Wild Eyes (The Barrington Billionaires Book 2)

by Danielle Stewart

  The driver nodded his head in agreement, and Mathew was certain he heard him chuckle.

  A few minutes later a cab pulled up and Jessica got in. “She’s a firecracker.” The driver laughed, flashing his gap-toothed grin and crinkled eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “She’s a nightmare,” Mathew corrected. “I feel bad for whatever man ends up with her.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” the driver replied lightheartedly through his knowing-old-man snigger. “A woman like that is one in a million. I tend to feel worse for the men who end up letting her go.”

  Chapter 1

  There was a right way to do everything. Calculated choices enhanced the odds of success, and it was Mathew Kalling’s job to know those odds. His business partner, James West, was a risk-taking gambler who made Mathew’s skill of clearheaded decision-making even more important. He spent most of his time yanking the reins and forcing deliberate analysis of every situation, even when it caused epic battles between James and him. Mathew could hold his own; he feared nothing in this world. Fear was a waste of time, irrational and weak. If you gave everything enough thought and preparation, you could navigate anything.

  He’d learned years ago there were many types of strength, and he liked to wield them all. There was no advantage to being a one-trick pony. When a guy at the bar puffed his chest and tried to mark his territory, Mathew had no problem announcing the guy’s night was over while stuffing him into a cab and maybe accidently smashing his head on the door frame in the process. He and James had that skill in common.

  But what James West never seemed to understand was the power in restraint. Waiting for the perfect moment to act showed a command that irrational brute force never could. It was a difference in culture that was the source of most of their arguments over their years of friendship. And now it seemed to be the same argument he was having with Jessica. Why couldn’t everyone just smarten up and see he was right?

  “I’ve got it all under control. Back off,” Mathew asserted into his phone as he swiveled his chair around to look out the window. He didn’t much care for Texas. There wasn’t enough color here. Everything felt washed out and sunburned. He had to admit the weather was better than Boston where he’d grown up, but the benefits ended there. The drawl in the voices, the puffed out chests, and the big egos were exhausting. Sure, Boston had its share of arrogant bastards, but everything really was bigger in Texas, even the attitudes.

  “What the hell was I thinking? This isn’t the right time for me to be away,” James said in a husky whisper, and Mathew could tell he was trying to make sure his new bride, Libby, wasn’t overhearing him.

  “You just ran off and eloped. Take your honeymoon. Your new wife deserves that. Don’t be a dick. I’ve got this.” Mathew stared out at the park adjacent to the West Oil building and watched the small dots of people moving playfully through their afternoon. This new reality hadn’t sunk in yet. His friend had been the last person in the world he expected would fall in love, run off, and get married. James was the consummate bachelor who Mathew could count on to hit the bars and swap turns being wingman. And suddenly he wasn’t.

  “Don’t fuck everything up while I’m gone,” James said with a heavy breath.

  “Because I’m the one who usually fucks things up?” Mathew bit back sarcastically. “If anything, your vacation will be my vacation because I won’t have to clean up your mess. It might actually be a quiet week or two.”

  “Libby wanted me to ask you if you’re keeping an eye on Jessica.” The quick change in his tone made Mathew assume Libby was back in the room now, and he had to change the subject.

  “I haven’t seen her since last week after the charity event in Boston where you went all romantic comedy on me. We flew home together. That was that.” That was most certainly not that. But there was no point recounting the events to James. He wouldn’t care. Not to mention the only thing more on Mathew’s mind than the argument was the outline of her figure, which had been branded, seared relentlessly, into his brain. Every time his mind fell quiet, her sultry voice filtered in like water through gravel. It was becoming as disruptive as having a marching band playing relentlessly in his office.

  Flashes of the back of Jessica’s dress opening in a deep V and exposing her silky skin intruded on his train of thought. The night of the charity event he’d casually put a hand to the small of her back, each time savoring the skin-to-skin touch. But with every sexy memory came one of her threatening to maim a man on a plane. He had to believe some crazy was just not worth the trouble.

  “So matter of fact about it,” James laughed. “I know what you look like when you’re hung up on someone. I just didn’t expect you to get hung up on a woman like Jessica.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Mathew asked, feeling a misplaced desire to defend Jessica’s honor.

  “She’s kind of nuts,” James blurted, again in a half whisper. “Libby has told me some stories about her. She’s anti-relationship. Won’t settle down. Refuses to date anyone seriously. She’s the opposite of every girl you’ve ever dated. They’re looking for a ring by the third date, and I’m half expecting you to give them one. You’re always with these perfect, Ivy League educated, sorority snobby girls who expect a picket fence and a family in two years, then you go and break their hearts. Maybe a girl like Jessica is exactly what you need.”

  “Since when do we talk about this shit? Marriage has softened you, and it’s only been seventy-two hours. By the time you get back you’ll be throwing rose petals down at my feet and asking me to join you for a pedicure. How about we keep things the way they’ve always been, and you don’t give me advice about women? Up until a few weeks ago you were shittier in that department than I was.”

  “I’m just looking out for you,” James snickered. “I don’t want you ending up old and alone. Or worse,” he laughed, “married to one of those awful, boring girls you date.”

  “Shut up and stop calling me.”

  “Are you going to call Jessica?”

  “No,” Mathew asserted even though most of his downtime had been spent thinking about the mess of a woman who’d been thrust into his life a couple weeks ago. But he wouldn’t give James the satisfaction of thinking he’d orchestrated anything.

  “I didn’t think so. What time is it there?” James asked, and Mathew grew more annoyed by the second. Could a married James no longer tell time?

  “Five thirty,” Mathew grunted and stopped abruptly as someone knocked on his open office door. Jessica.

  “Uh, yes?” Mathew stuttered out, taken back by the sight of the woman who’d been stomping all over his brain and invading his fantasies.

  “I’m here,” she said with an annoyed rise and fall of her shoulders. “Libby told me to meet you at five thirty. I guess you need another date, and apparently I’m your call girl or something now.”

  Mathew spun his chair around, the back of it to Jessica. “I’m going to kill you.”

  “It was Libby’s doing,” James said through a chuckle.

  “I know,” Mathew said, the words slithering through his grinding teeth. “But she’s sweet and a woman and I can’t kill her. So I’ll kill you instead.”

  “You are meeting with Gavin Laurence and his wife tonight. You should have a date. Kill me, thank me . . . we’ll see which one.”

  “Hello,” Jessica said impatiently. “Do you want me or what?”

  That is a loaded question.

  Mathew slammed the receiver down and spun back to see Jessica still standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a silky black dress with lace that crept up her neck like ivy. Her jet-black hair was in its usually sleek bob, and her eyes shown with the bright colors painted above them.

  “It was a mistake,” Mathew said, standing as he apologized. “Libby shouldn’t have called you. I don’t need a date.”

  “Listen, it’s not easy admitting you can’t get a girl to come to some boring business meeting dinner with you. I get it. But I’m i
n the dress. I am suffering through these ridiculously high stilettos. I took the night off of work. Someone is taking me to dinner. I was promised a nice meal.” Her words didn’t match her expression. There was no arrogance to them. No demanding. Tough talk, but she clearly looked like she was standing on a ledge, and he was either going to shove her off by rejecting her or pull her to safety.

  “This is a professional business meeting. It’s not the charity event where we just shake a few hands. It’s very important.” He had more to say, some very complimentary things, but she cut in too early.

  “And an idiot like me couldn’t keep up? You should be thanking me for showing up. At least whoever you are meeting with will have someone to talk to that isn’t the social equivalent of watching grass grow.” She’d jumped off the figurative ledge instead. Firing up at him as she plummeted down. Jessica always seemed ready to fight. It was half the allure of being around her. You never knew what she’d say next.

  “You didn’t let me finish. But since you brought it up, maybe it’s not a good fit. I mean, unlike the charity event, you can’t just stuff your face full of shrimp. And what happens if someone is rude? You’ll probably get us both arrested.” The barb was delivered with a smile, simply because he couldn’t fight it off. The anger rising in her face was turning him on. Warming him like a fire he’d poured gasoline on.

  “Excuse me?” Jessica yelped, slapping her small beaded clutch to her side. “I should have stuffed my ears full of shrimp so I didn’t have to listen to you drone on about business analytics and acquisitions.”

  “I was talking business to other business people. Sorry; what would you prefer we discuss? Mascara? BB cream?”

  Her face changed suddenly, and it tossed him off-kilter. The anger was replaced with a quizzical surprise. “How the hell do you know what BB cream is?”

  “I don’t need a date tonight,” he said, attempting to deflect from the small smile growing on her face.

  “Fine,” she shrugged, brushing her ruby red lips together, evenly spreading the gloss on them. “Your loss. Libby told me you’re meeting with some guy and his wife for dinner. Maybe you’re used to being the third wheel.”

  “Do people like you?” Mathew asked, eyeing her from head to toe with a long stare. “You are always being a smart ass or picking a fight.”

  “They love me,” she beamed, raising her brows up defiantly.

  “Why?” he asked, pressing his lips together and working hard not to look like he was enjoying this. But even if his act wasn’t holding up, the good thing was, neither was hers. They both wanted to be here. They both wanted to fight this fight.

  “Because when they call me and say to show up somewhere, I show. When they tell me a friend of their new husband is in a bind, I drop what I’m doing and make sure I come through. When they are being hurt or insulted, I’m the first one to stand up and protect them.”

  “Even at the chance you might hear about business analytics all night?”

  “I’m a very loyal friend. I’d take a bullet for Libby. I’d shove her out of the way of a runaway train. I’d even, if I knew it would help her, fight my way through a date with you.”

  Mathew grabbed the phone on his desk and pressed a few keys. “Joanne change the reservation for tonight to four.”

  “So the BB cream?” Jessica asked with a devilish grin.

  “Intrigued? You should be. You’ve got me pegged all wrong.”

  “Then this might be an interesting night after all.”

  Chapter 2

  Neither of them had apologized or admitted they were wrong about their argument after the flight. They didn’t come to some understanding or laugh about how silly it had been. Jessica wasn’t one to apologize, and Mathew wasn’t one to back down. Probably a toxic combination but that wasn’t enough to keep her away, even when it should have been. Something about Mathew kept her coming back. It was easy to blame it on the pleading voice from her best friend, Libby, on the other end of the phone, begging her to be Mathew’s date. But in reality, if she hadn’t wanted to come, if she’d lied and told Libby how insufferable and horrible she’d found Mathew, the conversation would have been over. Libby would have never expected her to go.

  Mathew was different than the men she’d usually hung out with. That was all you could call it. Dates never went past first or second, and phone calls often went ignored from the men who didn’t believe her when she said she didn’t want a relationship. Because what woman didn’t want the traditional love story?

  But eventually, after plenty of ignoring, most men got the hint and moved on to easier conquests. They would give up and label her a tease or a bitch so they could sleep better. Mathew, however, wasn’t the usual guy at the bar looking to score. He didn’t still live at home or talk endlessly about some pipe-dream idea he’d never be able to pull off. He was an actual adult.

  It wasn’t about the money. Jessica encountered plenty of rich men. As a hair and makeup artist for film and fashion, she’d had her share of men propositioning her to come live the privileged life with them, at least for a while. Another offer she always turned down religiously.

  Mathew had something else, though. He had his shit together. A steady, even-keeled, reliable air about him that screamed stability, a good man to have around in a bad storm. An idea she normally rejected. Jessica was a wild child, a fun-loving, free spirit who stood up for what was right, not what was popular. A guy like Mathew, as proof by his reaction to her handling shit on the plane, could never understand a woman like her. Yet here she was sitting a few inches from him, yet again, and fantasizing about the taste of his lips. It was time to admit she was a glutton for punishment.

  No matter how little sense it made, there was something more powerful than logic happening here. She wanted him. He wanted her. But it just wouldn’t work between them. Her usual plan in a situation like this was to have some fun, quench the desperate thirst she had for him, and then move on. Not an easy task when their paths would keep crossing.

  She swept her eyeliner up her eye into the perfect wings, and she could feel Mathew’s stare on her.

  “How do you do that in the back seat of the car?”

  She steadied the small mirror in her hand and swept mascara across the other eye lid. “There’s a joke in there somewhere about what I’m able to do in the back seat of a car. But I’m not touching it.”

  “I am sorry that Libby called you to come tonight. They don’t need to meddle.”

  “Libby isn’t one to ask for help. When she does I like to make sure I’m there for her. She told me James is counting on you for this meeting tonight, and I’ll give you a better shot at success.” She ran gloss over her lips again and smacked them together.

  Trying not to study his face too intently, she glanced at him again, drinking him in. His eyes were deep and black; his skin was a cool sandy color any makeup artist would appreciate for its warmth and perfection.

  “Well either way, it won’t happen again. I’m going to tell them both to back off.” The driver pulled the car up to the front of the restaurant, and as she reached for the handle, he grabbed her hand gently. Was he about to profess something? Clutch her hand and bring it to his lips? The way her heart skipped in her chest made her both angry with herself and impossibly excited.

  “Wait for him to come around and let you out,” Mathew said, gesturing with his chin toward the driver who was making his way around the front of the car.

  Tugging her hand away, all of her mixed emotions now sliding quickly to the angry side of the scale, she blushed. “I don’t need servants. I can get myself out of the car.”

  “Gavin and Genevieve Laurence are the owners of the largest fuel station chain in the Southeast. They are currently looking for a new source and vendor, and West Oil is in the perfect position to secure their business.”

  “Besides the fact that there is about zero confidence in y’all right now, right?” Damn my flight or fight response. She could never just shut he
r mouth and take it when someone was sniping at her.

  “We’re rebounding in astounding time from the issues we were faced with,” Mathew shot back defensively, clearly having had dropped that line multiple times before. “This is an important dinner.”

  “Noted,” Jessica said flatly as she stepped out of the car and thanked the driver graciously for his service. “I’ll make sure Gavin and Genevieve don’t see me accidently getting out of the car on my own accord. What a scene that would cause.”

  They walked quickly across the sidewalk and up to the large glass doors of the elegant restaurant. “Are you grasping the—?” Mathew was cut off quickly by the sudden appearance of Gavin and Genevieve, standing in the lobby, looking thoroughly impatient.

  “Gavin, Genevieve, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Mathew extended his hand and shook Gavin’s tightly, then leaned in and kissed Genevieve on the cheek. There shouldn’t be a single ounce of jealousy in Jessica about this completely innocuous greeting, but the pang resounded in her gut all the same. An innocent kiss on the cheek, but it was more than she’d ever gotten from Mathew, and that made her suddenly irrational. She greedily wanted his lips to herself. At the same time she wanted his lips to seal shut so he could stop saying stupid shit to her. Was it so hard to find a mute man with a nice set of arms and a huge dick who didn’t want her to pretend she wanted a commitment even when he didn’t? That felt pretty reasonable.

  “Where’s James?” Gavin asked, looking over Mathew’s shoulder as though his business partner would suddenly appear.

  “He couldn’t join us tonight,” Mathew said, clearing his throat, and Jessica watched a flash of unease move over his face, but it vanished quickly. Mathew was a cool confident man, not easily shaken by the Gavins of the world.

  Gavin was a short man with a wide round doughy face and meaty spit-covered lips. His wife was as beautiful as he was ugly and as kind-looking as her husband was grumpy. Where his hair was greasy, hers shined. Where his posture stooped, hers was arrow-straight. This was one of those pairs you could spend hours contemplating how they’d gotten together and why. Always resigning yourself to one thing. Either the little troll was hung like a well-endowed horse or money was a factor.