Billionaires Hook Up - A Standalone Novel (A Billionaire Office Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #8)

by Claire Adams

  Asher and I had been talking and laughing endlessly. On the ride back from the restaurant, there had been a few moments where we'd stared a little too long into each other's eyes, only for one of us to break the moment with an awkward laugh, abrupt turn of the head, or hasty comment.

  I wasn't sure what was going on, but I couldn't deny that I was enjoying it.

  Asher's driver opened the door for us to get out of the car. When I did, I stumbled on the sidewalk and almost fell. I was definitely feeling more than a little intoxicated. I giggled and heard Asher chuckle behind me.

  “Hey!” I exclaimed. “That’s not very gentlemanly of you! Laughing at a lady when she almost injures herself!”

  “My apologies, m’lady. That's not what I was laughing at,” he said as he climbed out of the car. “Look down.”

  I stared at the sidewalk, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. “I don't see anything funny down there.”

  “No, not there. Here!” He pointed at his feet.

  It took a few seconds for me to realize that his shoes were gone and he was standing on the sidewalk in his socks. I burst out laughing at the sight.

  “Where on Earth are your shoes?” I exclaimed, still laughing.

  “Back in the restaurant, I think!” he said with a grin.

  “Why would your shoes be at the restaurant?” I asked between fits of laughter.

  “I took them off under the table. They weren’t very comfy. They were brand new, so they hadn’t been broken in. They’d really been kinda uncomfortable all day. I sort of remember taking them off. Guess I forgot to put them back on!”

  We both burst into a bout of laughter.

  “Would you like to take my shoes, sir?” asked the driver.

  “No, no, Alfred,” replied Asher. “I'll walk this fine young lady to the lobby in my socks. I’ll be all right.”

  Again, we both burst out laughing. Asher, however, quickly put on a serious face and then held his arm out for me to take.

  “Come on, I'll walk you to the lobby,” he said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone of voice.

  I slipped my arm through his and immediately felt hot energy passing from his skin to mine. He placed his other hand on mine with a gentle tightness that sent a shiver of subtle pleasure down my spine as we walked.

  I leaned in and whispered, “Did you just call your driver Alfred?”

  A broad smile grew across Asher’s face. “I did.”

  “Hmmm,” I offered with a grin.

  “You want to know if I’m Batman, don’t you?”

  I chuckled. “Nope.”

  “No?” he looked genuinely surprised. “Why not? Everyone asks that when they learn my driver’s name. It’s why I hired him.” He offered a smug smile.

  “If you’re Batman, then the less I know, the better,” I said matter-of-factly.

  “Smart girl,” he replied.

  We reached the entrance to my building and paused at the doorway.

  “Thank you for dinner,” I said as I turned to face him.

  “You are more than welcome. I had a really great time with you tonight,” Asher said.

  “As did I.”

  Our eyes met, and I found myself moving closer to him.

  “Do you . . . think we had a bit too much wine?” I whispered.

  “Maybe. But I’m feeling pretty good right now,” his words were soft as he shifted closer to me. Slowly, his fingertips slid up my arm and his hands each came to rest on either side of my face. I didn't resist, I didn't want to resist. Every fiber of my being wanted him to kiss me at that moment.

  Moments later, his supple lips covered mine. As the kiss deepened, I could have sworn I felt lights exploding behind my eyes. With one hand, he ran his fingers through my hair. The other eased down and wrapped around my waist, pulling our bodies together. I rose on tiptoes so I could wrap my arms around his broad, strong shoulders. His kiss was tender but passionate, melting my resolve. Deep down, I knew it was a bad idea to be kissing this beautiful man, but the heat of his mouth on mine was more than I was able to pull away from.

  Eventually, our lips parted and we simply stood with our arms around each other, foreheads touching, both breathing heavily. We stared into each other's eyes for a while, smoldering heat still passing between us. I knew I had to step in and cool things off before anything else happened that we’d both regret. I broke the silence.

  “I . . . uh . . . Wow,” I said, somewhat awkwardly.

  “Yeah,” he said, taking a step back, breaking the bond our bodies had formed. “I didn't, uh, I didn't plan on that happening.”

  “I'd better get upstairs,” I said as I disengaged completely from our embrace. “We've got a long day tomorrow, and I need a decent night's sleep.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.” His body language shifted quickly the moment I stepped away from him.

  “Thank you again for a lovely evening, Asher. It was fun. I'll see you at the office tomorrow.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said, looking like a guilty kid who’d stolen candy from a jar he wasn’t supposed to have his hand in.

  It was adorable, really. So much so, before I realized what I was doing, I leaned in abruptly and kissed him again, but made sure to pull back before it became as intense as the previous one.

  “Thanks again,” I said with a smile. And with that, I turned quickly on my heels and hurried into my building, leaving Asher standing on the sidewalk grinning in his socks.

  Chapter Five

  Asher

  I woke up at 5:00 a.m., as I always did, but getting out of bed was a lot more difficult than it normally was. My mouth felt dry and a dull pain throbbed in my head. As I heaved myself out of bed, a wave of nausea threatened my system.

  Hangovers: my main reason for avoiding alcohol. I staggered across my bedroom to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face to try to rouse myself from the foggy haze I felt trapped in.

  Another wave of nausea hit me, but it seemed to pass quickly. I started to feel better after I splashed a bit more water on my face and brushed my teeth. I knew that a green smoothie would sort me out and make me feel better as well, so I buzzed my chef and told him that I needed one stat.

  Make no mistake, I had no regrets about all of the wine I drank the night before. I'd had a wonderful evening with Lilah.

  To be honest, I couldn't remember the last time I'd had fun with someone just talking. Inviting her to dinner was easily one of the best spur of the moment decisions I had made in years. And while dinner itself wasn’t likely to make things a little awkward at the office, the kiss we'd shared at the end of the evening was another story all together. That had definitely been an unexpected turn of events, although I couldn't say I regretted it. Given the chance, I’d probably kiss her again.

  Still, I'd have to give what had happened some thought. I hadn't hired Lilah because I wanted something to happen between us. Yes, I'd been immediately and powerfully attracted to her from the moment I'd first laid eyes on her. Her fiery personality, sharp, unconventional intellect, and strong will were definitely things I found intensely attractive in a woman; but it had definitely been her brilliant, out-of-the-box approach to the Harry Winston project that had prompted me to offer her a position on my personal staff.

  That had been why I'd chosen her, I reassured myself as I stared into the mirror.

  I splashed another round of water on my face. First thing in the morning after too much wine wasn't the time to think too deeply about such things. I made my way to the kitchen and drank half of the green smoothie waiting for me before I headed to the gym where Bryce, my personal trainer, was waiting for me.

  “A little late this morning, Ash,” he said with a disapproving look on his tanned, angular face.

  Bryce was never afraid to call me out when I slipped up, and had no reluctance to criticizing me harshly when he felt it was necessary. That was precisely why I'd hired him. I wanted people around me who were not afraid to voice their
opinions. I didn’t want yes-men and flattering lackeys.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I was up late last night and had way too much wine.”

  He grinned. “Oh, so it's like that, huh? Well I guess I'm gonna have to work you extra hard this morning to get you to sweat all those toxins out!”

  “Come on, Bryce, you can cut me a little slack this morning. I feel like I got trampled by a herd of elephants last night.”

  “All the more reason why I'm not going to cut you any slack, Ash. You hired me not to. If I recall correctly, you hired me because I used to be a drill sergeant and Discipline is my middle name. Now, I'm telling you, if you want to be trained like a marine, it's gonna be painful. Especially, if you slip up and drink on a school night. Your personal screw-ups are not my problem, Sinclair. I'm here to turn you into a machine, and if you can't discipline yourself, then I'm here to step in and do it for you.

  “Now get your ass on the treadmill! We're setting the starting speed at 20 percent higher than usual to make up for your stupidity! Go, soldier. Go, go, go!”

  ***

  The moment I stepped off of the elevator at the office, my secretary had a dozen things waiting for me that needed immediate attention. Because of that, I'd been too absorbed in work to stop by Lilah’s office even to say hi in the three hours since I’d arrived. As luck would have it, though, I was about to head out of my office when I saw her walk past my door in the hallway. I immediately called out to her before she disappeared around the corner.

  “Lilah!”

  She stopped and peered back into my office over her shoulder.

  “Good morning, Asher,” she said in a very business-like manner that came across as a little awkward.

  “Hey, can you step into my office for a second?” I asked.

  “Sure.”

  I stepped back behind my desk, where I took a seat.

  “So, uh,” I began as she sat down across from me, “about last night . . .”

  “Um, yeah . . .” she stuttered.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked, not really knowing what to say and hoping she’d give me something to go on.

  “I have a little bit of a wine hangover,” she replied. “I've had a killer headache all day and I've been feeling a little sluggish.”

  “Me, too. At least you didn't have an hour long training session with a former U.S. Marine Corps drill sergeant at 5:00 a.m.”

  She laughed and immediately some of the tension in the air evaporated. It was a relief to hear her laughter.

  “That sounds like the absolute worst thing I could have imagined doing at 5:00 a.m.!” she claimed. “I got up an hour later than I usually do. I got here on time, but I’m usually here half an hour earlier.”

  “But you did get here on time, and that's a sign of commitment and discipline,” I encouraged. I knew I needed to stop beating around the bush and get to the point, even though I really wasn’t looking forward to it. I wasn’t sure how she was feeling about the events of the previous evening.

  “So, about what happened last night, specifically at the end of the evening . . .”

  “Yeah, that,” she said, looking down at the papers in her hands.

  “Look, we'd both had way too much to drink, and when I've had a lot of alcohol, I sometimes . . . well, do things I wouldn't usually do.”

  “Yes, me, too,” she agreed. “We'd both had a few too many glasses of wine.”

  “So, it just happened because we were both rather intoxicated, right?” I tried not to sound like I was fishing for confirmation, but I was.

  While I knew I likely wouldn’t have kissed Lilah had we not been drinking, it wouldn’t have been because I didn’t want to. It would have been because my logical side would have stopped me. The fact that she paused before answering made me wonder if she was feeling the same way or if she truly had no attraction to me unless there was alcohol involved.

  “Yes,” she responded. “I would definitely say it happened because we were both fairly inebriated.”

  “I think so.” All I could do was agree.

  There was a drawn-out moment of uncomfortable silence. I was about to flip the switch back into all-business mode when she looked up from the papers in her hands and our eyes locked.

  “I'd like to have dinner with you again sometime,” I said suddenly. It wasn’t at all what I had intended to say. I had intended to steer our interactions back toward a strictly boss-employee relationship, but apparently my mouth had other ideas. “But no drinking. Or, uh, at least we won't have nearly as much.”

  Her gaze searched mine for a moment, and I wished I could read her thoughts. “That, uh, sure. I’d like that,” she replied. For a brief moment, I saw the guard she’d been hiding behind since she’d walked into my office fade. A soft smile brushed over her perfectly-shaped lips. Then, just as quickly, it went back to full strength. “But for the moment, I think we both really need to focus on the Harry Winston campaign. That comes before anything else.”

  “Oh, of course, of course,” I agreed. “That is our absolute top priority at this point in time. And there are a few new projects coming up, as well, that could make or break us in the coming financial quarter. Projects that I'm going to need you to be performing at your peak for. Projects that we're all going to need to have absolute crystal clear focus for. So, yeah, we shouldn't let . . .” Our eyes caught again and I had to refocus. “We shouldn’t let anything distract us from that.” I said the words, but I didn’t mean them. I wanted nothing more than to be distracted by this woman, and I really couldn’t even explain why.

  “Agreed. I'm here to make a significant contribution to this firm, and I intend to put my best foot forward at all times,” she assured me.

  “That's what I like to hear. Anyway, I think I've kept you from your work too long already. We do still have a long way to go on the Harry Winston campaign, so I’ll let you get back to working on that.”

  She nodded and stood. For a moment, I thought she was going to say something else, but instead she simply nodded again and headed out of my office.

  ***

  I cranked up the punk tune on my Maserati's sound system as I pulled out of the Sinclair Building’s parking garage, nodding my head in time with the driving beat. While I usually played classical music on my drive home to relax my mind after a hard day at work, since finding out that Lilah’s brother was in a band I'd been into since I was a teenager, I'd searched through my collection and added a few tracks by the Razor's Edge to my playlist.

  I weaved through the early evening traffic as the track raged. I was barely two blocks from the office when I noticed a familiar figure walking along the sidewalk.

  Lilah. I would recognize her curves anywhere.

  I pulled up to the curb and rolled down my window.

  “Lilah!”

  She glanced over her shoulder, looking surprised to hear my voice. She saw me in the car and smiled.

  “Hi, Asher!” she said as she stopped and turned to acknowledge me.

  “Do you need a ride?”

  She hesitated before responding. “I suppose I could use one, if you don't mind.”

  “Not at all. Come on, hop in.”

  She hurredly climbed into the passenger seat of my car.

  “Nice ride,” she said. “I do love a Maserati.”

  I grinned and gave the engine a rev. “She is a beauty, huh? I have a soft spot for fast cars. Guy thing, I guess. You should come check out my collection sometime.”

  “Sure. I'm not exactly a gearhead, but I can appreciate a well-built machine,” she revealed, her undertone just enough to send a touch of warmth rushing through me. “And, I happen to know a thing or two about engines,” she added.

  I tried not to sound surprised as I replied. “Oh, you do?”

  “I grew up an only girl in family of older brothers, two of whom are motorcycle fanatics, and no mom. My dad was a mechanic who had his own garage, and he spent most of his waking hours there working on engines. Being i
n the garage was pretty much the only way I could spend time with him, so I learned a thing or two about engines while I was growing up.”

  “Wow. Sounds like a unique childhood.”

  “I suppose in some ways, it was. As yours was, I imagine.”

  “Yeah, I guess it was,” I replied. I wasn't quite ready to discuss my childhood with her, even though talking to her did feel like the most comfortable and natural thing in the world, so I decided to switch the topic.

  “So, why were you walking home from work? It's a good 45 minute walk from the office to your place, if I remember correctly.”

  “My car's at the mechanic's,” she replied. “And, since it was a nice evening, I just thought I’d walk instead of taking the bus.”

  “Couldn't fix it yourself, huh?” I joked with a wink.

  “I could have, quite easily, but I don't have the time—not with the current schedule being what it is. Not that I'm complaining,” she added hastily.

  “Oh, well, good thing I drove past you when I did, then.”

  “And why is it you're driving this car today and not being ferried around by Alfred?”

  “I prefer driving myself,” I replied. “I often have to use Alfred, though, just because of the volume of work I have. I can get quite a bit done in the commute if I'm sitting in the car working on my tablet instead of having to actually drive. Today's workload wasn't supposed to be too intense, so I decided I didn't really need to be driven around by someone else.”

  She smiled and I couldn’t help stealing glances at her as I drove. The woman was breathtaking. I wondered if she realized just how much. I almost suggested that, instead of heading straight to her place, we could drive over to the beach and take a walk on the promenade.

  I stopped myself before I said it, though; she had just made it clear that morning that she wasn’t interested in anything aside from focusing on the Harry Winston campaigns. Instead, I decided to just make light conversation until we reached her building. And so, I did. Though, I was tempted to take the long way just to keep the conversation going.