Some of the city’s best bars and clubs thronged these streets, and it was the adult shops like hers, the strip clubs, and brothels that gave the area its enticing edge. Even the rumors of organized crime only added to its allure.
It was deceptively quiet now, with the night-time revelers gone and the office workers tucked away in their cubicles. A few tourists wandered by and some homeless men slept in their usual spots. Although the street cleaning machines had swept through early this morning, the sidewalk never lost a faint tang of urine. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but on the plus side, it made the aroma of freshly-ground coffee drifting from Ralph’s Coffee Shop even more appealing.
She went straight to the counter, and Ralph gave her his familiar grin.
“Hey, Geena. Haven’t seen you for a while. You still drinking double-shot lattes?”
"Thanks, Ralph." She put a few dollars on the counter, watching his nimble fingers as he made the coffee. Asking him to the wedding was going to sound abrupt, but her mother hadn’t given her much choice. She touched her grandmother’s locket for luck and took a deep breath. Do it fast, like pulling off a band aid, and maybe it won’t be so bad.
“Um. Ralph. Ah, I know this is a strange thing to ask when I don’t know you that well. But I really need a date for my sister’s wedding. I don’t suppose you’d be willing…?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
Geena let out a silent groan. Could this be any more embarrassing? “My sister Ally is getting married. You’ve met Ally, right? Anyway, I need to bring someone to her wedding.” Ralph started making her coffee and Geena had to raise her voice over the noise of the machine as the hot, dark liquid dribbled into her cup. “I know it’s late notice and everything, but if you're free on the twenty fourth…?”
Ralph switched off the flow of coffee and set the takeaway cup down. His sheepish look made Geena’s stomach flip. Shit. He was going to turn her down, and she’d just made a total fool of herself.
“I don’t know how to say this,” said Ralph. “So I’ll just say it. You know Dave, the guy who comes in to help me out sometimes? Well, he’s my boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Geena’s face flushed so warm she could have heated her own coffee just by holding it to her cheek. How could I not have clicked? “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m flattered.” He gave her a wink. “Really. If I was straight, I’d go with you in a heartbeat.” He poured milk into a jug ready for steaming, then nodded past Geena’s shoulder at someone standing behind her. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said cheerfully.
Startled, she turned to see who Ralph was talking to — she hadn’t heard anyone else come in.
Oh. My. God.
Damien smiled. “Hello, Geena.”
Please let a car come crashing through the window and kill me right now. She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again, Damien Courtney was still in front of her, surprisingly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt like a normal person. She forced a smile. Had he heard everything?
“Hi, Damien. Um. You’re a little early.”
His eyes went to the clock behind the counter. “You open at ten.”
Geena followed his gaze. Nine fifty-eight.
“Your coffee,” said Ralph, putting the lid on her cup and sliding it across the bench to her. Then he slid the money she’d put on the counter as well. “This one’s on the house.”
“Oh. Ah, thanks.”
“What can I get you?” Ralph asked Damien. Then his eyes widened. “Hey, you’re that Courtney guy who tore down the Kingston Boarding House.” His gaze flicked to Geena. “You know him?”
Geena picked up her coffee, trying to hide her embarrassment behind the cup. She swallowed and gave a weak nod. She and Ralph had marched together holding signs that said, “Save The Kingston,” and “Don’t Trash Our History.”
Ralph shook his head and muttered something. Was his disgusted look as much for her as for Damien? She’d never be able to show her face in his store again.
“Did you say something?” Damien’s tone was smooth, as though he was unconcerned. But a muscle flicked in the side of his square jaw and there was a dangerous glint in those dark eyes. He reminded Geena of Daniel Craig in the last Bond movie she’d seen — his polished exterior not quite concealing the gritty toughness underneath.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Ralph banged the milk jug onto the counter. “Kingston had character. You had no right to tear down a hundred-year-old building. And for what? Because someone you knew died there?”
“In my shoes, you would have done the same thing.”
Ralph snorted. “Normal people aren’t so selfish as to wipe out a piece of public history because of a private tragedy.”
“You don’t know how you’ll react until you’ve been through it.”
To her surprise, Geena found herself nodding agreement. When the Kingston had come down, she’d been so furious with Damien that she’d forgotten any sympathy for the fact he’d lost someone. But when a good friend of Geena’s had died in a car accident, she’d spent a week hitchhiking to Uluru so she could watch the sunset turn the rock blood-red and finally cry for her friend. Sure that wasn’t exactly in the same league as bulldozing a heritage building, but after sitting dry-eyed through her friend’s funeral, Geena had done what she felt she needed to. No matter that everyone had thought her insane.
“I’d have leveled all of King’s Cross if I could,” added Damien.
Geena stiffened. A moment ago, she’d actually started feeling bad for all those nasty things she’d said about Damien at the demolition site. Now she was mad at him all over again.
Ralph pointed at the door, his finger shaking with rage. “Get out.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to make me a coffee?” Damien frowned as though he was genuinely puzzled, and Geena realized he was needling Ralph on purpose.
“Damn right I’m not.” If Ralph could have spat on the floor without it being a totally disgusting thing to do, Geena was sure he would have. “I don’t serve entitled bastards like you.”
Damien was taller than Ralph, with wider shoulders, and he had a dangerous stillness about him, like a coiled spring poised to explode. Still, if Ralph got any angrier he might just take a swing at Damien, and she was pretty sure he’d come off second best.
Thankfully, Damien merely turned and strode out. Geena followed him next door to The Gee Spot.
When they were safely inside, she rounded on Damien. “What was that about?”
“I don’t like being lectured.” He took a deep breath, then raked his fingers through his hair. “My assistant usually gets my coffee.”
“I can see why.” She fought the urge to say more. They weren’t here so she could criticize him for the asshole moves he’d made. No, she needed him too badly for that.
“So, what do you think of my store?” She swept her hand around the room.
While Damien scanned it, turning with his thumb stuck in the pocket of his faded blue jeans, she couldn’t help but scan him. His jeans fit him like a second skin and a snug gray T-shirt displayed his well-muscled, toned physique to perfection. It was probably silly to assume that billionaires lived their whole lives dressed in suits, but in jeans he seemed less like a hated building destroyer and more like a regular guy. A smoking hot, regular guy.
“First impression isn’t bad,” he said. “Your window display suggests you’re marketing to a more discerning clientele than the other adult stores I’ve seen in The Cross. You’re aiming to convey a high-end, premium look?”
“Exactly.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Yet when your customers walk in, they’re overwhelmed with choice. To get a premium look, you need to streamline and declutter.”
“I started off with less stock, but I thought having a bigger range would tempt people to buy more.”
“I see your reasoning. But studies have shown it to work the opposite way. More choice can make it har
der for your customers to decide on a purchase.”
Geena took a sip of her coffee. Could it really be that easy? Take a few products away and she’d sell more?
“My accounts are in a mess,” she confessed. She felt better getting that out of the way up front.
He glanced around. “Where’s your back room?”
She nodded to a door. “Upstairs room, you mean. I have an office, and a small kitchenette and bathroom up there.”
“Before we go up, let’s talk about this article your sister’s going to write. What time is she arriving?”
Geena held his gaze. Act like it’s no big deal and he won’t complain. “She’s not. We agreed that I’d take the notes. Ally or Lacey will turn my notes into a story, but I’m the one best able to describe how you’ve helped me turn things around and get my store back on track. At the end of the day, I’ll sit down and write a few pages singing your praises.” He still looked unconvinced so she added, “It’ll be better that way. And I’ll make sure you get a copy of the article before it goes live so you can see how great it is.”
After the struggle she’d had getting him to come at all, she was prepared for an argument. But he just nodded. “Lead the way upstairs, and let’s get started.”
Although Geena had tried to see her office through a stranger’s eyes before, walking in with him somehow stripped all familiarity away and the pile of paperwork on her desk seemed a mountain taller than Everest. She swallowed, resisting the urge to immediately start apologizing for it. Invoices, receipts, bills of lading, order forms… who knew there’d be so many bits of paper she’d have to deal with to run a store?
Damien stared at it. “What software do you use to keep track of your stock and sales?”
“I don’t have the money to buy anything like that nor the time to learn how to use it.”
“Tell me you have some kind of system.”
“Sure.” She lifted her chin, not wanting him to see she was ashamed of the mess she was in. This was why she’d paid so much money, after all, so he could get her out of it. “When invoices and packing slips come in, I add them to the pile on my desk until my accountant forces me to do my taxes and I have to get it into some kind of order. That’s my system.”
“How often do you do a stocktake?”
“Once a year.”
“And where are those figures?”
She looked at the mess on her desk. “Somewhere in there. I’ll find them for you.”
“No need. I’ll get my assistant to go through this and get it in order.”
“Your assistant?”
“She’ll enter the figures and put a proper system in place.” Damien stepped over to the stack of cartons. “What’s in here?” He flipped open the flap of the top box. “Ben Wa Balls,” he read. “Who’s Ben Wa and why do you have his balls in a box?”
She opened her mouth and closed it again, taken aback. But before she could answer, his lips twitched up. “Joking.”
Her legs went weak. She’d thought Damien was dark, serious, and dangerous. But his smile was the equivalent of glimpsing the gorgeous panther cub pouncing out from behind its killer parent. The way his eyes creased and the hard line of his cheeks softened with dimples… so freaking cute. The man had a smile that could soak panties and break hearts.
I want him to kiss me again.
No, more than that. Suddenly she wanted to tear all his clothes off too. Her body flushed hot at the thought. I spend all day every day talking to customers about sex, yet I haven’t actually had any since Justin walked out on me, and that was almost a year ago. No wonder I’m horny.
And after that sensational kiss they’d shared… She found that she’d stepped closer to Damien without realizing. His shoulders were so broad he seemed to take up most of the room, and his hard-edged charisma was intoxicating. She’d never met anyone so commanding. Maybe he’d be interested in—?
A loud ding from a strategically-placed speaker cut through her thoughts. She’d rigged it to let her know when a customer came into the store downstairs.
She blinked, the haze in her mind clearing.
What had she been thinking? Hitting on him when he was her only chance to save her store? Bad idea. And he was the jerk who’d torn down the Kingston, for heaven’s sake. He obviously thought his money entitled him to do whatever he wanted and there was no way she’d be attracted to someone like that, no matter how disarming his smile.
He checked his watch. “That’ll be Rosalind. I told her to be here at ten thirty.”
Moment of madness over, Geena practically sprinted for the door. “Rosalind’s your assistant? I’ll bring her up.”
If Damien thought it was weird she was taking the stairs so quickly, he didn’t say anything. And it was only when she reached the bottom that she let herself pause for long enough to give herself another mental slap.
Hands off the asshole billionaire, Geena. Touching would be very, very bad.
5
“Her paperwork’s a mess,” said Rosalind, dropping the invoice she’d been entering onto the ‘done’ pile.
“You’re almost finished?” Damien prowled around Geena’s small office, feeling caged in by the low ceiling and clutter. He was used to working in large boardrooms, and this felt more like a closet.
“That was the last one.” She stood up and stretched, then sat back down. “What’s next?”
“Create a new document.” He dictated a five-step plan, explaining everything Geena needed to do to make her store profitable. With full instructions, it ended up being three pages long.
Rosalind printed it out and handed it to him to check through. When he was satisfied, he nodded. “That’s all I need from you for now, so you may as well get back to the office. I’m going to review her product sales and financials, and if I want you to come back, I’ll call.”
She disappeared down the stairs, and Damien dropped into the chair she’d vacated. The spreadsheet Rosalind had created was the only bit of order in this entire office. No wonder Geena was in trouble. She had no systems to speak of, she wasn’t tracking her stock properly, and her sales figures were plummeting. There were plenty of ways to improve her profit, but it could be too late to save her store.
He picked up the letter from the tax office and read it a second time. It was slightly crumpled as though she’d been tempted to screw it up and throw it away, and a water stain had blurred the signature. Tears, perhaps? He wouldn’t blame her. The due date was firm, and it was obvious she wasn’t clearing enough profit to cover it. No wonder she was desperate.
Turning back to the spreadsheet, he sorted the rows of figures by product ID and created a graph to show the products that were selling. As he’d expected, not all the products she stocked were worth carrying, and now he had a good idea which she should get rid of.
He printed the list, then walked down the stairs. Halfway down he heard music. An Elvis song, Are You Lonesome Tonight? drifted up, and he paused for a moment to listen. Geena obviously liked things from the fifties and sixties, because her dresses came from that era too.
The door at the bottom of the stairs was open and a sweet smell wafted up with the music. Geena’s smell. It must be something in the store that gave off that delicious aroma. No wonder her hair smelled like cotton candy.
Damien had only been in an adult store once before, because Cilla had got the idea after watching Sex And The City reruns and begged him to go with her.
The only thing Damien remembered about the place was the chemical smell, as though they’d been splashing around bleach, and the garish x-rated videos that had lined the walls. Cilla had bought the vibrator with the weirdest attachments, but that had been typical of her. “Go big or go home,” she’d liked to say. Inhibition, caution, restraint — they’d all been dirty words.
As always, thoughts of Cilla made his stomach turn over. He’d hoped the guilt and loss might fade over time, but the memory of their last encounter was too strong for that. If anything, it
had become more vivid. Constant recollection of the way he’d rejected her meant his brain now automatically focused on the most terrible parts. The sharp tone he’d used. The pain in her eyes. The way she’d clutched the sheet to her chest.
Stop it.
Shaking off the images, he went into the store. A woman was browsing the shelves on the far side, and Geena was at the counter talking to an older couple who were shopping together. Although both husband and wife were flushed and not looking at each other, Geena seemed completely relaxed.
“Don’t worry, that’s completely normal,” she was saying. “You’d be amazed how many men have exactly the same issue, and if you don’t want to take a pill, you could try a cock ring.” She directed them to a selection. “Or if it happens in the middle of sex, you could try using a vibrator for a while instead, and often you’ll regain function. The trick is not to make a big deal of it, and it won’t be such a problem.”
He watched her demonstrate some different devices, then bag some things for the couple who were starting to look more relieved than flustered.
Geena smiled at them. “Of course, you should have a chat with your doctor, just in case. But it happens to most men occasionally, so you’re in excellent company.” She winked, and amazingly the man smiled back.
“I can’t thank you enough,” said his wife. “You’ve been a huge help.”
“You sure have,” agreed the man.
Geena beamed. “My pleasure. Now you’ll need a lubricant to go with that vibrator and if you want to have some fun with it, you could try one of these flavored ones. I like the cherry one myself, but the peppermint one’s nice too. Here, smell this and tell me what you think.”
Damien shook his head with admiration as the couple sniffed and compared various lubes. Geena had effortlessly taken them from cringing with embarrassment to laughing and enjoying themselves.
She spotted him while she was ringing up the couple’s purchases on the till. “I’ve got my hands full here, and the woman over there asked for some help when I was free. Could you see what you could do for her in the meantime?”
The Rich List Series: Contemporary Romance Box Set (Millionaire, Billionaire, CEO) Page 22