Crave Me: A Billionaire Boss Romance

by Amy Brent

  “Not while I'm around,” Jack said, exuding confidence. Seeming content that there were no bombs or hidden cameras in the room, he threw himself into a chair and propped his feet up on the table, crossing one ankle over the other. Suddenly he looked less like an expert in personal security, and more like he owned the place.

  “It's good that you're sure of yourself, Jackie boy,” I said, smirking at him. “But do you mind keeping your filthy boots away from my maps?” I knocked his feet off the table, then brushed the dirt off the maps spread out before us.

  “My apologies,” he said, giving me a wry smile. He pulled over a spare chair and propped his feet up on that, acting as if nothing had happened. I had to give it to him, he didn't miss a beat.

  “I guess the Navy doesn't teach manners,” Tracy said. She was our expert on Middle Eastern history. She also had a bit of a chip on her shoulder.

  Jack ignored the jab and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head and flashing Tracy a smirk. I eyed him for a moment, surprised at his poise. Most men I knew would have a quick comeback or pointed remark waiting for a woman who mouthed off to them. Jack didn't seem to feel the need to defend himself. It raised him up a notch in my estimation. Bickering could get so petty sometimes.

  The team and I spent the rest of the afternoon going over the details, plotting out where we'd be heading, what to expect, and how to handle ourselves while we were here. What we were doing wasn't strictly legal, though it fell into a bit of a gray area. We had to make sure we didn't draw the wrong kind of attention to ourselves. Though most of our work would be in isolated areas. These sites had been well-preserved before the conflict in the region started, but now a lot of them were surrounded by wartime ruin.

  Jack observed the meeting with detached interest, only chiming in when he had a security-related concern to bring up. The meeting ran smooth as can be, and around supper time we called it a night, with plans to head out first thing in the morning.

  After dinner I wandered into the dusty little bar just off the lobby of the hotel. The lighting was dim and a few shady characters lounged at tables off in the corners, while a slender man with a thick mustache polished the bar. A few lazy ceiling fans spun overhead, but they did little to stifle the heat.

  I was surprised to find Jack there, sitting at the bar, nursing a drink. I sauntered over to him and asked, “Mind some company?”

  The corner of his mouth perked up in a grin and he nodded to the stool next to him. “I always enjoy the company of a lovely lady.”

  I took the stool, laughing. “Lady?” I shook my head. “Baby, I ain't no 'lady.' I am a woman, and proud of it.”

  He looked me up and down, his eyes roaming over my generous curves. “You are, at that,” he said.

  I ordered a whiskey sour, and Jack's eyebrows went up when he heard my order. “Definitely not a 'lady' drink,” he said. He raised his glass to me and took a long drink of it.

  “I like my drinks like I like my men,” I said. “Tall, cool, and hard.”

  He laughed and took another swig of his drink. We had a few rounds, all on Tremaine's dime. One of the advantages of working for a billionaire was that he didn't look too closely at the expense reports. “So tell me,” he asked once we'd had a chance to loosen up, “what brings a woman like yourself traipsing around the globe, running errands for a billionaire like Tremaine?”

  “I ain't no errand girl,” I said. “I do it for history.”

  “For history?” He arched an eyebrow, looking at me quizzically.

  “History deserves to be preserved.” I finished off my third drink and ordered a fourth. I was just a bit light-headed, but it was a nice, gentle buzz. “My family lost our history. It was stolen from us.”

  “Slavery?” he asked, his voice grim.

  “What else?” I shrugged, tapping my fingers against my glass. “You ever see that movie, Roots?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, the guy who wrote it, who wrote the book it was based on, that is, he did all kinds of research. Traced his family history all the way back through their time as slaves and on back to their original tribe in Africa.” I took a slow sip of my drink, savoring the cool burn. “But the thing is, it wasn't all right. I loved that movie, and it was the first book I ever went out and read on my own as a little girl. I always wanted to find my own roots.” I shrugged, running my thumb along the edges of my glass. “But later on I learned that the author messed up a lot of his facts. That doesn't mean the story isn't true, in a manner of speaking. But he couldn't get everything right.”

  “So you want to preserve what you can of history,” Jack said. “Make sure that people have what they need, so they can get their own stories right.”

  I shrugged, not sure what point I was really trying to make. He reached over and took my hand in his. His grip was firm and strong, his hands calloused like a working man's. It felt like he had hands that would keep a girl safe in the night. Strong, but gentle. Protective. Sensual.

  His fingers caressed mine. Maybe it was the whiskey, but his touch sent a thrill through me. I looked up at him and caught his eye.

  “You're a fascinating woman,” he said.

  “Is that so?” I arched an eyebrow, studying his rugged features. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Not at all.” He reached over with his other hand and held my hand between both of his. I squeezed his hand tight, feeling like this was a touch I didn't want to let go of. It had been awhile since I'd known the touch of a man. We'd only just met, but sometimes, that's all it takes.

  I intertwined my fingers with his. The look in his eyes told me he knew what I had on my mind. “Why, Ms. Harris,” he said, a playful lilt to his tone. “I do believe you're trying to seduce me.”

  “You'd better believe it, honey.” I slipped a hand around his neck, pulled him close, and pressed my full lips against his. His scruff scratched my chin, delightfully rough. His calloused hands cupped my cheeks, a solid, working man's hands. I wanted to feel them roaming over my body.

  I took his hands and stood, pulling him along with me to the stairs. We slipped into my room, his lips caressing mine, his hands caressing my sides. I wanted more than that. I grabbed his hands and put them where I wanted them. He was eager to comply, massaging my breasts in his firm grip. Before I knew it he had my top off, then my bra, and I felt his rough touch against my soft, smooth skin.

  We didn't take our time getting down to business. I slipped my hand down his pants, eliciting a groan as I found what I was looking for. We collapsed onto the bed, our bodies intertwined. He caressed my curves, hugging my ample hips against his, showing no shame in taking what he wanted, what I was more than willing to give. He made love the way he did everything else: careful, deliberate, and sure of himself. He took his time taking care of my every need, until I was bursting with euphoria and I felt like my body would sing.

  Afterwards we lay there under the electric hum of the ceiling fan, a light sheen of sweat across both of our bodies. He took my hand in his and raised it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the backs of my fingers.

  “That was unexpected,” he said, a soft smile on his lips.

  “I know.” I laughed, still basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking. “This trip is turning out to be a lot more pleasant than I'd expected.”

  * * *

  The next few weeks were a mix of business and pleasure. By day, I led the team on expeditions to various sites around the region. We searched through ruins and abandoned buildings, collecting whatever artifacts we could for delivery out of the country. Everything was carefully packed, tagged, and cataloged, then shipped off to be studied in greater detail at the various museums and universities that Tremaine Industries worked with in this region.

  By night, Jack and I continued exploring our newfound passion. The man was as generous as he was sensual, and he had the stamina of an ox. The rest of the team could tell that there was something going on between us, though we ke
pt our exploits behind closed doors. Once we were on the job each day, it was all business, with no time for hanky panky. Not that I would have been ashamed of anything. I was an adult and a woman in my prime, and there was no reason not to embrace passion when I found it. I just wasn't one for public displays in front of people who worked for me.

  I realized something was up when I was packing away a collection of small statuary out in the field one warm, dry afternoon. I was recording the dates on the newest batch of shipping labels when I stopped, looking at what day it was and doing the math. I thought back to the packing I'd done before the trip started. When you travel halfway around the world, you have to plan ahead, and there were certain necessities you made sure to stock up on. Tampax had been one of the items at the top of my packing list before I ever got on a plane. It wasn't like I could run to the pharmacy out here and pick some up. But I realized that I hadn't needed them yet, even though I was more than a week late.

  “Damn,” I whispered, tapping my fingers on the shipping container. The healthcare system in this country had broken down after the years of armed conflict in the area, making this a place where you couldn't exactly stop at the corner store for a home pregnancy test. I realized I was stuck waiting until I got back to the States before I knew for sure.

  Though a gut part of me was convinced it was true. It wasn't as if Jack and I had been particularly careful during our exploits. It's not like that I could have known in advance to pack condoms for the trip.

  I was trying to decide whether to bring the subject up to Jack, or if I should wait until I knew for sure, when the sound of a revving motor filled the air around the excavation site. After a moment I realized it was several motors: a small group of jeeps driving towards us at top speed. I stared at them, wondering who it could be, considering how far we were from any populated area.

  Jack came rushing up and shouted, “Get down, get down!”

  A moment later, the gunfire started.

  I ducked behind a stone pillar of the ruined temple we were excavating. Jack pulled me down low and covered my body with his. I clung to him, trembling. I'd never been shot at before, and the sound of gunshots in the air made me freeze with panic.

  “Stay here,” Jack said. He pulled the pistol from his belt and opened fire, using the pillar for cover.

  He shot several of the terrorists in quick succession, dropping them with the precision that only a Navy SEAL can possess. I watched from my hiding place, in awe of the fluid grace with which he moved. He showed no signs of fear, though I knew somewhere inside he had to be as scared as I was. He just had his fear under control, thanks to his training.

  Before I knew it, the gunfire stopped, but then a voice shouted from behind a crumbled stone wall. “Surrender yourself to us, Mr. Tremaine! You are a thief and a heathen, and you will pay for robbing these sacred sights.”

  “Mr. Tremaine?” I looked up at Jack, confused.

  “Put down your weapons and walk away,” Jack said, keeping his weapon trained on the terrorists. “And let those people go.”

  I peeked around the pillar and saw the terrorists had two of my team held at gunpoint. They were holding them hostage and using them as human shields to keep Jack at bay.

  “It is you who will surrender, Tremaine!” one of the men shouted. “Ours is the just cause, in the name of Allah! The world will see you made an example of, so that they know that rich capitalist pigs cannot violate our lands for their own gain.”

  The man shifted his stance and aimed his weapon at Jack, which was his final mistake. As soon as Jack had a clear shot, he took it, dropping the terrorist to the ground. The other man panicked and tried to run, but Jack dropped him with a shot to the head.

  It was all over faster than I could have imagined. Jack walked over to me and held out his hand. I took it and he pulled me to my feet. I clung to him, trembling from head to toe.

  “It's okay, Camille,” he said, stroking my hair. “It's over. You're safe now.”

  I took a few deep, shuddering breaths. Then I leaned back and looked Jack in the eye. “Why did he call you Mr. Tremaine?”

  He smirked, holstering his pistol. “I've been meaning to find the right time to tell you.” He held out his arms in a humble stance. “My real name is Jack Tremaine. I'm the one who's been funding your expeditions.”

  I stared at him for a long moment, dumbfounded. Then I raised my hand and slapped him as hard as I could across the face.

  * * *

  I stalked across the excavation site, grabbing whatever equipment I could carry and hauling it off towards our rental trucks. The rest of the team was standing around in a daze, staring at the bodies, at the guns, at the blood on the ground. I couldn't stand around and stare. I had to keep moving.

  “Camille,” Jack said, following me to the truck.

  “Don't talk to me.” I dumped a load of tools in the back of the truck, then turned back to collect some more. Jack stopped me and grabbed my shaking hands. Part of me wanted him to hold me. Part of me wanted to scream at him.

  Instead I just shoved away from him and went over to the folding table where we had all of our maps and documents about the site. I rolled everything up in a clump, not caring if some of the pages got rumpled. Jack stood off to the side, watching me.

  “We should go,” Tracy said, pulling herself away from the scene of violence. She smacked William on his arm to get him moving. “Come on, Will. This isn't the place to be hanging around.”

  “Should we call someone?” William asked. “The...the police? The government?”

  “We're not calling anyone,” Jack said. “If any hostiles know we're in the area, our only option is to evacuate. We've saved enough history for this trip.”

  “I'm sure Mr. Tremaine doesn't want to risk bad publicity by having his excavation team captured by terrorists,” I snapped. I shoved the maps and papers into a long black tube, twisted the cap on, and tossed it into one of the trucks.

  The rest of the team stared at Jack. They were probably as stunned about his identity as I was.

  “I just don't want anyone to get hurt,” Jack said.

  I didn't even look at him. I couldn't. Not until I calmed down.

  Soon we had everything backed into the vehicles and we were on our way. Jack drove at the head of the caravan, his hands keeping a firm grip on the steering wheel. “We'll head straight to the airport,” he said. “I'll call ahead. My jet's been waiting there since it landed, and the crew has instructions to keep it prepped for flight at all times.”

  “Your jet,” I said, shaking my head. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. This man, this fool man that I'd let myself fall for, was the infamous head of Tremaine Industries. “Is your name even Jack? Was that a lie too?”

  “My given name is Herbert Jacques Tremaine,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road, as well as scanning the horizon for any dangers. “I'm sure you can understand why I prefer 'Jack.'”

  “Herbert,” I said, snorting. “Seriously? Herbert?” That was the whitest of rich white boy names I could ever imagine.

  He laughed and shook his head. “Named for my grandfather. I never cared for it. Or for him.”

  We drove in silence for a time. I had a million questions to ask him, but I couldn't get them all straight in my head. Eventually, when the airport was coming into view ahead of us, I asked the most immediate question on my mind.

  “Why did you lie?”

  He didn't answer for a long time. We pulled into the airport parking lot. Crew members in the employ of Tremaine Industries came out to meet us and started unloading our excavation gear and the artifacts we had recovered. The rest of the team was already getting on the jet, while Jack and I sat in the car. He finally turned off the engine, rested his hands on the steering wheel, and started to explain.

  “I never asked to be rich,” he said. “I was born the heir to the Tremaine fortune, and that's how it was. But when I was a teenager, I started thinking I needed some kind of bet
ter focus in my life.”

  “So you joined the Navy.”

  He nodded. “At first it was a chance to work out my aggression. And man, was I ever an aggressive kid. I got kicked out of two boarding schools for starting fights. The Navy helped me focus that aggression into purpose, and I stopped being so angry all the time.”

  He shrugged and turned away, staring out the window. “But when I got done training and started actually doing the job, it turned into something different. I was saving people. Helping keep the country safe. I did more for America than my father and my grandfather ever did with their engineering firms or their overpriced pharmaceuticals.”

  The tension started to ease out of my shoulders as I listened to his story. This wasn't the Tremaine I'd imagined. My image of him, of his family name, had been tainted by his father's legacy.

  “When I got out,” he said, “it was just after my father died. I had to take over the family business. I almost sold it all, just so I wouldn't have to deal with it. But the companies that made me offers were notorious for doing major takeovers and then 'reorganizing their new assets.' Which is a fancy way of saying they shut down any unprofitable plants and make major layoffs. So I keep things running, and to hell with the shareholders if they complain that profits are down. We keep people employed. And I use my own profits for personal projects.”

  “Like preserving little pieces of history,” I said. I reached over and touched his knee.

  “Among other things, yeah.” He finally turned to face me. His expression had softened.

  “You didn't quite answer my question, though.” I arched an eyebrow. His story had touched me, but I wasn't letting him get off the hook just yet. “Why lie? Why pretend to be someone else?”

  “I like to get involved,” he said, shrugging. “I like to help. And since I've got my SEAL training, it makes sense to work as security. I fund a lot of other things besides your expeditions. Scientific and medical research, wildlife preserves, and so on. I go from one to the next, taking on a simple security role, and I can feel useful. Plus it helps me keep an eye on things, make sure the people I pay don't squander their resources or try to do anything illegal.”