First, the meet cute: meeting the billionaire cowboy in a swoon-worthy, adorable, or embarrassing way.
She stared at the ceiling, trying to remember her favorite meet-cute from a romance book, her favorite, heart twisting, stomach dropping, magic moment. Maybe the one where the woman's car breaks down and she's helped by a guy she assumes is just a good Samaritan, but who turns out to be a billionaire and her new boss. Or maybe . . . Her thoughts drifted to Jude, his eyes on her, the heat in them, and she remembered another meeting, this one between an eight-year-old girl and her brother's new friend.
Jude had been over to play video games with Max and Bri had begged to play, too, but Max, as he always did when he had friends over, told her to quit being a pain, told her to go play with dolls and dresses, even though he knew she never played with dolls and hated dresses. He wanted to keep his new friend all to himself. A problem they had, being so close in age, was that their friends would often play with the wrong sibling.
Max's new friend had smiled at Bri and he'd seemed older than Max even though she knew they were the same age because they had the same teacher at school. "We can let her play the winner of this game," Jude said, not a hint of mocking in his voice.
Max had not been impressed, sensing the possibility of losing another friend to his sister, the way he'd lost Annie Blackstreet and Ronny Barrington. He'd threatened to tell Mom that Bri had been the one who broke the front window if she didn't scoot, so she'd scooted, but she hadn't gone far.
It's not that she took great pleasure in stealing Max's friends, or that she enjoyed it when he got in trouble for screaming at her after she'd succeeded in stealing them. Most of the time, Max was her best friend, but he had a friend over and she didn't and she was bored. Jude seemed nice and fun and she saw a chance for avoiding a boring day by herself.
So, she'd lurked, listening to them play the video game. From what she could overhear, Jude was an insanely bad player, unwilling to take risks and slow to draw his gun. After a while, he and Max gave up on the game and started grumbling about being hungry.
She'd raced to the kitchen, dug out her secret stash of cookies, and had them neatly arranged on a plate when Max and Jude walked in. Max tried to grab one, but Bri blocked him and offered the plate to Jude. He glanced at Max, but no kid can resist a cookie, even when their new friend is glaring at them.
Max huffed and reached for a cookie, but Bri swung the plate out of his reach. "No cookie for you until you properly introduce me to your new friend."
"Come on," Max said. "This is stupid. Let's go play outside."
Jude grinned at Bri, cookie crumbs on his lips. "I'm Jude Cassidy. I moved here last summer."
Bri offered him her hand like she'd seen grown-ups do when they met someone new. "Brianne Mason."
Jude took her hand and shook it seriously. She liked that he didn't laugh at her or try to change her offered handshake into a fist bump or a high five. "Nice to meet you," he said while Max kicked the table leg and growled.
Bri had told Max the other kids would like him better if he had better manners, but he never believed her. Maybe now he would. "It's nice to meet you, too." She offered Jude the plate again. "Would you like another cookie?"
"Sure." He took a cookie from her plate and handed it to Max as he walked past him and out the kitchen door. Max grinned like he'd just won, because he had. Jude was surprisingly loyal to Max. A trait that lasted until the day Jude betrayed Max in the worst way.
Bri should have given up on Jude then, but she never had. Even with everything that happened between him and Max there'd still been a small part of her . . . She sat up in bed and shook it off. No. Jude would never be the guy for her, and she could never be the woman for him, not as long as she had her mother to take care of and Max . . . Well, Max needed her, too.
Her phone rang, Max's name flashing across the screen as though he'd heard her thinking about him. She hadn't told him she was in Vegas, but he was supposed to be on a construction job hours away and he didn't need to know she wasn't at the house in Towle. She let the phone ring to voicemail, but she didn't listen to the message he left. Instead, she called the daughter he never visited.
#
Jude glanced at the clock again and slammed his computer keys a bit harder. Brianne was late. Five minutes late. Raymond had already delivered his coffee and was seated at the desk where Brianne should have been sitting. Had she left already? Had she been so repulsed by what she'd done with a man she despised that she'd left Vegas?
He should have known that one kiss, one night wouldn't be enough. She was in his head now, under his skin. He swore he could still taste her on his tongue. He could no longer deny that his old feelings for her were still there and stronger than ever.
He'd given her space the day before, as difficult as it had been. He'd returned to the role of boss and casual acquaintance, old but distant friend because that's what he thought she wanted. Now, she couldn't even be bothered to show up on time. It bothered him that she was late, bothered him even more that he couldn't explain her tardiness and, what was nearly driving him out of his mind, was how badly he wanted her there, how seeing her face felt more like a need than a want. If he couldn't control her, he needed to learn to control his emotions as they related to her.
Movement in his peripheral made him look up. Brianne stood in front of her desk, wearing the same pants she'd worn the day before and a thin cardigan. Her hair was down, in loose curls, and she smiled at Raymond, the expression lighting up her beautiful face, as she sashayed past him and into Jude's office.
Jude straightened and glared as she walked in. "Oh," she said, her smile slipping. "You already have coffee." She shrugged and set the coffee cup on his desk. "Here's another. You look like you could use it. Late night--?"
"You're late." So, he looked tired. He'd had a rough, sleepless night which was also her fault. She'd invaded his life, invaded his office, and invaded his dreams. All those unpleasant emotions he was experiencing were her fault.
"Actually, I--"
"If you aren't going to take this job seriously," he said, unwilling to hear her excuses. "You should leave."
The woman he'd known had often been more likely to mediate a fight than start one. This woman, though, she didn't cower from his anger. She popped her hands on her hips and glared right back. Jude hated that her attitude made him want her even more. "Great. I'll leave and take the job Isla found for me."
His blood went cold at the idea, just one more sign she wouldn't be as easy to ignore or forget as he'd hoped. He growled in frustration. "I don't allow tardiness in any of my employees, Miss Mason. You'll find that to be the case at any casino which hires you."
Her glare hardened, but her eyes glinted with dampness and something in his chest ached.
He growled in frustration. At her, at himself, at the fucking situation. He didn't know how to deal with her tears, didn't know how to act if he couldn't sweep her up in his arms and kiss them away. "Save the waterworks. Just be on time tomorrow, or I will have to ask you to leave."
He returned to his computer, hoping she'd leave his office and he could figure out how the hell he was supposed to act around her. Could quiet his emotions so that reason and logic could return, and he could assess her actions, conclude whether or not she was taking advantage of him by showing up late.
His door slammed and he looked up to see Brianne still in his office, anger reddening her cheeks and lighting her eyes. He'd never seen her so mad. Not even when Max had threatened her high school boyfriend into breaking up with her-he'd been a jerk and a player, nowhere good enough for Brianne, but she hadn't seen it that way. She stomped back over to his desk and planted her hands on the hard wood. His dirty, oversexed imagination immediately veered to all the things he'd like to do to her bent over his desk. He sucked in a sharp breath and reminded himself she was the enemy. She had to be the enemy, otherwise, he'd roll over like a besotted dog and offer her any and everything he had, and she'd tak
e it. She might take it all and walk away, never looking back.
"I was here early, you pompous, overbearing, control freak," she said. "I came in to finish the filing I started yesterday so I'd be free to learn how to use your calendar and to go over your emails with Raymond."
He smirked. "If you were here early, you should have been at your desk and my coffee should have already been on mine."
She stood and threw up her hands, those luscious breasts rising and falling with the movement, drawing his attention to them. "I would have been at my desk, but Alec Kingston, your head of food services, came up here freaking out because one of the stoves in The Boggy Top Bakery wasn't working right and they needed it to fill breakfast orders. Since I'm familiar with that kind of stove and all the troubles it can have, I offered to take a look at it."
He sighed. He hated being in the wrong. Not only had he been in the wrong, he'd been a complete asshole. He never let his emotions run away with him the way he did around Brianne. Just one more reason to keep his distance. "I have a replacement for that stove on order. I'll send someone down to fix it."
"No need," she said, a bit calmer. "I fixed it. Had the same issue with a similar stove at the last place I worked. It didn't even take me very long, just made me late bringing your coffee."
Words of gratitude tickled his throat, but he couldn't get them out. "I trust you will be able to commence work at the correct time in the future." He knew he sounded ridiculous, but it was an old habit. The more uncomfortable a situation made him, the more formal became his words and his diction. He returned his attention to his work and ignored Brianne's huff of frustration.
He couldn't stop himself from looking up and watching the sway of her perfect ass as she left his office.
#
When he paused his work again, it was to the sound of Brianne's rich, throaty laughter, a sound he hadn't heard in more than five years, a sound that reached inside him and twisted. Then he looked up and he saw Mark leaning over Brianne's desk, smiling, his gaze intent on her. Where the hell was Raymond? And why the hell was Brianne flirting with Jude's friend when she was supposed to be working?
Right, her inattention to her work was the reason he wanted to punch a friend. It had nothing to do with jealousy that it hadn't been him making her laugh. And, if he wanted to walk out there and remind her to get back to work, he'd be doing her a favor. Mark was a tall, lean guy, with a man bun that didn't suit his frat boy attitude or his preppy style of dress. A fun guy, who'd make a terrible boyfriend. He'd never gotten serious about anyone or anything for as long as Jude had known him.
Before he'd made a decision, Jude found himself on his feet and walking out of his office just in time to hear Mark invite his woman out to lunch. And she damn sure was his woman. She might not be in Jude's bed, but she was working for Jude and he'd be damned if any other man touched her.
The ferocity of both the thought and the emotion that went with it, made Jude pause in shock long enough to hear Brianne tell Mark that yes, she'd love to go to lunch. Love to go to lunch with Mark when she'd labeled Jude her enemy.
"Brianne," Jude said, hating the crispness of his voice, but needing to stay firm before he started begging and let her see how she owned him already. "I need you to attend a meeting with me."
Brianne looked over at him, eyes wide, as though she'd forgotten about him. It only made him angrier that she could forget about him when he'd been unable to forget her, no matter how hard he'd tried.
"Um, okay," she said. "When is the meeting?"
"It's now." He glanced at Mark. "If you'll excuse us. Miss Mason is on the clock."
Mark, used to Jude's formality and brisk attitude, was unfazed. "Surely you allow Bri to eat while she's at work. You don't starve the woman, do you?"
Bri? Mark didn't know her well enough to call her by her full name, let alone the nickname reserved only for her closest friends. "She can eat during her lunch break."
"When is her lunch break?" Mark asked, smirking like he knew a secret, before turning his attention back to Brianne. "I'm a patient man. I can come back and pick you up when this slave driver gives you a break."
"Miss Mason will be working through her lunch break today. She is training and doesn't have time for long, boozy lunches."
Mark's smile widened, and he barely glanced at Jude before returning his full attention and his considerable charm on Brianne. "Will you do me the honor of allowing me to take you out to dinner tonight?"
"She'll be with me for dinner," Jude said, ignoring Brianne's glare. He'd chain her to her damn desk if he had to. "Tonight and every night this week."
"Wait just a minute, --" Brianne said.
"You should leave," Jude said to Mark, ignoring Brianne. "I'm not going to have time to meet with you today. Reschedule with Raymond."
Mark's smile didn't fade at all, if anything it got bigger, which only annoyed Jude further. "I'll do that." He winked at Brianne, eliciting an unplanned growl from Jude. "I'll be in touch."
Jude didn't give Brianne a chance to argue. "Let's go, Miss Mason." He glared at Raymond when he walked in and took his seat next to Brianne. Where the hell had he been? And why the hell were his lips twitching like he was fighting a smile?
Jude walked past the desk, shoulder checking Mark on his way past. Mark laughed, far too gleefully for Jude's comfort. He glanced back to make sure Brianne was following, before preceding her into the conference room. She stomped in, her eyes blazing, her mouth set in a hard line.
He shut the door behind her, but didn't let her walk into the room. He blocked her path and backed her up against the door, his anger slipping just a fraction.
He knew he needed to back off, to regain control, but he couldn't. Her citrusy, sweet scent washed over him and all he could think about was touching her soft skin, pressing his face to her neck and breathing her in. Her bright eyes flashed with anger, and her sweet lips were pursed in annoyance. Damn, those lips had felt good against his own, insanely good. Logic and reason and all the danger Jude was courting couldn't make it past his all-consuming need for her.
He ran a finger over those lips, reveling in their softness, trying to hold himself back from pressing himself against her and tasting those lips again. He leaned in and pressed one soft kiss against her temple, his nose brushing her soft hair, breathing her in. He wanted to taste every inch of her.
"Jude." Her voice shook. "What are you doing?"
He had no fucking clue what he was doing, but it felt oddly akin to drowning. He pulled in one last hit of her seductive scent and stepped away. Stepped all the way to the other side of the room. "Have a seat, Miss Mason."
She glared, but stepped away from the door and took a seat at the conference table. She set a notepad and a pen on the table and looked up at him expectantly.
He stared back. What the hell was he going to say to her? He needed a good reason for the meeting and an explanation for his behavior, but his mind, his one faculty that never betrayed him, had gone silent. He paced the front of the room, trying to get back his control, his calm, his rational good sense, all of which fled every time she shared his air space.
He stopped in the center of the room and faced her. "You've been working with Raymond for a few days, how has it been going?"
She stared at him, brow wrinkled in confusion. He wanted to step closer and smooth out the wrinkle, to tell her she was too damn good for an asshole like Mark. No matter what she'd taken from Jude, no matter how she'd changed, the Brianne who'd watched the Bellagio fountain show enrapt and awed, the Brianne who'd been there for Isla all these years, was too good for Mark. Probably too damn good for a workaholic like Jude. Because what she'd taken from him was money, and he had plenty of that. He didn't have anyone else in his life like her.
"I just want to make sure you're getting the hang of the job," he said.
She nodded and cleared her throat. "I believe so, Mr. Cassidy. There's a lot to learn, but Raymond is an amazing teacher."
&n
bsp; "Good. That's good."
"You said he'd quit," she said.
"What?"
"When you offered me the job, you said he'd quit, but he's still here."
He laced his fingers together at his waist. "I lied. I needed to keep you close to me, and his job is as close as it gets."
She nodded, unsurprised. "Thank you. I don't think I've said that before, but I should have. I appreciate this opportunity."
She seemed sincere, humble even. He couldn't remember a time she'd ever lied to him, didn't know if she was a good liar. "You're welcome. Raymond was due for some time off anyway, so it has all worked out."
She nodded and he stood there, at a loss for the appropriate words and uncertain. Both feelings were rare to him, both feelings he utterly despised.
"Is that all?" she asked. "I believe you mentioned dinner meetings this week?"
He shoved down his doubts. He was her boss, the owner of this casino, and he'd damn well act like it. "Yes. You will be having dinner with me every night this week. I'm sorry I didn't inform you sooner."
"Will these dinners be business meetings?"
"Yes. I want daily updates from you on your progress learning the job. I depend on Raymond, and I need to be sure you are ready to take his place."
She nodded. "So, these dinners have nothing to do with you not wanting me to go out with your friend?"
He straightened and stared her down. He was the boss. He was in charge. "Not at all."
"So, if I want to go out with Mark, you'd be okay with that?"
"No," he said, the very thought destroying his hard-won calm. "Mark's not a relationship kind of guy. He'll take you out and treat you well, but he won't get serious." There that sounded reasonable enough. He was just looking out for Max's little sister.
"That's okay," she said, pushing her chair back and standing. "I'm not looking for serious, either. In fact, Mark sounds like exactly the kind of guy I'd like to go out with."
She'd walked out of the conference room and pulled the door closed behind her before Jude was able to take another breath. All he could see was Mark's hands on her, his mouth on her sweet skin, his -- He slammed a fist on the table, spun and kicked the wall. Damn it. What the hell? She's not looking for serious? What the fuck is she looking for? A meaningless hook-up? With his loud-mouthed friend who would likely tell him every detail of their night out?
How to Lasso a Billionaire Page 7