by Krista Lakes
He grinned and gunned the engine again, pulling back out onto the main road. In just a few more moments, they were in the ritzier part of town.
Emma didn’t come to this area very often. She didn’t have the funds to spend thousands of dollars on a purse or to eat hundred dollar meals. It was fun to walk around and look at the lavish things for sale, but she didn’t do it often. It was too far outside her price range to even look.
“Here we are,” he repeated, pulling into the valet station. The building looked more like a Tuscan mansion than a restaurant.
“So am I to understand that there will be no Olive Garden?” she asked, making him smile.
The valet opened the door to the red sports car and she carefully stepped out. Moving in the long skirt took planning so she didn’t trip over the soft satin fabric.
Mr. Weathers was right at her arm, guiding her into the restaurant. It felt like something out of a movie. This was how kings and queens walked into buildings.
The feeling didn’t stop there. At the reception desk, the staff immediately jumped to attention as they walked in. They didn’t have to give their names or stop to get a table. A man that Emma assumed was the manager escorted them directly to a table next to the window with the best view of the sunset in the state. Mr. Weathers held out her chair for her to sit.
“Champagne?” Mr. Weathers asked, pointing to a bottle cooling next to their table. It looked like one of the fancy brands they kept behind the counter at the liquor store.
“Sure,” Emma replied, settling into her seat. She picked up a menu as Mr. Weathers poured her a glass. The prices alone made her eyes bug out. There was no inexpensive option. She swallowed hard.
“Cheers,” Mr. Weathers said, holding out her glass. She tapped her glass against his and took a sip. The tiny bubbles tickled her nose. “And don’t look at the menu. The chef is making something special for us.”
“Oh.” She set the menu down. “This is amazing, by the way.”
“Well, I am trying to impress you.”
Emma grinned. “I think it might be working.”
He flashed that grin that made her knees go weak, and suddenly she remembered she wasn’t wearing any panties. Her legs rubbed together and she tried to take a sip of champagne to distract herself.
“So, tell me Mr. Weathers, what do you like to do for fun?” she asked him.
“Please, call me Jackson.” He took a sip of champagne. “I like to race cars, I like to travel, and I enjoy trying new things.”
The way his eyes sparkled made her think that each one of those things had something to do with sex. She pressed her legs together a little harder.
“What do you like to do?” he asked, his voice smooth like silk. He watched her with those green eyes of his, following her like she was something amazing.
“Um, I like to babysit for my friend,” she replied, feeling like that wasn’t nearly as good an answer as driving fast cars. “I also like to paint. And swim.”
“What kind of painting?” he asked, looking genuinely interested.
“Watercolors, mostly. I’m not very good yet, but it’s fun.”
“I would imagine you are better than you let on,” he said, sipping at his champagne again. She felt her cheeks heat at the compliment.
“Excuse me, sir,” a waiter interrupted the silence as she flushed. “Your first course.”
The waiter set down two plates in front of them and Emma’s mouth started to water. The plate itself was artwork, with three mushrooms painted with creamy melted cheese.
“Bacon and cream cheese mushrooms,” Jackson told her, picking up his fork. “They’re my favorite appetizer.”
“I can see why,” she said, taking a small bite. Delicious flavor washed over her tongue. They were the best mushrooms she’d ever eaten. “So good.”
He grinned and took a bite off his own plate. “I’m glad you like them. Means we have similar tastes.”
She quickly swallowed a bigger bite. “I think anyone would like these. They’re amazing.”
He chuckled. “You’d be surprised how many women have told me they won’t eat these. Either it’s the bacon, the cream cheese, or that they’re on a juice diet. I’ve had many tell me that these aren’t their cup of tea.”
“Why would you come to a restaurant like this if you were on a juice diet?” Emma asked, quickly finishing off her last mushroom. She wished she had more because she was hungry and those were delicious. She felt like she could eat an entire dozen and still want more.
“I have no idea, actually,” Jackson replied with a laugh. “So, tell me, why do you work at the Coffee Shack?”
Emma smiled, but it was more reflex than joy. “It’s a job. It pays the bills.”
“So your dream isn’t to be a barista?” Jackson asked.
She shook her head. “No. I want to be a marine biologist, but so far I haven’t really gotten the opportunity.”
“What’s stopping you?”
She sighed and played with her fork on the empty plate.
“What’s stopping you, Emma?” he repeated, this time more gently.
“Bills.” She hated that she felt embarrassed.
“Bills?”
“School loans and medical debt. I went to an expensive undergrad and got a degree in biology,” she explained. “Then I had a pretty major car accident that created a lot of medical bills right after I graduated.”
“I see,” he said, finishing the last bite of his own mushroom. There was no judgment in his voice, just understanding.
“So, that’s why I work at Coffee Shack. Until I get those debts paid off, I will do just about any job that pays me.” She shrugged and tried to smile. “Someday, I plan on going back to school so I can get my dream job. I just have to pay some things off first.”
Jackson leaned back with a smooth motion. “It sounds like you have a plan.”
“I just have something that looks like a plan,” she admitted. She fiddled with her napkin and tried to think of a way to change the conversation. She was sure she was making a great impression on her billionaire date telling him all about how she was broke.
“The second course,” the waiter announced, taking advantage of the brief lull between the two of them to place fresh plates and a full bowl of something amazing in front of Emma. She’d never had such service.
“Lobster bisque,” Jackson informed her as she picked up her spoon.
“I love lobster. How is it that you’re picking all my favorites?”
He grinned. “Luck. They’re my favorites, too.”
She smiled and took a sip of the soup. It was heaven in a spoonful. The bisque was hearty while the lobster had sweetness.
“You like it?” Jackson asked, watching her reaction.
“I love it. I think I could eat this every day and never get tired of it.”
He grinned, enjoying her reaction.
“So, tell me about you,” she said, pausing to enjoy her soup. “What’s something that no one knows about Jackson Weathers.”
“If I tell you, then someone will know,” he replied. He took a sip of soup and sat thoughtfully for a moment. “I hate spiders. I can’t stand them. Even the tiny ones.”
“They’re not so bad. They’re very important to the ecosystem.”
“Well, they’re not important to the ecosystem of my office,” he replied, making her laugh. She grinned.
This date was going better than she’d expected. The food was amazing, which she had been expecting, but the easy conversations they shared every morning while he ordered his coffee shone through. It was like getting an extra long version of the morning and she was enjoying it.
The next course was sea bass with truffle sauce, followed by a Cornish game hen with an amazing demi-glace that made her want to cry tears of joy. She’d never eaten anything as wonderful as this meal. Jackson kept her champagne glass filled and the conversation flowing.
Before she realized it, they’d been on their dat
e for over two hours. She’d learned that he had no siblings and that both of his parents had died. It was just another thing that the two of them had in common. She felt such a connection to him, and it wasn’t just the champagne.
She loved the way he looked at her like she mattered. She was someone to him, even if before today she was just the coffee girl. Even then, he’d known her name. He’d really know her name after tonight.
I’m going to sleep with him, she decided as they waited for the dessert course to arrive. She smiled at the thought. She knew that was probably his intention all along given his reputation, but she was enjoying her evening so much she was okay with it. It was going to be her choice.
“And for dessert, a chocolate fondue,” he announced as the waiters set up the table with a chocolate stand and various plates full of dipping items. Strawberries, bananas, raspberries, cookies, marshmallows, and anything else that could be dipped in chocolate filled the table. There was no way she was going to be able to eat even half of it, but she was willing to give it a try.
“My favorite is the strawberries,” he advised, showing her his dipping technique. He opened his mouth and carefully sucked the luscious red fruit into his mouth.
Emma swallowed hard and pressed her knees together.
Yup. Definitely sleeping with him.
“Here, have one,” he offered, dipping a red berry into the dark chocolate and then holding it out for her. She leaned forward, her lips coming to wrap around the strawberry and brushing against his fingertips.
It was electric to touch him. He smiled.
“You have some chocolate on your cheek,” he pointed out.
“Oh.” She went to wipe her cheek, but he beat her to it. His hand caressed her skin and she shivered with pleasure.
He leaned forward, his hand on her cheek, and tipped his mouth to meet hers in a kiss.
He tasted like chocolate and wine and everything delicious in the world. His kiss was sweeter than any dessert and better than anything she could have imagined.
He kissed like he looked. Amazing.
She was definitely sleeping with him tonight. She’d never been this turned on with just a kiss.
He pulled back and smiled at her. She was all electric shivers and desire now.
“Can I ask you something?” Emma picked out a marshmallow and carefully dipped it in the chocolate.
“Anything,” he replied. His green eyes sparkled in the candlelight of the restaurant.
“Why me?” she asked. “I mean, you can have any woman in the city. Why me?”
He swallowed and patted his mouth with a napkin. “I actually have an offer for you,” he told her. “I wanted to take you on this date to see if we would be a good match, and I think we would.”
“A good match?” She frowned, confused. “What could a coffee barista do for you?”
He smiled slowly. “For that, we’ll need to go back to my place.”
Chapter 6
Emma
* * *
Emma tried to keep her knee still. She tried not to bounce it up and down, but she couldn’t help but move it. She was nervous now as the car sped along the road to Jackson Weathers’ apartment and her knee couldn’t hold it in.
Jackson had something planned for her. He wanted to discuss something, and she had no idea what it could possibly be. Plus, they were going to his house. Where he took all the women he slept with. Now that it was really happening, she was nervous.
She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.
He kept up comfortable small talk the entire short trip back to his luxury high rise apartment. If she hadn’t been too busy thinking about the fact that she wasn’t wearing panties, she would have been able to admire the building. It was old and beautiful with a literal golden elevator to bring them to the penthouse suite.
He scanned his thumbprint in the elevator and smiled at her.
“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Maybe a little,” she said. “I’ve never been in an elevator that requires a fingerprint.”
He leaned over, his lips brushing the small hairs by her ear and making her body tingle. The movement was intimate. “And the fact that you aren’t wearing underwear has nothing to do with it, right?”
She froze as he chuckled and pulled away. She did her best to stand up taller and compose herself.
“First, that’s none of your business,” she told him.
“And second?” he leaned against the elevator wall as they went up.
“I don’t actually have a second,” she admitted, making him chuckle.
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened to reveal a regular looking door. Jackson walked over and placed his hand flat on the wood, just above the doorknob. The imprint of his hand started to glow and she heard the unmistakable sound of a lock opening. That was some high-tech door.
“Please, come in, Emma.” He held open the door for her to step inside his home.
The high-rise apartment was bigger than her childhood home. Everything was modern with clean lines and crisp colors. It suited the image she had of Jackson in her mind. She could imagine him at home here.
He tossed his suit jacket on the back of a white leather couch and went to the kitchen table. Even though it was night, she could tell that his view from up here was absolutely amazing. She rather hoped she get a chance to see it in the morning.
Depending on what he had to tell her.
“I’ll need you to sign this,” he said, handing her a stack of legal papers. “It’s a fairly standard non-disclosure agreement.”
“Why do I need to sign an NDA?” She asked, tentatively taking the stack of paper.
“I have a proposal for you,” he told her, sitting down at the table. “Sign that, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Emma chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before taking a seat at the table. She quickly scanned the legal document, but it appeared to be the standard legalese mumbo jumbo of all legal documents. She could in no way talk to anyone about their conversation and if she did, she would have to pay so much money she would need to move to a third world country just to afford food.
Jackson slid a pen across the table and she carefully signed her name on the line.
“Do you do this with all your dates?” she teased, handing him the signed papers.
“Only the ones that I am going to ask to marry me,” he replied.
Emma’s heart did a full stop.
“Excuse me, what?”
“I need to find a wife,” he replied. He was calm and collected like this was a normal discussion. Who knew? Maybe in his world it was.
“Most people just date,” Emma replied. “There’s a whole dating industry for just that reason.”
Jackson smiled at her. “I need a wife and a child for business reasons. I’d like it to be you.”
“Me?” She thought they had a connection, but to marry her? “I don’t understand.”
He stood up from the table and went to the kitchen. “Wine?” he asked, pulling out two glasses and then going to a fridge and pulling out an opaque bottle.
“Yes, please,” she replied. Wine was definitely needed for this conversation.
“My business is struggling,” he told her, uncorking the wine with practiced ease. “I have to update my image.”
“Your image?”
“I’m a playboy. A womanizer,” he said. He smiled at her. “You even remarked upon it.”
“True,” Emma agreed, thinking of the bedpost website. “But what does that have to do with your business?”
“Customers don’t trust a womanizer to sell them diapers,” he replied. “I need to become a trustworthy source. If I have a wife and child, suddenly my diapers are legit again. It’s all about appearances.”
“And what are you asking of me, exactly?” Emma asked.
“To be the face of that wife,” he replied. “I’m asking you to enter into a business transaction. I need someone who can
play the part of loving wife and I’m asking you to do it.”
“But not for real?” She wasn’t sure how to take this.
Emma had always planned on getting married and having children. It was one of her life dreams to be a mother and wife, but this wasn’t the path she’d thought she take to get there. She’d always assumed it would be after a year or so of dating, and that there would be love involved.
“No. Not for real, although I do like you,” Jackson replied. He handed her a wine glass.
“You said something about a child,” she said, holding the glass but not sipping yet.
“Yes.” He sat down in the kitchen chair next to her. “Having a wife isn’t enough. I have to have a reason to use my own products.”
Emma set her wine glass down. “Let me get this straight. You invited me out on this date to make sure we got along, and since we do, you’re now asking me to marry you and have your child. To save your business.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Though it sounds worse when you say it like that.”
How else could it sound? she thought to herself. “You said this was a business deal, so what do I get out of doing this?”
“Money. You would be marrying a billionaire and having his child,” Jackson explained. “You will never have bills again. You will live in the lap of luxury for the rest of your life. You and our child.”
Emma didn’t know how to respond. What was the appropriate response for that?
“Look at it this way,” Jackson continued. “You want to be a marine biologist, right? There is no way that being a barista will get you there faster than I can.”
She knew that it was the truth.
“I completely understand if you need some time to think about it,” Jackson told her. “I know it’s a big decision.”
“Would we live together?” Emma asked, looking up from her untouched wine glass. “What does a future with you look like?”
“We would become a couple in public and I would propose,” Jackson explained. “We would marry and have the wedding of your dreams. You would get pregnant as quickly as possible. You would live here, if you want. Or anywhere in the city you desire.”