by Kit Tunstall
After a mostly restless night with little sleep, she was grateful for the coffee and gulped a quarter of it down before she managed to speak to her friend/employee. “I didn’t sell myself. No one sold themselves last night. It was simply donating time to someone to perform an activity of the bidder’s choosing.”
Bethany’s dark curls bounced as she pulled up a chair in front of Olivia’s desk. “Two guesses what he paid six million for to do with you.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “We’re not selling our bodies at the auction. It’s not a sex thing.”
Bethany quirked a brow. “According to Lindsey, he’s pretty mouthwatering. Loaded too. The Meade family has more money than Midas.”
She shrugged. “Then he can certainly afford to throw it around on a date with me. I tried offering him an out, but he wouldn’t take it.”
Bethany rolled her chocolate-brown eyes. “Of course he didn’t take it. He spent all that money to get a night of your time. I don’t think you’re going to get out of this one.”
She stuck her tongue out at her friend. “I’m not trying to get out of it.”
“Liar,” said Bethany with a chuckle. “You haven’t been on a date in two years.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been busy with the foundation.”
Bethany gave her a skeptical look, but she didn’t argue or remind Olivia of her last disastrous relationship, which had led to her voluntary two-year dry spell. Instead, she asked, “So what is he paying for?”
“A few hours of conversation,” she snapped.
Bethany giggled. “I meant what activity. I wasn’t making a suggestive comment, at least not that time.”
She let herself relax and smiled at her friends. “I have no idea. He’s sending a car for me Friday night, here at the office.”
“Oh, sounds mysterious. Don’t let him whisk you away to his castle in the countryside, where he’ll lock you up and keep you as his sex slave—unless you’re into that kind of thing, of course.”
She snorted. “Hardly. Besides, I doubt Jensen Meade has a castle anywhere in the Washington countryside. He’s certainly not hiding one here in Seattle, so I think I’m safe.”
Bethany glanced at the clock, apparently realizing the day was about to start. She stretched and stood up from the desk, reaching for her coffee as she leaned forward and lowered her voice an octave. “I don’t think you’re safe, honey. When a man pays six million dollars for a night with you, he must want you pretty badly. I don’t think you’re in any risk of physical harm, but I’ll bet your panties aren’t safe at all.”
She tossed her pen in her friend’s vicinity. “Get out of here and get to work before I fire you.”
Bethany left, clearly unconcerned by the empty threat. “You’d be lost without me.”
Olivia let out a long sigh, nodding. “Yeah, I would, but you’re getting on my nerves.”
“That’s only because you’re nervous about your six-million-dollar-date.”
“Stop saying six million,” called Olivia as Bethany disappeared through the doorway heading to the outer office where her desk was. She didn’t need the reminder of how much Jensen Meade had paid for a few hours of her time, because it simply increased her nerves for the weekend date ahead, and it was only Tuesday. She didn’t want to be a jumping, startled mass for the rest of the week as she counted down the hours until the date. She was already nervous enough and didn’t need any outside help to stir her anxiety. She was plenty capable of doing that on her own.
***
By Friday evening, Olivia was a nervous wreck, though she was proud to see it didn’t show when she looked back at her reflection in the bathroom at the office. She looked cool and composed in a sapphire-blue dress that fell to her knee, and her makeup was flawless. As a final step, she pinned up her hair into an elegant little twist before glancing at the gold watch on her wrist.
She was running out of time, so she scooped all her cosmetics into the travel bag, grabbed the suit she had been wearing for the day that was now in the garment bag she had brought the dress in, and rushed from the bathroom. She left those items in her office, pausing only long enough to change from her sensible black pumps to gold shoes with a spindly heal. After that, she hurried from the office, though she slowed her pace as she neared the exit, catching sight of a limousine parked against the curb. When he said he was sending a car, she’d assumed an Uber car or a taxi, and not this.
It increased her nervousness, though she struggled not to let it show as she walked smoothly to the car, trying to project herself as the picture of elegance. When the driver opened the back door, she realized it was a wasted endeavor, since the car was empty. She turned to look at him, allowing her confusion to show. “Where is Jensen?”
The driver inclined his head in a respectful fashion. “Mr. Meade will meet you at our destination. He was running behind with a business matter.”
She nodded to indicate her understanding before slipping into the backseat. The leather was buttery soft, and the seat seemed to mold to her form. She sat impassively until the door had closed, and when she was certain she was no longer being watched, she let out a small giggle and bounced on the seat, finding it springy yet supportive. It was probably better made and more comfortable than her bed.
She amused herself by checking out the compartments and pressing buttons on the panel as they covered the distance to wherever they were headed. When she found a chilled bottle of champagne, she helped herself to glass, which marginally soothed her nerves.
The ride lasted almost an hour, likely due to rush hour traffic. They had crossed through the city, she realized, as the driver opened the door for her, and she stepped out, instantly recognizing their surroundings. There was the Palisades restaurant, and the marina was a little farther down. She assumed she was meeting Jensen at the Palisades, so it was a surprise when the driver spoke.
“Mr. Meade asked me to send you to Slip Fourteen. You’re looking for the yacht called Meade & Ale.”
She struggled to hide how impressed she was by the idea of him wining and dining her on a yacht. She shouldn’t be, she supposed. After all, he’d spent six million dollars just to get her on the date, so he wasn’t likely to skimp on the impressing her factor. She was impressed, but she wouldn’t let that sway her to do something she didn’t want to do, like sleep with Jensen Meade.
If she were being honest with herself, that wasn’t exactly something she didn’t want to do though. The man had occupied her thoughts all week, and she had vacillated between flattered and pressured at the amount of money he had spent for an evening of her companionship. She owed him nothing besides conversation and a few hours of her time, but she had a feeling Bethany was right as she crossed the distance on the impractical heels, wishing she’d known she was going to end up at the marina and on a boat before she had chosen the shoes. If Bethany’s prediction was true, her panties were certainly in danger of coming off.
As she found the yacht, seeing Jensen waiting for her at the ramp, she wasn’t nearly as alarmed by the prospect as she should have been, considering she didn’t know him, and her last relationship had been a disaster. She should be dreading the evening ahead, rather than almost tripping and falling in her eagerness to join him. She blinked as he was there beside her on the ramp a moment later, moving faster than she could have believed. “Nice reflexes,” she said.
He winked at her. “I couldn’t let you fall in the water and ruin our night.”
His arms were still snugly wrapped around her, and she was sure she should push him away, at least in a polite, subtle way, but she had no desire to do so. It took everything she had not to cuddle closer, and her heart was thumping in her chest. If she didn’t get herself in check, Olivia was certain her two-year dry spell would end tonight, though she had already decided she wasn’t going to do that. That had been when she wasn’t with Jensen, so it had been easier then to reach the decision, and it had required no willpower to maintain her resolve.
It was Jensen himself who stepped away, though he took her hand as he led her the rest of the way onto the yacht, offering her a brief tour before settling her at a table on the deck. “I thought we’d take advantage of the nice weather and sit outside for a sunset cruise.”
It sounded fantastic to her, and she nodded her enthusiasm. She sat at the table while he slipped away for a moment to speak to a man in a white uniform, who hovered in the background. He must be the captain of the yacht, but he was so quiet it was like he wasn’t there at all. Having a staff member aboard did nothing to shatter the illusion that it was the two of them as they headed out into the Puget Sound, and the wind made a mess of her hairstyle in seconds.
She lifted her arms in an attempt to repair the damage, or at least minimize the fallout from the pins, but she froze at the smoldering look in Jensen’s eyes.
“You should let your hair down.” He said the words in almost a growl, and his dark eyes blazed with hunger as they fastened on her fingers.
“My hair will get all windblown, and it will be a huge mess.” Even as she uttered the words, her fingers moved deftly through her hair to extract the pins that held it in place. Seconds later, it fell around her, streaming down to mid-back. The wind whipped the hair around her face, and it was completely impractical for eating dinner, but the way his expression turned almost feral, revealing the depths of his desire for her, made her willing to deal with the inconvenience of having her hair down just to be the object of that kind of look once in her life.
She moistened her dry lips, and he responded by lifting a hand into the air. She looked at him in puzzlement at his action, but everything became clear a moment later when another staff member in a white jacket appeared, pushing a tray with a bottle of wine and a selection of appetizers. Over a crisp Washington Riesling and hors d’oeuvres, she tried to relax and still the butterflies in her stomach, while maintaining a composed façade.
As he refilled her wine glass for the second time, Jensen said, “Tell me about yourself. I heard the part about your sister when you made your speech at the charity dinner, and I’m sorry for your loss.”
She nodded her head to indicate she’d heard him, but didn’t reply to that. It had been twenty years since Dana’s passing, but it still hurt to think about her older sister, who had also been her best friend despite the slight age difference between them. She didn’t like to talk about it with anyone, but especially not on a first date.
Only date, she mentally scolded herself. She was fulfilling her obligation for his outrageous donation, and that was the end of it. This wasn’t some romantic start to a lifelong relationship. She still fully expected Jensen to try to get her into bed, since he would no doubt expect that for his six million dollars. She had to be wary if she wanted to avoid that situation.
Instead, she turned the conversation to more mundane aspects of her life. “It was just my parents and myself after Dana died, and it was a rough couple of years, particularly for my mom. She was Dana’s main caregiver, and I think she started drinking as a way to forget, but you know how that self-medicating plan usually works.”
He nodded, his expression sympathetic. “How long was she an alcoholic?”
“She’s an alcoholic for life, but she got sober about two years after Dana’s passing, and life returned to some semblance of normality. It was never the same without Dana, but I think we all pulled through and became a closer, stronger family for it.”
He looked envious. “I can’t say the same with my parents. My mom died when I was a little boy, so it was just my father, myself, and my older brother Kingston. Dad wanted me to follow the family path of…” He trailed off, looking uncertain for a moment. “The family business, I guess. I didn’t want that. We had a big fight, and I left the house. I ran off and joined the Marine Corps, which I know disappointed him to no end. It was good for me though. I needed the discipline, and I spent ten years in the Corps. I’ve only been out a few months, and ironically enough, I’m working in the family business.”
It was obvious from the way he spoke that there was more to the story, but he clearly didn’t plan to share it, and she couldn’t blame him. Deep family and personal matters were hardly a topic of conversation that would be appropriate for the circumstances. “Did you like the military?” She assumed he must have since he’d stayed in a decade.
A shadow of what looked like pain crossed his features briefly. “I did for the most part, at least until the end. I left voluntarily after an injury.” His eyes shuddered, and his expression closed, making it clear he wouldn’t discuss that further. Instead, he turned the conversation back to her. “How did you come to work for the WishGranters Foundation?”
She allowed herself to embrace the safer topic, and they were soon discussing lighter matters, including politics, movies, and music. They shared some similarities, and just as many differences, but it was a lively conversation, and before she knew it, they had eaten their way through an excellent dinner of seafood and had reached the dessert course.
The raspberry crème brûlée was the best she had ever tasted, and the dessert wine seem to slide down her throat with magical ease. She was completely relaxed now, and she realized she wouldn’t be averse to him making a move. Perhaps that’s why she had drunk more than usual, allowing her mind and body to relax enough to be receptive to any pass he might make.
He suggested they stand at the railing as the sun started to set, and she walked over with him, leaning close enough that her arm touched his. He put his arm lightly around her waist, but didn’t deepen the touch or attempt anything more.
The sunset was beautiful over Puget Sound, with orange, yellow, and purple blending together into a breathtaking haze of color. She’d seen the same sunset all her life, but never from a yacht in the middle of the Sound. She let out a small sigh of satisfaction as the sun dipped below the horizon, though the sky wasn’t completely dark just yet. “That was beautiful. I think if I owned a yacht, I’d never tear myself away.”
He chuckled. “I don’t actually own the yacht. It belongs to my brother and his wife, but Kingston was happy to loan it to me.” Shortly after, Jensen slipped away from her to approach the captain, and she was disappointed when she realized they were heading back to shore. She knew the cruise couldn’t last all night, but it had been an idyllic interlude, and she wasn’t eager to see it end yet.
As they sailed back to the harbor, he led her below-deck to a glass-enclosed room, whose tall windows offered a splendid view of the Puget Sound and the lights of Seattle rapidly approaching. She let out a small sigh as they grew closer to shore. “This was an amazing date, Jensen.”
He came up behind her, but didn’t touch. He was close enough to, but he didn’t. “You’re an amazing woman, and I wanted to give you a memorable evening.”
She could have turned around in his arms, but she would have brushed against him in an intimate fashion. If she turned, she wasn’t certain what would happen next, but she imagined it would end up with them sprawled on the white sectional sofa dominating the space. She wasn’t quite ready for that, needing to ease back into sex after two years of celibacy. Instead, she remained with her back to his chest, fervently wishing he would put his hands on her shoulders and pull her more tightly against him. She wasn’t brave enough to do it herself, but if he initiated, she’d likely let herself be swept away.
They stayed like that for several moments, not speaking, until the ship had returned to the marina, and the engine went quiet. He let out a long sigh, sounding full of regret. “Our evening is over.”
For a wild moment, she thought about suggesting another activity, anything that would prolong the time together, but that would also prolong her exposure to him and increase her chances of giving in to the clamoring of her body that was in direct contrast to the edict of her brain, which had decided to be sensible in the situation.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped away from him and toward the stairs that would lead to the dec
k. His hand temporarily braced her bottom when she started to slip, but as soon as she was steady in the high heels, his hand moved again, and they climbed the stairs without further touching.
As they walked across the deck, she brushed her hand against his, and he took the unspoken invitation to wrap his fingers around hers, squeezing gently. He provided a steadying hand as she walked down the ramp, and he kept his hold on her hand even once they were back on the dock and walking toward the space where the limousine had parked. It was still there, and she turned to face him a few feet from it. “Will you be riding back with me?”
He shook his head. “No, I won’t. I’m staying on the yacht for now, until I get my own place. I have some appointments with realtors this weekend, but for now, the yacht is where I’m sleeping.”
She licked her lips. “You could ride along…I mean if you wanted to?”
He looked torn for a moment, but then shook his head. He eased the sting of disappointment by running his knuckles lightly down her cheek. “I think that would be a rash move at the moment. I’d like to see you again.”
Still feeling the sting of rejection, no matter how gentle it had been, she spoke more sharply than she’d intended. “You know how to get hold of the foundation to make another donation then.”
He seemed unoffended when he laughed. “You drive a hard bargain. If it’s going to cost me five million every time to have dinner with you, it’ll be worth it.”
“Six million,” she reminded with a tart tone. “Good night, Jensen.” She held her breath, still half-expecting him to change his mind and at least try to kiss her good night. When he didn’t, she let out a small sigh, squared her shoulders, and turned away from him.
It was the strangest end to the evening, and not at all how she had expected it to go. She’d anticipated his efforts to seduce her and overcome her common sense, and she was bitterly disappointed that he hadn’t even made the attempt. She could have made a move of her own, but she was too angry and confused to do so at the moment. She didn’t understand what Jensen Meade wanted from her if it wasn’t sex.