KiKi’s Millionaire
By
Patricia Green
©2012 by Blushing Books® and Patricia Green
Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Patricia Green
All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Green, Patricia
Kiki’s Millionaire
eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-931-5
Cover Design by edhgraphics.blogspot.com
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
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Patricia Green
Patricia Green is a fiction writer specializing in erotic romance. She hopes to provide the reader with love stories that emphasize fun characters with quirky personalities. Patricia currently has more than a dozen books for you to choose from.
She's married and is the mother of twins. When she's not being the angel of domestic harmony and a semi-crazed creator of fictional friends, she loves to crochet, read, and watch hockey.
Find out more about Patricia Green and her books at www.patriciagreenbooks.com.
Don’t miss these other exciting titles by Patricia Green:
Jackie Draws a Straight
Ace High Flush
The Strong, Silent Type
Liv’s Journey
Chapter 1
Kiki hit the enter key on her laptop and smiled. The proposal was done. Sent. And she’d finished it the afternoon it was due rather than waiting until was already late and working all through the night. That was a first. She took a little sip of her hot mocha and sat back, waiting as the wireless connection indicator blinked, sending the file.
The little coffee bar was quiet in the hour before most people got off work. The baristas were working to get things ready for the evening commuter traffic, and they worked in a friendly and efficient way with the one customer who stood at the counter. Most of the tables were empty, but a lone man sat a few tables away, contemplating a newspaper. He was joined by the fellow who’d been at the counter and they sat talking amiably.
The file was not sending. Kiki hit the enter key again, but nothing changed. The little wireless connection thingy just kept whirling around and around. The file wasn’t nearly big enough to account for this extended sending time. She hit the enter key again…and again. She stabbed at it, increasingly concerned and impatient. She lifted the laptop up and gave it a shake, then put it back down roughly. As she watched, horror stricken, a blue-screen-of-death appeared, full of coded gobbledygook and error messages. Her computer had quit working!
“Fuck! Son of a bitch! Damn, damn, damn! You sorry-ass piece of shit!” She smacked the laptop forcefully. “Work, damn you!” Nothing happened. “You goddamn mother-”
“Excuse me, Miss.”
She looked up, a snarl and a frown making her face feel distorted. It was the man who’d been at the counter a few minutes previous. He was a tall man, wearing a black t-shirt and a good quality black suit—a little Hollywood, but appealing. He smiled at her, teeth white in a healthy, tanned face. His dark hair was neatly brushed back in a queue. “What the fuck do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
His eyebrow arched over a twinkling blue eye. “Yes, I can see that you’re having some trouble with your computer. Perhaps I can help?”
“What? Are you with Geek Squad or something?”
“Something like that. My name is Jim Chesterfield.” He said it like she ought to know him, so she looked at him for a moment, narrowing her eyes as she thought.
“Jim Chesterfield…James Chesterfield? The James Chesterfield?”
A slightly embarrassed look washed over his face, followed by a playful grin. “That’s what my mother calls me. Most people just call me Jim, though.”
Flustered, she looked down at the blue screen on her computer then back up to him. James Chesterfield was, perhaps, one of the best known computer geeks in the U.S. He had a huge software business, providing alternative operating systems to hundreds of thousands of users worldwide. It was rumored that he was branching out into hardware in the next few months and that it would cement his place as an international icon. What the hell was he doing in a Coffee Cart store? “It stopped working. I was trying to send an important proposal and it just went dead.”
“Would you mind if I look at it?”
“Well…why the fuck not? Thanks.” She turned the computer to face him as he sat down at the table, smiling at her genially. He was a handsome son-of-a-bitch, finely sculpted and broad-shouldered. She’d read somewhere that he’d been a programming prodigy, but by now he must be around forty years old. Kiki thought it was an amazing thing for plain ole her to be sitting with him, actually having him poke around on her cheap laptop. She blinked and surreptitiou
sly pinched her arm just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. No, she was awake. It still seemed surreal. Her best friend, Madhuja, was not going to believe her.
“Ah, I see what happened.” He pressed a sequence of keys and the screen went black then showed an icon in the middle as the operating system engaged again. “You said you were sending a file?”
“Yeah. It was a proposal I was sending to my boss. He has to present it to the board in the morning and I was supposed to get it to him by close-of-business today. With this fuckin’ broken computer, I’m screwed.”
“You didn’t leave yourself much time.” His blue eyes—really remarkable with his dark hair—were focused on the computer. Kiki wondered what it would feel like to have him focus that attention on her. That thought got squashed vigorously. He is probably married to a super-model or something.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, she responded, “Well, actually, I’m usually late on these things. This is what I get for congratulating myself on being early for once.”
He grinned, looking over at her, and she got flustered again. “I think we can recover your file. Did you back it up?”
Kiki shook her head, feeling fairly stupid. Maddie had told her to get a USB key and keep backups of her files, but she’d been hesitant to spend the $30 on something she figured she’d lose anyway.
“Too bad. You should always back up things you can’t afford to lose.” Jim was focused on the computer once more. “This computer is a little outdated.”
She snorted, perversely realized it was unladylike, and tried to cover it with a cough. “Yeah, but it’s what I’ve got.”
He nodded, looked over at her for a little while, his eyes roving over her face. “Do you want me to recover your data?”
“Can you?”
“Yes. For a price.”
Well, that was really the topper. She couldn’t afford another cup of mocha, let alone a fee for saving her proposal. She was doomed. “You’re one of the richest fucking guys in the country, and you want to bill me? I can’t pay you!”
“I think you can.” His smile was open, easy.
She shook her head, hair tickling her cheeks. “Oh please. I’ve got maybe five bucks to my name.”
“Are you married?”
Ah, now she could see where the conversation was heading. She would have thought he could get his kicks with someone more lofty. She bristled. “No, but let’s not go there. I don’t fuck for favors.”
“You really need to clean up your language, young lady.”
Kiki frowned. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?”
Shaking his dark head, he turned the still-malfunctioning computer toward her and sat back in his chair. “You know what you need?”
“I’ll bet you think you know.”
He nodded. “You need a good spanking.”
She snorted, this time not even trying to cover it up. “Good luck with that, Mister James Chesterfield.”
Grinning, his confidence didn’t slip a hair. “What’s your name?”
Kiki thought about the safety of telling him for a moment. He wouldn’t be a stalker; he was too prominent for that. “Kiki Mackenzie.”
“Well, Miss Kiki Mackenzie,” he said. “I’ll recover your file if you’ll agree to go out with me three times.”
The file was important. Her boss, Ted Keeting, had made it very clear that one more late project and she was out the door. She only had an hour—no, forty-five minutes—to get it where it needed to go. “Three times?”
Nodding, he confirmed, “Yes, three.”
“No sex?”
“Not unless you want it. I’m not in the habit of forcing women.”
Publicity for his bad behavior would be huge, so she figured he was telling the truth. A new job would be hard to find in the current economic climate, and her experience level as a junior PR person was minimal. Not to mention the fact that her boss wasn’t thrilled with her and probably wouldn’t give her a good reference. “Yeah, fine. Three times. No sex.”
“Okay. Hit the F3 key.”
“The F3 key?”
“Yup.”
“That’s it? Just tap a key?”
He smiled. “Mmhmm.”
“You’re a sneaky bastard, making me agree to those dates for one damn keystroke.”
“Did you know to hit the F3 key? Would you have figured it out by yourself?”
“Well…no.”
“Then go ahead.”
Skeptically, she reached out and gently depressed the key. Her dark computer screen lit up and opened the mail application and her presentation program application. New mail was waiting, and her proposal was right there, just as she’d left it. “Holy shit!”
He smiled, but reprimanded her. “All that cursing. Tsk.”
She quickly attached the proposal to an email and sent it off. This time, it went without a hitch. “Fan-fuckin’-tastic!”
“I’m glad I made you happy.”
“You saved my life! I could have lost my job.”
There was a brief pause in the conversation as she turned back to the computer, grinning from ear to ear.
“Is your real name Kiki? It’s very unusual.”
Her cheeks got a little hot. “Well, actually, it’s Kitten Kimberly Ann Mackenzie.”
He didn’t laugh or even smirk; that was kind. “Your parents must have liked cats.”
“Um…yeah.” Kiki’s smile was a little forced. Her name was a permanent thorn in her side, but she refused to change it. Her mother had so loved the name she gave her daughter; it made Kiki feel like a traitor to consider modifying it more than with a nickname.
“Where shall I pick you up for dinner tonight?”
“Huh?”
“Dinner. A date.” His look was indulgent. “You know, the first of the three you agreed to.”
“Oh, right! So soon?” Apparently he was serious about that. It made no sense. She was fairly ordinary. Pretty, maybe, but not a knockout. Her legs and behind were okay—she bicycled to work and home every day—but her boobs were too small and her shoulder-length chestnut-colored hair and gray eyes were common enough. Well, whatever.
She gave him her address. “What time?”
“Seven.” He took out a pen and a business card, scribbled something on the back, then handed it to her. “In case you need to reach me. Use the cell phone number on the back.”
Kiki looked at the card, and mumbled his engraved name. “James Aaron Chesterfield. Yeah, okay.” Folding up her laptop, she pocketed the card and stood up from the table. Her coat and purse went over her arm. “I guess I’ll see you later…Jim.”
He nodded and smiled, boyish but mature at the same time. “Until then, Kiki.”
* * *
Watching her sweet behind sway out the door, Jim sat at the small table for half-a-minute, then returned to the table where his brother, Cal, was once again reading his newspaper.
“Reminds you of Isabella, doesn’t she?”
Jim thought about his dead wife wistfully for a moment, then nodded. “In some ways.”
“Same color hair, same lanky body.”
“Same foul mouth,” Jim pointed out with a smile.
Cal laughed. “Oh yeah. She’s got that in spades.”
“Except Isabella cursed in Italian.”
“Like a truck driver.”
“A very pretty truck driver.”
“No argument about that.”
Jim drank his cold coffee. “I’m taking her on a date tonight.”
Cal’s dark eyebrows, so like his older brother’s, shot up. “That was fast.”
“I like her.”
“I guess so!”
Jim smiled. “She’s got no artifice. She just is what she is.”
“What’s her name?”
“Kiki.”
Nodding, Cal moved the newspaper around, folding it neatly, though it had already been folded with precision. “Are you ready for this, Jim?”
He had
to think about that. Was he ready? Isabella had been dead for two years. But he’d been prepared when she passed. She was horribly sick for the entire year before. When he buried her, he thought he’d never find anyone as vivacious, as beautiful, and as sensual as her again. Maybe that was still the case. Maybe this Kiki Mackenzie was nothing special. No…there was something different about her.
“Yeah. I think I’m ready. It’s been two years.”
“True, and you’ve hardly been celibate.”
The coffee tasted good as it went down. “No.” Women had been eager to climb into his bed, each for her own reasons, and none of them honorable. They weren’t interested in him, just his money and prestige. He needed what they were offering—sex—but he didn’t need a trophy wife or someone who didn’t sincerely care about him. Isabella had cared. “I had to coerce Kiki.”
“After she knew who you were?”
Jim nodded. “Yup.”
Cal sat back in his chair. “Wow.”
“Yeah, wow.”
Standing, the younger man gathered his coat. “Good luck, brother. This one’s different.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
* * *
Jim never drank alcohol when he was driving. If he planned to have wine or cocktails, he had his man-of-all-work drag out the Rolls-Royce or the Lincoln. He had several cars, and the Rolls was perhaps his least used. Purchased on a whim, it was elegant, but not very practical. Generally, he liked to fly under the radar and avoid paparazzi by using less flashy cars but, on the other hand, he didn’t ever want to be arrested for drinking and driving. That would be a publicity nightmare. So, since he hoped to have wine with his dinner with Kiki, the Rolls got shined up and his man, Ernie, put on his best suit.
They arrived at Kiki’s place at seven-oh-five owing to Silicon Valley traffic. Jim knocked at the apartment door, a little nervous, which was a change for him. He wanted this woman to like him. Really like him for himself.
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