by Mia Carson
“I’m not having a mid-life crisis,” he muttered.
“Are you sure? Because that’s what this sounds like. What happened to Samuel Benson, billionaire bachelor forever?” Marcus sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me after one night with a stranger, you want to settle down.”
Sam swerved around cars and floored it as his anger grew. “Not just last night. For a while now. Life doesn’t feel right anymore, but last night…last night, it did. I’m sorry you can’t understand that.”
Marcus muttered something under his breath, but Sam missed it. “You didn’t give this chick your number, did you?”
“So what if I did?”
“Man, you paid half a million dollars last night—half! Then you gave her your number. What’s to stop her from trying to suck more money out of you? Especially if you’re going to start being this vulnerable, weak-minded man.”
Sam slammed on the brakes as he skidded into a parking spot along the curb. His hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, he counted to ten in his mind to control his temper. It had been years since he’d lost it, but hearing Marcus talk so casually about his life and things he knew nothing about pushed him close to the edge. “I’m not vulnerable or weak-minded. I simply realized I’m tired of being alone. Is that so wrong?”
His friend didn’t respond immediately, which gave Sam a few more moments to compose himself. It wasn’t Marcus’ fault. He knew nothing of how hard it was growing up in the Benson household. Sam refused to burden anyone with those horrible facts.
“Look, Sam, I’m your friend,” Marcus said seriously. “If you’re ready to make a life change, then I’ll be there to support you, but I’m also looking out for you. I’ve seen plenty of men brought down in this town by some gold-digger. I’m not saying she is,” he added quickly when Sam shot him a look, “only please be careful with who you get in bed with. Or don’t get in bed with.”
Sam hung his head. He held out his hand to his friend, and Marcus took it. “Sorry. After all these years, I’m still not used to having someone look after me.”
“I know it’s been hard since your grandfather died, but you got me. As much as you hate me some days,” he joked. “I promise I’ll stay out of it unless I think you’re in trouble.”
“That sounds good to me.” He pulled back out onto the main road. “How many presentations are we going over today?”
“Six, last I checked.”
“Local companies?”
“One national and two others looking to expand their marketing potential,” Marcus said.
The conversation turned to business, and Sam fell into the CEO role. Harley stayed on his mind all day, but his cell remained tucked safely away. He was content to let his hands remember the feel of her heated skin so soft at his touch, so supple and ready to be loved. It would have to do until he had a chance to see her again.
If she calls you, he whispered to himself during the presentations. For all you know, Marcus could be right.
But he wasn’t. Sam was uncertain how he knew, but Harley was not a gold-digger. She had been honest with him last night in that room when she’d said he saved her ass. Whatever drove her to put her body up for auction rivaled what had happened in his own life. He hoped money wasn’t the only help she needed and that she would reach out to him again so he could hear her voice at least one more time.
Sam slammed the phone down on his desk and scattered the aged playing cards everywhere in the process. “Damn it,” he muttered and sank to the floor to pick them up.
The past few days had blurred by, and before he knew it, nearly a week had passed since he’d seen Harley. He tried to push her face aside, but every time he closed his eyes at night, she was there waiting for him. It didn’t help his aggravation when a few of his accounts came up short and he had to have everything audited. It would take weeks to finish. Then there was the issue of the new accounts Devois opened. They still lacked pertinent information on them, and the man refused to call Sam back. He contacted Agent Higgins to update him, but the agent said there was nothing they could do until they had hard evidence the man was committing a crime. Sam could do nothing but tell Marcus to keep a close watch on any account with Devois’ name or business involved and wait.
The marketing side of the business ran into several errors that morning when the servers crashed and important documents vanished completely. He struggled to control his temper as the techs trying to fix the problem explained they would do what they could to bring everything back on line by the end of the day, but those documents were gone. The marketing team would need weeks to redo them, and in this business, time was money. He spent all afternoon on the phone assuring his clients everything was under control when all he wanted to do was go home and hide in his penthouse and pretend it was the night he met Harley.
He finished picking up the cards and shuffled them together out of habit before setting them carefully on his desk. As he sank back into his chair, rubbing his throbbing forehead, his cell rang. Cursing, wondering what else could go wrong this week, he snatched it off his desk and answered it.
“Samuel Benson,” he growled.
“I hope that’s not how you always answer your phone calls.”
“Harley?” He wasn’t sure if he believed she had called, but her warm laughter told him this was her.
“Yeah. Sorry it took me so long to call you. I’ve been working doubles every day since that night,” she explained. “I was wondering what you were up to tonight? I have it off for once. If you’re busy, though, I’ll understand.”
He wasn’t sure what to say and no sound came out. He was too worried he was hallucinating this moment after the terrible week he’d had.
“Or we can pretend I didn’t call if you actually didn’t intend to talk to me again,” she said quietly. “Right. I’ll go then.”
“No! Sorry, I’m just out of it. Shitty week,” he told her. “You have no idea how happy I am you called.”
“You are? You sure about that?”
“Yeah, I am. How about I pick you up later. Around seven?”
“Seven sounds great,” she replied. “Do you mind if I wear normal clothes this time?”
He laughed with her. “Wear whatever you want. We’ll go somewhere comfortable. Text me your address?”
“Will do. See you later, hot pants.”
He hung up when she did, grinning widely. “Hot pants, cute,” he muttered and checked the address she sent him. It wasn’t the best part of town, but he had been in the same situation not so long ago. He had three hours to go before he could leave his office, change, and go pick her up. There was a great bar outside the main Vegas strip he frequented, a comfortable place with no tourists. Sadly, unlike other places, at the end of August, tourist season didn’t end. They visited year-round, and some days Sam considered moving his whole enterprise somewhere quieter. But that was a headache he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with.
“Hey, we have a problem,” Marcus said as he walked into Sam’s office. “And you look really happy all of a sudden.” He paused as his brow shot up to his hairline. “I’m going to assume a certain woman called you?”
“Yes, she did, and we’re going out tonight. Problem?”
“Not with that, but we do have an issue with one of our accounts. It’s Devois.” He handed Sam the reports and sat down hard in the chair across from Sam’s desk. “I triple-checked, and the changes and the large funds being moved are not from our end.”
Sam stared down at the reports. “It looks like the feds were right. He’s shifted an awful lot of money around in the new accounts and invested a hefty sum in nightclubs,” he muttered, wondering what the man was up to.
“He has been in the news quite a bit,” Marcus agreed. “What do you want to do?”
Sam stared at the flagged amounts and the discrepancies in the account. “Keep an eye on the accounts. Don’t do anything differently for now. I’ll give our FBI friend a call.”
Christopher Devois might be a staple in the Vegas community, but not in a good way, and Sam saw first-hand why the feds were so concerned with him. He owned several casinos and resorts, and for years, the FBI had tried to link him to several mobs stretching across the country and possibly ties to the cartel. So far, they had nothing solid to go on, but Devois was either getting sloppy or assumed Sam would be like all the other businessmen in the city and look the other way. Those men needed Devois and his money. Sam did not.
“Make sure to keep a record of every transaction until they’re able to move in on him,” Sam said and returned the files to Marcus. “And keep this quiet around the office. I want only you and Betty watching these accounts from now on.”
“Do you think one of his guys works in our office?” Marcus whispered.
“I’m not taking any chances and let some lackey drag my company down.”
“Understood.” He tapped the folder against his hand and frowned. “Do you want me to double-check the other business accounts and see if they’re linked to Devois? Just in case?”
Sam nodded. “Do it, but make it part of the audits so no one questions it.”
“I guess I know what I’ll be doing all weekend,” Marcus mocked with an exaggerated sigh. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go hang out with your Friday night girl?”
“I don’t leave early, you know that,” Sam said stiffly.
“Not even for her?” Sam shot him a warning look, and Marcus shrugged. “I’m just saying. See you in the morning, boss.”
Sam occupied the next hour calling Agent Higgins and informing him of what he found. Not wanting to spook Devois until they knew for sure they could nail him and hold him, he told Sam to update them on the accounts but that this was good news for their case. Once he hung up, Sam paced restlessly around his office before muttering, “Fuck it,” and left early. He passed a shocked Betty at her desk and checked the address for Harley again on his cell. He planned on going home first, but the need to see her again was too strong, and before he realized it, he pulled up outside her apartment building and parked behind a rundown Chevy truck.
His boots sounded loud as he stomped up the steps to the eighth floor and knocked on door 8C. He was three hours early and wondered if she was even home when he heard the lock slide free and the door cracked open, stopped by the chain.
“Sam!” Harley exclaimed with a bright smile. “Hang on.” She closed the door, undid the chain, and opened the door all the way. “You are either really early or my clock stopped.”
He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “I can go if you want.”
“No, I don’t want you to go,” she said quickly and stepped to the side. “Come on in. I was getting ready slowly, but I can hurry up.”
“Nothing fancy. We’re just going to a bar,” he informed her as he glanced around her tiny apartment.
She screwed her lips up to the side, watching him. “I know, it’s not the greatest, but it’s got a floor, a roof, and working utilities.”
“At least with the money you got last week, you can find something nicer,” he said slowly, worried about her living in such a shitty place. “Do you live alone?”
“Nope, I have a roommate and currently, my baby sister lives with me. Do you mind following? I’m going to find my shoes and fix my hair,” she said and nodded towards the short hallway. He walked behind her, trying not to count the number of cracks in the ceiling and walls. “I can practically hear you thinking about taking me away from this apartment. Stop it.”
He smiled guilty. “Can’t a guy worry?”
“Yeah, he can, but don’t think you’re going to waltz into my life and whisk me away.”
“I’d never think of doing that,” he lied, and she burst out laughing. “All right, the thought crossed my mind, but I understand the need to prove yourself. Please, promise me, though, that you’ll move somewhere else.”
“I’ll work on it as soon as everything falls into place,” she assured him as she sat on her tiny bed and slipped on her sandals. “Huh, funny.”
“What is?”
“Us,” she said and motioned between them. “I thought this would be awkward, but I’d swear I’ve known you forever. That’s not normal, is it?”
Flashing her a charming smile, he stepped closer. Immediately, her breathing quickened as her eyes darkened. “That’s not a bad thing. It means we can skip the weird moments of dating someone new.”
“There is that,” she whispered. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
“I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one losing it.” He reached her and pulled her to her feet. “You’ve haunted my dreams every night since we were together.”
She swallowed hard and his body tensed with its need to hold her close. “Were they good dreams? I’d hate to be the cause of nightmares.”
He ran his hands through her hair and with a gentle kiss told her without words exactly what type of dreams he’d had. Dreams that gave him a throbbing erection and a hunger for her growing stronger. Dreams of him tearing that damn corset from her body and showing her exactly what loving a woman like her should be like for the first time.
She melted at his touch, grabbing his shirtfront and pulling him even closer until their bodies were smashed together. Harley ignited a part of him that had felt dormant for years, and all he wanted to do was stay with her as he found himself again. The kiss deepened and they tumbled back onto her small bed. He rolled them so she was on top as he explored her mouth with his tongue, never getting enough of her sweet taste.
“As much as I hate to interrupt this moment,” she said against his lips, “my roommate will be home soon.”
“How soon?” he asked as his hands slipped to her t-shirt and slid up her back. She shuddered at his touch, wiggling her hips against his.
“Like ten minutes soon, and that is not enough time to do everything I think we want to do.” He wanted to argue that he could definitely do something worthwhile in ten minutes, but when she licked his lower lip, he hugged her close to his body and grunted. Ten minutes would never be enough with Harley.
“Right, you win,” he muttered and stood up with her. “Dinner?”
“Dinner—that thing where you eat with someone else, right, and talk about random things?” she said, hopping up on her toes to kiss him again. “It sounds like a great time to me.”
His deep, throaty laugh echoed around the tiny apartment as they walked towards the door. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so comfortable around a woman, or willing to laugh and let loose. Being with Harley was easy, and as she locked her door, the insane idea struck him that maybe, after all this time, he’d finally found the one woman he actually wanted to be with.
Get through your first date before you propose to her, he told himself sternly. At least the first date.
Chapter 6
Harley leaned against Sam’s side in the booth as she listened to the drunk patrons do karaoke. The past few hours with this man were unlike any date she’d had in the past. She debated all week whether to call him, unable to get him out of her mind. Stress from her job built up, and Ricky stopped by once to tell her he was still waiting to hear back from Devois about the other end of her deal. Before she realized what she was doing, she pulled Sam’s business card out and called him. Really, she wanted someone to talk to, just as a friend, but the second she opened her door to find him there she knew she was in trouble. Calling him was what she’d planned on doing once this mess with Devois was over, but here she was having drinks with Sam and that damn deal hovered over her head like a death sentence. If she could keep it casual with Sam until that night was over then she could officially date him, but that was going to be harder than she first assumed.
Now, she wanted the night to last forever, snuggled close this side safe from the rest of the world. She glanced at her cell and frowned. “Damn, I should be getting home.”
“It’s barely ten,” he commented an
d draped his arm over her shoulders. “One more round of drunken singers.”
“I have to work at four,” she informed him with a sigh as she snuggled closer against his side. “I guess I could just sleep like this. Drop me off at work in the morning, would you?”
He kissed the top of her head, and she tried to hold onto the feeling of belonging he gave her. “You know, there are always openings at my company. I could give you a better job if you really wanted one.”
“You already gave me five-hundred-thousand dollars—for something you didn’t even get, mind you.” She stared up at him with narrowed eyes. “I still can’t believe you did that, and I’m not about to take a job.”
“Why not?”
“One, because I haven’t finished my college classes and I’m pretty sure I’d piss a few people off at your company who’d worked their butts off for years to get their jobs,” she explained. “And two, I don’t want them to think I got the job because I’m dating the big, bad, hot-pants CEO.”
He rested his head back against the booth. “I guess you’re right. Is it too late to sign up for fall classes?”
“Where were you a few years ago?” she murmured.
He leaned down and slanted his lips over hers. “Still finding myself.”
“And now? Have you found yourself?”
Brushing his fingers along her cheekbone, he sighed. “I thought I had before, but with you, I think I’m finally there. Is that too much?” He cringed and leaned back. “That might’ve been too much.”
“Sam, whatever this is between us, I feel pretty safe saying it’s real and it’s not too much.” Mentally she kicked herself. Keep it friendly! Casual! You can’t date him, you idiot! Too bad she couldn’t listen to her own damn advice.
“Are you sure? I can’t stop thinking about you and being with you is so right.” He kissed her again, and she wished there wasn’t a table in the way so she could sit on his lap and deepen the kiss. “Weren’t you wanting to leave?” he asked against her lips.