by Julia Kent
Where it wants to be.
Through the next ten slides, Chloe shows us exactly how brilliant she is, while I struggle to grasp the landscape of the meeting. She walked in here with a fringe idea and a slim chance of convincing Andrew McCormick to invest on the scale she wants.
And now they’re talking New Orleans, San Francisco, and—
“Rio would be a great target for 2018,” Chloe says, sitting down across from Andrew, tapping the end of a pen against the front of her teeth. “What about Tokyo for 2020?”
“The Olympics!” Andrew and Amanda say at the same time, then laugh.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” I declare.
“You’re not convinced I’m worth taking a chance?” Chloe asks, her nose twitching with amusement, that curled lip driving me mad.
“You’ve convinced me,” Andrew says, standing and finally looking at his phone. “Nick, make it happen.”
“What?”
“Give Chloe whatever she needs.”
“Whatever she needs?” I choke out in surprise. Quickly, I recover, face showing no emotion, even if my pulse and half the blood in my body has migrated below my belt and I can’t stop wondering what’s under that corset. One peek of a nipple is like being given a single sip of Hennessy cognac.
It’s great, but you want the whole thing in your mouth eventually.
God help me, her eyes meet mine and her smile widens.
Best. Job. Ever.
“Right. Chloe, why don’t you go back to your office for an hour or so, while Nick and Amanda and I hash out some details in the conference room. We’ll call you,” Andrew says, standing and reaching for her hand. The only hint of emotion in Chloe’s face comes from the micro-movements in her eyes. She is pleased.
I want to please her. And not just with Anterdec’s money.
In this business setting, she should be pleased. Sharp and perceptive, she’s turned the meeting around. A green light from Andrew McCormick isn’t easy to obtain, and she marched right in here in secret dominatrix lingerie and she did it. I am intrigued and a little spellbound.
Maybe I’m just lightheaded from the lack of blood flow to the brain.
She unmoors me, turning back decades, making me feel like an awkward, uncoordinated teen.
But with a man’s appreciation for all that goes into making her her.
“Nick?” Andrew’s clipped tone makes me realize I’m in my own head. Chloe’s standing before me, her nose twitching with amusement, the rest of her face revealing nothing.
“Great presentation,” I say, shaking her hand. My eyes float down to her rack.
“It’s an eyeful, isn’t it?” she jokes.
“Certainly impressive,” I confirm. “The graphs.” I need to dial this down. Andrew’s giving me looks that could peel paint. “You give great data.”
“I aim to be Good, Giving, and Game.”
“Isn’t that what Dan Savage says about sex?”
“It applies to business, too.”
“A universal set of tools.”
She shrugs. “Everyone can have the same tools, Nick. Tool acquisition? Anyone can do that. The real skill is in implementation.”
With that, Chloe Browne leaves me speechless, hard as a rock, and the object of my boss’s ire.
One hell of a hat trick.
“Coffee?” Andrew’s admin, Gina, appears with a smartphone in hand, an app for a local coffee shop open.
Grateful for the save, I give her my order and will myself to think about subjects that deflate. She takes Amanda and Andrew’s requests and disappears with quick, nervous steps.
“Didn’t know Anterdec added a dating service to our portfolio. Cut it out, Nick,” Andrew says with a warning tone as he settles back into his chair.
Amanda snorts.
Catalogue that, too.
I say nothing. Eyebrows up, eye contact with my boss, but no words. I don’t challenge.
But I don’t back down.
“Oh, good Lord,” Amanda finally says with a sigh, reaching for Andrew’s hand. “We’re together. Nick can flirt.”
Before I can reply, Andrew leads her into the room we’re using here at O. I follow, loving the hypocrite he’s become in the course of three sentences. We settle around the table, Amanda perched on the edge, Andrew in his chair, me in the chair with the view behind him, the Financial District spread out for us, the ocean stretching behind him as if it were there for his pleasure alone.
It’s good to be the king.
“She’s good, isn’t she?” Andrew says.
And giving and game, apparently.
I give Amanda a look. She shrugs.
“Chloe?” I ask.
“Right. Smart, intuitive, an eye for design, and a great presenter. Gets three layers deeper than anyone in the room ever considered. She’s strategic and composed. Perfect face of O.”
Her O face sure does come to mind.
Damn it.
“You want to fund her?”
“The RV spa thing seems farfetched, but figures don’t lie.”
Chloe’s figure, bent over the edge of a bed, that sweet ass—
“Nick?” Andrew snaps his fingers. I shake myself like a wet dog.
“Right. How much should I put in her?”
Andrew’s jaw grinds, but before he can answer my garbled question, we’re interrupted.
Thank God.
“Twelve inches!” Gina exclaims from the doorway.
Timing really is everything.
“What?” Andrew sputters.
She’s holding a tray with three enormous white coffee cups in it.
“Twelve inches! The size of these coffees from downstairs. They’re so big!” As she hands out the coffee, Amanda stifles a giggle. Sunlight bounces off her ring. A wave of memory pours through me, lightning fast, like a retracting cable that snaps hard at the end, leaving marks.
Simone. Our engagement. Working nights through undergrad to pay for her little diamond chip of a ring...
The same ring she mailed back to me from France, along with her signed divorce papers.
“Jesus, Nick, what is wrong?” Andrew’s gone from anger to a furious concern, the irritated worry radiating off of him with a masculine sense that triggers my testosterone, sending me into high alert. We’re playing male hormone ping-pong, only without the paddles.
Paddles.
Chloe and a paddle....
“You’re not like this. You’re the focus man.”
“The what?”
“That’s what people call you behind your back,” Amanda explains cheerfully, her big eyes wide and friendly. They’re the color of mink, with lashes so long the bottom layer sticks to the top, making her reach up with a finger and rub.
“People talk about me behind my back? What do they talk about?”
“Your nickname—pun intended—is Focus Man. Now live up to it,” Andrew says sourly.
Damn. I’ve only been with Anterdec for a year, and so far, so good. After they acquired my firm, my prospects weren’t exactly certain. With three kids in college, this needs to last. Just long enough to have an empty nest, and then...
And then no one depends on me. I’m free. Free to pursue whatever I want for the first time in my life.
A flash of mesh corset fills my free mind.
“Focus Man?” I laugh. “I can think of worse names to call me.”
We all take a sip of our gigantic coffees and sit in silence for a moment. Andrew types on his computer, drinking more, then looks at me.
“Done. Gina can take care of specifics, but I green-lighted another gO Spa RV and two more locations for new, full-service spas.”
“Do I get to help hire the staff?” Amanda asks Andrew with a wink.
“You,” he says archly, his voice going low and dark, “are staying at HQ with me.”
She gives him a wicked smile.
I miss having a woman smile at me like that.
I wonder if Chloe’s free
for dinner.
If I’m Focus Man, I can be focused in more ways than one.
Get the rest at Our Options Have Changed and immerse yourself in the world of the O Spa, Nick and Chloe, and more….
Acknowledgments
To Elisa, whose new title should be Hot Mess Cat Herder. Or is that a garage band name? I’m not sure. <3
To Boyd Craven, who I met at the Novelists, Inc. conference in 2017. When the idea for billionaire preppers struck, I was immediately reminded of our discussions. :)
Other Books By Julia Kent
Shopping for a Billionaire: The Collection (Parts 1-5 in one bundle, 500 pages!)
Shopping for a Billionaire 1
Shopping for a Billionaire 2
Shopping for a Billionaire 3
Shopping for a Billionaire 4
Christmas Shopping for a Billionaire
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Fiancée
Shopping for a CEO
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Wife
Shopping for a CEO’s Fiancée
Shopping for an Heir
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon
Shopping for a CEO’s Wife
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Baby
Shopping for a CEO’s Honeymoon
Her Billionaires
It’s Complicated
Completely Complicated
It’s Always Complicated
Random Acts of Crazy
Random Acts of Trust
Random Acts of Fantasy
Random Acts of Hope
Randomly Ever After: Sam and Amy
Random Acts of Love
Random on Tour: Los Angeles
Merry Random Christmas
Random on Tour: Las Vegas
Maliciously Obedient
Suspiciously Obedient
Deliciously Obedient
Our Options Have Changed (with Elisa Reed)
Thank You For Holding (with Elisa Reed)
About the Author
Text JKentBooks to 77948 and get a text message on release dates!
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent turned to writing contemporary romance after deciding that life is too short not to have fun. She writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at [email protected] , on Twitter @jkentauthor, and on Facebook at facebook.com/jkentauthor
Visit her website at http://jkentauthor.com