent his head to the left and right, stretching out his tight neck muscles. He hated how this business made his body so stressed, but it was a small sacrifice to pay after neglecting his family for so many years. That was something he was never going to be able to make up for.

  She nodded. “The only sticky part is why did you just hire me as your helicopter pilot if we’re supposed to have been in a relationship for a number of weeks.”

  He rubbed at a knot in his shoulder while he thought. “You resisted working for the company until you saw where our relationship was heading.”

  “Where is it heading?”

  He shrugged, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles. “More than casual, but neither one of us is looking for a lifetime commitment yet.”

  “Okay,” she looked away for a bit before continuing, “now for the hard question.”

  He glanced at her. “Shoot.”

  Without hesitating, she faced him and asked, “Why did you break up with your last girlfriend?”

  His answer came easily. “She broke up with me because she got engaged to another guy.”

  “Ouch.”

  He shook his head. “It was okay. She wasn’t the love of my life, but she put me in this awkward position for the weekend…”

  “In which you had to hire a companion,” she finished for him.

  He decided it was time to turn the tables. “Why did you break up with your last boyfriend?”

  Her eyebrows rose in a mock innocent expression. “Who says I had a boyfriend?”

  “Because you’re what twenty-five years old? I’m pretty damn sure you’ve had a boyfriend or two in your life.”

  “Twenty-seven,” she corrected him, meeting his gaze. Then she bowed her head and played with a button on her sweater. “Trent was perfectly charming until I found out what a sleaze he really was.”

  “How’d you meet?” And why do I have the sudden urge to plow my fists through him?

  Her eyes darted up to his, but she hesitated before saying, “He was my last boss.”

  “So, you make a habit out of dating your boss?”

  “No!” Her eyes narrowed. “That’s prohibited in the Army, and it was the first civilian job I had after leaving. I’d never dated my boss before.” Her words were spoken fast and sharply.

  He held up a palm to placate her. “Didn’t mean to press on a sore spot.”

  Shaking her head, she said in a softer tone, “I guess the part that hurts more than I’d like to admit is that I was such a bad judge of character. I really was fooled by him.”

  Her tone made it sound like more than her pride was bruised, perhaps her heart as well. “How’d you find out he was a sleaze?” he asked, using her word.

  She grimaced. “I heard from the company gossip vine that he made a habit of bedding new female employees.”

  “Sounds like sexual harassment.” His anger rose at the idea of a man in authority mistreating women, and he didn’t miss the irony. People who didn’t understand BDSM often accused Doms of abusing their subs, but what they didn’t understand was that in a consensual D/s relationship the sub held the power to end the scene at any time.

  “It’d only qualify as sexual harassment if he threatened to use his position against the women who didn’t accept his advances, but he was too smart to do that. I told you he was a charmer.”

  “A snake seems more apropos.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, but he taught me an important lesson.”

  “Which is?” He thought about the lesson he’d like to teach the man who used women solely for his own pleasure.

  “Military groupies don’t only come in the female variety,” she said dryly.

  His brows rose. “Trent was a groupie?”

  “Not quite, but the result was the same…a notch in his bedpost labeled Army helicopter pilot.” Her lips turned down in disgust.

  “You think he pursued you because of your military experience?”

  “I think he pursued me because I’m female…”

  When she didn’t finish her thought, he asked, “Is he the reason you left your last job?”

  She nodded again. “Yeah.”

  He studied her for a moment, noting she was holding back part of the story, but he decided it was time to change the subject. She’d been extremely forthcoming so far, but he didn’t want to tread all over her privacy. “So, how did you and I meet?”

  “You were being held captive in the wicked witch’s tower, and I rescued you with my helicopter, of course.” Her infectious laughter drew a chuckle from him.

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to use that story… How about mutual friends introduced us at a benefit concert?” he offered.

  She leaned closer to him, and he got a fresh whiff of her spicy scent. “Who was playing?”

  He resisted his growing attraction and reminded himself this was strictly business. “Depends. Are we doing classical or rock?”

  “Classical rock,” she answered.

  “That’s easy. It was—”

  “Queen,” they said simultaneously.

  He grinned at her, and her smile shone brightly back at him.

  “Okay, we have the same taste in music. That’s good to know,” she said. “What else do you think we need to know about each other?”

  A list of possibilities ran through his head. None that he would broach with her at this stage of their relationship, but he was having a hard time keeping a question about her favorite sexual position off the tip of his tongue, along with his need to know if she liked to be topped.

  “Favorite TV show?” he forced out a safe topic.

  “Um,” she bit her lower lip, “it would have to be a tie between Star Trek Voyager and Battlestar Galactica.”

  “I should have guessed.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The whole flight thing with two strong female pilots.”

  She grinned at him. “Yep, and of course, there’s never been a cooler nemesis than the Borg.”

  “Because…” he began.

  “Resistance is futile,” they finished together and laughed.

  “This is good,” he said. “We obviously have some shared interests. What about more personal stuff?”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Like what?”

  “Any siblings?”

  “Only child. You?” she asked.

  “Same.”

  “Oh, that’s going to make for a rocky relationship,” she insisted.

  “Why?”

  “Birth order stuff. Only children are super perfectionists if they’re not too busy being super rebellious.”

  “So, which are you? The perfectionist or the rebel?” He thought he already knew the answer. She had perfectionist written all over her.

  She sat straighter. “Both, an
d you?”

  He paused before answering, trying to imagine what she could have done that she considered rebellious. When nothing outside of the bedroom occurred to him, he finally answered, “I’ve moved past the rebellion. My father’s death cured me of that.”

  Her eyes softened at the corners. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Another topic to avoid. “So, what else do they say about only children?”

  She considered him for several heartbeats before she continued. “Only children mature faster, are conscientious, and love facts and details.”

  “Those sound like strengths. Where do you see a problem for us?”

  “Ah, I haven’t gotten to our weaknesses yet.” She held up a hand and ticked off her fingers as she spoke. “We are self-centered, have difficulty sharing, seek attention, worry too much and are inflexible.”

  “Okay, now I see the problem. You won’t share your toys with me because you worry I’ll break them. Then you stubbornly insist I share mine with you and complain to all our friends when I don’t comply.”

  Her laughter pleased him. “I think the only one you missed was the self-centered part.”

  “Well, that one’s obvious. You spend all your time in the salon and whine when I don’t pay you enough compliments.”

  “Oh, God,” she groaned then giggled. “That is so far from the truth of who I am.”

  At a gut level, he already knew that. He’s ability to read her told him Cassie wasn’t concerned with superficial. Though, he did appreciate the fact she knew how to polish herself when it mattered.

  She cast her gaze on him. “I bet it would be more believable to say you work long hours, and I hardly get to spend any time with you. And when I ask to borrow your car…what kind do you drive?”

  “Mercedes SL65.”

  Her eyes widened, and she whistled her appreciation.

  “You’re familiar with the SL65?” he asked.

  “I’m a connoisseur of all things that fly, and the hand-built V12 engine in that roadster can do zero to sixty in four point two seconds. Of course, if you want the fastest, you could get the Bugatti Veyron, but you’d have to pay ten times what you did for your Mercedes.”